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slightlyunconventional · 20 days

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hi snz squad (Sorry. Not funny.) i got some food for the h/awks fans FINALLY sorry for the wait i had writers block for like a month straight 😜 love that. anyway heres about 1.7k of allergic h/awks and some really badly written fighting/sparring LMAO enjoy!!

“You ready, birdie?” Dabi says, his lopsided grin wicked as usual.

“As I’ll ever be,” replies Hawks. The villain’s left hand is swallowed by bright cerulean flames, so hot there’s already faint plumes of smoke puffing out around it. In turn, Hawks draws his two longest feathers and sharpens them with ease, and raises them into a defensive position. He wonders, briefly, who’ll make the first move, then decides that these sparring sessions are for him to improve against fire; Dabi’s skills are perfectly fine as they are (Perhaps. He does sometimes think the man could do with some extra precision training, but he’s here to incinerate, not sauté, so who’s Hawks to judge?). Hawks lunges forward, feather-blades brandished, aiming straight for Dabi. Don’t hold back runs through his head over and over as he moves, the words Dabi keeps having to say to him every time they do this. It’s not Hawks’ fault he’s got such a hero complex.

“Don’t hold back,” Dabi had said, flexing his wrists after their spar, “There’s no point in doing this if you aren’t gonna show me your full potential.”

Hawks had sighed. “Easier said than done, hot stuff.”

Dabi raised an eyebrow. “Is it?” he said, “You seem to be just fine facing off against any other villain when you’re on fuckin’ hero patrol.”

“That’s different, and you know it,” Hawks had replied, “This is training. I can’t just- make myself fight you properly without good reason.” He let out another long breath and drank from his water bottle.

“It’s cause we fucked, isn’t it?” Dabi had said, smirking. That had made Hawks splutter on his water. He glared indignantly at Dabi.

“Absolutely fucking not,” he declared. “You wish that was why.”

“Relax, I’m just messing,” said Dabi, with that shit-eating smirk still on his face. “Just fight harder next time, or whatever. Ain’t gonna learn anything if you don’t try.” He left the room, and Hawks had frowned after him.

Dabi sidesteps Hawks, but only just. Had he moved a millisecond later, Hawks’ blades would probably have been stuck in him. Whether that’s for the worse or the better, Hawks can’t decide - Dabi’ll probably chastise him for it later, but there’s only so much potential you can exhibit before stepping the boundary of actual murder. The villain’s blue flames have caught on the very edge of Hawks’ feather, and are creeping down its lengths with some pace, threatening to reduce the entire thing to ash. He quickly shakes it out and lifts the blades once again. If he can convince Dabi he’s planning on sticking this whole spar out melee-style, then maybe he can discreetly send some feathers behind for an ambush. He just needs to find the right moment.

Then, Dabi raises his own hand and throws a stripe of glowing blue fire straight at Hawks. Right as he does so, Hawks takes his chance and releases a few medium-sized feathers, sending them to hover in position behind Dabi, ready to make their move from the rear. He ducks down, and just in time, too, as he feels the searing heat of Dabi’s attack barely inches from the top of his head. He does his best to ignore the sting in his eyes and how every blink threatens to send irritated tears sliding down his face, but it’s unexpected… that doesn’t tend to happen, and there’s normally a whole lot more fire involved in their fights than there is now. But, Dabi’s unrelenting nature doesn’t allow Hawks more than a moment of thought, and he’s almost instantly back upright, sharpened feathers pointing outwards, stalking Dabi back towards the wall. He keeps having to blink against his blurring vision, though, and it’s affecting his focus. If Dabi picks up on it, he doesn’t say anything. There’s still a thin plume of smoke issuing from his feather, too; those flames are no joke. Hawks crosses the feathers in his hands, preparing to drive forward and strike - if all goes to plan, Dabi will assume that’s all he’s going to do, and counterattack accordingly, then Hawks can compromise him with the feathers he has poised behind the villain. If all goes to plan.

And thankfully, it does, if you look past the single tiny snag. As predicted, Dabi releases a billowing explosion of fire straight forwards. Hawks’ blades are both ignited, but that’s neither here nor there, since he’s focused on bringing his other feathers back from behind Dabi, and up to his throat, mere millimetres away from his skin. They aren’t sharpened, but he doesn’t need to know that. Hawks knows he daren’t step into them to test.

Dabi’s eyebrows lift up, his expression a mix of amused and impressed. “Not bad,” he says, glancing down towards the feathers at his throat. “Not exactly a technique that’ll work every time, but I didn’t see it coming, so that’s gotta count for something.”

Then comes that tiny snag. Hawks stops listening halfway through Dabi’s sentence when his sinuses start stinging like crazy, with such sharpness that it makes his eyes water even more than they already are. He sniffs, half testing the waters, half hoping it’ll make the sting go away, but unfortunately it only makes it worse. Just as Dabi lifts his hands up to incinerate the feathers in front of his neck so they can begin another round of sparring, Hawks sends said feathers rapidly towards the villain’s arms and pins him against the wall.

“Sorry, what–” he begins, startled.

Hawks lifts the fur-lined collar of his jacket and ducks down into it. For a moment, nothing happens, but–

“heHt’sSHHhue!”

Dabi pulls a face. “I swear to God, if you’re doing this and you’ve got a fucking c–”

“ah’hAH-! eH’SHHhyu! No, you cock, I don’t have a cold. I’m not that stupid.”

“You are, but okay,” Dabi says flatly, “Why do I have to be pinned to the fuckin’ wall?”

“‘Cause your psycho ass would probably attack me while I waahhs s-sn-hahh! hheh’sHHh’hiew!”

He pitches forward into his collar again, cutting himself off mid-sentence with a third desperate sneeze. They’re already getting harder to keep in check; and what the fuck is itching this badly? Sure, it’s mid-spring, and his hayfever’s probably acting up a bit, but no way in hell is it this bad. Maybe he’s just… sensitive today. He didn’t bother checking the pollen count this morning, so…

“You think I would do such a thing?” says Dabi dramatically in mock offence, “Sweet, innocent me?”

“Shut up. Yes, you absolutely woul- Jesus– h-haHh!...” Hawks’ breath catches sharply in his throat, but he’s exhaling shakily a moment later.

“Lost it,” he says, only a little breathlessly, “You are the furthest thing from innocent and we both know that.”

The need to sneeze hasn’t left Hawks, despite the last one having eluded him. It’s laying dormant (for now), an incessant buzzing high in his nose that seems to also be accompanied by profusely watering eyes. He tries scrunching his nose to quell the feeling - it doesn’t help but rather slightly the opposite. Dabi arches an eyebrow at him.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. You gonna let me go or what?”

“Uhh… oh! Right, sorry. Instinct, I guess,” Hawks says. He withdraws the feathers holding Dabi in place and the villain subsequently takes a few steps towards him. There’s still smoke rolling off of his arms, where he’d used his quirk, and it floats lazily upwards in greyish plumes. That smoke has always been mesmerising to Hawks, the way it curls and twists, almost as gracefully as Dabi’s flames themselves. It seems different to regular smoke, though, realistically it probably isn’t, and Hawks has just convinced himself it is so he has something else about Dabi to admire with childish adoration. The smell of it often clings to Dabi, though, fainter, obviously, but it’s still distinct if you’re up close. It’s filling the air now, the bitter scent comforting, strong, but stinging, and–

“-ah’hHahH-?!” Caught completely off guard, Hawks desperately draws in a staggered breath before he’s truly able to comprehend it.

“hh’heHSHHh-iihHSCHHh’ue! Huuhh… fucking Jesus–” The double volleys through him with unexpected force, leaving him more than a little winded (but almost certainly not finished).

Dabi’s staring at him now, his expression half concerned, half incredulous. Can’t exactly blame him. He opens his mouth to say something, but Hawks is already cutting him off with another sneeze.

“haH’iihtTSHHhyu!”

“So, about that cold you don’t have?” Dabi says, after Hawks has recovered - for now - with a series of pitiful sniffles and a less than kind rub at his nose with one gloved hand.

“No, it’s–” his voice wavers slightly as he speaks, “it’s not that, I think it’s, ihh-it’s–”

Dabi shakes his head. “Sneeze first, speak after.”

“Rihhh– right, yeah I– hah-hhaHH’sSHHuuhh! ehHISHHhue! Jeez, okay, done now..” Hawks isn’t one to sneeze loudly per se - they’re usually softer, fairly subdued - but these ones are well on their way there. They’ve got the same intonation as usual, but with the intensity amped up a shocking degree. He’s not quite used to it.

“Done, done?”

“Yeah, whatever– ‘m not sick, I think it’s your-” Hawks gestures vaguely at Dabi with one hand, and the latter’s eyebrow raises again, “-yourhhHehHTSChhnn!”

“What did I just say?” Dabi says, exasperated, and maybe a little fond.

“Leave me alone, that one didn’t give me any warning-!” whines Hawks in response, “You are so mean to me.”

“I know. Now spit it out, you’ve got me on the edge of my seat,” replies the villain dryly.

Hawks rolls his still-watery eyes. “Shut up. It’s your smoke, I think,” he finally gets out.

Dabi looks slightly perplexed by this, and he voices it, “Never bothered you before.”

“No, I know, but,” He needs desperately to sneeze again. It’s all-consuming, but he’s determined to at least get a sentence out; “spring allergies’re making me s-sensitive to it.. I think that’s it, anyway–hhah sorry, I reahhllyneedto-hhiihSHHh-ehhH’shHHuue! Ugh.”

“Oh. Okay,” says Dabi, “so probably best we take a break for today, then?”

“Mm, yeah,” Hawks replies, knuckling at his nose.

“Postmature bless you, by the way,” Dabi says with a funny look. Hawks nearly laughs.

“...Postmature?”

“Yeah, like the opposite of premature. Is that the opposite of premature? Screw off, you’ve got me questioning myself now,” he replies, trying and failing to hide a stupid smile.

“It is now, I s’pose,” says Hawks, not at all fondly, “Thanks.”

#my favourite part TAG RAMBLING!!!#im ok w this fic i think its decent idk. turned on while writing it so thats gotta count for smth #i think next ill finish my other h/awks wip for a request prompt thingy in my inbox #then i wanna do some kink!h/awks … mm #alright ywah #thats that #sorry the fighty bit at the start is SO BADDDDD i cant #sry…#alr bye enjoy #snz #snzblr #snz kink #snzario #snz blog #sneeze kink #snzfic #d/abihawks #h/awks #m/ha

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a-dinosaur-a-day · 1 year

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Bannykus vs Ambopteryx

Factfiles:

Bannykus wulatensis

Artwork by @i-draws-dinosaurs, written by @i-draws-dinosaurs

Name meaning: Half claw from Wulatehouqi

Time: 113 to 100 million years ago (Albian stage of the Early Cretaceous)

Location: Bayin-Gobi Formation, Inner Mongolia, China

If there’s one group of dinosaurs that has most recently gained more fame among casual dinosaur fans it’s probably alvarezsauridae, elevated to stardom by the Mononykus that captured everyone’s hearts in Prehistoric Planet. The bizarre group of single-clawed maniraptorans has been studied for a while, but their evolutionary origins have fairly mysterious until recently. How did that whole giant thumb claw thing happen??

Published in 2018 alongside more basal alvarezsaur Xiyunykus, Bannykus helps to fill in a gap in that evolutionary pathway! More specifically, they help to fill in a 70 million year long gap between the primitive Late Jurassic Haplocheirus and the very end of the Cretaceous! Notably, Bannykus has a larger thumb claw that the rest of its claws, but the other fingers are at least partially functional instead of just nubbins. It’s a lot easier to see how the later alvarezsaurids got to where they are from here! Next time you lose your mind over the Mononykus from Prehistoric Planet (which I do at least weekly), say a thank you to the lil guy with slightly less weird hands. Thumbs up to Bannykus!

Ambopteryx longibrachium

Artwork by Gabriel Ugueto, written by @i-draws-dinosaurs

Name meaning: Both wings with long arms

Time: 163 million years ago (Callovian stage of the Middle Jurassic)

Location: Haifanggou Formation, China

Look, evolution has done a lot of weird stuff to dinosaurs. It put penguins underwater, and did whatever the hall mamenchisaurid necks are, and game lambeosaurs a built-in face trumpet. But I would argue there is one group that represents dinosaur evolution at its most unhinged, and that is scansoropterygidae.

Scansoriopterygids were generally considered “weird little tree dinosaurs” in the 2000s, with long fingers to pick grubs out of bark or something. Then Yi qi swept along in 2015 and revealed that those long fingers were actually supporting membranous bat wings. With an extra bony rod (the “styliform element”) sticking out of the wrist to help support it, because well if you’re a dinosaur evolving bat wings why bother being normal about it after that? Although really, the dinosaurs did it first so bats actually have dinosaur wings.

Yi was sensational, but it was also extremely weird and completely unique. Even other scansoriopterygids didn’t have wing membranes, so the whole bat thing was a bit up in the air. Or not up in the air, as the case may be. But then along comes Ambopteryx, published in 2019, packing another set of skin wings, and the vindication of Yi is complete!

Ambopteryx preserves a styliform element and wing membrane, as well as a thick coat of feathers, and honestly out of a whole selection of dinosaurs I think these might be some of the most huggable in the lot. Obviously this whole wing membrane thing didn’t end up working out for them long term, but Ambopteryx is part of an incredible lineage that challenged what we thought was possible for dinosaurs!

DMM Round One Masterpost

#dmm #dinosaur march madness #dinosaurs #paleontology #dmm round one #dmm rising stars #palaeoblr #bracket #march madness #polls #bannykus #ambopteryx

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heartfullofleeches · 2 years

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Oc-tober Day Three – Haunted House

Yandere Supernatural Harem(Angel, Demon, Reaper) – Alasdair, Baron, Maddox

Word count: 1.5k

Tw: Violence and blood

“Suspect in multiple robberies is still at large. It is advised to-"

You shut off the tv as you walk by; sliding your jacket onto your shoulders. You had been invited to a haunted house hosted by none other than your housemates at one of their brother’s house across town. You use housemates as a loose term due to the fact you had little say in the matter. The combined three – demon, grim reaper, and your very own guardian angel- had taken up residency in your home for the better part of a year. They’re overprotective and barely give you space to breathe, but you’ve made your peace with their continued presence.

Following the instructions given to you leads you to a three story house overlooking some beach. The yard is decorated in painted lawn gnomes and the garage is open; flashing lights and fog rolling onto the driveway. One of the gnomes holds an “enter here” sign pointed towards the old gate. You do as such, the door shutting as you step inside.

“Welcome…”

You navigate the foggy domain with your hands in front of you, taking small steps so that you don’t trip. You can barely see anything, an open window keeping you from asphyxiating your only source of light. You nearly trip over and erupted tombstone, and scream at its feet ahead; rotted face peering through smog. Just a zombie prop. You continue a little further, bumping into a wall of black. Tilting your head up to face whatever it was, you’re greeted by a skeletal grin pointed at you. You freeze.

