#i think insects might think that would be cool i have just had a very up down week day im so low yall i just wanna leave my sister is just

[mieltelecheycrema]

SHES STILL HERE

[thisonehere]

The webs we weave

You are the weaver, once a mere mortal(???) who centuries ago challenged Liu Kang to a weaving competition. The loser had to grant a request from the winner. Spoiler alert: you won. Your request: Immortality and eternal youth and beauty. The usual. Nowadays you are known across the realms for your work... among other things.

Shang Tsung, Kung Lao, Johnny Cage, Bi-Han, Kuai Liang, Kitana, Mileena, & Liu Kang

A/N: Serious intros mixed with flirting and just the right amount of almost-smut. Be sure to send any other ideas you might have.

Shang Tsung

Y/n: Does my skill flatter you, sorcerer?

Shang Tsung: It amuses, maybe I'll let you live after all.

Shang Tsung: I must say, now that I see your work in person. It's quite... mediocre.

Y/n: Mediocre? MEDIOCRE?

Shang Tsung: That Liu Kang lost to you speaks volumes.

Y/n: I can say the same about you losing to him.

Y/n: You're... you're very charming for a villain.

Shang Tsung: Do I make you weak in the knees, Y/n?

Shang Tsung: That silk coat you made me had acidic venom in the fibers!

Y/n: *grins* Oops.

Y/n: The silk sheets have been crafted as you requested.

Shang Tsung: Excellent, now I just need you on them to make it complete.

Kung Lao

Kung Lao: I need a new costume, something that matches my greatness.

Y/n: Of course, I think I have some leftover pieces of scrap from Raiden.

Kung Lao: You know what, I like you.

Y/n: *rolls eyes* Wow, thank you so much. Your validating me makes me feel so special.

Y/n: What would you like me to make you?

Kung Lao: A nice, big, soft cover. We'll need it for our honeymoon.

Kung Lao: Why do you have so many spiders?

Y/n: I like having company as I spin my threads.

Y/n: Keep you and your hat out of my workshop!

Kung Lao: Oh come on, all I did was accidentally cut some of the work that took you years to complete.

Kung Lao: You should come with me to Madam Bo's.

Y/n: NO. My tab with her is big enough.

Johnny Cage

Johnny: If I knew spiders could be so hot, I'd still smash them all day.

Y/n: I'll never forgive you for killing Gunter!

Johnny: I've got this sweet idea for a new look.

Y/n: Of course, but I'll need your measurements... I need you to get naked, Johnny.

Johnny: Just so you know, I'm cool with doing nudity.

Y/n: Johnny, I'm a weaver, not a sculptor.

Johnny: You got to become my costume designer, we'd kill it on the red carpet.

Y/n: That would be a dream, Johnny!

Johnny: Y/n..that's such a beautiful name. It almost makes me want to sing.

Y/n: Please don't, your musical flopped for a reason.

Johnny: I don't think Christina will ever come back.

Y/n: Remember Johnny, I'll be here for you...With open arms, open legs, and an open mouth.

Bi-Han

Y/n: I'll make nothing for you!

Bi-Han: Good, I want you, not your talents.

Bi-Han: You are living proof of Liu Kang's incompetence.

Y/n: Says the man who lost to two farmers.

Bi-Han: I was holding back against Raiden and Kung Lao.

Y/n: Oh, Bi-Han, you don't need to lie to impress me.

Bi-Han: I'll freeze your little insects and leave you defenseless.

Y/n: A. They're Arachnida, B. Pick up a book, and C. Some of us like the cold.

Y/n: Your bed must be so cold.

Bi-Han: Come lay in it with me and find out.

Bi-Han: Let me guess, you think your love can "fix me"?

Y/n: Who said I wanted to fix you?

Kuai Liang

Kuai Liang: Your growing relationship with Bi-Han is concerning.

Y/n: Oh Kuai, don't tell me you're getting jealous.

Y/n: Come to me, Scorpion. I burn for you.

Kuai Liang: You've been spending too much time with Johnny.

Y/n: Perhaps you and I coul-

Kuai Liang: I'm sorry, but I'm spoken for.

Kuai Liang: Harumi loved the tapestry.

Y/n: Only the best for her.

Y/n: Are sure?

Kuai Liang: The feeling I had for you are gone now.

Kuai Liang: What have you been planning?

Y/n: Just a little present for your wedding, specifically for the honeymoon.

Kitana

Kitana: Can I hope to have your loyalty in my ongoing battle with Shao?

Y/n: I guess we both shall see.

Kitana: You beat Lord Liu Kang!?

Y/n: Of course, when it comes to combat he is my superior, but no man can best me in my craft.

Kitana: I must say, the stories about you do not do your talents or your beauty justice.

Y/n: What exactly do those stories say?

Kitana: Have you ever considered silk worms rather than spiders?

Y/n: *blech* Never, they're gross, slow, and squishy, and worse, they're all gossips.

Y/n: I already have the train ready, just needs some more embroidery.

Titan Kitana: Train? Are you making me a wedding dress?

Y/n: You and Liu Kang are so cute together.

Titan Kitana: I thank you for being so approving, but our relationship is really none of your business.

Mileena

Y/n: Why do you stare, Empress?

Mileena: I don't know, something about all those bugs around you seems...familiar...

Mileena: Your ascension to the plain of the immortals is most admirable.

Y/n: Perhaps there are some things I may be able to teach you Empress.

Mileena: Are you making wedding attire for Titan Kitana and Lord Liu Kang?

Y/n: Of course, but don't be jealous, I already have something special for you and Tanya.

Mileena: Perhaps you may stay a bit longer, teach me some of your trade.

Y/n: Of course, Empress.

Mileena: *Bloodlusted* I will rip your tongue out from through your cheek!

Y/n: Ooohhhh, cheeky.

Mileena: When I am done with you I will burn all your work to ashes for what you did!

Y/n: No, please! Mercy, MERCY!!!

Liu Kang

Y/n: You knew I'd win?

Liu Kang: I can recognize talent when I see it.

Y/n: Why did you accept my challenge even though you knew you'd lose?

Liu Kang: I was hoping for a chance to be near you.

Y/n: Who is this D'vorrah? Geras said I reminded him of her.

Liu Kang: Nothing should concern you.

Liu Kang: Please, I ask you, keep your distance from raiden.

Y/n: Why? Worried that I'll tempt your little champion?

Liu Kang: You made me a wedding dress?

Y/n: Of course, I see you as much more of a dress-wearing type of man rather than a boring old tuxedo.

Liu Kang: Be careful, Y/n, your hubris can lead to your downfall.

Y/n: What is wrong with showing a little pride in my work?

[wintaerbaer]

dawning (kth)

summary: He’s never invited into your world during these late night sessions. You always push him away or ignore him. This is new.

pairing: Taehyung x Reader

rating: sfw

genre: established relationship au, angst, bit of fluff, hurt/comfort

word count: 2.2k

warnings: heavy depictions of depression and panic attacks, a brief line where taehyung worries oc is s**cidal

a/n: another piece from my aggressively depressed era when i was trying to work some stuff out in my writing, but this one is very self-indulgent (and has a happier ending than the last one lol). and the background picture of the banner is mine! :)

MASTERLIST

He doesn’t hear you get up.

He wakes in the middle of the night and rolls over in bed to find cooling sheets in the spot next to him. Lying flat on his back, he listens for sound but there’s nothing, just the chirpings of nighttime insects and the cars passing by on the streets below. It’s not the first time he’s woken to find you gone, but it hurts the same.

The fact that he’s not enough for you.

Taehyung swings his legs out of bed and sighs as his feet press against the hardwood floor, rubs the heel of his hand into an eye. The clock on the nightstand reads 2:53am, and you really could be anywhere. There are nights when you’ve just gotten up to curl on the window seat in the living room, but there have been other times where you’ve left the apartment altogether. Sometimes you go to your favorite twenty-four-hour diner for a cup of coffee, and on one horror-filled night, he’d even had to call the cops to help track you down when you’d decided to take a late night walk in the park.

You say you just need to clear your head sometimes, but if he’s honest with himself, he’s terrified that you’re trying to get yourself killed.

He stands, snatches a sweatshirt off of the chair in the corner, takes a breath as he slips it over his skin.

He’ll find you; you’ll be okay.

He saunters into the living room, moonlight painting everything a pasty white, and confirms what he already knew to be true: you’re not here. It looks as though you didn’t touch anything either, everything being just as the two of you had left it before going to bed – wineglasses and dirty dishes on the coffee table (he’d take care of them in the morning), television remote precariously balanced on the arm of the couch.

The only thing different is your missing shoes by the door.

He slides his feet into his own sneakers, mentally running through all the places you could possibly be: the diner, the park. Hell, you could be wandering around the city mindlessly—how would he find you then?

The thought speeds him on as he hastens down the stairs and outside. He could try calling your cell phone, though you almost definitely wouldn’t pick up. You probably have it on silent anyway. You do that a lot; you say the noise bothers you.

But at times like this, it scares the shit out of him.

He strides down the sidewalk with purpose. He’ll check the diner first, and if you’re not there, the park will be next. Last time, you were found traipsing around the pond by the south end, and it’s possible you might be there again.

These worries are for naught though as he spots you through the window of Stella’s, coffee mug cradled in your hands.

The bell tinkles as he walks in the door, and your eyes immediately snap up to lock with his, some emotion swirling there that he just can’t put a name on. He slides into the booth seat across from you, signals your usual waitress for a cup of coffee, and makes an attempt at a smile.

“You were gone.”

“Yeah,” you say, quiet. “Just needed to clear my head.”

He takes a moment to study you, assesses the pain in your posture. “Scale of one to ten?” he asks. You frown at your cup, think.

“Eight.” You fiddle with a spoon. “I woke up and it was hard to breathe.”

He sighs. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

You’re frowning at your coffee again, haven’t looked him in the eye since he walked in. “You seemed peaceful,” you say. “I didn’t want to bother you.”

He reaches across the table to take your hand; you stiffen but doesn’t pull away. “I’ve told you, you’re never a bother. If I can help, let me help.”

You slide your hand from his grip, and there’s a long silence before you whisper, “What if you can’t?”

“What happens if you don’t let me try?” he asks, and your eyes finally meet his.

You say nothing—just stare at him—the hurt that he sees everyday peering out from under your lashes.

“Please, sweetheart, just try to help me understand what’s going on in your head.”

You break eye contact again to look long and hard out the window, and he knows he’s lost you.

“I can’t,” you say.

He slumps back in his seat, once again defeated. A cup of coffee is set in front of him, along with some creamer, and he gives the waitress a feeble smile in thanks, decides to focus on this task instead.

He pours the creamer into his mug and reaches down the table to grab a few packs of sugar, carefully tips them in. He doesn’t look at you, just slips a spoon into the cup and stirs, trying his best to not get angry.

Because he does, he wants to help. And you won’t let him in. He’s so tired of waking up to find you gone or crying in the bathroom or curled up by the window with that blank look on your face. All of this hurts him too; why can’t you see that? He just wants back the girl who wasn’t afraid to take a leap and kiss him on a rainy night in April after an umpteenth study date, and he knows you want that woman back too—he can see it in the way that you look at him.

“I’m sorry.”

He looks up at the sound of your voice and is horrified to see tears streaking down your face.

“It wasn’t supposed to be this hard,” you choke out, and any frustration that he was previously feeling dissipates immediately.

He slides into your side of the booth and hesitantly wraps an arm around your shoulders. You neither lean in nor resist and so he pulls you closer, tightening his embrace until you’re muffling your sobs in his shirt.

“I’m here,” he murmurs into your hair. “I promise. I’m right here.”

Taehyung just so happens to look up when you walk into the room, hair swinging past your shoulders and a textbook tucked under your arm. You’re pretty, beautiful actually, but you carry yourself in a way that suggests you don’t know it. Your eyes flick up to his and he reflexively looks down at his desk, embarrassed to be caught staring.

He busies himself with his phone, trying to act nonchalant, and he can feel the blush creeping into his face when you quietly take the seat next to him.

“Can I borrow a pen?” you ask after a few awkward seconds. He nods and fumbles around in his bag, still not looking at you for fear that he’s making a fool of himself—he can’t even find a damn pen. And sure enough, when he finally does locate one in the very depths of his backpack and hands it to you, your lips are twisted with barely held back laughter.

He’s thankful when the professor walks into the room and your eyes are no longer trained on him, making his heart beat faster than it ever has.

It’s barely a week before Taehyung once again wakes to find your side of the bed empty. He scrubs a hand down his face, gives a light shake of his head to clear the fog of sleep.

The clock on the nightstand reads 4:37am.

He rolls out of bed, rubs at his bicep where the faint prickling of pins-and-needles irritates the muscle. Then comes the habitual check for any noises that might indicate that you’re still in the apartment.

