#the devil couldn't design a better hell

[dreamswillbeyourwintermeat]

The unaccountable cost of being perceived all day

[dark-and-kawaii]

No Escape

Haarlep x f!Tav/Reader

Mephistopheles x Haarlep/f!Tav/Reader

⋆˙⟡♡ 18+ Dark Content

⋆˙⟡♡ Summary: Haarlep is once again captured and under the control of the archdevil Mephistopheles. The devil mocks Haarlep's previous attempt to flee to live freely, suggesting a more twisted form of punishment this time… One that even you could feel.

⋆˙⟡♡ Notes: I’ve been working on this for the past couple days now. Enjoy xoxo

4k words & Based off my thoughts on Haarlep’s background

⋆˙⟡♡ NSFW | Dark Content | Heavy Angst | Noncon | Blood | Ao3

The dank alleyway was silent save for the skittering of rats and the distant echo of merriment from the nearby taverns. Haarlep moved like a shadow, their footsteps muted, their breath a quiet whisper against the chill of the night. They were seeking you, for they had grown bored waiting for you to return to them.

Before they could sense the ambush, their instincts screamed a warning. Shadows shifted, and figures emerged from the dark. Before Haarlep could react, strong hands grabbed them, and a sharp pain shot through their wrists. Looking down, Haarlep saw the glint of enchanted metal magical cuffs, designed to suppress their powers. They could feel their heart race; it was rare for an incubus of their caliber to be caught off guard by a mere human.

Haarlep swished their tail, a last attempt at defense, but it was like thrashing against the winds of a storm. The incubus’s assailants were prepared, unfazed by the creatures feeble efforts. Haarlep's eyes flashed with irritation, yet they knew better than to let fear take hold. Instead, they summoned the smooth, confident demeanor that was their trademark.

“If you wanted to get rough with me, a simple whisper in my ear would have sufficed-,” they began, their voice low and teasing, but the sentence was abruptly cut short. A calloused hand clamped over their lips, the stench of sulfur and filth assaulting their senses. Sulfur?

“Quiet, you revolting creature! Your kind don’t belong here, preying on our women and men, especially the hero of this city! We’ve seen ya hanging around her!” the ringleader hissed.

Haarlep's eyebrow arched. Preying on you? The very idea was laughable. It was true, they originally wanted to be your cruel master, but the tables had turned so delightfully. You were the one who had ensnared the incubus with your charms, your boldness captivating them in a way few mortals ever had. And though they’d never admit it aloud, they didn't mind this reversal of roles.

The thought was a spark of warmth against their growing concern. There was a dangerous edge to the situation,a tone of finality in their captor's voice that couldn't be ignored.

“Time to take you back where ya came from!”

The words struck a chord of genuine alarm. Haarlep's eyes widened as they realized the full extent of their intentions. The smell of sulfur, these humans being prepared, it wasn’t Grazzt who had summoned for them… Their original home, the Abyss. But rather Cania, the eighth hell, a frozen wasteland, a place of punishment and exile for their kind. It was the one place they dreaded above all after becoming “free”.

A snap shattered the stillness, and a portal yawned open, its glacial glow casting foreboding shadows. The gateway to their dread stood gaping, an icy maw ready to swallow Haarlep whole.

The air in the grand chamber was icy, a stark contrast to the spark that usually dances in Haarlep's eyes, now dulled by the grim realization of their predicament. Forced to their knees on the marble flooring, the relentless cold crept into their very marrow, a chilling reminder of the unforgiving nature of Hell's hierarchy.

Before them stood Mephistopheles, the archdevil of Cania, whose mere presence seemed to leech the warmth from the air, "Well, well, what do we have here?" Mephistopheles purred, his voice the embodiment of malevolence, "My lost little debaucher.”

Haarlep's silence was not by choice; the fabric gag in their mouth stifled any retort they might have conjured. Their glare met the eyes of Mephistopheles', as the devil's hand cupped their chin, forcing them to maintain eye contact.