The being’s blue eyes lock onto yours; shimmering like sapphires. It’s jaw hangs open in a single breath; the room growing colder as it exhales. The wind blows the smoke from its face; revealing its bony face to be nothing more than face paint.

“Maddox?”

The reaper nods. “Hi…”

You look at the rest of their body. They were dressed like a stereotypical grim reaper down to the plastic scythe they weld. They look a bit dejected, but smile faintly in your presence.

“Did I scare you?”

“A bit.”

They sigh. “That makes me feel slightly better about this. Baron made me put it on in exchange for letting me do the majority of the decorations. I wanted to be a nurse. Halloween is still new to me, but it seems fun. Can we try this.. trick or treating later?”

“Sure.”

They point towards the garage door. “The others are inside. You’ll find them eventually. I’ll be here until you’re all done.”

“Alright. See you later then.” You head out the door; following the blood stained, sheet covered walls to the next location. The trail leads you to the living room. It seems relatively normal except for two glasses filled with a dark liquid on the coffee table. One has lip marks around its rim. You pick up the other and inspect it. It’s grape juice.

“oh~ has a little human come to join me in my den?”

You hear the sound of flapping wings; wind kicked up behind you as a black feather falls on your shoulder. You’re greeted by a horned figure; their points positioned in an angle that remind you of a broken halo. Four wings protrude from his spine; his body visible from the torso up as they wrap around him. He wears a sleeveless, open back shirt; black lines marked on his dark skin. His usual bow tie is replaced for a collar with an upside down cross. He sports a toothy smile; eyes flashing red.

“Hello, Y/n.” Alasdair purrs. “It’s so lovely of you to join me.”

You step back as the angel steps closer, falling onto the approaching couch. He looms over you, reaching back to grab the untouched glass. He rests his hand on the cushion besides you as he leans in, the glass bushing your bottom lip.

“You know, Baron gave me this role because he thought it would be a good laugh. He seemed to think he could decide everyone’s costume since Maddox eventually caved. He probably assumed I’d chicken out last minute…” He brings his arms around your neck, breath fanning your lips as his lips cress it. “but I’ve decided to embrace it.”

A smack against the glass panel of the backdoor catches your attention. You gently push Alasdair aside to see a football rolling into the grass. Curious, you walk outside and pick it up; a shout heard from across the field.

“Hey! Y/n! Throw it over here!”

You look up. The entire backyard had been transformed into an American football field. A player waves excitedly to you from the opposite goal. You’re unable to make out his face due to his helmet, but you see the faint pink hue of his eyes.

“Oh Lord, he was serious.” Alasdair steps outside; heels clicking against the patio as he folds his arms. “Baron! Get your ass over here right now!”

Baron runs across the field in record pace; a 666 displayed proudly on his shirt. The seven foot tall devil had been reduced to an even six feet and just as muscular. “What?”

“What the hell are you wearing?”

“I’m a football player! What else would I be.”

“You’re supposed to be scary!”

“And you are? The only thing I see you trying to do in that outfit is making my mate horny!”

“You choose the costume for me!” Alasdair sighs, rubbing his temple to calm the forming headache. “Alright. Y/n, please go back inside. This could last for a minute and I don’t want you to hear it. There’s refreshments in the kitchen and dinner will be prepared shortly.”

You walk back inside and shut the door as the screaming match picks up. Without direction you aimlessly wander the large house for longer than you’d like to admit. It wasn’t going the best for them in the scare factor, but you admired the dedication. You eventually find the kitchen and someone inside, looking through the drawers.

“Hello? Are you Baron’s brother?” Upon a second look you can see that he’s not just looking through the drawers, but dumping their contents into a large bag on the floor. He seems to notice where your eyes have trailed as he picks up a knife from the counter. You slowly back away as he approaches.

“Look I don’t want any trouble…”

He continues to walk towards you, clutching the knife so hard his knuckles go white. You bump into something as he charges; bracing for what’s to come. All that does is the splatter of something warm on your face and an arm around your chest.

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

You open your eyes to see claws in the man’s chest; the knife falling to the floor as they’re ripped free. Blood trickles down Baron’s arm as he lifts it to his face. He shoves his fingers to the gates of his helmet and takes a lick; reaching at the taste.

“Even your blood tastes like shit.” He spits. The robber lays eyes widened on the kitchen floor as Alasdair rushes in.

“What happened? We sensed that you were in danger.”

“Pencil dick over here tried to stab Y/n so I killed him”

Alasdair walks over to see the damages. “Honestly, Baron. It’s not like he didn’t deserve it, but try not to be so messy with it. Besides, he’s still alive.”

A spear of light appears in his hand as Alasdair stabs the man through his heart with his blade. The man twitches from the force before going limp. Alasdair kicks his outstretched arm back to his blood. He lifts his head up to shout. “Hey Maddox! We got another one.”

“I’m already on it.” The grim reaper appears at the man’s side; taking off their gloves and placing their hand on his head. His body shrivels until it crumbles away into human shaped piles of ash that slowly break away. “He’s been taken to the sands of time. You don’t have to worry about him getting a lighter sentence.”

“We still have to clean up.”

“Do we really have to?” Baron retorts. “There’s already like twenty bodies buried around this place. The most C.C will be mad about is what we did to the gnomes.”

“I don’t want to touch vermin ashes either, but it’s the right thing to do.”

“Should’ve made him swallow his own tongue.”

In the time they had spent feeding you and caring for you were sick; you forgot the true horror of your band of misfits. They were willing to kill for you at the drop of a dime, and already had in the past. Retribution wasn’t in the cards for anyone who crossed you; their bodies destroyed by powers like no other and their souls dragged to a place where none could return from.

Maddox takes off their robes and drapes it over your shoulders. “Happy Halloween, Y/n.”

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imperiuswrecked · 2 months

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If you're in the mood to hate-watch-and-then-cathartically-destroy something, I'd recommend the YouTube video "Wakanda Forever: It's a Mess" by The Critical Drinker (🤢). Man really had the nerve to call Namor the worst MCU villain 💀 And it has 2.9 mil views and 128k likes! Wtf is wrong with people, smh

Lmao, The Critical Drinker's voice is extremely annoying and they are also very wrong. Like, the fact that both Black Panther and BP:WF are the only movies to get oscars/noms, and is very popular with fans and both movies are good superhero movies. Just because it's not some superhero movie curated to their tastes doesn't make it any less good. They just have bad taste, the opening line of "I thought the herb granted them permanent power" or whatever goes to show they didn't even bother to understand the rules and basics of the Herb and the Black Panther's world, and how that could be taken away from them. This is like if someone goes "omg I cant believe there is a man who can fly and shoot laser beams out of his eyes but a stupid green rock called kryptonite can hurt them and make them lose their powers". Like at some point you just have to understand that people do not want to suspend disbelief and actually engage with the characters and their world, they just want to criticize it because it's not something they liked.

And this is an issue when it comes to superhero stuff ALOT and to some extent fantasy works in general but not sci-fi, where people go "well why couldn't the hobbits fly to Mount Doom and destroy the ring" and they don't care to engage with the material/understand stuff or suspend their disbelief, and the reason I say it doesn't apply to sci-fi is bc sci-fi stories all have that pseudo science/answers that makes it less unbelievable than like giant eagles, or underwater people with feathers on their ankles. Superhero media really gets the worst of this "well why couldn't they---" because the superhero genre itself is usually rooted in lots of real world settings/comparisons. Them hating on Namor is ridicolus because I have lurked around and read comments from every type of fan and you know all those older Namor fans from like the early Marvel years who have been fans of his character for decades? I literally came across comments from them saying "even though they changed his backstory it's still the same character from the comics and it stayed true to his character" and this is what I have been saying since I saw the movie. lol. Some random youtuber farming for hate likes's opinion means nothing.

I'm not gonna watch this video again but I remember not being impressed with anything they said. They're takes are ice cold and stupid and ignorant of the movies/characters so why would I want to waste time again listening to them.

It was just really funny they were like trying to be "cool" and critique the plan: "their killer strategy to defeat namor was to lock him in a room with heaters and dry him out" and I was like LMAO. BUDDY. THAT IS EXACTLY THE MOST SUREFIRE WHY TO DEFEAT/WEAKEN NAMOR, it's LITERALLY in the comics, its been a thing for decades!!

Anyways I don't take any of those types of hate videos seriously. Namor was done really well in Black Panther: Wakanda Forever thanks to the actors, crew, and director.

#namor #mcu namor #imp answers

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smokeygrayrabbits · 11 months

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so leg prosthetics au right? I'm a BIG FAN of all the duality in trigun so I feel like it would be really cool for there to be that contrast between different elements of vash's backstory and his injurys. since vash lost his arm to knives protecting plants and humans ,showing his dedication to peace and love and also his self-sacrificing tendencies, I really like the idea of vash loosing his legs in a similar way, but at the hands of humans.

[ok imma give this a quick lil content warning cuz it's kinda body horror/generally kinda messed up? so yeah readers discretion advised keepy yourself safe 💜]

what if plants have a natural instinct to give? we've seen that they're sentient, so it would make sense for them to have some kind of reason to just chill in tanks and let humans take advantage of their abilities. hence, plants naturally want to give. and vash, being a plant, isnt exempt from this. he gives himself away in everything he does. bending over backwards for everyone he meets, even to the point of snapping his own spine. never complaining, never asking for thanks, or even thinking he's deserving of it.

so what does a young vash, tiny and alone and reeling from the crash, from his brothers betrayalmurdersin left me, nai left me alone, I have nothing he took everything Iwannagohome, tiny vash, so alone, so desperate to atone, come across a town. a town that's plant is dead he couldn't save them, not himself, not the ships, not rem, not nai. if he'd been betterfasterstongersmarter . . . their plant is dead they killed it. the last run. he'd seen it. he knows they did. he can't say no, their plant is dead and soon they will be too and it would only be for a little while, just to get by, please we need your help he sees the way their smiles don't quite reach their eyes. sees how they're tears arent quite real. he tells himself it doesn't matter. this is his atonement. his punishment he says yes. he says of course. he says I'll help however I can whatever you need.

it's to late for a mechanic. they need a plant.

he says yes anyway. they wouldn't right? they'll be kind.

theres no room for kindness when people are so thirsty.

he's to tall to fit in the tank. so they make him fit. generators don't need legs.

he's there for so long. vash loses track of how long he's in the tank for. days? weeks? years?

his marking spread. feathers molt off generators don't fly

they clip his wings. generators dont need to run, fly, walk.

they get another plant, eventually. he's still in the tank.

they said they'd let him go. it's fine. it's ok. they must still need him, populations gorow after all. he ignores his sister screaming in his head. he tells her it's fine! they need me here more than I need to be anywhere else (he'd rather be anywhere else. he wants to go home. he doesnt want to do this anymore but he hastohastohastogivegivegivegiveGIVEREPENT)

he learns to breath liquid. he learns to float and provide and it's ok. its not. he's getting weaker and weaker. he can't give what they're asking

his sister is dying. it's his fault if he was betterfasterstonger he could take the burden from her, make more, GIVE more. he doesn't think about how he's already giving everything how they've taken everything

his sister is dying. they don't realize it yet he can help he can save her he knows he can he's done it so many times it's all hes good for all he can do heneexstohelplethimhelplethimhelpherplease.

for the first time since they put him in here, vash cries. he pounds the glass with the only limb he has left weak and atrophied from disuse weak just like the rest of him uselessuselessuseless. when his arm gives out he uses his head. banging the glass, filling the tank with red red like geraniums red like the last run red tanks mean death death deathmurder nai

they don't listen. his bubbling screams in the tank are distracting apparently, so they muzzle him.

he watches as she dies. his sisters last run fuels their holiday light show.

vash cries. his tears lost in the fluid of the tank.||

more time passes. the plant operators get bored. they've never had an independent before. they want to research. they want to open, cut, understand.

more time. floating. creating. being sucked dry, not that vash would think of it that way. he CAN'T. can't think of it that way, it would mean it was all for nothing. it would mean nai was right. it would mean they leftfoughtbleddied for nothing oh god what has he done, what have they done

nai comes to town. vash can feel him, in his mind, in their bond. he tries to tell his brother to run.

nai hears his brother. his twin. his angel. his other half. in a nowhere town in this forsaken desert. he hears vash cry, beg nai to leave. he tracks his angel down, finds the plant operation. he sees the tank. he sees the angel floating.

he sees vash smile.

how dare they how dare they WHAT HAVE THEY DONE HE KNEW THEY WERE GREEDY AND CRUEL AND ABHORRENT BUT WHATHAVETHEYDONE

Millions Knives razes the city to the ground.

vash cries for them. for the monsters that did this to him.

vash begs their forgiveness

nai knows then and there, his brother will never take his revenge on these parasites because that's what they are. they were given the blessing of an angel, and they tore his wings off. like the legends of old, humans would always be Icarus, flying to the sun by any means necessary, clipping others wings to fly themselves that much quicker to their meaningless deaths. they forced nais brother to be their wings, so knives will be the hellfire that melts their wax and throws them to the damned earth they came from. no, vash won't take revenge.

so millions Knives will do it for him.

#trigun stampede #trigun headcanons #trigun #vash 98 #vash the stampede #vash tristamp #millions knives #nai saverem #vash saverem #trimax #tristamp

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aizawasbestie · 10 months

Text

Introducing the characters:

Crimson eyes and those stupid little white lies.

This will end up being a Katsuki x reader fan-fiction.

Takes place between 2022/2023

1st year at UA = 16/17

2nd year at UA = 17/18

3rd year at UA = 18/19

4th year/work placements at hero agencies = 19/20

Main characters =

"I trusted you and you broke that, you broke us."

Katsuki Bakugo

Quirk: Explosion

This allows him to make explosions from his hands by detonating the nitroglycerin-like substance he sweats, stronger in summer, weaker in winter.

Age: 17

Date of birth: 20th April 2005

Relationship to Y/N: lover/former lover.

Position at the time of the prologue: unknown.

Dead/alive: unknown.

"I treated you like a sister, and you treated me like I was nothing."

Hitoshi Shinso/Aizawa

Quirk: Brain washing

This allows him to put someone in a state where they are forced to obey whatever he commands. He can only activate this power when his target verbally responds to something he says.

Age: 16

Date of birth: July 1st 2005

Relationship to Y/N: former close friend/best friend.

Position at the time of the prologue: unknown/quirkless.

Dead/alive: unknown.

"I should have known, it just had to be you."

Izuku Midoriya

Quirk: one for all.

This is a transferable Quirk that can be passed on from one user to the next.

Relationship to Y/N: former close friend/enemy.

Age: 16

Date of birth: July 15th 2005

Position at the time of the prologue: unknown.

Dead/alive: dead?

"It doesn't matter what you've done in the past, it matters what you choose to do now."

Hawks/Keigo Takami

Quirk: fierce wings

Each feather can detach and be used in various ways through telekinesis.

Relationship to Y/N: work study mentor/former friend of Toya Todoroki.

Age: 23

Date of birth: December 28th 1999

Position at the time of the prologue: unknown/quirkless

Dead/alive: alive.

"you are my family, not by blood, but by choice and I'll always be here, until the very end."