Nothing.

He slips on a jacket, slides his feet into a pair of boots, and tromps out of the room, stumbling into the wall ever so slightly from the grogginess that still weighs him down. He hopes you’re at Stella’s; he could use a cup of coffee right about now.

He crosses through the living room and is halfway out the door when he hears the voice.

“Hey.”

He spins on his heel and almost topples over. You’ve got your knees pulled up to your chest on the bench seat by the window, half of you bathing in pearly moonlight, the other half veiled in shadow.

“Hi,” he blurts. “I thought…I thought you were out.”

You shake your head, the bare hints of a smile gracing your lips. “No.”

He scratches at the back of his neck, never knowing what to do in the situations where you’re actually here. On most nights he just putters around, keeping an eye out while you impassively stare at the streets outside.

But tonight, you toe the vacant spot next to you.

“Sit with me,” you murmur.

That immediately gives him pause. He’s never invited into your world during these late night sessions. You always push him away or ignore him.

This is new.

He nudges off his shoes, drops his coat on the couch, and slowly makes his way over to where you’re curled by the window. Deciding to let you set the pace, he takes a cautious seat, back straight, hands in his lap.

“This okay?” he asks.

You cant forward, hair swinging to cover your face, but he thinks you’re laughing at him just a little bit and the knot in his chest loosens ever so slightly.

You guide him back so that his spine is pressed against the wall of the tiny nook, his legs swinging up to bracket the spot where you kneel. Then you turn so that your back is resting against his chest, before pulling his arms to wrap around your waist.

“This,” you whisper. “This is better.”

He lets out a long exhale, can’t help burying his nose in the hair at your neck. “Love you.”

You hum, leaning back in his embrace, and little by little, he feels the tension leave your body. It warms him from head to toe, holding you, the city lights keeping you both company.

And after a while, still propped up against him, you fall asleep.

His heart is in his throat, absolutely stunned into silence by the way the sleek, midnight blue dress you’re wearing hugs every curve and slope of your body. He truly doesn’t know how he’s gotten so lucky or what he could have possibly done to deserve your presence in his life.

You slide up to his side, a coy little smile flirting with your mouth as you slip your hand into his.

“You wanna get out of here?”

“Yeah, sure.”

You aimlessly walk through the streets, arm in arm, laughing at the most random things and goofing off, and when he looks at you, you just seem so…happy.

You get to the park and he feels it’s now or never, so he pulls you to a halt. You look up at him, your tongue poking through your smile, and he’s lost all of his words, doesn’t even know what he could say that would ever be enough for you. Enough for this.

So he merely gets down on his knee and pulls out the ring.

He doesn’t say a word, doesn’t have to, because you immediately gasp out a “Yes!” and join him on the ground, tightly wrapping your body around his. He clutches you to him, makes a silent promise to do everything in his power to make you happy.

To give you a reason to smile.

He’s jolted awake by your hands on his chest, shaking him violently. Eyes snapping open, Taehyung finds your face hovering over his, clearly panicked and crying.

He immediately bolts upright. “What? What’s wrong?”

You curl against his chest, sobs racking your frame. “Can’t,” you choke out. “I…I-I can’t.”

“Can’t what?” He tugs you tight against him as you shake your head.

“I-it’s suffocating,” you mumble. He tries to loosen his hold and pull away, but you latch on with a “No!” and he hesitantly wraps his arms back around you.

“I…I woke you up,” you say, sobs beginning to subside.

“It’s okay,” he says quickly. “It’s fine.”

“You wanted to…to help.”

Oh.

Wow.

“You want me to help? Just tell me how. You want to talk about it?”

You shake your head again, vigorously. “Please. No.”

“Then how—”

“Here,” you blurt. “Just stay here.”

He gives your shoulders a squeeze. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“I know.” You press closer. “I know.”

He rubs his hands up and down your back as you gradually ease into him, your breaths evening out, and for the first time he feels hopeful. You may not be close to talking about it—may not be anywhere near opening up fully—but at least there’s this.

At least you let him hold you up.

The clock on the nightstand reads 6:13am.

a/n: pls consider liking, replying, reblogging, or sending an ask! <3

[inexplicifics]

Hi the fashion designer in training again, you posted my og ask and it got me thinking about it again (as if i ever stop) and I was thinking about how different monsters would be categorized and how that might change the fashion sense of things too. For example, theres humanoids, animal adjacent, insect adjacent (broadly), and plant adjacent.

Humanoids, to me, would be creatures/monsters that have little to no animal, insect, or plant otherness, such as trolls, drowners, bruxa, even sirens (even though they overlap into animal). Witchers obviously have magical uses from their kills but from a fashion/mundane perspective a lot of what these creatures provide would be equivalent to that of what a human might. Now, there is a lot of real world history that is sensitive and triggering about the use of human remains, especially in recent times of widespread slavery that has a lot of themes of cannibalism, farming practices, and lack of humanity even after death, such as leather tanning for clothes, the use of human remains in parchment (as parchment is made from animal remains and not wood or plants, that’s what differentiates it from paper), and more. This is why anything that leans more human than monster (such as a bruxa, vampire, succubus, etc) I don’t think I’ll touch with a ten foot pole unless it is to deal with their unique remains. Creatures that lean more monster such as trolls get thrown through the wringer though.

Trolls specifically have really thick skin, which in a tanning process would take… forever to turn into leather but the results would be potentially amazing. Thick strong leather would last for centuries if treated right, I have no doubt in my mind that troll leather would make fantastic saddles, boots, furniture — awful clothes but the other implications mean a lot to me because it might just make excellent armor.

Sirens, as the middleman between humanoids and animal adjacent, would be excellent to discuss scales. There is a company that currently helps with fish scale waste and uses them to make clothes that are naturally soft and have added benefits of being moisture managing (helps with retaining moisture in skin in dry environments) and also is naturally anti-odor! This is incredibly cool for the fashion world and I could see it being a real thing for the witcher world… if they had the time to do it, as I fear modern technology would need to be replaced with magic and I’m not sure mages, researcher included, would be interested in going out of their way to collect siren scales to create fabric (unless they could imbue it with magic? 🤔 A potential concept to long lasting charmed clothes) So very interesting but not as plausible in a fantasy world.

But! Reptilian scales are highly sought after in fashion designs and are not as wasteful as fish scales. The Witcher basilisk is reptilian in nature, which would make for excellent clothes, anything in fashion you can think of in scales you can bet it exists. Scales are widely loved and used even today, so basilisk skin? Oh yeah, it’s up there for fashion. Even says so in various wikis 😉.

Animal adjacent clothing will look a lot like what we have for animals now, adjusted as needed. Basilisks are large so their hides would be easy to convert to many items, whereas snake skin is small and you would need several to make a significant piece of cloth. This would make it far more valuable. Not to mention the claws, claws which are used in various forms. From clasps on just about everything, to jewelry, to decor, to piercings, I know a basilisk claw would be on a noble’s cloak or belt, I just know it.

This translates to, as mentioned before, wargs and other furred animals. The larger, the better, the more you can take, the better, the more *dangerous* to prove your worth, the better. A bear claw is nothing compared to a warg fang, and so on and so forth. I haven’t even gotten started on the length of griffin feathers and what that would do for fashion. No one understands what length in natural materials means to me except for other people who’s special interests are fashion, fantasy worlds, and survival skills. I cannot explain *length of feathers* in gowns. In cloaks. In *jewelry.* But that’s a post for a little old me who isn’t up at 1am on a school night.

Enjoy my midnight ramblings, I realize that this got out of hand and is uh… not really well connected in terms of thoughts but I hope it made sense to people who aren’t deep in the trenches like me lmao

Please imagine me sitting here with my chin on my hands, staring at you with hearts in my eyes as I listen to your interesting and informative midnight ramblings.

[leftduck9986]

The Whickber Street Bees and Their Queen

Hello Tumblr! Testing, 1,2,3. Making the leap from Reddit, with thanks, to Kimberleyjean.

I understand that by now it should go without saying, however, it is with due diligence that I make sure to say, DO NOT ASK OR TAG NEIL GAIMAN IN FAN THEORY.

To begin, a look at the tv and book quotes re Bees -

S2E6, Crowley to Muriel: "Angels are like bees. Fiercely protective of their hive if you're trying to get inside. Once you're in, well, I mean … is it even faintly possible that an unauthorised demon might be just wandering around in Heaven un-escorted? (…)"

Originally, in the book, it's humans:

Sometimes human beings are very much like bees. Bees are fiercely protective of their hive, provided you are outside it. Once you’re in, the workers sort of assume that it must have been cleared by management and take no notice; various freeloading insects have evolved a mellifluous existence because of this very fact. Humans act the same way.

∢ ∢ ∢ ∢ ∢ ∢ ∢

There was a scorcher of a summer day a few weeks ago, 40 degrees Celsius outside! After spending the day keeping as still as possible, I had a nice cool shower in the evening, unfortunately it was right before the southerly arrived and with it the 90% humidity! Already sweating more than during the day, I was not a happy bee! 'Twas a thought that got the ball rolling and I began with having a bit of fun mulling over and re-working the bee quotes:

Humans are like bees - they don't like getting w- well, let's say instead that they don't like getting their clothes wet! So humans will shelter under an awning if there is one, or whip out the brolly.

Yeah, okay … … the brain eventually latched onto something to expand upon:

There's also the protective nature and strength-in-numbers aspect that has me hopeful there are plenty of good "bees" on Whickber Street, part of The Ineffable Plan.

And what do bees/humans do when they recognise ROYALTY?

(No research done at all for this - I'm only thinking of that scene in the movie, Jupiter Ascending, where Mila Kunis' character is surrounded by bees. Some fun for anyone who likes to make Good Omens memes?)

∢ ∢ ∢ ∢ ∢ ∢ ∢

S2E1 "Present Day" begins with a great sweeping shot of London from above, moving into Soho (as in the soundtrack) and seeing the flow of movement from this view - the imagery - suggests to me, that:

The Bookshop is the hive;

Immediately outside, a circling ring of Whickber Street "Bees";

The next level out, cars that are circling the block;

The arrival of others - two cars with boots open, behind which are the parked scooter and motorcycle and directly behind that, a street booth with, seated inside, three (or more?) potential persons of interest;

The outermost ring of pedestrians on the opposite side of the road, (often crossing back over from the street trader stalls and circling back past the pub throughout the season).

It's the busiest activity - for the show, not irl for Soho from what I've seen reading other discussions - but would suggest that while it's sunny and relatively dry, this is a normal day of buzzing about (or is it?).

Until Gabriel's arrival.

What we're shown of his journey to the bookshop is very short - a mere two blocks - less than that - for the traffic to come to a stop so quickly, pulling over to the sides and for the pedestrians to crowd the footpaths, so as to allow for a clear walkway for Gabriel down the middle of the street. No one yells at the naked man to get out of the street, nor does anyone offer to help him to the footpath. Not one person asked the naked man where he was headed, so that they might offer him directions.

They block off access beyond the bookshop on both sides, by filling in the spaces between cars; others close in from behind Gabriel, herding/shepherding so that he won't be inclined to double back.

It seems to be a well-coordinated effort. An assisted delivery!

∢ ∢ ∢ ∢ ∢ ∢ ∢

Gabriel ("Me" pre-"Jim") tells Aziraphale, "… my arms were aching 'cause I had to carry that box for so long (…)" - not because it was heavy, but, you know, holding one's arms in the same position with a bit of static tension for anything upwards of a few minutes is bound to make one's biceps burrrrn.

Headcannon (hc): the cardboard box contains only the fly, but the fly had "the thing" from Heaven and now contains Gabriel's memories. Not currently on board with the idea of a detour to drop off "the thing" elsewhere - more leaning towards Gabriel getting off the lift one stop too early or too late (if he ended up pressing the lift button to Hell as well), maybe taking the stairs for the rest of the way to Earth, or emerging from the same unseen place that Saraqael, Uriel and Michael did in episode 2.

Gabriel still somehow remembers just enough to get himself straight to Aziraphale. Then, during their conversation in the bookshop does he become increasingly forgetful and distracted, but not before revealing some key information:

Aziraphale: "Then… why did you come to my shop?"

Gabriel: "I don't know. I just thought I should.

You know what it's like when you don't know anything at all, and yet you're totally certain that everything would be better if you were just near one particular person?"

(…)

"Anyway, that's how I felt that so long as I came here the Something Terrible might not happen to me."

(…)

Aziraphale: "Please, tell me about the Something Terrible."

Gabriel: "(…) I just know that it's incredibly awful and that that's why I had to come here and give you the thing."