"My lap has been quite cold without you here," Mephistopheles murmured, his thumb tracing the line of Haarlep's jaw with a feigned tenderness that belied the cruelty beneath. "Tell me, after my son's demise you came back here, did you not? Why only tease me and the others in my court if you were just going to run away and never come back for a visit?"

The cruel indentations of Mephistopheles' talons etching into Haarlep’s flesh forced a muffled grunt from Haarlep, the sole utterance they could manage against the gag. The searing mark was a relentless testament to the infernal dominion the archdevil held over them, a dominion Haarlep had once slipped from and now found themselves ensnared within again, tighter, more inescapable.

"Ah, but I should hardly chide you for your pitiful attempt to flee," Mephistopheles sneered with a sadistic curl of his lip, "It was my own amusement that saw you freed from my grasp, straight into the embrace of that lovely woman."

As Mephistopheles' hold constricted, a warning clear in the increasing pressure, Haarlep understood that the path to freedom would be far more treacherous this time. Their prior escape had been a mere twist of fate, a rare moment of chance they had exploited with your aid. Now, beneath Mephistopheles' relentless scrutiny, amidst the icy desolation of Cania, and with you absent in Faerun, the scales of fortune were grimly tipped against them...

"Perhaps I ought to exact a cruel reprisal for your transgression," Mephistopheles pondered, his claws delving deeper into Haarlep's flesh. "Yet, why waste such a delicious opportunity for my own entertainment?"

The acute slash of rending skin was all too familiar for Haarlep, a scorching emblem of their profound powerlessness. Mephistopheles' voice was thick with malevolent satisfaction as he coaxed forth the blood, a scarlet symbol of Haarlep's forced submission.

"Did you really think I'd allow you to go play house with the little hero?" Mephistopheles taunted, his grin wide, "Though who could blame you, you're such a simple creature. She's such a pretty thing, and her lifestyle is quite easy now, the perfect prey for you."

Haarlep ached to retaliate, but as they gathered their thoughts the air thickened with magic, and a metal collar snapped viciously around their neck. A short chain attached to it materialized shortly after, a representation of Mephistopheles' dominance. The sudden yank brought Haarlep's face crashing against the devil's foot, the impact a brutal punctuation to his enchained existence.

"I wonder how her flesh feels, how her body trembles when experiencing the most wonderful of orgasms," Mephistopheles speculated with a vile sneer, pressing his foot against Haarlep's lacerated cheek, grinding their head into the cold marble, "You have tasted her form, yes? Of course you have, all you do is take whenever you find discover a shiny new toy.”

Haarlep’s mind raced, seeking a sliver of opportunity, but the cuffs held firm, cutting into their skin even as their muscles strained against them. The bulging veins in their arms were a testament to their futile attempts, a visual chorus to the anger boiling within. Mephistopheles had always been a master of manipulation, playing with his subjects like a puppeteer with marionettes.

Incubi were creatures of persuasion and deception, and Haarlep had been among the best. It would take all of their cunning, all of their guile, but they were not devoid of options.

The command though that slithered from Mephistopheles' lips resonated like a death knell through the grand, sinister hall, a decree that stripped away the last remnants of Haarlep's autonomy. "Transform into her, my pet. Why should a mere incubus and my son be the only ones to savor such delights?" The devil's smile was a ghastly exhibition of his vile victory.

As Mephistopheles' claws sank into Haarlep's hair they were yanked from the ground. Haarlep's face was a canvas of conflict; rage and spite warred with a sadness so profound it bordered on mourning. The incubus longed for the past, a time when they were more than just a pawn in the infernal realm.

With a casual display of his infernal might, Mephistopheles transported himself and Haarlep back to the expansive, ebony throne that symbolized his ruling. There, he sat with an air of regal entitlement, his smirk a silent yet eloquent expression of mastery.

"We'll leave that makeshift gag around your mouth for now, her whimpers are all I need," Mephistopheles declared, a sadistic pleasure evident in his tone. His hand gently brushed Haarlep's cheek in a mock caress, a vile parody of tenderness. "Reveal the one who felled my wretched offspring, her form revealed in its entirety. I am eager to witness what will draw forth her screams.”