Dabi/Toya Todoroki

Quirk: blue flame

The ability to generate and control highly destructive blue flames throughout the body.

Relationship to Y/N: adoptive brother/guardian.

Age: 24

Date of birth: January 18th 1998

Position at the time of the prologue: Tokyo

Dead/alive: alive.

"Little one, I'll make you destroy the world."

All for one:

Quirk: combination of stolen quirks to create the ultimate power.

This allows him to steal other people's Quirks, leaving them Quirkless, and wield the Quirks as his own. He can also redistribute his stolen Quirks to other people.

Relationship to Y/N: ? (you'll just have to wait and see)

Age: 100+

Date of birth: N/A

Position at the time of the prologue: league of villain base.

Dead/alive: alive.

"We've never had a choice, we do as we are told, otherwise it's us that are killed in the end."

Tomura Shigaraki

Quirk: Decay

This allows its user to decay or destroy anything that they lay their hands on.

Relationship to Y/N: admires her/close friends? At the start...

Age: 18

Date of birth: April 4 2004

Position at the time of the prologue: league of villain base.

Dead/alive: alive.

"Friends right? Friends stay together, friends support one another."

Twice/Jin Bubaigawara

Quirk: Double

The user can create clones of people or objects through physical contact.

Relationship to Y/N: fellow member of the LOV/family?

Age: 31

Date of birth: May 10th 1992

Position at the time of the prologue: league of villain base.

Dead/alive: alive? For now...

"Promise me that you'll be safe? Come back to me, come back to us."

Mina Ashido

Quirk: Acid

This allows her to produce and modify the corrosive levels of the liquid she can naturally produce with her body.

Relationship to Y/N: best friend/former classmate.

Age: 16

Date or birth: July 30th 2005

Position at the time of the prologue: unknown.

Dead/alive: unknown.

"It's funny, before you I never knew what love was."

Shoto Todoroki

Quirk: half hot, half cold.

This allows him to produce ice with his right side and fire with his left.

Relationship to Y/N: formerly liked her/turned enemy.

Age: 16

Date of birth: January 11th 2005

Position at the time of the prologue: unknown.

Dead/alive: unknown.

"you are my kid, I'll do anything I can to protect you from this darkness."

Shouta Aizawa

Quirk: erasure

This is the ability to temporarily erase other people's powers simply by looking at them

Relationship to Y/N: teacher/fatherly figure later on?

Age: 32

Date of birth: November 8th 1991

Position at the time of the prologue: unknown.

Dead/alive: unknown.

"you and I? We are two sides of the same coin."

Neito Monoma

Quirk: copy

This allows him to mimic another user's Quirk by making physical contact with them.

Relationship to Y/N: ? (You'll just have to wait and see)

Age: 16

Date of birth: May 13th 2005

Position at the time of the prologue: unknown.

Dead/alive: unknown.

Other characters that have a large role but will not be within the main characters:

"Always remember that I cared little listener."

Hizashi Yamada

Quirk: voice

This allows him to heighten the volume of his voice for offensive purposes

Age: 31

Date of birth: 7th July 1992

Married currently to Shouta Aizawa

Relationship to Y/N:

Position at the time of the prologue: unknown.

Dead/alive: unknown.

"You'll never know what I sacrificed for you."

Denki Kaminari

Quirk: electricity

This allows him to generate electricity and cover his body in it. While he can also emit this energy over a distance, Denki has little to no control over it, meaning it will go everywhere indiscriminately at the beginning.

Age: 16

Date of birth: 29th June 2005

Relationship to Y/N: friends? More than friends? Enemies?

Position at the time of the prologue: unknown.

Dead/alive: alive.

"When you've got to be the strongest, it doesn't matter in their eyes who gets hurt."

Eijiro Kirishima

Quirk: hardening

He can harden his body to harder than steel.

Age: 16

Date of birth: 16th October 2005

Relationship to Y/N: best friend/former training partner.

Position at the time of the prologue: unknown.

Dead/alive: unknown.

"I always knew there was something off about you."

Hanta Sero

Quirk: tape

This allows him to shoot powerful lengths of tape from his elbows which are strong enough to support his own weight, or immobilize most opponents

Age: 16

Date of birth: 28th July 2005

Relationship to Y/N: enemy/ love, hate friendship.

Position at the time of the prologue: unknown.

Dead/alive: unknown.

"I think I love you."

Ochaco Uraraka

Quirk: zero gravity

This allows her to remove the effects of gravity on an object or person by touching them with her fingers, effectively making the target weightless.

Age: 16

Date of birth: 27th December 2005

Relationship to Y/N: one-sided love/friends.

Position at the time of the prologue: unknown.

Dead/alive: unknown.

"He's different now, and I think that's down to you."

Kyouka Jirou

Quirk: Earphone Jack

This allows her to plug into any object they can pierce and hear even the smallest vibrations passing through them.

Age: 16

Date of birth: 1st August 2005

Relationship to Y/N: strained relationship/friendship, former friends.

Position at the time of the prologue: unknown.

Dead/alive: unknown.

" You tricked me...."

Momo Yaoyorozu

Quirk: creation

This gives her the ability to create any non-living material/object from her exposed skin by transforming the molecular structure of her fat cells.

Age: 16

Date of birth: 23rd September 2005

Relationship to Y/N: friends/acquaintances/study partner

Position at the time of the prologue: unknown.

Dead/alive: unknown.

"I'm sorry it had to end this way."

Mirio Togata

Quirk: Permeation

This allows him to become intangible, letting him pass through any tangible matter; he can phase through walls and/or the ground, as well as let enemy attacks pass through him harmlessly.

Age: 18

Date of birth: 15th July 2004

Relationship to Y/N: friend/former upperclassmen

Position at the time of the prologue: unknown.

Dead/alive: unknown/quirkless?

"It's not always about the lies, if the truth is buried underneath."

Tamaki Amajiki

Quirk: manifest

This grants him the ability to manifest the physical characteristics of anything he's eaten; for example, if he eats takoyaki, he can transform his fingers into octopus tentacles.

Age: 18

Date of birth: 4th March 2004

Relationship to Y/N: friends/upperclassmen

Position at the time of the prologue: unknown.

Dead/alive: unknown.

"He's alive and you knew?"

Enji Todoroki

Quirk: hellflame

This allows him to manipulate and control fire at his will. He is able to use his flame abilities in a variety of different ways, such as creating fire spears and fire balls and melting walls with his feet, which allows him to run on walls.

Age: 48

Date of birth: 8th August 1974

Relationship to Y/N: work study mentor/trainer.

Position at the time of the prologue: unknown.

Dead/alive: alive.

"Just a little bit of blood, make all the difference."

Himiko Toga

Quirk: Transform

She can shapeshift into somebody after consuming their blood. How long the transformation lasts depends on the amount of blood she drinks. A single cup will make her look and sound exactly like the person she is impersonating.

Age: 17

Date of birth: August 7th 2004

Relationship to Y/N: former best friend?

Position at the time of the prologue: unknown.

Dead/alive: alive.

"You're just a child, you shouldn't have to bare this burden."

Shuichi Iguchi/spinner

Quirk: Gecko

This gives him attributes similar to that of a gecko, in which he is capable of sticking and climbing onto walls.

2nd Quirk from all for one: Body bulk

This helps him transform himself into gigantic proportions, greatly increasing his muscle mass.

Age: 21

Date of birth: 8th August 2002

Relationship to Y/N: training partner/acquaintance of stain/friend.

Position at the time of the prologue: unknown.

Dead/alive: unknown.

"well well well, you are just full of surprises my dear."

Atsuhiro Sako/Mr Compress

Quirk: an emitter-type

This gives him the ability to compress anything within a certain distance into a small marble-like object by touching it.

Age: 31

Date of birth: 8th October 1992

Relationship to Y/N: colleagues/training partner.

Position at the time of the prologue: league of villain base.

Dead/alive: alive.

"you are nothing but a pawn in my game."

Chisaki Kai/overhaul

Quirk: Overhaul

This grants him the ability to disassemble anything he touches, as well as reassemble it in any configuration he desires, effectively giving him full control over matter. He can disassemble people to kill them or reassemble them to heal their wounds.

Age: 20

Date of birth: 28th may 2002

Relationship to Y/N: enemy

Position at the time of the prologue: unknown.

Dead/alive: dead.

"you could be worthy, if you didn't hide who you actually are."

Chizome Akaguro/Stain

Quirk: Blood curdle

This allows him to paralyze and immobilize his opponent by ingesting samples of their blood.

Age: 32

Date of birth: 14th June 1991

Relationship to Y/N: ? (you'll just have to wait and find out)

Position at the time of the prologue: unknown.

Dead/alive: alive.

"You'll die doing this, just like the rest of us."

All might/Toshinori Yagi

Quirk: former wielder of one for all/quirkless

Age: 58-65

Date of birth: N/A

Relationship to Y/N: teacher/enemy in the war arc.

Position at the time of the prologue: unknown.

Dead/alive: unknown.

———————————————————————

Characters in the story not playing a major role:

• Kurogiri

(He will have a bigger role later on in the story)

• Eri

(She is not experimented on by Chisaki Kai/overhaul but is adopted by Shouta Aizawa when her parents die)

• Other characters that I have not mentioned WILL show up such as MIDNIGHT, it's just a matter of when and who I like to surprise you all with in the chapter ;)

———————————————————————

Hi, just a heads up! One of these individuals could be a traitor along with Y/N, however this will not be revealed until later on in the story.

I’m really excited to share this, it’s been a long time since I’ve actually published anything!

#kirishima eijirou x reader #katsuki bakugo mha #bakugou katsuki #izuku midoriya #dabi #hawks #shouta aizawa #shigaraki tomura #all for one #one for all #all might #shoto todoroki #sero x y/n #denki kaminari #ochaco uraraka #mina ashido #monoma x y/n #hitoshi shinso x reader

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duckit7 · 2 years

Text

Duck it... I’ll make a Masterlist

Yo my fine feathered friends. I decided to try to put together a masterlist so its easier for peeps to check out my stuff. Don’t worry, tumblr will still be the first place all my new stuff goes up on, but AO3 makes it easier for me to put it together in one place.

For those of you that don’t know me, I am a part time g/t writer. You can call me Duck, Ducker, Mother Ducker, or really whatever you would like.

Fair warning my main thing is Giant girls and tiny guys. Definitely not closed off to other possibilities and I might branch out in the future, but that’s what you can expect from most of my writings for now. I like the fluff, angst and sass, but also like a fair amount of kindness shown between giants and tinies. (I’d like to say I’m a positive vibes person) Just a heads up some of my stories have violence and most have profanity.

-------

Online Dating Can Be Hard.

Meeting a possible romantic interest is never easy. Doing it online can be even harder. Especially if you don’t read the fine print and end up with a little or big surprise... This is the story of Cam and Kate.

Will they be able to build and maintain a friendship? Will it evolve into something more? Or will past trauma and their differences be too vast to overcome...

The world is based on the idea that there is the human race and the parvus race. Parvuses are just humans, but a lot smaller. I’ve made another post on parvuses, but the big overall idea is that they are “equal” to their human counterparts, but are still struggling with fair treatment at times. If anyone else wants to use the parvus universe or a similar idea for their stories go for it!

(This one is my main story right now and probably gets updated the most. Plus it seems to be the people’s favorite.)

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The Protector

The sacred alliance between humans and giants is held together by the bond the human king or queen holds with their giant protector. When the protector ritual goes wrong the prince ends up with a giant way more terrifying than he intended. Will they be able to over come their fears and differences? Will people accept the giantess? And will she be able to help with the approaching dark days?

(I have the skeleton for this one basically done. Its the fleshing out that takes some time. There might be some rewrites as the story proceeds so please be patient with me.)

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In A Dire Situation

Hans's family is threatened by the wolf mob running town. Will he be able to convince his childhood friend to help him?

This one has the characters as animals because I like to switch up the medium through which that g/t good good is passed.

(This is similar to The Protector and gets updated on occasion. Its not the favorite amongst the crowds based on feed back but I still like it and want to keep it going.)

---------

Born Small

Based off the George Shrinks TV show. That’s what first got me into G/t as a kid. Its not a fan fav with the tumbr community so I don’t really post the updates here, but if you want to check it out the link is above.

#g/t #that g/t good good #wholesome giantess #Online dating can be hard #The Protector #in a dire situation #born small #cam and kate #oliver and liz #Lupa and Hans #george shrinks #becky lopez #Giant/tiny #F/m #duck it

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chipper-pessimist · 2 years

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Cosplay Update!

I apologize that it took me so long to post an update on my The Girl from the Other Side / とつくにの少女 cosplay!

At this point, I have finished sewing Sensei’s vest and cravat; the mask is mostly done (I just need to style the feather trim I used); and I am about half-way through sewing the jacket? I also have made the base for his tail, but it needs to finish drying before I can cover it in black suede. I’m waiting to try this cosplay on until I’m closer to finishing (in part because I’m incredibly apprehensive about how it will look -- especially given the fact that I am 5′4″/162 cm tall and not lanky...).

The locket was also a fun challenge -- I don’t think I’ve had to put so much detail in so small of an illustration! I had originally hoped to more closely emulate Nagabe’s drawing style, but the more details I added, the more of my own style came through. Hopefully it still captures the spirit.

If anyone is curious about how I made the mask, you can find more WIP pictures and explanations under the cut.

After using tinfoil, plaster wrap, and questionable life choices to make a basic mold of my head, I sculpted the main shape of the mask with Model Magic and used it as a foundation over which I laid plaster wrap. I ended up merging Nagabe’s design with some reference pictures I found of sheep skulls and ended up with this:

Once that had dried, I cut out holes for the eyes and sculpted horns and ears out of Model Magic -- I thought that it would be light enough to keep this mask wearable, but strong enough to maintain its structural integrity (although I added armature wire into the longer horns for greater stability). The large horns were originally textured by imprinting them with a bamboo sushi rolling mat.

Once the horns and ears had fully dried, I glued them to the mask with Elmer’s Craft Glue and used plaster wrap to more securely tie them in. I also added eyelids, and did a quick test to make sure the mesh “follow-me” eyes fit:

After everything had ostensibly dried, I covered the plaster with papier-mâché to smooth out the surface and to strengthen the mask.

It’s at this point, as the papier-mâché on the inside of the mask was drying, that I realized the large horns weren’t strong enough. Both of them started to break near the base; I originally tried fixing them with toothpicks and glue, but that was not enough. I ended up coating both of them in papier-mâché clay (a mix of paper pulp, drywall joint compound, and flour), which meant that I needed to redo the texture on them -- this time by adding details to the clay with a butter knife. Even after this dried, one of the horns continued to break. I eventually had to wrap the bottom third of each horn in plaster wrap, then papier-mâché over them entirely...which meant I had to retexture them again by adding small rolled-up pieces of plaster wrap.

After much frustration, the mask was finally ready to paint. The original black acrylic paint I used was too glossy, so I recoated it with a matte acrylic...which was too light and dull, so I added a layer of matte Modge Podge. To add more texture to the horns, I used an undercoat of grey paint, then used a fan brush to roughly go over it in black, letting some of the original grey shine through in streaks.