I'm understanding that:

one particular person = Beelzebub (but only in hindsight - I did initially think Gabriel meant Aziraphale the very first time viewing);

the Something Terrible = mind erasure: identity, precious memories of Beelzebub, fellow angels (suspecting that he feels something greater than workplace rapport for them) and knowledge of this very important thing for work, that needs to be given to Aziraphale in case of an emergency;

the thing = not necessarily the same item as "the angle", which could also be inside the fly. The thing, possibly being the real reason he is being ineffably assisted to the bookshop.

∢ ∢ ∢ ∢ ∢ ∢ ∢

It may or may not be so with bees, but humans respectfully make way for royalty (or the higher-ups, or - thinking of Shax speed-walking through Hell - the incredibly intimidating. Both.)

Anyway, these "bees" of Whickber Street are either excellent everyday people who don't crowd across intersections and if they see a person in the street, will pull their cars over to the sides, for the person's safety, but will also be jerks and whip out their smart phones to film and photograph a naked man without actually being helpful - well, hang on, are they really filming?

A moment to talk about the prop phones: There's one shot (14min30-34sec) where we can see that the phones don't even have active screens - and one person who really wanted their face shown on camera! (reflected in their prop phone). If these were modern day human people with real smart phones, how quickly would "naked man in Soho" grow to trend on social media? How earthly/native are the fellow Angelic Beings Who Walk The Earth - do any of them (or demons more likely, come to think of it) keep up with internet "news"? Entertaining for a moment, the thought of the inactive screens being more to do with divine intervention in order to protect Gabriel's identity and location, what about the one person who is actually using their phone AS A PHONE?

Presenting: Earth's contact to the Coordinator of the operation, Escort the Queen to the Hive:

[placeholder name] "Mary" as per this hc: her son, passing through Soho, stands to her right, his own frame of negative space to make him stand out, his hand almost permanently glued to his face for the rest of the scene!!! His Significant Other, who will stay with his parents for the next week or so, is hanging out with his Dad down the road, being all shepherd-like with the other bees behind Gabriel.

Notice how, "Mary" is on the phone with someone, not (visibly) speaking, just listening. Then she and her son (as per the above hc) have front row 'seats' (standing room only) to the show behind Gabriel. Her hand holding the phone falters upward when it seems that Gabriel has been denied entry to the bookshop, but then once he's been reluctantly invited in, "Mary" is the first to leave the scene, signalling to everyone to resume their usual buzzing about, as if to say, "he's in. Aaaaaaand we out!"

So, The Whickber Street "Bees" - are they mostly humans, just being human, but for some inexplicable - ineffable - reason, their phones weren't quite able to capture a clear image of the naked man? I'm leaning more towards it being choreographed, miracle-wise.

And who is the coordinator of operation, Escort the Queen to the Hive? Currently thinking that it's the same 'person' who sent Gabriel the thing in the cardboard box. As to who that could be - a few come to mind.

Thank you so much for reading,

See you in the new year!

∢ ∢ ∢ ∢ ∢ ∢ ∢

DO NOT ASK OR TAG NEIL GAIMAN IN FAN THEORY

[solradguy]

Guilty Gear hugs tier list. These listings can be debated if you want, but I'm going to post this, sign out, and go for a walk before it rains.

Reasoning:

BEST ==

Dizzy: Come on, look at her. Hugs like a best friend you haven't seen in years.

Elphelt: Might be kinda awkward if there's a snowball's chance in hell she thinks she could marry you but otherwise it's a damn good hug.

Jack-O': I'm biased. Hugs like it's the last time she'll ever see you.

Goldlewis: Like being hugged by a grizzly bear. Pats your back. 10/10

Sin: Kid puts his whole heart into everything he does. No way he hugs bad.

Axl: Good at hugging because it really just might be the last time he ever sees you.

Sol: He won't hug you. However, consider: warm, big arms, big chest. If Sol hugs you then the Earth is about to explode and he doesn't want to go out feeling alone.

GREAT ==

May: She's kinda bubbly (pun) and bubbly girls hug good.

Ky: Has rehearsed hugging. Knows the precise amount of time to hug for and how hard to hug but it still feels genuine.

Bridget: Don't have an explanation for this, just think she'd be good at hugs.

Izuna: Hugs like the cool uncle that let you take a sip of his bourbon when you were a teen. Pats your back.

Kliff: Dad hugs. Almost crushes your ribs but there's love in it.

Potemkin: Man's heart's full of love. He's careful not to kill you.

Chipp: Don't think Chipp hugs very frequently because he's a president and he's got an image to maintain, but I think he'd hug like everyone was his friend even if he just met them.

GOOD ==

Jam: Maybe a little too friendly for a hug with a stranger, like she hugs for just a bit too long and it starts getting kinda weird. She didn't mean anything weird by it though.

Zappa: It all depends on how involved S'Ko gets. There might be insects. Decent despite all that.

Slayer: I just don't think he'd hug anyone better than he hugs Sharon. A formal hug.

Leo: Tries too hard to hug well and doesn't quite make it.

Nagoriyuki: Could be killer at hugging if he had more opportunities to. A little out of practice from how long he was sealed in that thing.

Answer: Extremely formal and quick. He's got things to do.

Testament: Out of practice like with Nago. They're getting better though and at least whatever they put in their hair smells nice.

OKAY ==

Anji: If he hugs you, he's probably hitting on you. Depends entirely on how you'd feel about that. If he hugs you and he doesn't like you, I think it'd be a just barely acceptable hug.

Johnny: Saves his best hugs for hot women and his adopted daughters. It's a little awkward, like he doesn't really want to be hugging someone.

Faust: The image here is Strive Faust and I think Strive Faust would hug not great because he's really going through it in Strive and he just needs a moment. Xrd Faust would be up in GOOD or GREAT tier though.

Paradigm: Either you gotta squat down awkwardly to hug him or he's gotta climb up onto a table. Hugs in a professional manner, but the logistics of it make it difficult.

Bedman: Is asleep. Is strapped to a giant bed.

Ram: She's still learning. It's a cold hug because she's not sure how you're supposed to do it yet.

Giovanna: Doesn't want to hug and would rather be doing anything else.

Asuka: He was alright at hugging in 2015 but now it's 2187 and he's forgotten. The experience is uncomfortable for both parties.

Venom: Unless you're Zato, it's a quick and distant hug.

Raven: Would probably hug decently if he was in a serious mood, but odds are he's gonna make it bad weird.

BAD!! ==

Millia: She's had a rough life and also does not want to hug. A hug that makes you fear for your life and be grateful when the hug's over.

Justice: She's dead. Before that she wanted to destroy humanity. You can hug Justice but only once, and you better be fast.

Baiken: You might get stabbed. I can't imagine a scenario where she'd willingly hug anyone that wasn't Delilah.

I-No: Will just straight up kill you. Has never had a reason to hug someone before and might make it horny-weird if she's in a good mood and doesn't kill you first.

Robo-Ky: Assuming Crow programmed him to hug like Flesh Ky, it would still be like hugging a pile of sharp metal. If you're a woman he's going to say something uncomfortable.

Baldhead: Man's really going through it!! Going through it like no man's gone before!! Odds are looking like you'll get murdered.

ABA: Doesn't know what a hug is. Smells like rotting blood and flesh.

Order Sol: Sol at possibly his lowest point. Reeks like hair grease, body odor, and rotting blood. 48% chance you'll get Savage Fang'd, 48% chance you'll get Tyrant Rave'd, 4% chance he rips your heart out with his bare hand.

Valentine: She just stands there and doesn't hug back. Asks questions about hugs, hugging techniques, the meaning of hugs, the history of hugs, and what purpose they serve for as long as you're willing to bullshit answers.

Haehyun: The little human inside the robot is alright at hugging, but the robot itself will probably crush your bones.

Happy Chaos: He's going to do something really friggin weird for shits n giggles and you're going to regret it.

Zato: He's just shit at hugging. Dude died and came back wrong.

[perfectlovevn]

hi idk how familiar you are with stardew valley gameplay (i am autistic about it and have put in 500+ hours) so feel free to answer these to the best of your ability

what's milo's overall pace like, and how much does he care about progression within the first two years of a run? any crops he particularly likes using? does he prefer cultivating crops or raising animals, or does he like them equally? how good is he at each of the main 5 skills (farming, foraging, fishing, mining, combat)? any villagers he particularly likes? how much does he care about the dating and marriage aspect, and if he does, favorite bachelor/ette? what's he think of krobus? i'm guessing he's the kind of guy to go community center route on every run, but what's he think of joja? what about pierre? the junimos? anything else noteworthy on how he plays the game?

these questions are mostly directed at pre milo but feel free to answer for violence/manipulation if applicable

Hello! I haven’t played Stardew valley in a while (I have however been into Rune Factory and Potion Permit), but I will try to answer your questions.

Milo I think plays Stardew mostly to relax, so he doesn’t stress too much about progression. I think he likes crops that have trellises like grapes, hopps and green beans because he likes the way they look. Otherwise, I think he will plant mostly anything.

He likes raising animals more. I imagine has a bunch of rabbits and names each one of them. He gets sad when he has to sell them. Probably makes little plushies out of them as well when he knits/sews.

I think he’s the best at farming and foraging. Then mining and fishing. He doesn’t like combat too much because he doesn’t like the sound the insect monsters make. If he has to go down there, he tries to go as fast as possible.

I think he likes Evelyn. He likes that she makes him cookies and is kind. I think he would also like George but it might take a bit to warm up to him.

As a romantic, I think he would like the dating aspect. For bachelors, I think he’d like Shane and Sebastian. Shane mostly because he’d probably feel bad about him getting drunk and he likes that he can get blue chickens. Sebastian, he would probably think is very cool and he likes the little frog event that happens. For bachelorettes, I think Emily and Abigail. Emily is probably pretty obvious since she likes making clothes and Milo likes hand crafts, so it kind of just fits. Similar to Sebastian, he’d probably think Abigail is very cool and wishes he could use a sword like her.

He thinks krobus is pretty cute. Would maybe try to make a plush or sew him on something. Definitely community center. Feels kind of wary of jojo mart. Seems okay with Pierre, though is kind of concerned when he doesn’t want to show his wife his stash. Loves junimos. Thinks they’re adorable. I think also he would spend a lot of time decorating his house. It will be filled with a lot of plushies that’s for sure.

Violence and Manipulation probably don’t play as much, but I don’t think their taste would change all that much from Pre Milo.

Phew that was a lot. I had to do some research since it really has been a while since I played stardew.

[lovable-liar]

i would die for any and all hasan x autistic reader fluff

𝗛𝗮𝘀𝗮𝗻 + 𝗔𝘂𝘁𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗰 𝗥𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

He’s so patient with you!

If you’re nonverbal, he will absolutely learn sign language if you use that to communicate.

If you use an app to speak, he’ll wait so patiently for you to finish typing or finding a certain word!

He’s always willing to change the environment to suit your needs.

He switches *all* of his light bulbs with ones that you can dim just in case you get overwhelmed by bright lights.

He sound proofs his office so you don’t have to hear him yelling at chat 24/7

Buys you the best noise-canceling headphones on the market for your birthday (will absolutely give them to you early if you’re having a particularly bad day)

Loves to bond over shared interests and he will always be there to listen to you info dump about your special interest(s)

He buys things that relate to your special interest(s) for you because he loves to see the joy they bring you (whether it be a face splitting smile in the moment or watching you quietly assemble/use/add to your collection later on)

Watching your comfort shows with him <3

He doesn’t love the idea of having you on stream where anything could go wrong (he more so lets you on the podcast. Will, QT, and Austin love having you there and are also very patient with you.) but when you do make appearances on stream, he tells chat to be on their best behavior (most days he might even go so far as to mute chat.)

If you find it hard to express your affection, he pretty much deals with however it manifests itself. Whether it’s biting him, screeching at him, random gifts that others might see as useless, air kisses, randomly giving him one of your fidget toys or a piece of art you made! He loves how you express your emotions because it just feels so *right.*

If you’re brutally honest without knowing, he fully backs you up and supports you even if it’s a joke. Your food tastes bad and you say something about it? He’s beckoning the waiter back to get you something else. You insult a conservative without realizing? He’s pissing himself laughing and wholeheartedly agreeing with you. You feel a bad texture and start going about fixing it? He’s giving a stink eye to the thing whilst also making a mental note to avoid it in the future.

Sharing a playlist with him! (I saw a tiktok a while ago where these two people had a private, linked spotify session while going about their day and I feel like that’s what you guys would do! Vibing out in the Walmart Halloween section, dancing around while waiting in line somewhere, air-guitaring together in random places in public.)

Shared growth! Hasan learns more about autism and becomes a stronger advocate for understanding and inclusion, while you gain more confidence and better social skills from your interactions.

Buys a lot of sensory stuff for you too!

Probably gets a sensory swing for you and then finds himself using it a lot as well. 

ᴅɪꜰꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴛ ꜱᴘᴇᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴇꜱᴛꜱ:

Space - Hasan will sit through, listen to and take notes while watching hundreds of hours of documentaries about space just so he can engage in conversation with you about it. He’s a true ally and likes to let you list off all of the statistics and super cool facts as to not take your thunder (the absolutely soul crushing feeling that is talking about your special interest to someone and they know more than you <<<< anything else)

Animals - When he was thinking of getting a new dog, he immediately consulted you. Knowing that you would deduct which breed would be perfect for his routine and lifestyle, he put all of his faith in you to choose the right one. He, to this day, thanks the universe that he asked you first as Kaya is the *perfect* dog for him all thanks to your input and guidance. Hasan is always down to go bird watching with you, stops walking to let you catch up to him while you take a picture of an insect you find cool, taking you to the zoo! (More on the zoo: He takes so many pics at the zoo. If you guys get to meet some of the animals, he’ll take pics/vids of you holding them, he takes videos of you in the aquarium tunnel, if you want he will absolutely dress up like a safari guide with you. Loves watching you whistle to the birds, roaring back at the big cats, touching the sting rays, feeding the penguins, etc.)

Science/History - Museum dates! He’ll let you drag him around the museum, explaining all of the exhibits that you already know everything about. Who needs a tour guide when he has you! Makes sure you’re well fed and hydrated while you run around the museum. He buys you those amazon science kits for your birthday and will either help you do it or supervise, allowing for you to explain every element of the reaction. Buys you authentic vintage science posters/books/paraphernalia!

(If you’d like to see more special interest headcannons or a specific special interest, please send a request!)

[marabarl-and-marlbara]

hello mara, do you or would you ever wear physical items to show your faith, such as jewellery or carry similar accessories? what do you think about it?

hi anonymous;

i try to adhere to the adventist etiquettes since i attend the church (it might bear repeating that i do not consider myself a christian and mostly just attend the adventist church because i have a soft-spot for it as part of my 'growing up' and have a measure of loyalty/love to/for it), and one of those is to not wear jewelry -- so i don:t! i let my ears become unpierced, even, cause the shame of secretly taking my earrings out on saturdays was getting to me (as well: i:ve always been wary about breaks in 'integrity of self' and even-just having my ears pierced always made me feel like i were muddying the floors of a temple; granted: i got my ears pierced because of kurapika from hxh);

but also: just in general i don:t like accessorizing very much; i don:t really see the point in it, and much of the 'whim' i get to have 'nice things' (like dolls, or figurines, or pretty pictures) always amounts to realizing that now that i have it there is nothing to be done with it cept look at it and go "yep seen it; wish i spent my money on food instead"; reflects in my fashion; just wear the same few things every single day; non-flashy and comfortable; though -- i saw on tiktok this guy hungryformunchies (or something like that, i should know his name i really like him) wearing this amazing Venom (the comic character!) overprint shirt and it was the most i:d ever wanted a piece of clothing in ages -- it just reeked of everything that i once thought cool back when my mom would take me to comic/halloween stores as a kid and i:d look at those x-men cards that occasionally had the COOL 3d holographic versions and think it were something magic and pristine;

now mostly everything is equally uninteresting cept in rare sparks and doing extra things like putting on some jewelry i don:t care about makes me feel like i am doing something that ought be done solely to trick the spirit to think i am offering it more of my attention than i am; example: using some hypothetical God as example: would loudly praying in a public place be a better gesture to that invisible thing i:ve sworn myself to, or is it a gesture to the public that "yes, i am faithful!"; surely that invisible creator ought be fine with invisible promises that i carry out without gesture or glamour; surely-still (to both myself and the invisible) it might even feel more glamorous than any jewelry to carry-out those promises at the inconvenience of the Public without much thoroughfare, even if it makes me fanatical or strange or inconvenient; as another example: i like my scarring, but mostly i:m fairly content to keep that unseen. it:s the general philosophy i have about "making art for yourself" being bogus and always necessitates that externalizing the Idea or Prayer succeeds in nothing but offering that internal core to the outside insectile intelligences, and any reward from doing-so is the coaxing offered to encourage that behavior; insects: sneaky and crafty.

wish i had that venom shirt, though;

take care, anonymous.

[mirdance]

It's a Dangerous Game

Summary: Tartaglia strikes a deal with his partner; a fair chance at escape with conditions. Now that you've been caught, how will the tables turn? Can you sate his lust for victory or will you make matters worse?

Rating: Explicit NSFW

Tags: Rape/Non-con Elements,Violence,Cunnilingus,Penis In Vagina Sex,Yandere,Horny Tartaglia,Childe (Genshin Impact)Yandere Tartaglia | Childe (Genshin Impact)Reader-Insert,Predator/Prey,Primal/Prey,Blood Kink

Notes: Thanks to @ddarker-dreams for allowing me to write the sequel/au to the work I commissioned form her <3 Please be sure to check out the first, A Dangerous Game, on a03 or tumblr.

The story I wrote did not turn exactly how I had planned or desired, but I do plan on writing series of works that deal with this darling and Childe, incorporating games and deals they make as the relationship progresses.

Thanks to RozaliasKisses0011 for helping with edits!

The snowy wind howls outside the cave while the heat from the campfire begins bringing forth a warmth that raises the goosebumps across your skin and tingles the very tips of your hairs.  After days of traveling through thick heaps of snow and cutting yourself on one too many slippery ice chunks, the heat of fire that collides against your core is almost too much as Childe unzips the only thing that has protected you against the harsh winds. And him.

He won the victory of finding you, but you would make him exhausted from the battles. 

“You think I’m easy, don’t you.” You take his hand and rest it upon one of your breasts, giving it a squeeze through his.  You were already in deep shit, but adrenaline made it easier to be brave.  Childe enjoys a fight, and you simply wouldn’t go down without using every ounce of the strength you possessed.  You laugh, the sound bouncing through the cave walls.  At the end of the day, Childe is still a man.  A man that thinks with his dick.  “You’re so horny from catching me.  It’s cute.  Saying you’d conquer worlds for me and fight for me.”

Escaping was done for, but distracting him, making him destroy himself in small fragments, that you could do.

Silence.  The cracks in the cave walls feel more prominent; not even an insect watches your downfall.  Soon, you’d have to return home.  His home, you correct yourself.  It makes you think of the dogs you were graciously allowed to keep and their confusion as they often watched you fumble around the house, playing one of Childe’s favorite hide and seek games.  Even for you, the games got old. Childe doesn’t like easy prey; he enjoys the thrill of the hunt.  Simply trying to bore him to death only makes him come up with what he considers to be more interesting, usually at your expense. 

You would make him fall more madly in love with you.

Breathe.  You’re only sitting, but the puffs of white clouds emitting from your lips dance in tune with the heartbeat in your ears.  Exhale.  Inhale.  Exhale.  Breathing only makes you more aware of how loud the quiet rings.

Childe is expressionless while your thoughts twirl against your skull.  Something must have clicked inside his head because he tsks and digs his nails into your breast.  “Those are some…” He squeezes and smirks.  “Pretty words from someone that almost died of dehydration a while ago.” He chuckles. “You like fighting me, don’t you? You can say it, I don’t mind. Sure, I might get aroused with a good chase, but you’re just as filthy as I am.”

You gasp, and the heat from the fire floods your cheeks.  A small pool of blood oozes around his fingernails.  No, you would never stoop so low as to make anyone feel the terror that he forced through your veins. But after everything he’d done to you…could you do the same to him?  He deserved it, for sure.

Teucer crosses your mind, and you let your thoughts slip before being able to analyze them.  “You treat your family like this growing up?”

He releases your breast; the nail indentions sting against the cool air.  He rests his hand against his chin in thought as your blood smears his skin.  “If you mean toiling from sunrise to sunset. Plaguing my hands with the blood of my enemies. Sacrificing meals so my siblings could eat. Providing shelter and working myself to the bone. Then yeah,” he reaches towards your jaw and grasps it within his fingers. “But if you mean something else, do share.  I’d love to hear the opinions of someone who couldn’t even survive the wilderness for a few days without my help.”

The pressure against your bones rattles your teeth. Water threatens the corners of your eyes. He says that he is wrapped around your finger, but some insults don’t hit well.  Still, part of you wants to know just how far your influence runs.  Would he forgive you if you pressed? 

“Ywoure wright,” you mutter with your squished face.  If there is one thing Childe does correctly, it’s the way he cares for his family.  Perhaps you did go too far with that one.  Touching that topic would best be left for another time.

“Good girl.” He pats your cheek with a bit of force and laughs.  There’s no doubt; he would have slapped you if you’d insulted his family. He squeezes your face again.  “Say something.”

“What?”

He laughs harder and shakes your head from side to side, making your lips protrude.  “You’re so cute.”

The compliments feel even more disgusting than the insults; your ears burn, and you have every mind to slap his hand out of the way.  And yet, your hands remain at your side.

Trudging through the gods’ forsaken ice land, cutting your fingers against frozen bark, eyes burning from the brightness of the snow.  All for you to reach this point.  Being treated like a child for the umpteenth time.

“I hate ywou,” you gripe.

He clutches his chest in fake shock.  “My, my.  I’m so glad you’ve finally decided to call home home. And-- “ he slides an index finger against your knee.  “That you’re so willing.  Maybe you aren’t such a sore loser after all.”

He releases his grip and holds his sides.  “Ah, that was great.”

You rub your jaw.  “Are you going to fuck me or are we going home?”

You huff in frustration.

You aren’t easy.

Today would be a test, possibly your last, but if he wants to watch the world burn, it will start under his toes. You warm up saliva in your mouth and spit directly in his face.  Before gauging his reaction, you roll out of the way, shedding your shirt in the process. The mixture of hot air from the fire and cool winter breeze punches your chest. You shiver.

Laughter.

"Well, isn't my lovely wife full of surprises today?" He readies a hydro blade at his waist. "To think she'd be so excited about foreplay." The fire from your only source of warmth flickers within his gaze as he smirks. "You really know how to turn a man on."

You laugh along with him. Some couples laugh during intimacy, sweet moments beneath soft covers. You laugh because you're probably screwed, in more ways than one, and the thought sends jolts of adrenaline through your spine.

For once you slightly understand Childe.

He grabs your wrist.  “Now this is getting interesting.”

You ball your fist and nudge downward, breaking his hold. Maybe you couldn't survive in the wilderness as well as he, but you at least knew the art of self-defense.

You run. Into the cave. Which is probably a stupid idea.

Cool air wizzes past your ears and whips around your hair.

If he wants your hole, you’ll play his game.  The more entertained he is, the more he’ll admire you and the more he’ll burn for you.  On the flip side, the more capable you are, the more wary he will be.  It is a double-edged sword, but wrestling before sex is something he has you do quite often.  He expects you to succumb now since he has caught you defeated. 

Childe’s laughter quiets into silence behind as you whip your way into the depths of the cave.  Pitch darkness with no hum of wind meets your eyes.  Not even the sounds of footsteps carry behind you, but Childe could be quiet when needed.  There would be no time to linger or turn your head to check.   Eventually your right shin stumbles into something wooden, perhaps a crate, and scrapes you as you catch yourself.  Around the area several crates sit broken and empty, not a blanket or even piece of paper to be felt.  No food or water.  Still, with as many crates as there are around, it will take Childe some time to find the correct one in the dark.

Only then do you realize that you’re half naked.  Your calf muscles burn as you lift a crate lid and dive into the splintery land within.  What were the drills Childe had told you?  Run first.  Then hide.  Then fight.  They are instinct now.  Not only for his games, but for his enemies.  Childe does his best to protect you, but a man like that has enemies everywhere.  You pull the lid over the crate.  Even if he wants to keep you trapped like a bird in a cage, keeping you well and fighting is also in his best interests.  You’ll use every ounce of that to your advantage.  To keep him satiated and someday escape his grasp. 

Or kill him. 

With every game, it’s just another tool in your box in learning how he ticks.  How will he tick this time?

A few minutes pass, and you begin to shiver. The small wounds on your breast sting. Why isn’t he showing up?  He’d never pass by an opportunity to chase you.  There is no way he wouldn’t know where you hid. And he would never allow you to freeze to death.  What if he is actually angry?  Or worse, bored?  

Hearing his laughter or the wind howling was better than nothingness.  Your own breath permeates the space around you until it melds with the beating of your heart that throbs inside your head.  A splinter scratches your shoulder blades, daring you to move out of its harm.  Closing your eyes is the same as leaving them open, but you close them anyway and try to picture yourself rocking on a boat for some semblance of grounding. It could almost lull you to sleep if not for the chill in your bones.

A rock clacks against one of the crates.  Footsteps crunch on gravel without even pretending to hide.  You internally sigh in relief as your heart rate soars to new heights.  Sounds of crate lids falling to the side almost sound unreal, as if you are only a ghost taking part in watching the show.  Would he open yours next?