Was this the crux of it all, the reason Haarlep had fled with the assassin of the archdevil's son? How Haarlep had plotted Raphael’s downfall, seizing the chance when fate led you to cross paths...

As the cuffs that once bound Haarlep were removed, it was clear that their confinement was far from over. The true shackles were not of iron, but of the consequences that disobedience would entail.

Haarlep clung to the notion of causing the archdevil even a fraction of the agony the incubus had inflicted upon others, but they knew well that such a powerful being's soul was beyond their reach, beyond consumption.

Mephistopheles' patience frayed, and with a violent jerk of the chain, he forced Haarlep's gaze back to his own. "I don't have all day, incubus. If you don't do this I will force it upon you and then go claim your little play toy for myself."

In that moment of despair, Haarlep's resolve faltered as they grappled with the enormity of their situation. With an unusual heavy heart, they conceded to the will of the archdevil, understanding the grim cost of defiance.

A dance of black embers encircled Haarlep, a prelude to the dark magic that would transform them. The air crackled magic, the scent of brimstone a bitter fragrance heralding the change. And then, in a sudden conflagration, Haarlep's form shifted, the masculine lines of their body melting away to reveal the delicate, familiar contours of your own.

There you were, in all your likeness, a spectral mirage crafted from the incubus's flesh. It was a sight that would have filled any lover's heart with dread, even a chaotic demon such as themself. For in that moment, Haarlep was both present and absent, their own essence cloaked beneath the visage of the one they sought to keep to themself.

Mephistopheles leaned back on his throne, observing the transformation with a gleam in his eyes, a delight that only a creature of his malevolence could savor. Haarlep, now wearing your flesh, was a sight of haunting beauty.

"You do wear it well," Mephistopheles cooed, his voice dripping with a sickly sweetness. His fingers traced the air, as though he could manipulate the very soul of the illusion that Haarlep had become. "Now let us see if the performance is as convincing as the appearance."

Haarlep, despite being coerced into this vile charade, held onto a sliver of control. They would play the part.

Mephistopheles, gestured with an air of impatience, "Proceed," he commanded, "let us indulge in the fantasy that you are her. I want to savor the illusion before I partake in her."

Haarlep moved, each motion deliberate yet hollow, an echo of your grace, a puppet's dance with Mephistopheles holding the strings. They mimicked your mannerisms, wiggling your hips and tracing your stomach with your fingers.

The archdevil's laughter filled the chamber, a sound devoid of joy, empty and cold. "Yes, this will do," he mused, his gaze never leaving the figure before him.

Haarlep's performance continued.

“Come now, you can do better than this now.” The arch devils grin never ceasing, "I know this form quite intimately, dear Haarlep. I've watched her in the throes of ecstasy, seen the way she writhes and begs for release," Mephistopheles taunted, his lips broadening as he saw the pain written on the incubus's features. "And you… you've had the privilege of making her body sing with pleasure."

Their mind raced with thoughts of what would transpire when Mephistopheles’ has his way, the memories of times long past seared in Haarlep’s mind… How Mephistopheles would pass them around between the devils, a new plaything for them to use and abuse. Every thrust came a new beating, a new spiked whip… Even Demons have their breaking point...

Then the memories from just the other night come flooding into Haarlep’s mind, a night of ecstasy and tenderness, your soft wonton moans lingering in their ears still, the warmth of your skin, the sweet taste of your lips... The sound of your gentle breathing, the scent of your hair, and the comfort of your embrace... it all felt so far away now… The feeling of freedom…

In the beginning, your relationship with Haarlep was a mere play of games and lust, but as time spun its narrative, an unexpected bond had taken root. You bestowed upon them the gift of freedom, a gem of inestimable value for a creature shackled by the chains of servitude. Love, an enigma to beings such as Haarlep, had become the cornerstone of your existence together. Those nights enshrouded in their warm wings were not just moments of passion but sanctuary, a sacred space where you were not a master, prey, or a source of sustenance, but a cherished lover.