Finally, it was time to add the finishing touches! I attached black suede to the backs of the ears, glued in the buckram mesh eyes, and chose to use feather trim to make the hair/floof/whatever you want to call it. I used a little more Model Magic to make supports onto which I glued the feather trim -- without it, the feathers lay too flat and weren’t floofy enough.

I ended up using E6000 to attach the trim -- since the feathers were sewn into polyester ribbon, I wasn’t sure if it would adhere to craft glue.

The last steps in making the mask were to smooth out where the trim and suede were attached -- I covered visible lines with papier-mâché, then painted and sealed it once it had dried. I still wasn’t happy with how stark the hairline was, so I glued individual feathers to the top of the mask to soften it.

All that’s left now is to style the feathers.

#chip cosplays #wip #the girl from the other side #とつくにの少女 #Teacher #Sensei #せんせい #cosplay #locket

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purrincess-chat · 1 year

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Something that has been on my mind today since reading Rae's post this morning might ruffle a few feathers, but I feel like sharing my perspective. This isn't directed at any one person because I've seen it in numerous places from numerous people over the last several months, and I'm not looking to start any fights, just sharing my experience.

A lot of the outcry I've seen about pre reveal Adrinette "ruining" the love square or not being fair to x side or whatever grievance people have is giving me salty side of the fandom vibes. I say this as someone who was once part of the salt crowd and left for various reasons I've talked about over time. Now, these people making these posts might scoff at that notion because "unlike the salters I actually love the show," but the thing about salters is they once loved the show too.

The thing about fandom is it's a double edged sword. It's fun to make headcanons and write fanfic about our faves in situations. It's fun to speculate about what all of the little pieces and clues and crumbs in canon mean. But when the lines between fanon and canon get blurred, that's when things get tricky. It's fun until it isn't.

As someone who was once part of the salt crowd who had many friends who took pleasure in ripping the show apart, I can tell you that a vast majority of the vitriol came from unmet expectations. We got it in our heads that something would happen or should happen in order for the show to be good, and when those very hyper specific things didn't happen, we got mad. "It's bad writing" we would say. "It's not fair" we would cry. "Canon would be better if it just did what we wanted." From our perspective, we loved the show a lot and wanted to see it done well. We wanted to see a good story told because we loved the characters and the universe. At least, that's how I felt. I wrote numerous salt fics after Chameleon and started arguably one of the worst salt trends to come from that episode with the whole 'Marinette changes schools and gets revenge' trope. But eventually, for me, the constant negativity reached a point that was unhealthy, and I started to recognize the anger and disappointment I felt towards the writers bleeding into my psyche and corrupting me. I no longer enjoyed the show I once loved. My days were full of arguments with strangers over fictional people. I was angry. I would lash out at anyone who disagreed with me. I was miserable. So I pumped the brakes. I took breaks from the fandom to work through my own issues. I asked myself why I was even here at all if I wasn't enjoying it. And ultimately I decided I did still enjoy the show even with all of its flaws, and I accepted that canon was going to do whatever canon was going to do. When I came back to fandom, I found I no longer related to the salt crowd, so I left it behind. I mass unfollowed everyone in the fandom minus a few trusted mutuals and friends. Over the last couple years I've slowly started branching out again, being extremely picky about who I follow this time. So when I say this, it comes from a place of experience because a lot of the posts I've seen floating around from people who admonish the salters and tout themselves as not being like the salters are starting to look familiar. As Dr. Taylor Swift once said, "I think I've seen this film before, and I didn't like the ending." The salters started out the same way, at least the ones I knew. They originally loved canon, then one thing happened that they didn't quite like. Then the next tiny little thing became more noticeable. Then they started noticing a lot of things. Then they started looking for things to notice. And it snowballed from there to what it is now: a group of bitter, disgruntled ex-fans whose expectations were never met.

I'm not saying the people posting about their disapproval of pre reveal Adrinette are all terrible bad people on par with the salters. Nor am I saying they will ever get that bad necessarily. I'm just saying that these posts, to me, resemble the beginning of that road. Certain expectations that weren't met by canon, and anyone who even tries to suggest that those expectations weren't meant to happen are wrong and don't understand the show clearly because if you did, you'd agree with our anger.

Maybe I'm just jaded with fandom. Maybe I'm too old. Maybe I'm a biased Adrinette stan that is happy to see the two kids finally getting together after 4.5 seasons of dancing circles around each other. 🤷‍♀️ But when I came back and changed my tune toward the show I accepted canon for what it is. It's fun. It's cringy. It has good parts and bad parts. It's neither the terrible, awful shitshow the salters make it out to be nor the perfectly innocent devoid of any flaws angel that its highest praisers make it out to be. It is what it is. I told myself a long time ago that I just want to see the love square get together by whatever means necessary. If the writers feel like pre reveal Adrinette is necessary, then that's just what it is. No amount of me bitching about what could've been, would've been, should've been will change that. If I'm really disgruntled, I'll go write a fic about what I wanted to happen instead. That's what fandom is for. That was fanfic's original purpose. It was a writer's ability to say "but what if this happened instead?"

Idk. A lot of the takes I've seen in fandom lately just leave a bad taste in my mouth and remind me of a time in my fandom history that I've worked hard to move on from. This fandom has been dying for years, and I think s5 will be the final nail in the coffin.

#cat salts #ml fandom salt #might delete later idk #just something that has been on my mind lately #the salters and fans have started to look too similar to me at times #and i know they will all deny it and claim to be different but #ive seen both sides 🤷‍♀️#so i know what to look for #anyway #thats all i will say on the matter #honestly i will be surprised if there is anyone left after this season

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keiisho · 2 years

Text

It was a precarious situation regarding moving pieces he wasn’t familiar with. There were emotions involved that he wished to keep Zhuge Liang away from. There were people involved much closer to this situation than he was. And yet he had to do his job, really.

Not even his own personal feelings could get in the way of this one - it started to involve the island’s residents in a way that was likely becoming far too common for them. Those who lived in the depths of Fibonacci put up with too much on a daily basis to have to deal with any additional problems brought from each of their worlds.

So, no matter who was in there, or who was involved, he would help. And the logical conclusion for destabilizing this place? Well, probably to trap the security in a maze before summoning his apprentice to completely decimate it. That was a plan - a sound one that relied on nobody else to get their job done. Something more than reasonable that would take up his mana reserves but given the time of the month - every two months, he calculated - he would have enough time to recover before the next big catastrophe.

The issue, his human heart said, was that there were too many sacrifices with that method.

So what was next?

Relying on others, and playing his own part in this investigation. There had been some sort of mess, some sort of distraction going on inside, and, truly, the first step to destabilizing a place short of decimating it completely?

Cut off its energy supply.

He could make a straight shot into the chambers, but it was best to burn the hinges off the doors. Short-circuit the security so the shift wouldn’t alert anybody. A glyph was drawn in marker on the metal door, as it glowed briefly, and the mechanical whirring inside the lock fell dead, and the hinges of the door sparked. The smoke from his cigar provided a calming environment as he did his work, methodical, as he made his way into the human ranch.

A despicable name, really, for a despicable place.

Exhaling, his own emotions stayed muted about the entire idea of this place as he looked up at the main generator for it. This would, at least, cause further distraction and panic, and likely make it so much of the barrier surrounding the place shut down. There would likely be auxiliary power sources to keep people contained, but he imagined - hoped - it would all be weakened.

His feathered fan manifests in his hand as he feels his mana surge around him, firing electricity at the generator to short-circuit the remaining power before slamming down several boulders into the machine’s body itself, crushing it into the ground.

Pulling out his phone, he sent a short text to Yuan. [text: Whatever you plan to do, I suggest you do it shortly.] [text: I’ve no clue if they have any back-up power, or what they may do to generate it.]

@stormswake @originskey

#stormswake #originskey #not a thread but the two biggos who would know #kratos isola challenge

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dahliadoesart · 4 months

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Day 1 of Looking at Art for An Hour a Day

Today I looked at The Peacock Skirt by Aubrey Beardsley. Below is a very rough collection of notes/my thoughts-I may organize it into a better post eventually. I think this work is super duper cool, and would love to talk to anyone who has opinions!

The Peacock Skirt, Aubrey Beardsley

Work is all about the interplay between the two figures. Focal point is right between them, one on the left is curling around, looking down in controlling way. Has strands curling around the entire image, giving a sense of control and power. Interestingly, really only the skirt and the face of this figure are pictured, the skirt isn’t even particularly realistic. The actual body consists of essentially just two lines, very little detail. Beardsley does a really great job of conveying what is important, and letting the rest go, with the lack of detail in some areas just serving to heighten your attention on the important parts, not to distract you. Relatively blank torso is made up for in some sense by the peacock on the figures shoulder. Peacock has large skirt disguising the small size of the actual bird itself. I believe the bird is meant to be a representation of the figure on which it is perched. Twisting form of the bird mirrors that of the figure, with the feathers serving to hide the small form of the actual bird itself in the same way the skirt hides the figure. Peacock also has fan made primarily of dots-this is interesting as almost the entire rest of the image is done in either lines or large blocks of black and white. I believe this gives it a sort of surreal quality, removing it from the main focus on the two characters and letting us see it as more secondary. The actual head of the figure is essentially just emerging from the blob, with a looking down gaze. While the heads of the two figures are just about level, the one on the left is still looking down, heightening the sense of control. The blank eyes, the odd posture, the gaze not into the eyes of the other, and the plant like, dramatic hair of the figure on the left all give it a supernatural feeling. Whatever it is does not appear fully human, and is somehow messing with the figure on the right. I think that while the figure on the right is less detailed, its still super interesting. If you look at just the top half it looks…defiant? Like it knows it should be scared of the other thing and is trying its best not too. However, I think the bottom is really fascinating in contrast to this. The figures left arm bends inwards at a dramatic, unrealistic angle, allowing their hand to be in their dress. I believe this lets the shoulder be posed in the defiant way Beardsley wants, while still keeping the figure from interacting with the leftmost figure, and portraying a sense of smallness. Additionally, the knees of this figure are a sharp contrast to the rest of her, extremely detailed, knobby, and just generally in a rough shape. This, combined with the odd angle of the arm, and the tears in the bottom of the skirt all give a sense of weakness or defeat. The figure on the right is clearly not in a good state. Finally, I find the figure on the right’s right hand to be interesting. The pose is delicate, her fingers softly curled. This seems to not reflect the fear and unease of the situation. However, something is directly above it, maybe fire? It seems as if whatever this is is emanating from her hand, potentially conveying that the figure on the left is not the only supernatural one. This lends to the dramatic contrast between the top and bottom of the figure on the right, with the mix of confidence and shakeness potentially showing the uncertainty of how this situation will end up.

In general, I think the way Beardsley uses color is absolutely brilliant–different parts of this work have dots, white, or black as the primary focus, and we move between these areas effortlessly (ie the hair of the figure on the left vs the dress of the figure on the right). The lack of care for the specific details of human form, combined with this inconsistent aesthetic, and general sense of unease in the scene itself creates a really incredible way of conveying the wrongness of the situation, without any explicit story itself. Just looking at it, the work feels like a reflection of manipulation and abuse of power, and is able to communicate the terror associated with those situations, with only one scene, which is very cool.

#19th century #aubrey beardsley #block printing #art history #art appreciation #car seat headrest

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dienamights · 3 years

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Unfavorable Guidance | H.Shinso

✎ Mindjack has been doing these kind of jobs since he was recruited as a hero, he is unmistakingly the best at them, doesn’t need anyone butting their noses in his business, especially you, the sly fox in disguise, offering your tainted helping hand.

✎ Protagonists: Hitoshi Shinso x Fem!Reader.

✎ Word count: 6.4K

✎Category: noncon/dubcon, Smut MDNI, Prohero!au

✎Caution(!): noncon/dubcon, Smut 18+ MDNI please, , mentions of alcohol, mentions of murder, minor character death, sex under quirk use, spitting, degrading, swearing, manipulation, unprotected sex.

✎ Author’s notes: I KNOW I’M LATE EUFGKHDFVBDFXL, but here is my contribution to @daisy-bakugo 2k event Vice City! Please take the time to read everyone’s work if you haven’t! Thank you so much for letting me participate.

I listened to this throughout the entire process of writing it, if you’re familiar with Kingdom Hearts, some names will ring a bell to you lol. also I hate the header and the summary but you’re just gonna have to live w it for now cause its 8 am I NEED SLEEP

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The annual auction of Vice City is one of the biggest social events of the year. The wealthiest families and richest people in the world come from everywhere in attempts to win what is secretly considered the greatest treasures of all time. Greatest and most expensive.

Alas, the after party held later on is what people are all secretly actually waiting for, where the most exquisite and rarest artifacts of the year get auctioned off to whoever is lucky enough to even be included in the guest list.

While not all are there for the auctions, it certainly is the perfect opportunity for anyone who's anyone in the world to show off their wealth. Filthy rich people sway all around, laughing and bragging. Venetian crystal chandeliers, velvet carpets, gambling, and alcohol. Men with their cigars, men with their wives, and men with their arm candies, their escorts or mistresses.

Yet, Shinso isn’t here for the luxury, he isn't here for the fame and the fortune, nor the reputation people thrive for when they buy those - meaningless, he calls them - relics. No, he is here on a mission, one he certainly wants to be done and over with because he wants to go home. He loosens his tie with an aggravated sigh before knocking back the last of his only gin and tonic, the bitter taste prickling his throat as he surveys the crowd of people all around him while he stands idly by the bar.

He knew it’d be a pain in the ass the second he got the mission assigned to him from the agency, the words “intel” and “Vice City'' of all places forced a frown upon his face, yet, being the most suitable for this job, he couldn't really decline.

Mindjack isn’t the type of hero you see on billboards and magazines, isn’t the type of hero to kiss babies’ heads that get thrusted at him in meet and greets, he certainly isn’t one to have those adoring fan clubs that follow his every move, posting about his greatest conquests. Oh no, he is a hero that works in dingy jobs with filthy manipulative men in black markets and the human trafficking industry, undercover -lie through your teeth throughout the whole ordeal- kind of hero, the kind of hero that goes home at the end of his missions with no gratitude towards his work, because nobody knows who he is or what he contributes to the society.

For the longest time, Shinso accepted the life he’s living, he didn’t look for validation from the citizens, knowing his work is always beyond the scope of their knowledge and their awareness, but sometimes, just sometimes, the sour droplets of envy would foul his mouth when his amethysts for eyes scan over the extravagant heroes, making a show out of saving their cities and getting praised and awarded and loved for doing what they’re supposed to be doing, their job.

“Squeeze that glass a bit more and you’d break it”

A voice just like silk, weaving around him and entrancing him, Shinso blinked twice before his eyes dragged over to you, oh so beautiful and oh so close. Your nimble fingers wrapped around his fingers, the lacey glove lightly scratches his hand before he lets go of the glass in surprise, dropping it into yours. You giggle sweetly, turning around to place it on the bar before ordering your own, but not without looking at him over your shoulder and sending him a smile.