“And what happens when that survival energy depletes?”  The lid to your crate slowly scraps to the side and lands on the cave floor.  “They freeze, knowing the only hope ahead is death.”

“Do you know what a cornered cat does?” Childe sings.  “They strike with all their might.  Many animals and beasts, when presented with no other options, display amazing feats of strength.  The same goes for humans, too.  It’s quite beautiful.  One of the most beautiful things nature has provided us with.  It’s like all of one’s humanity bleeds into a force of survival.”

Lecturing.  It isn’t something Childe does often, as he prefers hand to hand combat over words.  It's almost more terrifying than being skin to skin with him.  It’s so cold, though, and part of you wishes for that skin. 

Your hand weakly slams at his chest as he lifts you out of the crate.  Your knuckles crack and burn from being frozen and still for too long.  You’d wanted to provide him with a better game, one up him in some way while the time provides, even if small.  You bite his arm and latch on as he cradles you into his chest. 

“Feisty,” he moans.  “Did you know that when the human body becomes a certain temperature that one can experience what it’s like fucking a corpse?”

You jaw slackens. 

“Not my kink, but maybe it’s yours.  Or would you prefer to be warmed up?”

You let out the air you were holding in.  “I want to be warm.”

“Good girl.”

You’re sat down, and a heavy weight adorns your shoulders.  Childe’s coat.  He scrambles around and the sound of his bag unzipping grates your ears.  So, he took his time and made sure to bring his bag.  You’d never reach his level.

You want to scream at him to hurry up with his damn fire, but nothing leaves your lips.  A few sparks light up the area before catching the wood.  The flickering shadows pass over his grin.  He pokes the fire a few times with a stick and sets it to the side.

“You did a good job back there breaking my wrist hold,” he commented while shedding his clothing.  “I’ve taught you well.  We should create a more fun setting next time.  I bet you’d look cute in animal ears running around a forest.  I do need to practice my hunting skills.  You do have courage and cunning, that’s for sure.  With some work, you could be the ideal quarry.  It would be fun for both of us.  And you want to get out of the house more, right?”

Humiliating.  Your toes tremble as the warmth begins to set in.  Childe hovers in front of you and brings you into his hold.  He rubs his hands up and down your arms and back and legs until goosebumps align your spine. 

“I expected you to continue fighting, but I guess you don’t have it in you.”  He chuckles and kisses you on the forehead.  “But I’m not disappointed.  Far from it.”

You spit at him, but the saliva only dribbles down your chin. 

He runs his forefinger across the drool and prods your mouth open, making sure to run your saliva across your tongue. “I don’t dislike brats.  It’s why I fell in love with you, after all.”

You cough but make no other movements.  His fingers taste of wood and smoke.   Your tongue curls.  Childe continues playing with your tongue, pulling it out, flipping it over, rubbing the sides, until the tips of his fingers reach your uvula.  You gag; snot runs down your nose. 

“Your gag reflex is terrible.”

He pulls out his fingers, and a string of spit connects from him to your lips.  He guides it down your chest and to a nipple where he circles it in your drool.  It raises against the cold.  Your thighs twitch.  Of course, you know that he knows it’s a simple reaction instead of arousal.  And of course, he doesn’t care.  To him, that reaction is part of his victory.  To you, part of your own victory is keeping sane despite the physical reactions.

He pulls your pants down with expertise; as you try to kick his face, he holds your ankle in the air and kisses it with a shit-eating grin. 

He uses the wet of his fingers to circle your labia.  You immediately close your thighs, but that only clamps his warm hand into you harder.  Instead of prying your legs apart, he simply rubs his wrist against your pubic bone and uses his fingers to slide against your slick.  With some feeling returning to your bones now, you open your legs and push at his chest with your foot, but he doesn’t budge. 

He presses you down by the shoulders, and your head hits the ground with a hard thud.  “Try escaping this,” he comments while placing both knees on your thighs. 

You cry out.  Between the pinpoint precision of his hands against your shoulders and his knees pressing into your thighbones, moving your limbs burns.  You push a shoulder forward and thud back to the cave floor.  You raise both arms and hit his sides.  With ease, he grabs the back of your head with a fistful of hair and hops off to flip you over.  Your chin crashes, and a cheek scrapes the gravel.  He sits on your ass, his shaft bouncing against your tailbone.  His coat jumbles haphazardly beneath you.

“Oh, sweetie…” he murmurs with a deep breath and plants soft kisses along your neck and shoulders. 

“I hope your dick freezes off.”

“I love your fighting talk.” His kisses echo across the walls alongside the crackling wood.  “But my dick is about to be very warm.”

“You see,” he continues.  Why is he talking so damn much?  “One way to get out of that hold is to use your calves to wrap around mine, push forward, maybe choke your opponent in the process.”

He goes to grip your throat, and you immediately place your hand in the way, fingers facing to the side so he cannot get a hold.  He claps his hands. 

“Very good, but I can easily choke you despite that.”  He works around your hand and presses against your blood vessel. 

The room is airy; your hand weakens.  Your head feels full, as if piles of cotton were stuffed into your ears.  Your legs kick behind you despite having nothing to kick. You had to struggle, or rather, needed to know that you could still thrash about, that something inside you desired to move.  But that’s also what Childe likes about you, enjoys to the fullest. 

If you could pin him down just once, maybe you’d be satisfied. 

The pressure of his palm against your skull dampens that thought.  He wraps his legs around yours, causing his cock to rest between your ass cheeks.  No matter how much you squirm, your legs are unmovable between the ground and his body. 

“You have decent instinct,” Childe comments.  He keeps your head forced against the ground while using his other hand to caress your throat.  He fingers gently trace the shape of your neck.  “But don’t worry.  You don’t have to be perfect.  There’s nothing more boring than that.” 

The sensation of his cock being wrapped becomes too much you suppose, and he grinds into you.  Your tailbone stings from the pressure.  Your hands splay in front of you at some point, simultaneously too feeble to push him away and enjoying the warmth he provides when he rubs his arms all over you. 

“Gee,” you reply breathlessly.  “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Your efforts,” he stutters, sucking your ear and swirling his tongue around the lobe, “have been adorable.”

His breath tickles your ear.  Your mouth becomes dry, and you gulp at nothing.  Only he could derive pleasure from this godforsaken wasteland inside a cave where his dehydrated wife lay. 

“Thirsty?”  Childe brings your jaw towards him and pulls you into a kiss.  His tongue laps at yours and creates a pool of drool beneath your tongue.  You drink it up against your better convictions.  

You bite his bottom lip, and that stirs him on.  He nibbles back at yours, and you’re not sure whose blood belongs to whom.  When it comes to sex, whatever mark you can leave on him is a small win in your book. 

Perhaps it is the same for him. 

Even if he pins down your parts, you have teeth and nails, unless he takes those away one day.  He grabs the inside of your cheek with his thumb, as if he were lifting a fish, and shakes your head in jest.  His index finger presses into the soft tissue of your jaw, and your eyes water.  Even though it is painful, you file the pressure point in the back of your mind. 

“Even so far into this game, your face tells all.  That spark.  I love it.”  He releases your mouth, and a pool of saliva escapes the side of your mouth.  He cleans it with his tongue before descending down your back.  The wetness against the heat of the fire against the cool of the air sends your shoulders twitching until he reaches below your glutes.

Panic sets in.  “No, no, please, don’t do that.” You want to get this over with.

“Oh?  You want me to just shove it in?  I figured a little warming up would be nice, but I guess you’re already warmed up?” 

“Just spit on it!”

He bites your left ass cheek.  Your ass stings, but it isn’t unpleasant against the cool air.

“When I said I wanted to make you happy, I meant it.”  He dips his head; you feel his breath heat against your cunt.  “Do you want me to shove it in or eat you out?”

This man is insufferable.  He couldn’t just lube you up somehow and finish the job.  “I don’t think I want you to just shove it in.”

“Then what do you want?”

You roll your eyes.  You want him to just spit on it and get it over with, but you know you don’t actually have a choice in the matter.  The entire game has been an illusion of choices.  “Eat me out,” you grumble.  Might as well get the sentence he wants out.  Maybe, just maybe, for a minute you’ll get something out of his tongue that is a semblance of peace and quiet. 

He chuckles into your cunt; it warms your core.  “Who am I to deny my wife’s needs?”

If Childe is anything, he is a fast learner.  While the beginnings of the relationship were sorely disappointing in terms of your pleasure, he learned, despite you trying to hide.   He’d gone from awkwardly trying to scissor his fingers inside seconds before his penetration to circling the head of the clit and pulling the labia up and down in time with his tongue for hours on end.  The way he could analyze your body never ceased to be astonishing.  Perhaps in his twisted mind he does want you to be happy and thinks this is the way to go about it because it is what he enjoys.  He says your happiness is important, but his happiness will always be first, nothing can change your mind on that.

His nose tickles your hole, and your entire body warms to the tips of your fingers.  He is unbearably slow with the way he glides past your clitoral hood and back again.  Childe is a mixture of impatience and patience depending on how he wants to play.  You probably solidified your doom by showing him you wanted it over with quickly.  It’s just another challenge for him.  Or—in his terms—a compromise. 

His moans reach all the right places; he’s learned to vibrate his lower lip with his top teeth, and it sends your ass squirming for more friction.  You grip the fur of his coat under you and bite into it to hold your whines.  Sure, it felt great, but you won’t be lost completely.  He grips the sides of your hips and pulls you into his face.  You’re unsure of how he can breathe, but he manages to develop a pattern within his vibrations that go from slow slow quick and back again.  Everything from the ass down throbs; you can’t help but exhale heavily into the coat and grind into his mouth.  If he’d just go faster, you’d be relieved. 

Much to your surprise, he does.  Instead of toying with you more like expected, he doubles down on his efforts, hardly leaving any room for you to breathe. Your thigh muscles constrict and hold his head into place while your orgasm crashes through your nerves.  You vaguely hear gurling noises from Childe, and you smirk, happy to finally make him choke on something.  That pride doesn’t last long as your legs collapse around him.  The vibrations, unlike fingers or tongue, usually send you into overstimulation.  It’s great, though, because you’re warm, and every muscle aches pleasantly. 

You almost forget that you’re in a cave, miles from home after trying to run away from your predator of a husband.

You’re flipped onto your back.  Your thighs still twitch with aftershocks.  Childe massages deeply into the squirming thigh muscles.  Maybe it’s an act of sympathy, who knows.  The campfire’s shadows dance across his grin.  If only you could have stayed on your stomach.

“Now this is a sight to behold,” he says, his fingers light caressing your vulva, causing more twitches.  “Your eyes glazed and body moldable from that lost energy.”

What had he said before?

He spreads your hole with his fingers and aligns himself against your cunt; he pumps himself a couple times before easing in.  “Don’t look away, I want to see your expressions.”

Something about what animals do.  After death is near. 

“Fuck,” he sighs, his voice barely above a whisper.  With no warning, his balls slap harshly against you, and he grabs one of your tits.

You cry out as the repeat assault against your cervix begins.  If you look just to the side, you can see Childe’s shadow bob along the cave walls instead of his face while still allowing him to see yours.  You probably won’t be returning home for a while, and who knows what mood he’ll be in by that point about the entire ordeal, so might as well make the pleasure last. Even though your body responds by shuddering against his cock and closing your legs around his waist, your mind is frozen like the landscape outside. 

[valentine-writes]

hypotheticals

[ tws + notes: no tws at all... crack. fluff. silly. reader is oh so so silly. i am not taking thingz 2 srsly i REFUSE (*/ω＼*) ]

↳ ft. diluc, itto, kaeya

「 gn! reader, romantic relationship <3 」

author's note: WOOO.. feb 14 posting (LATE SO LATE SO SO LATE) but anyways.... i am allowed to be silly. for funzies :3 (I THINK THIS IS MILDLY FUNNY PLEASE I AM SORRY IF U WANTED SOMETHING SERIOUS) (〃∀〃)ゞ anyways. letz get 2 tha hcs ^_^ also... soz 4 cutting out A Lot of characterz i do not have any motivation 2 write much :[

you've been with him for a while now. and the both of you became close in your relationship, finding comfort in each other's presence– and yet still a question lingered in the back of your mind.

it was only a matter of time before you asked him. after all, the very existence of your relationship and it's longevity relied on this single question alone.

hesitating for a moment, you clear your throat to grab his attention. you part your lips, mustering up the courage to ask him the all-important question:

"would you still love me if i was a worm?"

▸ "what...?" DILUC blinks at you about several times, as he tries to figure out whether he had just imagined those words, or if they had actually came out of your mouth.