Yet those cherished moments would soon become tainted, marred by the touch of an imposter. Your body, the sanctuary you had entrusted to him, would now be defiled, sullied by the archdevil's depravity… And you would feel it all…

"Now then," Mephistopheles purred, rising from his throne. "Show me how she trembles."

…

The silence lingered, and then the first blow fell. A brutal backhand, a strike so hard it left the incubus reeling, staggering backwards and collapsing onto the floor, his face stinging from the impact- Your face stinging from the impact… Haarlep knows you felt that…

And you did, as you walked the market with Karlach you felt a sharp slap against your face, leaving you momentarily stunned as the pain flared up, forcing a pained whimper from your lips. Karlach had immediately stopped in her tracks, concern written across her face as she asked what happened, to which you gave a quick response, saying it was nothing. That Haarlep had probably irritated Astarion once again while in your form.

With Karlach pacified, you continued your walk, the ache in your cheek never fading. Yet you still couldn't shake the sensation that something was wrong, a cold dread settling in the pit of your stomach…

Your fears were confirmed when another wave of pain came crashing down, the feeling of a foot striking your gut as you doubled over, gasping for breath. Tears began to prick at the corners of your eyes, a lump forming in your throat as the full extent of the situation became clear.

The archdevil snarled, "Don't make me repeat myself," the fury in his eyes a warning of worse punishments to come.

Haarlep's fingers curled against the floor as they steadied themself, struggling to their knees, your knees. The aches of the blows still lingered, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the heartache Haarlep was facing… Was this how Graz'zt felt when Tasha had left the Abyss finally all those years ago?

Haarlep couldn't stop the peculiar wetness that was beginning to stream down their face… Tears? The incubus’s eyes widened, tears? Reaching up they touched the foreign liquid they’ve yet to ever experience… Looking down at their wet finger another tear cascaded down from their- your eyes…

A mocking laughter cut through the silence, the archdevil sneering in response to Haarlep's tears, "My, how sweet. The vulgar incubus cares for her. Perhaps I will go fetch for her, keep her alive and have her watch the fun," he taunted, relishing in the incubus’s misery. "Or, perhaps not. I can’t help but to wonder how she'll fare after she feels me ravage you in her image. If she’ll ever be able to touch you again.”

Haarlep knew that was coming, the words he dreaded to hear... How long will he be trapped in this prison of his own creation?

“She’ll discard you like the object you are and you’ll have no choice but to come back here, the Abyss surely won’t take you back after being in my care for so long.” Mephistopheles chuckled, the incubus would never escape his grasp…

Mephistopheles stepped closer, his eyes dark with lust, the heat radiating from his skin a palpable energy. He reached out, his touch almost gentle, his claws running over the curves of your body, over the fabric of the shirt, and the skin underneath. There was a gentleness in his touch, a strange tenderness, as his fingers traveled lower, slipping between your thighs…

Karlach held onto you while your body shivered as foreign hands traveled over your body. The sensation of your legs being spread…

“It’s the fucking incubus! I told you not to bring that thing back! You can’t trust those-“

“I-it’s n-not… Ah!!-“

With a sudden ferocity, Mephistopheles seized the front of Haarlep’s shirt, yanking them forward and slamming their back against the ground, ripping the shirt in the process.

A gasp escaped your lips as Haarlep hit the floor, the shock of the impact momentarily stunning you. Your back ached from the impact, leaving you breathless as you felt someone straddled your waist, their weight pressing down against your hips. You could feel whos ever arousal it was roll their hips against yours…

Karlach looked you over, “Champ??”

Your breathing quickened, “n-no… something’s not right… H-Haarlep, he’s using my body, b-but-“ A piercing scream erupted from you suddenly as you simultaneously grabbed your neck. It felt like someone had taken a chunk out of your flesh… And that was exactly what had happened.

Mephistopheles looked down at Haarlep, the incubus’s blood dripping from his jaws. It had been so quick, so effortless, the ease with which he'd ripped into your flesh was chilling, “Mortals are so fragile, aren’t they? I’m surprised you haven’t broken her yet yourself. I remember how rough you can get, dear Haarlep.”