“What will it be, sugar tits?” the bartender leans over the counter, towel thrown on his shoulder as he sends you what's supposed to be a sultry look. Your elbow is placed on the counter while you rest your chin on your hand, smiling temptingly at him. “Anything that’ll get you to stop staring at my boobs.” Shinso almost laughs at the contrast between your smile and your voice, sharp and venomous, and the man leans back so far from you like he’s been stung. Walking away to work on a drink for you.

Shinso’s eyes rake your body without his knowledge, he admires the dress adorning your body, hugging you in all the right places, cascading down to the floor, and that slit my god, your legs looking endless in those heels he wonders how you can strut so elegantly with them on. A snap of your fingers breaks his trance and he tries - keyword tries - to act nonchalant to his obvious ogling and you only laugh in return.

You hum lowly, “So,” you’re turning to face him as you lean back on the counter, pushing your chest out to grasp even more of his attention, “what's an esteemed hero like you doing in a place like this?” It takes Shinso a good minute before he narrows his eyes, left foot back and ready to either take you down or run away if you were to involve greater forces. No one is supposed to know about his true identity, no one is supposed to know that there is a hero within them.

But what shakes his demeanor is the way you dangle his wallet in front of him, like dangling a stupid feather for some silly cat, waiting for it to jump at you to entertain you. Shinso swallows with a struggle, deciding that using his quirk to retrieve his wallet back will lead to him leaving, and he didn’t want that. He’s been keeping an eye on the wanted man for hours now, and it’ll all go to waste because of your slimy little hands and your-

“Here,” you toss it back to him, and he stumbles a bit before catching it properly, eyeing you for any sudden movements, but you simply turn back around in time to hold the drink from the bartender’s hand with a smile dazzling your lips. “You’re getting intel on The Wise?” you mumble against your cup, sipping slowly, eyes never leaving Shinso’s glaring ones. How the fuck do you know?

“You’re not the first.” you smirk, finger wiping the smeared lipstick against the glass before circling the rim. “You all look the same, thinking you’re better than them because of your position in the society, only for that ego to come and bite you right in the ass.” It’s almost ironic how poisonous your voice could get while still maintaining that mesmerizing smile, and oddly enough, Shinso’s eyes keep drooping despite his desperate attempt to fight against them.

You hum again, the click of your heels sounding muffled to him, eyes blurring when you get so close to him your breath tickles his cheek. “But you’re different, hmm? You’re gonna make the bad guy go away?”

“Yes.” it's rushed, almost desperate, and the hero is astonished at how he sounds. “Then, lemme help you… Hitoshi.”

A blink, and you’re gone just like you vanished right from under his nose, slipped right between his fingers. A low curse escapes Shinso’s lips and he turns around swiftly to question the bartender, hell bent on getting any information on the girl that just revealed his entire identity and mission to him in a matter of seconds.

“How can I help you, sir?” the question boggles his mind, the big burly man with an attitude problem wasn’t there anymore, replaced by another sweet woman that held concern in her eyes at his sight. “You’ve been staring at the wall for a while there, need me to call your driver to get you back?”

“Wa- but I- She,” Shinso’s body started heating up in anger, worry, embarrassment, he doesn’t really know, but what he wants to know right this instant is how long he’s been out of it and for god’s sake, why?

Shinso doesn’t really consider himself to be the sharpest tool in the shed, but dammit did he feel like a complete idiot letting you run off like that, a quick trip to the restroom for a splash of water clears his head enough for him to pull back his wallet from his pocket, flipping through it and finding something he was absolutely sure wasn’t there prior to your visit. A silver card, with ‘Surveillance room’ scribbled on a note behind it.

Caving in and accepting whatever help you were offering him, Shinso slides the card through the reader, sighing in relief upon the satisfying ding sound, followed by the door opening to the surveillance room.

“Now that’s what’m talking about.” life got so much easier now that he could watch The Wise through multiple screens, making it hard to miss a single move of his. The hero allows himself to relax a bit, hand messing with his hair and tired eyes blinking in irritation against the glare of the screens. The Wise was the mastermind of Organization XIII, as their name intel, they’re consisting of the same thirteen members that founded it years ago, nobody really knows how they started, what shocked the whole world is how grand their first crime actually was, bloodbath of the century -they would call it, seventeen slaughtered heroes, followed by their families, including women and children, thousands of millions of ¥ in money laundering atop of it, all within a span of 4 months, that was years ago, back in their prime.

Now, with eight of them behind bars, the remaining five were able to stay under the radar, distributing whatever money they were able to keep between them and fleeing to different parts of the world. Just because they were apart, didn’t mean they were any less dangerous, The Wise is a prime example for that, brutally murdering three of the undercover heroes sent his way to bring him back to justice, but they weren’t Shinso, he’d try to remind himself.

May their soul rest in peace, they were those heroes he felt dissociated from, the type of heroes to flaunt their powers, monetize the peoples’ knowledge of their quirks, uncover the secrets of their job, they were easy targets for people like The Wise, he’d know their weaknesses and how to take them down before they even think about pursuing him. Now, Mindjack was a different story, he wasn’t held on a pedestal by the people he saves, simply because they don’t recognize him, while he would loath that reality sometimes, he thanks the god for it today, as he’s watching the man’s call out for a drink.

Amethyst eyes scan the remaining screens, widening upon the sight of you looking right back at them, you are a vixen to him, eyes half lidded with a smile so intoxicating it does nothing but entrance whoever was lucky enough to catch its sight. Lace clad fingers wrapping around a piece of paper, you are so beautiful, Shinso tries to stop his mind from wandering, imagining what you wore underneath that angel crafted dress, envisioning what those fingers could do to please him, the same fingers that held the unfolded paper, the word ‘RUN’ smeared across it in lipstick.

Wait a minute, run?

Even before the poor hero could react, the similar satisfying -now dreadful- ding rings in his ear, before the door opens behind him, illuminating the room even more. Shinso stands to face two men, both as surprised as he is to see another occupant in the room. Right before any of them move, the hero opens his mouth and prays to god that whatever way he’s winging it works. “You got a permit to be here?”

Jesus one of you answer, and they both do - the left having fingers curving into talons while the right pulled at strings from the tips of his fingers, both ready to attack - and by god Shinso couldn’t be happier upon hearing a sound, because the minute the word ‘yes’ slips through their lips, Mindjack is smiling like a madman, welcoming the look of glossy eyes and heavy heads like a beloved relative’s return back home.

“Great… Now,” the two manipulated men face him, unaware of the dreaded fate bestowed upon them, while Shinso just can’t seem to keep the glint in his eyes at bay. “Why don’t you put on a show for me,” he breathes, smiling down at the ground before looking at them. ”Choke the fucking life out of each other.” The men don’t even blink, quick to face each other and jump, hands wrapped around throats like a vice, Shinso only moves away from the men on the floor as they thrash and kick at each other, limbs flailing as they try to force the life out of each other.

Turning his back against them, Shinso eyes the screen he was monitoring before their entrance, ignoring the groans and gasps of air behind him. He curses under his breath when he sees The Wise getting up from his place, heading towards a room that is supposed to be monitored by screen #6, but is purposely out of service. If he isn’t able to question The Wise or even keep an eye on him, then he’s gonna head on over to the next best thing. Gargled screams echo through the corridor as the hero makes his exit, making sure the door clicks shut behind him, he wouldn’t want to cause disturbance to the esteemed guests of the society of lowlifes.

Mindjack works in dingy jobs with filthy manipulative men in black markets and the human trafficking industry, killing machines that didn’t spare the live of the innocents, so why should he spare theirs?

Shinso makes it back to the main event, immediately finding you between guests, sitting so pretty on the poker table, eyes drawing him closer, the grin adorning your lips now wobbly, easy for him to distinguish as fake, forced, a façade kept for the people surrounding the table. He is hasteful in settling himself in the chair near you, shoulders tense when different pairs of eyes fall upon him, the dealer shuffles the deck to draw cards for Shinso, but you hold your hand out with a smile. “He’ll sit this one out, by my lucky onlooker.” A round of laughter causes Shinso to flush in embarrassment, feeling degraded and looked down upon by all these lowlifes, petty thieves and criminals, thinking they’re better than him, oh he’ll show them.(1)

It takes a few rounds for the table to empty out, now occupied by Shinso and yourself, the dealer asks him to move over to the next chair before they start their game. “Place your bets.” you’re quick to slide over a few of your chips to his side - some black, others red and blue, he didn’t really pay that much attention to them- your eyes daring him to reject your invitation to take the money to play.

He only blinks at you, his eyes seemingly never wanting to lose sight of you as he fights with himself to sit straight to face the dealer again, the man proceeds to deal both of you the cards for you to review before placing your bets. “You tricked me.” Shinso is almost appalled at the hurt laced in his voice, as if the two of you had a bond that was never meant to be broken. “don’t believe so, told you to run didn’ I?” The mockery in your voice is a hoax, the single twitch in your brow catches his attention and he can only deem it as you being stressed, whether it be because of the ordeal regarding the surveillance room or not is beyond him. No, he was stupid and foolish and he will not fall for your silly games again. “Exactly, you knew they were coming.” you hum in response to his accusation.

“Call.” Dropping a few of your chips on the table, your eyes shift momentarily to him, “I did, I said I’d help you and here I am.” He slams his bet on the table, ‘Raise’ gritted right through his teeth at your words. “I don’t want your help!” He reveals his cards on the table, a way to show his disinterest in your assistance as the dealer announces ‘Flush’ at his hand. Your eyes meet again from above your cards, now narrowing down instead of the half lidded look you seem to always have “You don’t want it, but you need it.” The façade you held before is slowly but surely breaking, now a deep frown tugging at your lip as you reveal your own hand, brows furrowing even further in challenge as you hum in displeasure when the dealer announces your ‘Full House’ hand to be the winner of this round.(2)

Shinso moves swiftly to stand when he sees you do the same, right before his entire world starts to spin, lights and colors mingling together and causing his head to spin, he sits down again, head between his hands as he tries to calm himself down, it's probably the strain of the mission, maybe it’s the weight bestowed upon his shoulders to finish it up. The hero lifts his head up to ask you, about something he himself isn’t even sure of, he just wants to hear your voice, like a drug to him that he can’t help but ask for more. Except when he does, you aren’t there, the table is occupied by different people, the dealer is another man with longer hair and slimmer figure, and by god did Shinso want to rip his hair out.

The minute he feels like he could get back on his own to feet without falling down on his ass, Hitoshi is quick to check his pockets, adamant to find a clue your sneaky hands slid into one of his pockets while he was out, despite the tantrum he almost threw at not wanting your help nor guidance, and he does find something, a simple metal key, attached to it was a tag with the number XIII on it.

In his shock, he almost drops the key on the ground but barely holds himself together to avoid any further embarrassment, Shinso takes deep breaths, knowing that the key in his possession is his entry to the heart of the organization, and especially to The Wise.

Every year, specifically at the Vice City annual auction afterparty, The Wise holds a meeting with the most dangerous men within the continent, the most loathsome masterminds of the criminal world, all in the hopes of recruiting one of them into the organization, to uphold its name and spread its message. Every year, with no recruitment yet.

With trembling hands, Shinso stuffs the key back into his pocket, eyes on the lookout for anyone who might’ve caught the key in his hand, but sighs in relief when he sees some engrossed in their meaningless poker and absurd talks, while the majority have made their way to the next hall over for the auction that is being held. He takes the stairs three at a time up the floors, facing a red oak double door, the same forsaken number engraved into it. After multiple failed attempts at inserting the key in the lock, he finally does with a huff, hearing the lock echoing in his ears before pushing the door open.

To be honest, Shinso didn’t know what he was expecting to see on the other side of the door, he thought maybe he’d watch weaponry trade off, perhaps people brawling and fighting amongst each other for the title of being the new members. But he certainly didn’t expect to be engulfed in jazz music, men with their cigars laughing and chatting, without a single care in the world, as if their hands weren’t tainted with the blood of the innocents, oh how he loathed them. In an attempt to fit in, he grabs a glass of whiskey from the butler standing by the door, nodding to him in thanks before moseying his way over to the corner in the room, he’d be damned if he got caught in the crossfire of those lunatics.

A stage is set up in the front of the room, and it takes a second for him to acknowledge the pole placed right at its center, it takes him another few seconds to see the beauty dancing on that pole, Shinso’s eyes rake her body without his knowledge, he admires the lingerie adorning her body, hugging her in all the right places, garter snug against her thighs as she twirls, her legs looking endless in those heels he wonders how she can dance so elegantly with them on… wait a minute.

As if predicting the minute he realized it was you, you twirl to face him, lips pulled into a smile yet again, a giggle interrupting your humming as your body twists and turns on the pole. Shinso isn’t really sure how long he sits there captivated by your body, the only thing breaking his trance is the clap on his back and the heavy weight that sits next to him. “Beauty, isn’t she?”

Bile rises to Shinso’s throat at the mere sound of the person next to him, fear stills him in his place, restricting any movement he’s even thinking of doing, all he could do is sit, widened eyes and sweaty brows at the sight of The Wise right beside him.

“Don’cha love it when women like her,” The Wise points at you with his cigar, “work to please men like us?” His arm now completely wrapped around Shinso’s shoulder as the hero feels his soul levitating from his body. “Look aroun’ya,” and he does, and only then does he really pay attention, he should’ve seen it all along, the glossy eyes, the droopy heads, it's a sight he was so well accustomed to that his brain normalized it to him. With whatever courage he musters up, he shifts his eyes to look at the man beside him, noticing the ear plugs he wore, and right then the gears start to turn in his head. “My most prized possession I tell’ya.”

Of course you would be, how else would you have access to all these things, the card, the key, the vanishing from thin air, it all makes sense now.

“Enjoying yourselves, gentlemen?” your words are flowing like honey to his ears, a low buzz ringing in his brain as you spoke to the men in front of you. His ability to frown is nonexistent, a relaxed look adorning his face as he looks up at you, so elegant and beautiful in whatever hugged that miracle of a body.

“Sure are,” The Wise jerks Shinso by the shoulder, and he realizes that was done to break whatever trance he was in, he could only glare back at you when you smile at them, that conniving smile that hosted all the lies you spouted to him.

“y/n,” He calls you and by God if this isn’t the most beautiful name Shinso ever hears, what a shame it's being tainted by the voice of this criminal. “Wadda ya say to takin’ this fine boy to the red room, hm?” The man urges him to stand and take your hand, which he did at the blink of an eye, his body moving on it’s own to graze his lips against your knuckles in a breathless kiss. “Treat’m real nice for me.” The hero’s feet take him to follow you, his steps light, like walking on clouds, the sway of your hips pulling him closer to you until his chest is flush against your back, pushing you to move faster into the room you are pointed towards.

Walking aimlessly through hallways, taking lefts and rights he would never be able to recollect in his current state, you both enter a room, red just like The Wise called it, crimson silk sheets fitted on a king sized bed, maroon loveseats and plush carpets, everything in that red hue that it's almost nauseating.