"would you still love me if i was a worm?" you repeat, more slowly this time, ensuring he hears you loud and clear.

the look on his face is hard to discern. whether he's disappointed in you for asking the question, himself for not having an answer, or even genuinely debating in what he would do if you were turned into a worm is beyond you. it takes him a few second to figure out a response.

he looks up at you, furrowing his brow. "why would you be turned into a worm in the first place?"

"that's not important!"

"i'd say it is, actually. possibly one of the main questions to ask if you were turned into a worm."

you glance at him– and you catch a tiny grin forming on his face. a small laugh escapes your lips, nudging him with your elbow as you press on.

"i don't care what questions you'd wanna ask worm me. i wouldn't be able to respond– so, would you still love me?"

diluc sighs, a small chuckle escaping his lips. "i love you now. and i would ensure, that if you were somehow turned into a worm– no harm would come upon you."

▸ "that's a good question..." ITTO mumbles, rubbing his chin. he's in deep thought for a solid minute– before quickly zoning back into reality, with a snap of his fingers.

"I GOT IT!" he proclaims, stumbling upon a revelation that he is clearly excited to share with you.

he clears his throat, preparing for this mind blowing solution to your hypothetical worm situation.

"we'd just be insect buddies! i could be like– a cool, strong onikabuto! you wouldn't have to worry your cute little worm head about being loved at all! we'd go everywhere together, hang out all the time, do whatever insects do–"

"i'd like to point out that worms aren't insects." you say, cutting him off mid ramble.

"bug buddies then?" he suggests, raising an eyebrow.

"that's a synonym for insect." still, it's hard to hide your smile growing as you think of his response. "...you'd turn yourself into a bug for worm me?"

he pats you on the head, grinning brightly. "i'd do anything for you– and you don't gotta be a worm for that."

▸ KAEYA laughs, before looking you in the eye.

"probably not."

you practically feel your heart collapse over itself, under the weight of his words. pressing a hand to your chest, you feign insult as long as you can before caving in and asking,

"...really?" your eyes search his face for an answer, wondering if he's being serious or not.

he notices the softness in your voice. the way your lips pout slightly, as you await a response.

kaeya treads carefully now– too scared to actually hurt you over what he might say. "well, would you love me if you were a worm?"

your brows furrow as you think. "after your response, i'm not so sure. i can't live a worm life of unrequited worm love."

he chuckles. there's a genuine warmth to it this time, not mocking or teasing you at all.

"then you won't have to. i'll just have to love you no matter what shape you take," he gently places his hand over yours, "i couldn't break your little worm heart."

you can't help but laugh at the last part, snickering softly. he barely conceals his own grin.

"how cruel of you to laugh at me– i really am trying to be earnest." he smiles. the glimmer in his eyes betrays him.

[adragoninshiningarmour]

TigerVespamon and Vespamon

This is a bit related to the last Ask. I think it's very cool that they filled out the rest of the Royal Base species. I haven't actually looked at them yet because I didn't want Liberator spoilers.

That being said, "Vespamon" being a Digimon has kind of screwed with certain things related to my character of TigerVespamon. xD Obviously, I created TigerVespamon a long time ago (over ten years at this point), so I had no way of knowing they would ever touch the Royal Base again. There were very few humanoid insect Digimon at the time, so I didn't have very many options, and I kind of had to work around his confusing reference book profile (Were all Vespamons TigerVespamon? Were all TigerVespamons Vespamon? Is the codename thing just flavour rather than a representation of evolution? Are there multiple codenames? Can other Digimon still become TigerVespamon?) In the end, I just went with TigerVespamon because it was a form that worked for his character and personality, and I also tied the Royal Base-specificity of the form into the theme of identity that I made part of his character.

Obviously, now that "Vespamon" is an actual, different Digimon from TigerVespamon, that kinda changes things. I haven't looked at Vespamon's design yet, so I don't know if its design also fits his character. It very well might. If I were writing him for the first time today, there's a very real chance that I might make TigerVespamon's species a Vespamon instead. That said, now I'm kind of stuck in how I wrote him from the beginning, which creates kind of a lore error for as to why this orphan-turned-acolyte has a species that's exclusively for Royal Base-associated Vespamon. xD It also kind of messes with him recently asking to be referred to as "Vespamon" instead.

Anyways, it's not a huge deal, and it's not the first time that new Digimon lore has messed with my story, and I doubt it'll be the last. xD I just wanted to address that elephant in the room. I still think that the species fits him. If I decide that Vespamon works for him, I can always just say that Vespamon is his Perfect level form. I think I just have to take this one on the chin.

[everchanging-cryptid]

live reacting to The Amazing Digital Circus Pilot because I just realized it came out

it’s all pixelly and then not, neat Ooh, ringmaster’s a fun character, love him

oh, Cain, like the Bible brother maybe?

Time loop?

Lol the flowerpot glitching through the floor

Hostile VR, nice

Haha, no swearing

I would very much like to live in this building

Can relate to Kinger, I too would love to chat with people about an insect collection

The ribbon guy reminds me of Will from the webcomic Nevermore

Blue screening when you need to come up with a list, same

I can’t tell if he’s gonna be a scary character or a funny character, that’s really cool

Why does the moon want to fuck him

Why are you like this

Ooh he’s hiding something yeah

Ok, he does not have control over minds, good to know, and he said “one of the few” so maybe he can’t control other things

Never tell a fae-like entity “I don’t care, just pick anything”

“Whaddya think of: *mouth keysmash*” lol

Pomni, that’s a fun name

“YOU PARASITE!!!” Had me laughing for like 2 minutes straight

Just pop the interrupting people

r u b b e r h o s e a n i m a t i o n b u n n y yeah favorite character material right there

I love how they all just talk over each other but you can still hear what they’re each saying

Assigned “Most Mentally Stable” at mental breakdown

Ooh, I see a bunch of X-ed out faces on the doors, did they get permakilled or something?

The framed artworks make me incredibly happy

Uhoh, Pomni went to the petrified place /reference

Where did you get a centipede???

Ooh that’s not good

he reminds me of a corrupted gem from Steven universe

Ooh that looks painful ouch

Love those broken object physics, beautiful

I love the sense of perspective, when the camera is further back and Pomni looks so isolated

I think Kinger might be the most relatable character tbh

Kaufmo just is not funny is he

God the comedic timing for Jax is PERFECT

RADICAL

Love a good bowling pin joke

Ok I take it back the comedic timing on Kinger is the best I was crying at the perfectly cut scream

Hmm I think poor kiddo Pomni here needs a break to cry

Ooh water cube room I like that

oh that’s terrifying they can just shoot faces at you

Well that’s certainly not Cain

Pfft they rock paper scissors and he won but did the thing anyway

“Oh.” *watches his hands float away*

HIS EYES DID THE CLOCK THING

Can the next person teleported in be a therapist because hot damn have we got some trauma up in here

:o barrel of monkeys! :D

NOOOO THE MONKEYS

Oh door?

Nope nope nope nope nope nope

Oh that’s some backrooms shit right there

Hot damn take a chill pill bro you already got him he’s dead

“This is dumb and weird.” Yeah im gonna quote that forever now thanks

“Ah thank GOD you’re okay, you didn’t experience a game show in there did you?” “Uhhhh… I— What are you talking about?”

Abstracted, like becoming abstract? Becoming just a vague feeling, a mere idea? Ooh that’s some good stuff right there

I too love the sound of a silent moving staircase

Oh this is gonna be fuckin terrifying I see how it is

Musty old computer causes mental breakdown? Interesting

C&A CAIN AND ABEL I FREAKIN CALLED IT YES oh that has some interesting implications now doesn’t it hmm souls trapped in a computer perhaps?

Oh shit it’s the void

I’ll take 5 wacky watches please

ha fourth wall break

oh Pomni is actually broken aren’t they

oh are those all the others who were crossed out

ooh healing spell

Pomni is not okay

analysis on digital eating okay sure

oh that’s an earth shattering ending oh my gosh I feel like I just experienced eldritch enlightenment

Can not wait for more possible episodes! It’s incredible, I highly recommend checking it out! ^^

[wjbs-aus]

Sorry for the two Doom 3 posts in a row earlier, but I unironically love all the demon designs they did for it. They're that special type of 2000s sci-fi/horror monster design that I can't get enough of.

Anyway this is now an alphabetical-order Doom 3 monster design appreciation/thoughts/interesting facts post (images from Doomwiki), followed by enemies that only appear in the Resurrection of Evil expansion. Be warned that most of these designs involve heavy amounts of body-horror and gore, and at least two of them might trigger arachnophobia and/or entomophobia in some people.

Regular enemies

Archvile - Basically just a 3D adaptation of its Doom 2 design, with the only differences being the colour, the weird tumorous hands, the smoother head, and the smaller cheekbones. Nothing else to say.

Cacodemon - Due to the original Caco's sprite being traced from a DnD monster, every redesign has tried to make it look different, but I personally think Doom 3's is the furthest from the original design, though it's still recognisably Cacoesque (with the wide mouth and lower "feelers" that people often seem to ignore). Amazing redesign, and I can definitely see some of it in the 2016/Eternal design (specifically the "tentacles", which became the modern!Caco's dangling "legs").

Cherub - I remember, during the leadup to Doom Eternal's release, the Fandom Doom Wiki claimed it would feature Cherubs and used what was clearly a close-up of the Carcass enemy as "proof". As for my actual thoughts on its design, it's very cool, and honestly I really wish it did show up in Eternal, especially if it got redesigned and was a Maykr instead of a Demon.

Commandos - I think it's neat that Doom 3 doesn't just remake the Former Humans in HD, but instead gives them unique twists. In this case, rather than the Chaingunner equivalent being a big dude in red armour carrying a chaingun, Commandos are slightly less bulky, don't wear shirts, and come in two flavours; the one on the left uses its nasty tentacle to do long-range melee attacks, while the one on the right is more "classic" and carries a chaingun. While they are cool, I personally feel like they should have either merged them (like how they work in Metadoom) or had a more traditional Chaingunner and left the tentacle form as it is.

Demon - Much like the Cacodemon, the Pinky got a unique design for 3, with its front half being almost entirely organic, while its back legs are mechanical, and it does that thing I like (for several reasons) where it has a prominent mouth and no eyes. Unlike the Cacodemon, this design was actually used elsewhere, namely in the 2005 Doom movie (which uses designs from Doom 3 for its monsters, which are mutants rather than demons for some reason) where the character "Pinky" gets mutated into one by a virus or something, with his prosthetic lower-half becoming the monster's back legs (albeit with wheels instead of feet).

Hell Knight - When they were first introduced in Doom II, Hell Knights were just palette-swapped versions of the Baron of Hell, so for Doom 3, Id decided to give it a redesign, despite the Baron not appearing in Doom 3. While I think the Hell Knights and Barons looking similar was kinda interesting, this design is really cool and I love it a lot more than the original, especially the alternate texture used in the Hell levels. The Hell Knight is also the only demon to retain its Doom 3 design all the way into the modern games, albeit with minor changes to its design, mostly in regards to its face and palette.

Imp - The first demon encountered in every Doom game, the Imp has varied drastically in design in each game, and much like most of Doom 3's returning demons, is probably the most divergent from the original. Instead of a spiky humanoid with glowing red eyes, this imp is more like an insect, with chitinous grey skin and 14 eyes. Like the Demon and Hell Knight, the Imp appears frequently throughout the Doom movie.

Lost Soul - In the first 3 Doom games (1, II and 64), Lost Souls were giant human skulls with horns, which were inexplicably on fire. For Doom 3, Id got a bit creative with things and instead made them into hideous-looking, sharp-toothed disembodied heads attached to rockets, and there's even a sequence where one flies out of a scientist's head, killing her in the process (though the way the cutscene's set up makes it look like the Lost Soul is her head). Very interesting, though the mechanical details kinda make it fit in more with the later-released Quake IV (which used the same engine and artstyle, but with more of a focus on cybernetic body-horror).

Maggot - The most horrific-looking demon in Doom 3 by far, with two heads, five legs, and what appear to be exposed lungs. I love it. Interestingly, they appear to have influenced the modern Imp design, as they also have gross fleshy back parts that look kinda similar, although the similarity ends there. I also feel like this is the most representative of the Doom 3 design philosophy.

Mancubus - Hell yeah. The Doom 3 Mancubus feels like an update to its classic design rather than an overhaul, with its more cartoonish ogre-like face being swapped out for a disturbing mouth-tube and pair of facial tentacles that evoke an elephant's trunk and tusks, respectively (although apparently it's meant to resemble Cthulhu). Its cannons also look delightfully 2000s.

Revenant - Much like the Mancubus, the Revenant also feels like an update to the original, removing the original's "shorts" (which are actually blood) and replacing them with a translucent, gelatinous mass resembling a human, while also 2000s-ing its chestplate and shoulder-cannons. I haven't encountered them yet in my current playthrough, so I don't know if they still do the silly walk, but I doubt they do, which is sad.