The sharp pain was all that filled Haarlep’s mind as they felt the blood pooling around your body, the wound on their neck throbbing with agony… "Such a lovely thing she is all bloodied, wouldn't you agree?" Mephistopheles didn’t wish to waste anymore time, he needed to feel you, and wished to know what made you so special. He leaned down, his hand grabbing a hold of Haarlep’s ankle and pulling their limp body towards him, their blood smearing across the obsidian floor.

Your head was spinning, and you couldn't focus on anything but the pain and the fear. It was surreal, a waking nightmare, the agony, the feeling of violation and helplessness. Another blood curdling scream filled the air, your knees buckling causing you to collapse to the dirt ground. You felt something large enter your body, ripping you open with a violent force. The stretch was so painful, and you could feel something warm begin to trickle down your thighs, but it wasn’t your arousal, it was blood… But it wasn’t actually coming from you… It was coming from Haarlep, from them using your body…

Your nails dug into the dirt beneath you as you cried out, your whole body trembling, a single word escaping your lips, a plea, a prayer, a name, Haarlep!

Karlach stayed by your side, her arms wrapping around you tightly as she held you close, “the fuck is happening!?” You could only respond with a pitiful whimper as you felt a cold sweat breaking out over your entire body, the pain becoming unbearable. The sounds of your cries echoing throughout the city.

The archdevil thrusted into Haarlep relentlessly, each thrust bringing with it a new wave of pain and a fresh round of blood. Mephistopheles growled as he continued to ravage the incubus, his hands gripping their hips, your hips, hard enough to bruise. Haarlep's body jerked with every motion, his blood painting the archdevil's cock crimson as he tore through your delicate flesh, his claws digging into the incubus' skin as he held Haarlep in place. It was as if the archival was trying to fuck through Haarlep, “I never had such an exquisite mortal before,” Mephistopheles laughed as he looked down at the incubus, his voice tinged with delight, “she really is to die for.”

Mephistopheles leaned down to grab hold of one of your nipples, and twisted it. And with each brutal thrust he’d pull on the delicate little bud, hard enough to force Haarlep off the ground slightly.

Your screams had ceased, the shock of what was happening finally overtaking you, the pain had become too much, and everything was becoming blurry. You felt sick, nauseous, and dizzy. Your heart was beating so fast, and your vision was growing dimmer, “…c-can’t… p-please…” your eyelids began to flutter shut as the searing pain in your chest and cunt began to consume you… “H-Haarlep…” Before death's cousin had you surrender to it, an image of your beloved incubus flashed before your eyes…

Haarlep felt the tip of the archdevil's cock slamming into your cervix, each impact tearing more of the flesh surrounding their entrance, the blood now completely covering their thighs.

The pleasure the archdevil felt was intoxicating, the ecstasy of feeling the lifeblood flowing out of the incubus through your delicate flesh wrapped around him like a vise. He was reveling in the power he wielded over both Haarlep and you, to reduce such a stubborn and defiant creature as this incubus to a quivering mess of blood and tears.

Haarlep's eyes never once shut, instead it watched and felt your body get thrown around, your body, soaked in ”your” blood... The feeling was something Haarlep couldn't quite describe... your insides, just completely and utterly ruined…

Your body was limp in Karlach's arms as she watched over your unconscious form. Rage plastered on her face as she gently carried you back to your home, "Please, Gods…”

The night continued like this for what felt like hours, you’d awaken only for pain to wrack your body. Your body quaking, your throat destroyed from the constant screaming. Your knuckles were white from how tight you were clinging to Karlach, but the barbarian didn’t seem to mind, she remained with you, holding you, comforting you. Until finally you felt a torrent of stranger's cum fill Haarlep, fill your abused cunt. You felt so full and warm despite nothing actually being there… Your eyes barely open while drool spills from your mouth…

Haarlep wreathed beneath Mephistopheles, at the feeling of the archdevil releasing into your body. The stretch was almost unbearable, the heat of his release a searing agony as it burned through Haarlep, seeping into their very core…

As you clung to Karlach and sobbed, your breathing was but a faint rasp, as you said with the last remaining of your energy, "Wh-where’s Haar-Haarlep…”

Karlach laid you down so she could fetch a potion for you to drink, when suddenly a figure materialized before her on the floorboards. It was Haarlep in your form… Unmoving with their eyes closed.