Bringing your hands in a loud clap, the fogginess in Shinso’s vision dissolves, your creased brows and frown now more prominent to him than ever, his eyes catch the scar trailing from the back of your neck to your cleavage, confused as to why his usual perceptive self would miss it, but then again, he doesn’t feel like he was ever himself throughout this whole ordeal.

To say he was furious is an understatement, he never felt more played in his life, he is Mindjack, the most conniving hero of all of Japan, he was manipulative and sly , known by his people to get jobs done, no matter who his opponent is, he always comes back victorious. And when his ears pick up your sigh of relief, he could only see red, he is hurt, he is scared, but now its his act, his turn to fuck shit up, he wants to hurt, he wants to scare.

“Fuckin’ lying bitch,” It takes him all but two steps for his body to graze yours, tantalizing eyes boring down into yours as you gasp at the close proximity, “you were workin’ with’em this entire fuckin’ time?”

“N-no that’s not it,” you stutter, flustered at his overwhelming presence, trying to put some distance between you and the fuming man by pushing his chest, “Please, I need you to listen to me.”

“Oh, now you’re beggin’ hmm?” his firm warm hands circle your wrists, tugging them away from his body and using them to pull you even closer to him, his breath now grazing the tops of your cheeks, “Didn’t your boss tell you to treat me right?” he breathes, “well, get to it, slut.”

“That’s not what this is Hitoshi, just listen-” for the love of all that’s pure in this world, why does the sound of his name exceed his perception of how happiness is supposed to reverberate in his ear? “Keep my name outta your mouth, or I swear,” He hisses at you, the grip on your wrists tightening as you whimper out in pain.

“You think you can just toy with me? Have me running around and following your orders like a lil bitch!?” He sees you trembling, lips wobbly and in tears, how ironic, he doesn’t know a few words would get you to start tearing up, the change in demeanor from when he first met you confuses him for a second, but only a second, because he’ll be damned if he falls for any of your tricks anymore. “N-no, I swear it isn’t like that, just p-please, please c-calm down! Let me explain myself-” the ugly cackle he lets out shuts you up, teary eyes widening as they fall on his, the aura he’s radiating is terrifying to say the least, your knees shaking in dread at what’s about to fold.

“You think you can play my game and win?”

It takes you a minute to answer, the word no echoing in your head, throbbing in your brain so painfully you forget the words that follow it, but what you can’t forget, what you will never forget, no matter how delirious you feel, is the look of pure sin across Shinso’s face, grin rivaling that of the Cheshire cat, because you were now simply a measly little pawn in his game.

Mindjack works in dingy jobs with filthy manipulative men in black markets and the human trafficking industry, criminals that broke every law in their way to get what they desire, so why couldn’t he indulge even a little himself?

He lets go of your wrists, watching as your arms sway next to your body like dead weight before he turns around to flop down on the loveseat, legs spread wide as he waves his hand over to you.

“Waddaya waitin’ for,” he knows you can’t answer him, but it feels so fucking good to hold such power over you after all you’ve put him through. “Now, strip.” the surge of power he feels jolts his dick up in excitement as he watches you take off your lingerie, moves robotic and forced, eyes glazed over both with tears and his control over your dumb little brain. Hitoshi is no villain, he is a respectable hero, but he’s been called that all his childhood, he might as well live up to that expectation, one way or another.

Shinso stands when you’re fully naked in front of him, long legs circling you and taking you all in, the back of his hand grazes your nipple and he all but groans as it pebbles at his touch. But god, he was nowhere near being done with you.

“Spread your legs for me on that bed,” he grins at the way you follow his orders even before he asks, “will ya?” you settle yourself on the bed before slowly dropping your weight on your back, hazy eyes staring up into the ceiling as your arms bring themselves down to circle the back of your knees, pulling them up close to your chest to expose yourself to him.

Shinso’s cock twitches in his pants again at the opportunity to just seath it into you without any warning, but he barely holds himself back, approaching your body and feeling himself salivating at the sight, what a sight it is, your pussy looking so fucking beautiful clenching over nothing, the sight tempting him to just dive his face right in to get a taste of your juices.

Taking off his suit jacket and rolling the sleeves of his shirt, Shinso presses his thumb to your clit, frowning when he notices how dry you are, of course you would be, he chuckles to no one, puckering his lip to spit right at the nub, watching it trail down to your clenching hole, the sight igniting a flame within him, he does it again, simply to watch your spit hide in your cunt, impatient to follow suit and bury himself in there.

His thumb is quick to draw circles with your clit, needing for your orgasm to wash over you quickly, eager for the things he’d do to you after he preps you enough to take him. The usual comforting silence is thick between you, no moans escaping your ajar mouth as your arousal seeps out of your pussy, he prods your hole with his finger to collect your nectar, smearing it across your clit again to rub even faster against it.

The only indication of you coming undone is when your thighs start to shake, your body curling in on itself as your back arches, your cunt gushing on his fingers, and Shinso is almost disappointed to not hear you moan out his name in pleasure. But he isn’t that disheartened, he’s bound to hear you scream.

You on the other hand, are petrified at the way your body is being handled, feeling yourself looking down at the horror being folded in front of you, this isn’t you, this is a shell of who you are, wrapped around his finger, at his mercy, and you want out, no matter the cost. But, you are to regret these words, because you see him unbuckling his belt, you hear the zipper drilling in your ear, and you watch him lay atop you, feeling your lungs constrict at the weight settling upon it, and to your utmost terror, the only thing that breaks his bind on you is when you feel his warm head prodding at your entrance, right before seething completely in, your throat prickling when you wail hoarsely in pain at feeling like being split into two.

“No, nonononon, st-stop please, please!” You’re crying, legs thrashing and arms flailing trying to push this monster off of you, but you can’t, you think as your walls pulsate in pain at the intrusion, you’ll never be able to with him placing his entire weight on you like that, and the way he pulls out before impaling you again has you seeing stars in the worst way possible. Desperate for an escape, you grab a chuck of his hair, your nails digging into his scalp before you yank, your jaw throbbing at how tight you clench your teeth in pain and disgust and pure panic. The strength you muster to pull his head up is in vain, because it only jerks his face deeper into your neck, right where your scar trails, and he bites, so hard you’re certain it draws blood.

Only then does he lift his head up, his upper lip smeared with a smidge of blood, your blood, before he spits right into your mouth. Sick to your stomach at the metallic taste invading your taste buds, you spit right up at him, mindless to the debris falling right back at your face, your mascara running down your cheeks as you sneer up at him. Even as he laughs teasingly at you.

“Don’t worry slut,” He rasps, his nose brushing against yours as his thrusts find a pace, pulling out to the tip before pushing himself fully inside, “It’ll feel good in a minute.” and it does, he feels more of your arousal coating his cock as he snaps his hips against yours, your wails and whimpers slowly yet surely are coated more with lust as you moan out his name. “See tha’, almost too easy…” almost too good to be true.

And it is, because when his eyes struggle to find yours, he is reminded by the feeling that overtook him this entire evening, and when he sees the corner of your lips pull lightly does he want to rip your head right out, but the minute he moves his hand, he is overwhelmed by how wobbly he feels, how your face distorts and misshapes before he is met with the sight of the ceiling, the sight you grew accustomed to when he was taking advantage of your unconsciousness.

He groans when he feels you impaling yourself on his cock, pussy clenching so tight as you bop yourself up and down his shaft, your tits bouncing with you as he looks up at you, so mesmerized and entranced by your beauty all he does is hold your hips, helping you lift yourself up before dropping you on him, the squelching sound that follows it music to his ears.

You plant your hands against his chest, hips rolling as you pant at his lips, both of you so drunk on the feeling of each other and chasing your highs, “You gonna listen to me, when I ask you to?” His hand claps against your ass at your question, “Yes, yes oh God, anythin’ just don’t stop.” He can’t help but want more of you, want to feel his cock push against you even further, so he plants his feet firm against the bed, hand grabbing handfuls of your ass as he starts thrusting up at you, moaning against your neck when he shoots ropes of his cum inside of your sopping cunt, squeezing him so tight and milking him, and all of what Shinso remembers is the way you arch your back, pressing your chest against his as your whimper out his name, as he feels your juices dripping against his balls and down on the sheets beneath you. After that, all he could see was black.

Shinso awakes startled, eyes darting in alarm before he relaxes when he confirms he’s alone, the red silky sheets now draped over his lower body, pooling at his lap when he sits up to look around once more, desperate for any sign of you. Yet he only sees a brown folder on top of the love seat, impressively thick with the amount of papers stacked inside it, and when Shinso reaches for it, he catches the note that slipped off and draped down on the floor, reading it and scowling at it. ‘You promised you’d listen’

And boy is he more than lucky to listen to you when you asked him to. Because that folder has every tiny little detail he needs to know about The Wise, from the quirks of his circulating bodyguards to the keys to his multiple homes within the world. Pictures upon pictures of the man, decoded letters and basically intel on his entire criminal record.

Fucking finally, Shinso gets to just go home no that everything’s over and done with.

Limited Edition Sneak Peek:

It is way too early for Shinso, the sun glaring at him as he makes his way into the agency, the honking cars and chattering people feeding into his migraine so early in the morning, and he groans as he pushes his door open, ready to get back to his regular routine after the incident at Vice City.

It hasn’t been even a week, but it sure was eventful, using the folder you left him, Mindjack was able to capture The Wise the very next day, via the map of the routes he takes that was attached in the folder. They were able to ambush him, easily being able to bring the right heroes for the job to overcome the quirks of both his workers and himself. Now the mastermind of Organization XIII was behind bars, making the job of catching the remaining members now much easier.

It almost felt like child’s play, at least, that’s what the heroes made it out to be, flexing their powers and their potential, when they were well aware that all their efforts would’ve been in vain if you and your folder weren't there to aid them in every step.

To say that guilt ate him up is an understatement, he feels himself decaying from the inside out from resentment, he figures he spent too much time in the dark, that it started to mess with him, manipulate him, carve him into someone he isn’t, someone that isn’t fit to be a hero. He feels like was walking into a tunnel with no way out, engulfed and trapped in pure merciless darkness, that ate away at his soul every step he took further in.

Shinso trudges up the stairs with a heavy heart, the dread at what he did to you, especially that your intent to help him didn’t waver despite his actions loomed over him, and he couldn’t remember the last time he felt like he didn’t deserve the life that he’s living in right now.

Yet, the saying ‘there's a light at the end of the tunnel’ rings in his ear, the minute he opens up the door to his office, eyes widening at the sight before him, smile so dazzlingly sweet, a voice just like silk, weaving around him and entrancing him as the words captivated him despite their simplicity.

“Missed me, Hitoshi?”

(1) its common in poker for women to be onlookers, like the wives of the players for example, the jab at him being an onlooker is basically just a sexist joke to make the people around the table laugh to ease their mind.

(2) to help gain more perspective about the poker scene you can read the elaboration here

Aaaand more about the reader’s quirk here!

Hope you enjoyed! Also, PLEASE if you could theorize with me after reading the fic I’d love you forever, ask me about the reader’s quirk, ask me about some hidden meanings between the scenes JUST ANYTHING. MWAH

Borrowers (taglist):

@hanji-is-life @anarchicmartyr @sleepykyan @yourprincess-maybe @wolfygirl1900 @tteokdoroki

@theehoneybunii @nanamisbento (not sure if you wanted to be tagged for bakuhoe only of all my fics, so sorry if its the former!)

if you want to be tagged with for any of my fics let me know ♡

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demonicheadcanons · 3 years

Note

Could I suggest the brothers reacting to MC confessing to them accidentally?

MC Confesses to the Obey Me! Brothers By Accident

AN: Cute prompt! Sorry I took so long to get to this, nonny! This post is romance based, so if you’re looking for something more platonic I’m sorry but this one’s not it ;u;

They’re literally almost all sleepy in these, I’m having a day where I find that really cute ^^”

Lucifer

Lucifer feels exhausted, half-dozing off at his desk when you walk in and poke him square on the forehead. It startles him enough that he sends you a harsh glare through his hair. You grin at him, and he responds only by scoffing and turning to the side, stretching his arms out. Well, he is grateful you woke him up to some degree - he has a lot of work to get done and has to remain focused.

But there’s something enchanting about how he looks and moves when he’s too tired and trusts you enough that he doesn’t feel the need to remain guarded. He’s graceful as always, but allowing someone to see him looking, for a lack of a better term, like his feathers were thoroughly ruffled and he was ready to turn in for the night, was a rare treat, and one sweet enough to crush your own walls.

By the time you realise you’ve just admitted to liking him aloud - something simple, but he knows what you mean when you say that maybe you like him a little too much, mumbled under your breath mindlessly - he’s already standing in front of you, leaning down to look you square in the face with an unreadable expression.

The corners of his mouth twitch up as he requests - or demands, its hard to tell - that you repeat what you just said. "I like you?" you say, although it sounds like a question, and he smiles and asks, "Are you sure? You don't sound it," with a teasing lilt to his voice.

You don't get to respond before he hums and straightens up, crossing his arms. "How much?" he asks, sitting against the front of his desk and watching you carefully.

"What do you mean, how much?" you sigh, frustrated. This proud man was getting on your nerves. Its not like confessing is easy, planned or not, and he had the gall to tease you about it?

"How much do you like me?" Lucifer's smile widens. When you don't respond, and you start to look somewhere on the edge of hurt, he sighs, rubs his eyes and stands up, tossing his pen unceremoniously onto the desk. He opens his arms and waits for you to walk into them, thoroughly confused by this entire interaction. "I like you too. I thought I'd get to confess first, but it seems you were so determined to beat me to it you did it without thinking."

You blush and glare up at him. That proud smile of his is softer around the edges now, and his hair is still just messy enough from where he's been running his hands through it whilst working that it makes your heart race. You lean into him, press your face against his chest, and release all your pent up emotions in a sigh. Lucifer responds with a chuckle, and he kisses the top of your head.

"Would you like some tea, my dear?"

[[Others under the read more!]]

Mammon

- You two tended to relax together. Things were stressful, it was hard being in a new world and Mammon had been the first to befriend you, even if he refused to admit how much he cared for you most of the time.

But he's tired now, and its a little different. He'd brought over a blanket again and he was on the floor of your room, where he tended to spend a lot more of his nights now, but also where he'd found a place for himself since the very beginning when you first arrived. He leans up on his elbow and looks up at you, and you watch him in turn from the bed. You'd just been talking about something or other but now he's simply grinning at you, something devilish and handsome, and you can't stop yourself.

"I really like you," you half-whisper, and then cover your mouth immediately as if you can stop him from hearing it, can stop the words from leaving and making their way to him. They don't, and he tilts his head, face slowly turning red.

"Huh? What'd you just say?" he asks, sitting up and staring at you. His eyebrows twitch down into a frown, and he looks puzzled, and almost a little bit hurt? "D'you mean it?"

Before you can respond, he barks out a laugh and lays down, staring at the ceiling and covering his face with one arm. “Ah, yeah. We’re friends, right? I like you too.”

You shake yourself out of your stupor to glare at him. “I don’t mean as friends, Mammon.”

He sits up again, looking offended. “What, so we’re not even friends now? Wow! Way to break it to me.”