Tick - While Doom's original spider-related demons (the Spider Mastermind and the Arachotron) don't appear in Doom 3, there's still room for spiders. The Tick features a humanoid face incorporated into the front of its carapace, and has 6 legs, meaning it's actually more of a bug, but I honestly don't care.

Trite - The Trite is much fleshier than the Tick, and functions very similarly. Its face kinda reminds me of the Hell Knight, with the Imp's eyes and a disturbingly humanoid nose; in fact, what the whole thing makes me think of is, well, The Thing, namely its upside-down head-spider form.

Wraith - Wraiths are interesting in that they appear to have gone on to inspire two modern Doom monsters, coincedentally both from Eternal; their faces slightly resemble the structure of the Doomhunter's skull, while their body-shape and pose resembles the Gargoyle. Overall it's very cool, especially the avian leg-scales, but weirdly it doesn't seem capable of flight.

Zombie - Unlike Doom 1, II or 64, Doom 3 has human NPCs as part of its attempt at something closer to Half-Life's structure (in fact, Doom 3 released only a few months before Half-Life 2); as a result, there are also zombified versions of them, which are the bottom of the game's enemy heirarchy. They filled a niche that, until this game, the Doom series lacked, namely a weak melee enemy; however, I find their designs kinda uninteresting, mostly because they're just generic zombies, albeit with slightly futuristic-looking clothing. Doom 2016 and Eternal would later introduce more visually-interesting zombies which fill a similar role however, so that's neat!

Z-Sec - The Z-Sec are basically Doom 3's equivalents of the Zombieman and Shotgunner, with two new variants, one with a machine-gun and another with a shield; these two probably inspired 2016's Possessed Soldier and Security respectively. Again, they're not the most inspired designs, though I really like their cool helmets and extremely mid-2000s sci-fi armour designs.

Bosses

Vagary - All I'll say about this one is that the part in The Making Of Doom 3 (a book I have read about half of I think?) where they say that "Sexy + Gross = Creepy" is absolutely correct, and also the Vagary's abdomen contains a Mancubus fetus so that's cool. Still think the Whiplash from Doom Eternal does the whole "feminine torso on a non-humanoid lower-half" thing in a better and more tonally-consistent way.

Guardian - This is the closest Doom 3 gets to having a Baron of Hell, I guess. Apparently it's meant to look like a dinosaur's idea of what a demon would look like, so that's neat!

Sabaoth - I'm pretty sure this one was meant to be a call-back to Quake II's final boss, which is also a giant cyborg with an organic upper-half that uses its game's BFG variant. But this one is different, because it's, like, a mass of meat rather than a weird skeleton, so that's cool, and the guy it's made of is the player's mission-control for the first few sections of the game. I don't know why the three "main" Idtech 4 games (Doom 3, Quake IV and Prey (2006)) all have a boss that consists of a major side-character grafted onto a big (bio)mechanical thing, but I expect to see that return if we ever get a 2000s FPS revival. Also something something "it looks a bit like the Doomhunter from Doom Eternal".

Cyberdemon - Unlike the '90s Doom games, where the Cyberdemon was an end-of-episode boss that eventually became a recurring level hazard/miniboss, Doom 3 made it the final boss that can only be harmed with the game's situational utility weapon, the Soul Cube; this probably lead to the modern!Cyberdemons both being bosses (the one in 2016 is fought midway through the game, while the one in VFR is the final boss) before Eternal replaced them with the Tyrants, which are literally just classic Cyberdemons in 3D with more interesting attacks. This design is... interesting, removing most of the more iconic details of the original Cyberdemon (its asymmetrical legs, the mass of wires in its abdomen, the arm-cannon being smaller and on its right arm, and the small, wide-set eyes) in place of a design that, again, fits more into Quake IV than Doom, but also it kinda makes it fit Doom 3's world more, and it's actually more "cyber" than the original Cyberdemon (the only cybernetic parts of which are its right leg, left hand, torso and some parts of its right arm).

Resurrection of Evil

Biosuit Zombie - Apparently this has some gameplay use in the non-BFG Edition versions of RoE (dropping a useful item), but otherwise it's just a single-level gimmick version of the regular Zombie enemy. Still, I love hazmat suits in general, and this one makes the look cooler by adding that delicious mid-2000sness.

Bruiser - The Bruiser is another candidate for being Doom 3's equivalent of the Baron of Hell (since Barons are sometimes referred to as "Bruisers", and the pair fought as Doom 1's first end-of-episode boss are known as "The Bruiser Brothers"), but with a design that's closer to both the Mancubus and the classic!Cyberdemon, but with the extra detail of having a TV screen for a mouth, which is extremely cool, and its arm-cannons look more industrial than the Mancubus's, which helps differentiate them physically. Apparently they were originally going to appear in Doom 3's main campaign and blend in with the environment before attacking, but this was scrapped, and Nerve (who developed Resurrection of Evil) ended up reusing the model in the DLC.

Forgotten One - According to the Doom Wiki (which is where I'm getting most of my information, since I'm not particularly far into Doom 3 at time of writing and I haven't even touched the DLC yet), these are just reskins of regular Lost Souls, but closer to their original appearance, which is. Fine, I guess? Honestly I prefer the regular Lost Souls over the Forgotten Ones.

Vulgar - Another case of Nerve recycling cut content, the Vulgar's model was used for the Arch-Vile in early versions of Doom 3, before being replaced with the more sprite-accurate design used for the final, and honestly I can see why. This design doesn't fit well with the Arch-Vile's whole "demonic wizard" thing, but what it does work well as is a fast enemy, and apparently the Vulgar is, being the DLC's equivalent of the Imp. I really like the little crustacean legs and the very Xenomorph-like body-plan, and I wish they did something like this again in the modern games. The closest is the Prowler in Eternal (which is essentially a stronger Imp).

The Hunters (Helltime, Berserk, Invulnerability) - I'm grouping these three together as they are all just modified Hell Knights, but as bosses rather than regular enemies, and each unlocks a new ability for the Resurrection of Evil-exclusive Soul Cube equivalent, the Artifact. The Helltime Hunter is really cool and honestly looks more like the 2016 Hell Knight design than the standard Doom 3 one does, the Berserk Hunter is genuinely kinda unnerving and feels like something from a 2000s horror movie, and the Invulnerability Hunter has a really neat armoured design that's kinda hard to make out through the particle-effects it's surrounded by.

Maledict - The final boss of RoE is a giant skull-bat I guess, with a human face inside its mouth. This is a reference to the ending cutscene of Doom 3's main campaign, in which its antagonist, Dr. Betruger, is shown transformed into the Maledict; you only get to fight it in Resurrection of Evil. This design is kinda generic but also very Doom-y, and works really well as the final boss of the entire Doom 3 subseries (after Doom 4 was cancelled and then revived as Doom 2016, which is set in a different timeline).

[allegra-writes]

"The Claim"

Armand x Daniel Molloy

NSFW

Warnings: Semi-public sex, bathroom sex, rough sex, size kink, anal sex, blood play ig, a minute of dub/non-con if you squint, mentions of substance abuse.

Polynesian Mary’s meets "You're mine now, beautiful boy"

Disclaimer: I don't own any recognizable character, and for legal reasons I won't be accepting tips for this story or any story set in Anne Rice's Immortal Universe. Thank you!

I said it on AO3 and I'll say it again here: Thank you for the beta work @serpentarius, you are the bestest💖

MY MASTERLIST

Daniel felt like a mess. Objectively he knew he was attractive, that was probably the only reason he was able to get away with half the shit he did. How he was able to pull guys and girls at the bar almost every night. How he was able to get free drinks, free dinners, free dope, and occasionally free smack. He had been called pretty more times than his own name, and whatever insecurities he might have (and he had many), his looks were not one of them. That night though, as he splashed cold water on his face in the bathroom at Mary’s, he felt ugly. More than that, he felt like something dirty and disgusting, like something one might find stuck on the soles of a shoe, like something slimy and crawly. He felt like an insect.

And wasn’t exactly that how that guy had looked at him? That tall, dark and handsome guy that had seemingly materialized out of nowhere while he was talking with Louis -gorgeous Louis- only to check him out from head to toe, reject him and then vanish into thin air again? And Daniel wasn’t stupid, he knew that he, they, were totally out of his league with their almost preternatural beauty, but still, it had stung.

Now, his own reflection in the dirty mirror appeared to him dead-eyed and sallow, his strategically messy curls, untidy, his battered jeans unkempt instead of rebellious.

He had half a mind to get out and leave through the back door, but no. Louis liked him. Louis wanted him, he had come onto him, not the other way around, there was no reason this night had to be a loss. If nothing else, he would at least get himself an interview.

He was still giving himself that pep talk, whipping his hands dry on his jeans, shouldering the bathroom door open when he collided face-first with an unexpected obstacle. He recoiled, stumbling a little with the force of the impact. It took him a too long moment to realize it wasn’t a marble column he had run into, but a surprisingly solid torso, one belonging to the very man he had been thinking of not two minutes ago.

Rashid - Daniel was pretty sure Louis had called him Rashid- squeezed his way into the tiny room, locking the door at his back. He stood there, staring at him.

“Hey, man,” Daniel greeted. Rashid didn’t reply. “Everything okay?”

Nothing. Rashid was a statue, cold, unblinking, and unmoving. It was eerie, making the hairs on his arm stand on end. Daniel’s senses were choosing a hell of a time to play tricks on him.

“L-look… I don’t want any trouble, man. If you don’t want me to go home with Louis, just say the word.” Still nothing, not even a twitch. Daniel tried to resist the urge to squirm under that intense gaze, “I’ll fuck right off, I promise. You’ll never see me again, just tell me fuck off and I will!”

The guy finally moved at that, tilting his head in confusion, and there was something birdlike, something not quite right about it,

“Now why would I do that?”

It was Daniel’s turn to be confused,

“Well, if you’re not here to kick my ass, what do you want?”

There was one last moment of stillness, a considering look, before Daniel found himself pinned to the wall by Rashid’s hard, hard body, soft lips moving eagerly against his own, demanding entrance. Daniel could do nothing but yield.

It was like kissing lightning.

Rashid’s mouth was cool, and didn’t actually taste like anything but it had his brain firing signals to his body, going haywire. Daniel could feel his own heart running amok inside his chest. He was breathing fast, the flutter of butterflies in his stomach turning to snakes, coiling at the base of his spine, tightening it up. It was a rush unlike anything he had ever had before, his veins overflowing with adrenaline. And Daniel, addict that he was, instead of running from it, wanted more.

Meanwhile, Rashid’s tongue against his own was nothing short of wicked, mapping every inch and crevice of his mouth, caressing teeth and palette only to go back and massage Daniel’s tongue again. Rashid kissed slow and sensuous, thorough. By the time he let him catch his breath, Daniel’s bones had turned to jell-O.

"I thought-" Daniel gasped as Rashid's lips found the spot under his ear that made him shiver, "I thought you weren't interested."

"Oh, I am interested," Rashid breathed against his throat, "I simply don't want to share," He spat the world bitterly, "Not you. Not tonight."

And fuck, Daniel had never had a possessive kink but the greediness in Rashid’s voice sent a spark of pure, unadulterated heat to his groin.

"And my name," How was he able to talk while sucking bruises on his pulse point??, "is Armand."

"Armand!" Daniel moaned as deft fingers unbuttoned his shirt as easily and quickly as if they were slicing it open, and was rewarded with a thick, muscular thigh sliding between his knees, spreading his legs and pushing against his already hard dick just hard enough to send a shock of pleasure through him. Icy but satin-soft fingertips began tracing a path up and down his body, mapping his abs, his ribcage, teasing at his nipples, making him whimper and moan. Armand’s mouth returned to his to eat up the sounds, those wicked fingers playing with the waistband of his jeans, dipping inside just to retreat again, teasing him. Daniel whimpered against Armand’s lips.

"Is there something you want, beautiful boy?" The little shit asked, running a sharp nail down the fine trail of hair on Daniel’s navel, stopping right above the place he wanted that hand the most.

It took everything in Daniel to find the coherence to string his ideas and words together again in a breathless "Please," but it seemed to be all Armand required.

"So polite… you really are perfect, aren't you, Daniel?" He praised, before finally, finally popping the button of Daniel’s jeans open, undoing the fly, and sliding his hand inside to wrap around Daniel’s cock. It felt gelid against Daniel’s feverish flesh, making him jump, but there was nowhere he could go, trapped as he was between the wall and Armand.

He probably shouldn't have liked it as much as he did.

"That's right, my lovely one," Fuck, Daniel could swear Armand’s velvet voice was inside his brain, "there's no escape. Tonight you are at my mercy… and I am not a forgiving creature."