The tiefling woman reached for her great axe but before she could dismember the creature her eyes caught sight of their battered body, their tear-streaked face and the wounds on their neck along with… She looked away as she was met with the mess below Haarlep’s waist… “Hells…” She said softly.

Karlach could only look back at you, her heart heavy with the realization of the truth. She moved towards the fallen incubus and carefully picked them up, the bloodied mess staining her clothing as she made her way back towards you. She placed them down beside you, their eyes slowly opening as their hand rested upon your cheek.

She couldn't help but notice the way Haarlep’s thumb gently rubbed against your skin, and the way they used up their last strength to shift back to their true form so they could envelop you with their wings. Karlach's heart was filled with anguish as she saw Haarlep curl themselves around you, their embrace protective, shielding you from the cruelty of the world...

But it was too late, for you had already experienced the full wrath of that cruelty, and the incubus feared that you would never be the same after such a cruel night…

[elderscrollsconceptart]

Text below is transcribed from Ray Lederer's 2012 blogpost about Adam Adamowicz after Adam had passed away.

Both were artists on Skyrim and shared an office together. They were very very close.

---

[Ray Lederer (L) and Adam Adamowicz (R)]

-Tuesday, February 14, 2012

I first met Adam when I started working at a tiny game development studio in Boulder, Colorado back in 1998 called Devil’s Thumb Entertainment. I walked into the studio on my first day of work and I’m pretty sure The Cramps were playing full blast from his general direction. There he was, sun baked and surrounded with what at the time I assumed were rare Jaimie Hewlett sketches pasted up around him, loads of cds and flyers for rockabilly rollerderby raver chicks with squids on their heads. ‘Welcome to the monster factory!’ he said and I thought instantly ‘Oh hell yeah! I came to the right place!’ It didn’t take long to figure out that what I thought were Jaimie Hewlett drawings were actually his and to be quite honest were 10 times more appealing and hilarious. (No offense Jaimie!)

When I finally got the chance to see his apartment in Denver I realized I was stepping into the mind of a creative genius. His entire apartment from floor to ceiling, front to back was covered with his paintings, massive cardboard sculptural cat like gargoyles, christmas lights, intricate costumes (designed with little more than a leather jacket, cheap sombrero, toys from a thrift shop, black and silver spray paint and hot glue) flyers for previous rent parties from his old warehouse, Tank Girl comics, Low Rider and American Artist magazines, Thomas Pynchon novels and a constant stream of music. Every square inch was interesting and VITAL and ALIVE. This was an intellect far beyond anyone else I’d ever met and there was not a single hint of pretentiousness to him. His entire life was a beautifully structured and disciplined chaos. Even then I began to see that not only was I in the presence of greatness, I was in the presence of one of the more important illustrators of the late 20th and early 21st centuries. He just didn’t know it yet and neither did anyone else. Quite frankly he wouldn’t give a shit if someone gave him that label. He simply wanted to come up with more ideas and get better at drawing. Period.

Since then we got into many beer soaked adventures that sometimes included late night bike rides through the city streets of Denver with a boom-box strapped to the back blasting Big Audio Dynamite with sparklers hanging off the handlebars(and some stiches on the scalp of yours truly). Dangerously drunken skateboarding with cap guns, ditching psychedelic parties to go laugh our asses off and throw giant rocks in a frozen river, concerts, weekend long patio surfing tours in the Colorado summers, trips to the reservoir to float around wearing finely crafted and thrilling 12pack headgear, lunchtime bike rides up to our favorite outdoor patio Rhumba in Boulder for $2 Red Stripes and then back to work again, and many hours working close to him and learning as much as I could about being an artist and a better human being. He once said to me “I may not be Mozart, but at least I can try to be the Pixies.” He just wanted to entertain people in any way he could.