“You-” you half-growl, before taking a deep breath. Your face is burning, and he’s maybe starting to piece things together, but you can’t stand any more of this. “I like you. I want to go on dates with you, and be your partner, and spend as much time with you as possible. I like seeing your smile when I wake up and knowing I have someone I can trust.”

His jaw drops open and he turns away, covering his face with one hand. “Gimme a second,” he mumbles, and when he looks back at you there are tears in his eyes and he’s grinning. “Of course. Who wouldn’t want to spend time with the Great Mammon!”

His voice catches, and then he’s laughing and crying and you scramble out of your bed to kneel next to him, startled and concerned. He wraps his arms around your shoulders and pulls you down on top of him.

“I like you too, MC.” He kisses the top of your head, watery giggles still rattling through his chest.

Leviathan

In all fairness, neither of you were expecting it. It was late, or maybe it was early? You could never really tell in the Devildom, and you didn’t want to move right now for fear of ruining the moment.

Levi was curled up against your side, eyes fluttering closed and then bolting open again as he tried to focus on whatever show he was supposed to be presenting to you. He’d been talking through a lot of it, and you still had the remote in one hand so you could pause it to listen to him properly each time without missing anything. After about an hour of that, he’d started to look tired, and then eventually flopped down against your side, defenseless and unworried, too tired to really process what he was doing.

Your other arm was wrapped around his shoulder, touch featherlight on his jacket for fear of startling him. He was cute, adorable even, and whilst you quite enjoyed seeing him flustered, it was nice to see Levi free of it as well, even if it was a spell only going to last until he woke up a little more.

That moment, as it were ought to, came quite soon. The episode was fading out and the outro music just starting to play when you mumbled, “God, I really do like you.”

Without warning, Levi sits bolt upright and headbutts you in the process, clinging onto his own head as he stares at you with wide eyes and a tomato-red face.

“H-h-huh?” he stutters, lowering one hand to cover his mouth. You fan at your own - he’d made you bite your tongue, and you were trying to process things when he started to mumble to himself at a mile a minute.

“There’s no way you could mean you like-like me right? I mean, I’m me. And you’re you. Why not one of my brothers, or even Lord Diavolo? He’s going to be the king soon! And-”

“Levi, please, one moment,” you groan. Your chin and mouth were sore and you needed a second, and even if you were planning to confess to him sooner or later it really wasn’t like this, and you didn’t need him denying your feelings so soon. You take a few deep breaths, waiting for the pain to subside a little. Levi helps; he hands you a cold can of something or other, purses his lips until they become nothing but a thin, worried line, and waits.

You start laughing soon after. “I do like you. You, Levi. And I know I could spend all day explaining why and you still wouldn’t accept it, so I’m just going to need you to trust me.” You look at him, nervous and already feeling thoroughly rejected, and smile. “You don’t need to return my feelings, but I hope you can accept them as the truth, at least.”

Levi tears up, and he nods, gripping the bottom of his jacket in both hands. His face takes on too many different expressions in those painfully silent moments, and then he opens his mouth, trying to force something out. You weren’t sure what to expect.

“I l-like you too, MC.” He sighs, clenches his hands tighter as he tries not to stammer too much through his words. “I... I...” He laughs, then, holds his head. “It hurts, so its not a dream, right?” His smile is small but glorious, and you can see his sharp teeth. “Yeah. I like you. And you l-like me?”

You take his face in your hands and laugh. “I like you.” He’s bright red but continues to grin anyway, and you poke at his cheeks with your thumb, smiling in kindness.

Satan

Satan is curled up in one of the few tidier parts of his room, and you sit somewhere close by, occasionally glancing up to look at him over a stack of books.

The mess had been more disturbing at first - there were books everywhere, and he definitely wouldn’t take kindly to you knocking down a stack or two of them. He wouldn’t lose his temper, not at you - he hadn’t in a long time, not since before you’d made a pact with him. And despite how awkward it was to try to find a little space big enough for you to sit in every time he requested you come to his room instead of the library or your own, it was nice having that place and knowing you fit there, with him and all of his precious books.

He chuckles and pulls you back to reality, and you’re glad he hadn’t caught you staring at him. You look down at your book and back up again in a weak attempt to cover up what you’d been doing, and Satan smiles all too knowingly, as he often did, and tips his book at you.

“Listen to this, MC,” he says, voice somewhere between cheeky and amused. He’d definitely caught you staring. You blush but tilt your head all the same, curious, and he continues. “It’s a human world story about an admirer who can only ever sneak glances at the person they admire over the top of books. How charming is that?” His bold smile was annoying and handsome at once.

“It’s daring of you to assume I was actually looking at you,” you grumble. “I was lost in my thoughts.”

“But you didn’t deny the admirer part, hmm?” Satan laughs. He doesn’t mean anything by it, isn’t really making assumptions. He’s just trying to poke at you a bit, trying to feel out your reactions so he can better guess at them in future ahead of time. He did that often, and it was something you were getting used to. But this time he was right, and it was a little bit different.

“I can’t deny what’s true,” you mumble at your book. It was quiet, and usually he’d be so engrossed in his own again that he wouldn’t hear you, but you don’t hear pages turning, can’t feel the aura Satan has when he’s thoroughly engrossed in something.

You look up at him and he’s still looking at you, puzzled smile and flushed cheeks catching you off guard. Oh no.

“Do you like me, MC?”

Satan sounds unsure, and you can only swallow and nod as if you weren’t admitting to something you’d planned to keep to yourself for so much longer. Maybe you’d have told him someday in the future, when you were long back in the human world and had met someone else, or were at least starting to get over your feelings. But no. You’d just gone and done it now, with books piled precariously on either side of you and the subject of your affections staring at you, dumbfounded, over an unsteady pile of them.

He absorbs your words slowly, and you know you can’t stand and rush out of there without knocking over enough books to piss him off, so you stay and wait. So what if he knew? Satan wouldn’t get mad about something like that, and he was respectful enough to just ignore it and get on with his life. If it were Lucifer, he might tease you about it, but Satan won’t. And if he reciprocated?..

“Ah, that’s good then,” he smiles, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. He lets out an airy laugh, and you can tell that as much as he’s trying to hide it, he really is feeling flustered. “I was never sure. But, hmm...” Satan clears his throat, looks at you and genuinely smiles now, showing you something deeper than the usual facade he put up to make himself appear like more than just his anger. “I like you too, so its quite convenient, isn’t it?”

You laugh, then, and a weight leaves your shoulders... only to bring on a new one. Your sudden movements topple one of the book piles beside you, and Satan lunges forward to try to catch some of them before they can hit you as you protect yourself with your arms.

When the last one falls, you hear Satan groan as he sits up and pushes the books off of the two of you. He looks around, grins, and then laughs before offering you a hand.

“Well, it was bound to happen eventually.” His emerald green eyes sparkle in the low light, just bright enough to read. “Shall we go out somewhere else? I’d love to take you on a date.”

Asmodeus

(Mildly suggestive at parts. Sorry ;u;)

It was a weekly tradition, to go to Asmo’s room and put on a face mask and relax. He gossiped, although it was harmless - there was no judgements passed on anyone - and you listened and offered insight on things. Asmo would show you whatever new makeup or perfume or clothes he’d gotten, would sometimes go for a full impromptu fashion show, or would rest his head on your thighs and let you run your fingers through his delightfully soft hair.

Today, it was the latter. You’d missed last week for some reason or other - Mammon had probably distracted you, or Lucifer dragged you off somewhere with him, not giving the chance for you to refuse. Sometimes the brothers did it intentionally; rather than setting up their own days to spend with you, they had decided to sabotage your days with Asmodeus instead. You were able to prevent it most of the time, to sneak off to his room or at least away from whoever was trying to draw your attention, but after missed weeks where you couldn’t find enough excuses or an escape route, Asmo tended to cling to you and not let go, begging for some affection. It felt best from you, he’d said once, and you were sure he was joking, because Asmo often commented about how he’d done much more with others in the past and surely you petting his hair and listening to him didn’t compare to that, right?

He opens his eyes now, and looks up at you from your lap. His eyes were always startling, because they were incredibly intense even if his powers didn’t work on you. They were beautiful, as well, much like the rest of him, and your gaze flutters away after a bit because you know they’ll draw you in and force you to admit to things you don’t feel ready to talk about yet.

Asmo chuckles, and you wind a hand through his hair and pull it slightly, frustrated. He pouts at you, face colouring, and you perhaps regret it.

“Don’t be a tease. You’ll ruin my hair if you pull at it like that,” Asmo whines. “I mean, of course I don’t mind that much, but-“

You cover his mouth and shush him, tutting as you put your hand back in his hair and played with a lock or two. Asmo only laughs again, and you can’t help but think how he’d only adore making you more and more flustered, and would even risk irritating you so long as he got to see you a blushing mess. He didn’t push too far, though - he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, and more than that he’d be left on his own with no one to run their fingers through his hair if you decided to leave because of it. Or, well - he could easily find someone willing to do so, but it wouldn’t be you, and that’s the whole point of this, isn’t it?

He closes his eyes again and you feel it tug at your heart, something like a desire, but maybe more innocent than what he was used to drawing out of people. You pause, and Asmo opens his eyes to look up at you again, confused, and when met with that gaze, you can’t really hold it back the words that had been threatening to spill for weeks, now, and moreso on days like this when he was seeking delicate affections and smiled at you so beautifully it made your breath catch.

“I like you, Asmodeus,” you half-whisper, and you know he’s heard it because his eyes are wider now and you can see the yellow of his iris, and you half think to push him square off your lap and book it, but then he’s kneeling in front of you with a firm grip on your wrist.

Asmo’s mouth opens and closes, like he isn’t sure what to say. Something like ‘do you mean it?’ or ‘of course you like me, who doesn’t?’ or, maybe, ‘I like you too, love you even!’ Nothing comes out, everything jumbling together in his head. It was rare to see him at a loss for words, as he was a stickler for keeping his composure in almost any situation - it was attractive to be in control of your emotions, wasn’t it? But the silence was painful, and you weren’t sure what to make of it, because as much as Asmo’s mind was racing right now, you weren’t psychic. You couldn’t tell that he was trying to figure out the best way to confess.

Eventually, Asmo settles on doing something he knows how to do better than finding the perfect words for this. He leans forward, hesitates as if checking you were okay, and then kisses you. It’s soft and gentle and not nearly as deep as what he momentarily considered making it, but it’s just right for a confession. He pulls back only to kiss you again, and this time smiles against your mouth when you kiss him back. When you smile too, he throws his arms around your shoulders and laughs, burying his face against your neck and pressing light kisses against the skin there, too, although you can still feel him smiling too much to do it properly.

In the end, it’s not really said aloud, but you know what Asmo is trying to say. He likes you, too. And he is so, so incredibly happy.

Beelzebub

9 times out of 10, when you get the urge to go to the kitchen for some reason - to cook, to get a drink, or to get a snack - Beel can be found there. The main rooms in the house he goes between are the common room, where he spends time with his brothers, his own bedroom, and, of course, the kitchen. And lo and behold, here he is now, eating something you can’t actually recognise and talking to Belphie, who slumps against the counter, half-asleep, but offers you a tired smile when you enter the room.

Beel himself doesn’t notice your presence until Belphie stands up and stretches, looking between you and Beel pointedly. Maybe you had been obvious, or maybe it was because Belphie was actually quite sensitive to people’s emotions when he decided to be and when it involved Beel, but he would often leave you alone with his brother if you bumped into the two of them, as if he were trying to give you a chance. His knowing smirk as he passes you on the way out, mumbling a quiet and lazy goodbye, didn’t help.

“Ah, MC!” Beel beams, and your breath catches. Generally, Beel looked quite pissed off. It was just his resting expression, and you knew he was content or thinking about the next meal he’d have, or something like that. But when he smiled? If you didn’t think it might offend him, you would absolutely compare it to that of seeing an angel. His expression hid nothing, betrayed his delight, and he grinned every single time without fail whenever he greeted you, unless he was seeking you out because he’d had a disagreement with Belphie and needed support.

And now as he stands in the kitchen, unknown food in hand and delighted smile on his face, you consider telling him he’s beautiful. Not like Asmo, not in the same sense. But he truly was stunning, and you wanted him to wear his smile with pride for eternity. He deserved to be so happy, and it would be a nice treat for you, too, to be able to see that expression anytime you wanted. You might sell your soul for that much, you joke dryly to yourself.

Beel looks puzzled when you return from your thoughts, and you realise you haven’t even greeted him yet. Perhaps that was how Belphie had noticed.

“Beel!” you chirp, and you think maybe he grins wider when you say his name, although it’s hard to tell. You lean against the counter where Belphie had been resting. “Did you find something nice to eat?”

He nods enthusiastically, and then seems to consider something before he closes the fridge and stands beside you, resting against the counter too. “Do you want to try some?” he offers, and you can’t help but think that he really only offered food to you and to Belphie, and what did that mean? Did he love you as much as his brother, and was it in the same way, or something different like how you felt for him?

“Am I being selfish by liking you so much?” you think. Or rather, say. Out loud. For him to hear. Unfortunately.

Beel freezes, and his ears go bright red. “You-.. hmm? What do you mean?” he asks, and you can tell he’s looking for a specific answer in the hopeful way he looks at you, but you don’t know what it is. If you admit to liking him and he sees you as a sibling, wouldn’t that be awkward? But if you lied you’d have to carry that with you, too, and it would be hard to correct in future.

You sigh and take a deep breath, and look at him, speaking with whatever confidence you can muster. “I like you, Beel. Would you be interested in... dating me?” You think to tell him that it’s okay if not, it’s okay if he’s not interested or he doesn’t want things to chance, it’s alright if he doesn’t think of you like that. But you can’t bring yourself to, and it’s too late anyone to take back what you’ve said, and what’s the point in confessing only to shut yourself down and reject your own advances before he even gets a chance to?

As you wait, Beel’s face steadily gets redder, and he seems to be fumbling through his own thoughts as if he can’t find the right one, the right answer to this question. And, eventually, he nods, and that smile returns, and your head spins because these last few minutes had been too much to deal with and now you have this huge demon grinning at you as if you’d just handed him the sun with a kiss on the cheek and promised him the world, too, on top of it.

“I like you too, MC!” he beams, and sweeps you up into his arms, food forgotten for the moment. You’d panic if his grip wasn’t so firm, and if you weren’t so sure he would never even risk dropping you. Beel’s eyes twinkle and you think you see a spark of mischief peeking through his delight before he holds you tight to his chest and spins, and you can only hold on and listen to his laugh. You bury your face against him and laugh, too, and you feel as warm and bright as his smile.

Belphegor

(Mild spoilers for up to lesson 16 / 17)

Although you thought you would be able to suss out where Belphie would be - as Beel had his places, Belphie had his own; the planetarium if he couldn’t sleep, so he could look at the stars and think without being disturbed, or the library if he was scheming with Satan, or the attic if he wanted to sleep and wasn’t in his room - you found that it was actually more tricky than that.