True to his word, he started pumping Daniel’s cock ruthlessly, offering no warm-up, no building up, it was dry, and hard and fast and rough and just fucking perfect, forcing Daniel to bite his lips in order to keep in the pornographic sounds that threatened to escape his mouth. Armand tsked disapprovingly.

"No, Daniel, don't hold back. I want to hear what pretty noises you can make."

He didn't. He couldn't. If he opened his mouth he was going to scream, and if he did, there was no way the people outside wouldn't know exactly what they were doing inside that bathroom.

"I promise you, Daniel, no one is going to disturb us." Something was becoming loose inside Daniel’s mind at the other man's soothing tone, reverberating through his suddenly very light skull, and Daniel found himself believing Armand’s words "Now be a good boy, and let me hear you…"

Armand twisted his hand softly on the upward stroke, thumb finding the pearl of precum at the tip and smearing it on the tiny slit, and Daniel finally cried out, his head falling back against the cold tiles with a hard thump, but he barely even noticed. Because Armand’s other hand was caressing the delicate skin at his balls, teasing giving way to kneading, until his dick was pulsing, purple with blood, scorching hot in Armand’s firm, unrelenting grasp.

“I- I’m gonna…” Daniel gasped, the familiar tension building up, his balls tightening in his sack until he came with a wounded sound. Armand didn’t even wait for Daniel to fully come back into himself or catch his breath before raising his hand and making a show of licking his hand clean of Daniel’s cum, cleaver tongue lapping between his fingers before sucking them into his plush mouth one by one, never once breaking eye contact, making the last of Daniel’s synapses finally short circuit and die.

“Exquisite,” He said, “Are you this delicious everywhere, Daniel?”

It shouldn’t have been possible for Daniel to want with such intensity after what had to be the best handjob of his life, but he wanted. God dammit, he wanted. He wanted the stranger in front of him more than he had ever wanted anything in his life.

“Why don’t you come and find out?”

A bronze hand shot up, too fast for Daniel’s sluggish, sated eyes to see, capturing his jaw.

“You test my self-control, boy,” Armand all but growled into his ear, “I thought I could wait until we arrived at the apartment to have a little taste of you, but I don’t believe I can refrain for so long,” faint tone of surprise, “I don’t want to.”

Daniel almost asked what he meant, but Armand was already manhandling him, turning him around and bending him over the sink with startling ease and the simple realization of how strong Armand was, was enough to send a thrill through him.

Once Armand was satisfied with his position, Daniel’s jeans and underwear were around his knees in a blink, and a pair of cold hands were feeling up his ass, palming and spreading the cheeks apart. An appreciative hum left Armand at the sigh of the pink ring of muscle, which quickly turned into praise as he probed at it with one of those long slender fingers, tracing the rim methodically, testing it, finding it pliable and relaxed, and Daniel was glad he had popped his last Captain Rush right before coming to the bar.

“You’re a naughty, wanton thing, aren’t you beautiful one?”

Armand’s voice was anything but reproving, the tip of his finger working his hole oh so delicately until it slid inside almost all of its own. It was swiftly followed by a second one, and soon Armand was rocking his fingers up to the hilt, scissoring Daniel open. He let himself fall forward, hiding his face against his folded arms, overwhelmed. It was an exquisite torture, the drag and spread of those shameless digits stretching him, prepping him expertly, almost clinically. Daniel knew he must have made an obscene picture, bent over a dirty bathroom bar sink with his jacket still on and his pants down, drooling over his own arms, undulating his hips back into a stranger’s fingers, silently begging for more.

“Yes,” Armand confirmed, “You look stunning like this, thoroughly ravished. And I haven’t even started yet…”

Had Daniel spoken out loud? He must have been more out of it than he thought, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered as Armand withdrew his fingers and Daniel felt something cold and wet falling on his ass, dribbling down his crack and dripping on his hole, and then those coveted fingers were on him again, smearing that viscous liquid around, pushing it in, until Armand was pleased with the mess he had made.

And then he felt it. Blunt and wide, pressing in slowly but steadily, unescapable, stretching him, spearing him open. Even loose and prepared as he was, it was almost too much. Daniel wanted to roll his eyes, of course the brown-eyed Adonis at the bar was hung, of course he was. Another little push and Armand bent closer, wrapping himself around Daniel’s back to whisper,

"That's it, Daniel, you're doing so well for me, beautiful boy… just a little bit more… there, I knew you could take it all.”

Armand’s praise was all that kept him centered at that point, the man was splitting him in two on his engorged prick, but Daniel wasn’t the only one affected, he could feel Armand resting his forehead on the curve of his neck, his breathing ruffling the soft hairs at his nape, he breathed Daniel in, needing a minute to collect himself.

Then he was straightening himself up, running a possessive hand down Daniel’s leather-clad back, finding his purchase on Daniel’s slim hipbone to start carefully withdrawing, inch by agonizing inch until only the head of his unholy length remained inside. He chuckled a surprised little sound at Daniel’s noise of complaint,

“Greedy boy,” He muttered, almost awed, and started the slow rocking motion that would bury him back into Daniel’s velvet heat. It was almost too much, more than Daniel could handle, when he finally felt Armand’s hips against his ass, he was sweating, worn out just from the strain of shaking, of trying to relax, of trying to make room inside himself for all of Armand.

But it was worth it, fuck it was so worth it, just to feel the cold burn as Armand filled him up to the brim, every secret, sensitive crevice he never knew he had hit at once by the enormous cock of the most gorgeous man he had ever seen. Daniel almost couldn’t believe it was happening.

“I find it hard to believe, too,” Armand confessed, sounding breathless, as he moved his hips tentatively, deliberately, “the way you feel… the way you look like this, impaled on my length… you are a vision, Daniel.”

He started a slow, measured pistoning motion with his hips, letting Daniel savor the push and pull, letting the waves of sensation linger and converge into each other. In and out. In and out. Daniel’s prostate was grazed every other stroke but never hit directly. He tried to shift, to adjust the angle, but Armand’s heavy hand on the small of his back kept him stuck in place, tried to reach for his own cock, already full and leaking again, but found himself restricted, both wrists firmly imprisoned in Armand’s free hand.

“You have to ask for it, Daniel…” At his frustrated groan, Armand encouraged, “Beg me for it… you beg so divinely…”

Daniel shivered.

“Please… give it to me… Please, Armand.”

An almost inhuman growl resonated through the bathroom and then Armand was thrusting in earnest, and Daniel, held down on all angles, couldn't do anything but take it. Take the monstrous cock fucking him so good, so deep, he could feel it in every inch of his body, take every delicious stab of pain intermingling with the cruel pleasure Armand was bestowing upon him. He was helpless, held down and expertly used, everything Daniel had always secretly wanted but never dared to dream of. Above him, Armand was hissing, gnashing his teeth, hips snapping against his, fingers clutching at him with bruising force, as ravenous for it as Daniel was feeling.

And Daniel was ravenous, delirious with it, reality melting away around him. He could feel the cold porcelain sink dig into the front of his thighs with every brutal thrust, but the bathroom bar was fading away, the familiar and unpleasant smells replaced by the perfume of a thousand unknown, long extinct flowers, the pounding of the music replaced by the joyous and dulcet notes of foreign voices laughing and singing, images of lavished palaces, luxurious gardens and ruins alive with ghosts flashing before his closed lids. A litany of “Armand” and “please” and “yes” flowing past his lips, unbidden. His cock, heavy and neglected, throbbing in time with every new influx of sensation. He was going to come again like that, untouched, just from being pushed and shoved back into Armand’s thick cock, he could feel it rising, higher and higher, unbridled, the inevitable fall almost terrifying in the sheer intensity of the feeling.

“Yes, let it go, precious one, let me feel it,” Armand was babbling, “I want to feel your insatiable little hole flutter around me, I want to feel you fall apart in my arms… Look at me, Daniel, let me see those beautiful eyes of yours… such a unique color, almost violet…”

What could Daniel do but obey? It took everything in him to focus enough to meet Armand’s eyes through the haze in the dirty mirror, but it was worth it. Armand looked glorious, panting open- mouthed, eyes ablaze and pupils dilated, curls a messy halo around his head, inky black strands falling on his glistening forehead, the tiny droplets of sweat almost red under the tungsten light.

“Yes, just like that, I want you to look at me when I take you apart… come for me, Daniel. Come for me now.”

Daniel did, pearly white ribbons spilling over the sink. Armand fucked him through it, no reprieve offered, hips hammering viciously against his faster and faster, iron arm snaking around his waist to drive him back into his dick as far as he could go when the over-stimulated boy tried to scramble away. His left hand came around his neck, pulling him up and back, until Daniel’s back was flushed against Armand’s chest and his head was resting on Armand’s shoulder, long line of his neck exposed and vulnerable for the taking. Armand licked a long, filthy stripe on it, right before Daniel felt a shock of sharp pain pierce through him.

It was pure ecstasy.

If kissing Armand was an adrenaline rush, being bitten by him was better than heroin. Absolute euphoria. Daniel came again, shaking and screaming, but then Armand started to drink from him, and Daniel started floating.

He was soaring, boundless. Shapeless, and bereft until Armand took him into his veins and into his mind, and they were one. Daniel could see himself from afar as he was when he entered the bar, feel the gravity shift as the vast, eternal, immortal being holding him captive zeroed on him, and he understood then. Every single moment of his life, every minute, every choice, every step had led him to this single, inexorable moment. This was his destiny fulfilled, the meaning of life and the universe and everything else. He was Armand’s. He was created for him, for his life force to feed this magnificent, demonic god.

But then Armand was breaking apart, separating himself from Daniel’s neck even as he was pumping his seed straight into his insides, flooding him with it.

Daniel’s heart broke.

“Hush, my sweet child,” Armand soothed, holding his weakened body up, and re-dressing him, lovingly rightening his clothes and his hair before tucking himself back in, “There’s no reason for such sorrow.” He kissed Daniel’s lips, his cheek, his hair, his nose, his hands. Then turned him to face him and pushed down on his shoulders, bringing him to his knees in front of him. He bit on his own wrist, ruby red nectar flowing down his hand as he pressed it to a still dazed Daniel’s lips, “You are mine now, beautiful boy…”

Fifty years later, and eight-thousand miles away, Daniel Molloy woke up with a start.

To continue in 2023

To continue in 1973

[strawberry-cowmilk]

The gang is on an vacation in south east asia. How would the characters react if Atlas moth landed on their arm. Headcanons

Hi!

the brothers with an atlas moth

mc's gender is not mentioned,not proof read

a/n: do not google this moth if you don't like bugs, this moth was bigger and scarier than I thought

content warnings: moth, insect, beel tries to eat the moth

-----

Lucifer

he would probably be somewhere hiking though the woods in peak 'dad on vacation' fashion (including hat and binoculars) when one of the moths decided to sit on his arm

he asked you to take a picture of him and the moth, which he later sent to diavolo

it was nice for a while but the moth did not want to get off, lucifer didn't want to hurt it so you all just stood there for an hour until it flew away

Mammon

he suddenly felt something on his arm, and when he looked, it kind of scared him at first, it ebbed away fast

'yo, mc, how much do you think I can sell this baby for back in the devildom?'

mammon was acting all cool and funny but honestly, the longer he looked at the moth the more it scared him again

he'd thank you if you could get it off

Leviathan

you were in the woods at night and of course levi was playing games on his ddd instead of enjoying the vacation

he got a good scare when a huge moth became attracted to the light his ddd gave off and sat on his arm

levi screamed, ran and pulled away, causing the moth to leave

his brothers still bully him over this, 'remember the time levi got jumpscared by a moth?'

Satan

he feels like the chosen one when the moth decides to sit on him

'look at this guy! he's so cute- oh he's moving his wings, look mc!' satan literally starts gushing over this bug as if it was a cat

he probably read about it in books, he'll start telling little facts about the moth the whole time now

also satan is very sad when the moth eventually flies away

Asmodeus

screams

screams really loud the second he realises a giant bug is chilling on his arm

of course the moth immediately flies away

in hindsight he thinks the moth wasn't that scary, but it was just there! sitting on his arm with no warning

it might have had potential for a cool devilgram photo though

Beelzebub

the moth was probably chilling on his arm for a while already before he noticed it

and beel glances at it before continuing whatever he was doing, he doesn't care it's there

'mc do you think it's edible? I wonder how it will taste'

hopefully you have food on you or else you might have to try stopping beel from eating the moth

Belphegor

like beel, he doesn't care the moth is there, it did scare him a little when he first noticed it though

as long as it isn't bothering him the moth can stay for as long as it wishes

belphie's lowkey scared, he has to keep reminding himself there are moths three times this big in the devildom

beel has to get it off for him