In his last few days we spent together in the hospital we sat on his hospital bed listening to music for hours, talking, and drawing in our sketchbooks. Our conversations were tinted with what was happening for him in the moment certainly, but mostly we talked about friends, art, music, and life. We spoke without much nostalgia or finality, just very real and present and forward looking despite the circumstances. He kept drawing until he couldn't possibly draw anymore, squeezing every last ounce he could out of life, just as he always had.

Watch papa go to work.

I love you Adam. You continue to be my friend, mentor, and greatest inspiration

---

Original post can be found here:

[phonkscribes]

Loser Wesker practically barking because reader is back and now in hd in Evil Resident™ Remake!!$!$!$!!$

Back from the Dead... sort of.

He hasn't seen them in ages, and as a fan of such an iconic(and unfortunately deceased) character, the smallest crumb or appearance of his favorite Evil Resident character is enough to have him obsessing over the remake just to view the Reader in all their glory. In which, Loser! Wesker starts raving like the fanatic he is over his beloved villain.

When it was first announced that they were remaking the fourth installation of the mainline game, Wesker couldn't say that he really cared, the protagonist of that game wasn't his favorite to play through but it set the foundation for how the future games would play like. The grinding for better weapons wasn't all that great either, and there were certain parts that he'd rather skip over from how tedious they were, and he honestly wouldn't have pre-ordered it had it not been for one very important detail. Since the fifth release of the Evil Resident franchise, you would finally be making a return, and such was teased in the trailer for the remake. He recalls watching it for the first time, with baited breath as the teaser played out. The better graphics was certainly something to behold, but none of that mattered until he saw the familiar outline of your face, only in better detail and played by someone who encompassed the very idea of who you were.

And then, when he didn't think it could be any better than it was, he was graced by that lovely voice of yours. The sweet sound of your timbre elicited a response within himself that could be likened to a starving dog, just about ready to have his treat. Swallowing thickly, he had to calm himself, pressing a gloved hand to his mouth to quickly muffle and suppress the downright joy at finally having his muse return to him. And in such an honorable fashion. Wesker had his doubts, because there was only so much a mere actor could comprehend about you, they likely wouldn't play you to the tune he desired for your image and character... but this was something, something after years of nothing. The only thing he could celebrate your existence through was the erasure of your death via fanfics and indulging in the content that others lovingly crafted for you.

Now he could have more to play with, more content to keep him pacified and sated until the next installment receives its inevitable remake or remaster. You might be nearing the precipice of your death, retold for the next generation, but he would savor every moment he could have with you. Yet again, you're at the front and center of his mind, this time seating yourself(literally) in the center of his screen as he analyzes every subtle movement that he can. Hell, he hasn't even started playing it yet, and he's already taking as many pictures as he can for his designated folder on his hard drive. The devil works hard, but Wesker works harder. And when he finally receives his copy, he cannot help himself but to stare at the paused cutscene where your mocking grin graces his monitor. Observing you closely, he wants to make sure that he gets everything right, equipped with a notebook in hand even.

If you think the slightest thing is getting past his eye, you'd be dead wrong. This close appraisal of your character is imperative to the new wave of fics he has to write now, because if even the slightest detail is off, it will irritate him. Especially if some upity new fan thinks they can unseat him from the throne he has crafted within the community. No one gets you like he does, and Wesker isn't shy of announcing that to the new fans that make abhorrent judgements about your character. The mischaracterization of his beloved muse could very well be his demise, but he would rather die than to let those degenerates capture you all wrong. Your time might've been sparse in the remake, but it was time enough, DLC included.

[varianandhugodonotgetrawed]

I did a thing

Thanks to @shelobussy for giving me the idea for this little one shot! You didn't think I was serious, did you? But I was, oh, I was.

Desc: Hugo and Varian run into a problem while helping at VBS (vacation Bible school for those unfamiliar. It's literally summer camp but Christian). Warning for minor cursing, past homophobia.

___________________________________

"And... it's locked." Hugo sighed and slid down the door of the closet. "Who designed this thing? Why would a door auto-lock when you close it?"

"Why wouldn't it?" Varian had already sat down. "If you hadn't dropped the key we would be out of here."