You see, after being released from the attic where he’d been trapped for months, Belphie found himself seeking out his brothers on odd occasions. He’d do so anyway, before all this nonsense had occurred, but now there was more meaning behind it. He’d missed them, and he liked to curl up and play games or just fall asleep near one of them. Finding him on those days was almost impossible, because he could be anywhere.

You almost feel like giving up on it - the two of you had agreed to spend time together, but he was nowhere to be found and was probably off sleeping somewhere with no idea what time it was - and felt thoroughly dejected when you bumped into Lucifer, who was quietly leaving the music room, movements near silent and with a gentle and rare smile on his face. When he sees you it vanishes, goes back to his usual expression as if he’d just put on a mask, but you can tell he’s concerned because he puts a hand on your back and leads you down the corridor with him. He only stops at the end of it and leans down to quietly ask if you were feeling okay.

“I’ve been looking for Belphie and I can’t find him anywhere,” you mumble, automatically responding at a similar level to him. It felt like you were sharing a secret. “We were supposed to go on a walk together.”

Lucifer smiles, then. “Ah.” He tilts his head, and for a moment considers telling you it’s a shame he can’t help, but you look so dejected he can’t bring himself to do it. “Now that I think about it, he did mention something like that before he fell asleep in the music room. I didn’t want to wake him up, but he might not mind if it’s you.”

He chuckles quietly when you cheer up, thanking him before you rush off back down the corridor and open the doors of the music room. You see Belphie sleeping on one of the seats near the piano - he’d probably been listening to Lucifer play something or other, and had passed out in the middle of it all.

You can’t help but smile as you crouch down in front of him, pushing his hair away from over his eyes. As usual, he doesn’t even stir - you weren’t sure if he was a light sleeper or a heavy one because it seemed to vary by the day. but most of the time you could get away with little things like this without waking him. It makes you consider just letting him rest until dinner. You would still have time to go for a walk after, and it’s not like anything would change - there was no day and night in the Devildom. It would remain just as cold and dark as it always was. Any time would be the best time to go out, really.

Belphie shifts in his sleep, and you watch as his hair falls back over his face. You stifle a laugh as you push it away again, allowing yourself to run your fingers through his fringe slightly. His hair is soft, delightfully so, and he looks so peaceful and cute whilst sleeping that you absentmindedly let out a sigh.

“I like you, you know?” you mumble, only just stopping yourself from poking him in the forehead, because that would wake him up and it wouldn’t be a good idea to do so right now. “I really do.”

And, much to your horror, Belphie half smirks and opens one eye. You let go of his hair and sit back on your heels, startled, and he stretches and yawns.

“You’re awake,” you say, as if you were accusing him of something, and he laughs.

“Someone decided they wanted to play with my hair,” he grins, lopsided and with sleep still filling his voice, pitching it lower than usual. He clears his throat. “How could I not wake up? And just in time to hear you confess, too!”

Belphegor sits up and watches you cheerfully, and you pout at him. He liked to tease you, but this feels like it should be a forbidden topic. Something he shouldn’t poke and prod at you about.

“I wish you’d just pretend not to have heard it,” you grumble, but it only makes him smile more, and he tilts his head to one side, feigning confusion. Before he can ask why, or tease you more, you cut him off, focusing your gaze on the floor. “It hurts to be teased about this. If you don’t like me it’s okay, but please don’t make me regret liking you.”

“And who said I didn’t like you?”

You look up at him again, and he only sighs and gets up off the bench to kneel in front of you. He looks like he’s waiting for an answer, or waiting for something at least, but when you don’t respond, he pats you on the head and stands, holding out a hand.

“Don’t we have a date to go on? Get up off the floor, it’s dusty,” Belphie says. You take his hand and stand, and he pulls you closer to him, half hugging you as you walk. He was a pain to deal with and he knew it, but he was determined to prove himself worth the effort.

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blindingdutchy · 3 years

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The filming scene In part 1 of pornstar!tom where he’s tied up and you take the blindfold off and his eyes are all blurry and unfocused go me thinking:

Imagine the video went viral and people started asking for more sub!tom so they get you to do it again but with more edging, so you’re sitting there, tom is tied up and gaged and you’ve been edging him for the past half hour but he’s not used to being the sub so he’s crying cuz he just wants to cum so bad and everyone thinks he’s just really good at acting but you know he’s crying for real. So when the scene is done you untie him and remove the gag, and the directors are telling you to come see how good it looks but you’re too busy making sure Tom is okay, and he’s so tired that he’s falling asleep on you😍🤤

i am such a submissive person this was genuinely difficult for me to write, but i think i got somewhere 😅possibly not even a request, but i was inspired and wanted to challenge myself

read switch here!

cry baby | t.holland

{pornstar!tom x pornstar!reader}

word count: 2,254

warnings: smut ofc

warnings: sub!tom, oral (m receiving), bondage, blindfold, spit play, edging/orgasm denial

You never thought you’d have ended up here again. But, your video with Tom had reached heights you’d never achieved before, and the fans were eating it up. They wanted more—and to your surprise, so did Tom.

Now, as he laid in much the same position he had in the original video, you were starting to understand why. He was flat on his back with all four limbs stretched out and fastened to the bedposts with thick black rope. His chest was heaving, his lips parted in fast paced pants as he watched you with intrigue—he knew what was to come.

“Are you ready, baby boy?” you cooed, stroking his cheek with your thumb. Tom’s eyes fluttered at the caress, brown irises blown wide with lust and desperation, and he whined airily. The black blindfold shielded you from his longing stares, and he lifted his head a little too eagerly so that you could slip the strap around his head.

Already he had suffered through the torture of your hands, his body flushed from agonizing minutes spent with your hands stroking his cock hard and fast just to rip his orgasm away from him. The sound of his pleas and cries still echoed in your ears, a familiar pang throbbing in your core as you remembered the way he sobbed your name on the third denial. For being such a dominant man, Tom was incredibly good at being submissive.

This time, though, you were skipping the gag. You wanted to hear all the little noises Tom could make, to hear all the words that spilled from his lips as he yearned so achingly for your touch. Trailing your fingers down his chest, you murmured, “What do you want, hm? Want my hands again?”

He shivered, a stuttered gasp escaping his mouth as you swirled your thumb around his nipple. The little bud hardened instantly, standing tall and stiff from the stimulation. “I—I want your mouth, Miss.” he whispered, and you smiled.

“You know what you have to do,” you tutted.

Tom’s lips were trembling as you crawled onto the bed, perching on your knees between his thighs, and he pleaded weakly, “P-please! I want your mouth, Miss, want it so bad.” His hips bucked wildly as your hands delicately caressed the skin of his inner thighs, and you admired the trail of goosebumps that erupted in their path. He was always so reactive, and it made your belly twist up in knots.

Seeing him there, entire body physically quivering for you to just do something, the world around you faded away. No longer did you care about the cameras trained upon you, and the faint sounds created by the crew vanished into white noise—it was just you and Tom. His legs were straining against the rope that tied them down, flexing and tensing as he tried his hardest to chase the hands that touched them.

Humming, your hands dragged up his thighs to rest on his hips. Thumbs dipping into the rippled lines of muscle that descended from his abdomen to his center, the length of his cock was reddened and leaking as it rested on his heaving stomach. Tom’s breathing picked up a notch as you teased the skin with a feather light touch, the area bare and smooth; he liked to keep things groomed for filming.

“Do you think you deserve my mouth, baby?”

Tom gasped when your hand closed around his length, stroking soft and slow pumps with almost no pressure at all. “Yes, I’ve been a good boy, Miss! I’ll—I’ll be so good for you!” he pleaded, voice hoarse, and you smirked at the way his head rolled around helplessly. “Please, Miss!”

Pulling at his length with more conviction, you relished in the strangled cry of relief he gave. “Don’t cum until I say so, understand?” you commanded, tone heavy with warning, and he nodded with a choked moan.

The sounds Tom made when your lips finally wrapped around his tip, lapping greedily at the pre-cum that was beaded on his slit, were purely animalistic. Carnal shouts of ecstasy and relief, his mouth hanging wide as he tugged relentlessly on his restraints. Each noise, each cry and plea for you to take him further, spurred you on. Your lips wrapped around him tighter, your cheeks hollowing as you sucked harder, and you flattened your tongue to take more of him.

Tears welled in your eyes when you pushed the tip of your nose into his pelvis, his length buried deep in your throat and choking you. “Oh, fuck!” he cried out, hips bucking wildly off the bed, and you gagged roughly around him. The noise of your wet, sloppy cough around his length paired with the sensation of your throat constricting had him trembling beneath you.

“Miss, ‘m gonna cum,” Tom panted. His voice was broken and cracked, his throat undoubtedly worn out from the guttural sounds that had ripped it apart. You hummed around him before pulling away with a grin, loving the way his hips chased after you sloppily. “I—why did you stop?” he groaned, lips puffing up in a tiny pout.

You tutted, swirling your thumb lazily around his tip and licking the vein that ran along his shaft. There was nothing more you wanted in that moment than to strip your costume off and slide into his lap, but the video didn’t call for that. This time around the focus was all on Tom, endless edging and denial for the panting man on the bed.

As his breathing finally slowed, the erratic rise and fall of his chest deepening with his steadier inhales and exhales, you dipped closer once more. Almost instantaneously he stiffened, cock twitching in your hand expectantly, and you smirked at how needy he was. Now, after all the times you and Tom had slept together, it made you feel good to finally be in control. It felt good to be the one delving out the excruciating push and pull, dangling him right at the precipice of ecstasy only to drag him away before he could fall.

So, maybe you were being a little vindictive when you sucked his weeping tip between your lips and curled your tongue around it just like you knew he loved. When Tom was in control he rarely gave you the chance to truly treat him well; most often he’d be holding your head and choking the life out of you as he thrust to his heart’s content. But now? Now you were setting the pace, calling the shots, and damn if you weren’t going to make him fucking cry.

Already he was whimpering pathetically, his breathing jagged and voice hoarse as he continually vocalized his need for you. His entire body was glistening with a light sheen of sweat and oil, the latter courtesy of Marlena the makeup artist, and he looked ethereal. He looked like a classical painting or sculpture, all artistically harsh edges colliding with soft flesh. The ridges of his muscle flexed and strained against his tender, slightly flushed skin, and it made your mouth water.

You pushed him to that cliff twice more, each time forcing more and more aggressive pleas from his pretty, pink lips. Tom was growing frustrated—angry, even—and the thought of it made you excited. His jaw was tensed and ticking with every grind of his teeth, and if you’d removed the blindfold you’d surely have been met with dark, swirling pools of rage in his eyes. If there was one thing he hated, it was to be teased.

Swirling your tongue around the broad, blazing red tip of his length, you giggled when a guttural cry burst straight from his chest. There it was, you were finally getting somewhere. His body was trembling all over, knees quaking and fingers quivering, and the sound of his desperation had finally reached its peak.

“Do you want to cum, baby boy?” you murmured, lips ghosting over the ridge beneath his tip eliciting a breathy whine, “Tell me how bad you want it.”

He jerked against the restraints, snarling madly. “I’ve been so good, Miss!” he choked out, “I’ve been a good boy, please, please, please, let me—oh!”

Your nose buried in the soft flesh of his pelvis, eyes watering and throat aching as he stretched your throat out. In the blurry edges of your vision you could just barely make out the way his hands stretched against their bonds, fingers straining and clawing through the air as he fought to grasp your head like he always did. You knew he wanted to move you, to thrust in and out of you at whatever pace he desired, but you had no intentions of moving.

How long could you stay like that? Face buried in his abdomen, eyes dripping tears, saliva trailing down your chin as you strained around him? You wanted to find out, and a part of you also longed to know if you could push him over the edge just like this. Not moving, just letting the erratic twitch of your throat as you gagged stimulate him.

In the end, you caved first. He was muttering unintelligibly, lips moving in a flurry of words you couldn’t make out that wavered in pitch dramatically. You wished to keep going, but the persistent ache in your jaw and lungs told you that you needed to stop. You needed air, and if you tried to push through it you’d either suffocate or instinctively clamp your jaw around the intrusion—that certainly wouldn’t have been good.

As you pulled off of him again, breathing heavily and wheezing slightly as you stretched your jaw, you wondered if he remembered this was the end. The script called for you to leave him begging, pleading his life to release only to be left unfulfilled. He was still whining to himself, and you could just barely make out the hoarse whisper, “I’ll fucking die if you don’t let me cum, please, Miss.”

You were still stroking him slowly with your hand as you sat up, your back aching slightly at the stretch. “Don’t be so dramatic,” you teased, and he growled under his breathe, “I don’t like your attitude right now, baby boy.”

He bared his teeth in a feral grimace, jaw tight and unwavering as he jerked against the ropes violently. “I want to cum!” he whined, voice cracking and slurred despite his demanding tone.

“Is that so?” you pouted, teasing the small slit of his tip playfully, “Well, it’s too bad I don’t really care what you want.”

With that, you got up and climbed off the bed as his length fell back onto his stomach with a dull smack. He hissed at the loss of contact and fought hard to chase after you, only to growl when he remained stuck. You admired the slick sheen that coated his body and the way his cock had gone a deeper shade of red, probably throbbing to the point of near agony from all of your edging.

“Cut!”

You swallowed down the swelling lump in your throat as you approached Tom timidly. The cameras were no longer rolling, his time playing the role of a submissive man over, and already you were shivering over what you’d certainly be facing later that night. What you hadn’t expected, though, was to find genuine tears streaming down his cheeks as you removed the blindfold.

The black garment was soaked with them, and you gaped at the red rim of his eyes and the inflamed ring around his nostrils. His brown eyes were unfocused and dazed as he looked at you, still watering as he blinked up at the sudden light, and your heart thudded pitifully against your ribcage. He was crying.

He was crying, and you didn’t know whether to feel guilty or scared. “Tommy?” you whispered, chewing on your lower lip as you stroked his sweaty curls from his face, “Are you okay?”

Tom’s head lulled into your touch, and he sniffled as he blinked up at you. “Yeah, ‘m good,” he croaked, “but you won’t be later.” His threat wasn’t all that intimidating as his eyes drooped, brown eyes clouded with exhaustion and lingering remnants of desperation. You brushed aside the feelings of nervous anticipation that stirred in the pit of your belly—that could wait.

All you cared about was untying Tom and maybe finishing what you’d started in your dressing room, though you were pretty sure he was too tired to go on. His eyelashes were fluttering as he fought to keep them open, and the sight was so heartwarmingly adorable that you couldn’t help but to coo at him. He pouted when you kissed his cheek, smacking his lips at you, “You missed, darling.” Rolling your eyes with a giggle, you pecked his lips and smiled at the pleased sigh that fanned your face.

All around you, you could hear the crew mumbling words of praise, all raving over Tom’s impeccable acting. “Damn, he should be in movies or something!” one man gaped, “(Y/N), come have a look!”

“Later,” you called back, “I’m busy.” Tom murmured sleepily, his head rolling deeper into the pillows, and you pondered to yourself how you were going to get him off the bed. A quiet snore perked your ears and you shook your head—for a man with so much stamina in the bedroom, he sure was beat from a little edging.

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