"You're always blaming me for stuff. This isn't even the right closet! This is the damn communion supply closet, and I told you the cleaning supplies were down the hall, but no, Heaven forbid I be right."

"I got turned around! Half the hallways out of the sanctuary look the same anyway." At least they wouldn't starve, though Varian might rather starve than subsist on grape juice and crackers that looked and tasted like Styrofoam. And would it be heretical to eat and drink communion elements outside of the ceremony? Surely God would understand, like that story with David and the sacred bread.

"Uh, earth to Freckles," Hugo's annoying voice cut through Varian's thoughts. "How are we gonna get out of here? The VBS has, like, four chaperones for the middle schoolers including us, we need to get out."

"Can't you pick locks, Beanpole?" Varian had never seen Hugo lockpick, but he looked like the type to know how.

With his long undercut blond hair, piercings, alternative clothing style, and flamboyantly gay demeanor, Hugo wasn't really the sort of person Varian would expect to be a youth group leader, but West Ingvarr Methodist Church prided itself on diversity and inclusion. Varian couldn't help but think, though, that even if it wasn't a sin, Hugo didn't need to make being queer his whole personality. Varian certainly managed not to.

"I can't pick this kind of lock. I don't know the inside mechanisms of the automatic doors. And I'll thank you not to use that tone when asking. I don't why you think you're better than me-"

"I don't think I'm better than you-" Varian began.

Hugo snorted. "Could've fooled me. Anyways, I could maybe figure out how to disassemble the lock, but I don't think Pastor Robin would be very happy with me."

"So we're stuck here," Varian groaned.

"Until someone comes along and sees the key on the ground, yes. Don't look at me like that, Freckles, I'm not pleased about it either. You're stuck in a closet with someone you hate, I'm stuck with someone who hates me."

"I don't hate you. You're annoying as- as heck, and loud, and honestly I don't think you should curse around the kids-"

"They're middle and high schoolers, they've heard the word 'shit' before. Besides, I know what it is. You don't like the way I dress, the way I talk, you don't like when I talk about my homosexuality-" Hugo said the last word like he was an old man deeply offended by it.

Varian rolled his eyes. "That's not it. If it makes you feel better, I'm literally bisexual. I just don't think you need to talk about it as much as you do-"

"Freckles, what would your life be like if you had had an openly queer leader in the church when you were those kid's age? Because I'll tell you right now, mine would have been a hell of a lot better. You can keep your internalized homophobia to yourself, but I'm going to be who I am. And I'm going to be for those kids what I needed." Hugo finished and turned his head away, arms crossed.

Varian couldn't think of a thing to say. He tried not to think about it much, now that he was out of Old Corona, and two years into college, but he remembered growing up in a church very different from West Ingvarr. Forget it being unsafe to be queer, Varian had dyed a streak of his hair blue when he was fourteen and been looked at like he was the devil's child into he finally broke and dyed it black again. Eventually, fifteen-year-old Varian had decided he couldn't take it anymore, and ran away. It'd quickly gone wrong, and he'd fallen in with a very bad crowd before his father found him, and promised they would move away after Varian tearfully confessed the reason for his rebellion.

All that to say, Hugo was right. Varian cringed thinking it. But Varian had been unfair in his judgment of him, and it was the right thing to do to admit that.

"I'm... sorry." Varian finally said. Hugo didn't turn his head, but his eyes flicked over and his eyebrows rose slightly. "I think... I let my biases color how I judged you, and that was... unfair and not very 'Good Christian' of me. I... really don't hate you, Hugo."

Hugo turned his head, and Varian could see him holding back a smile. "Thanks for the self-awareness. I forgive you, I guess."

Varian scoffed. "Thanks, 'I guess'."

"Well," Hugo began, obnoxious grin on his face, before pausing. "I think I hear footsteps! HEY? IS ANYONE THERE?" He yelled, forcing Varian to cover his ears.

"Yes, ominous voice? Wait. Hugo, is that you?"

"Yep!" He replied. "Varian, we're in luck! Okay, Yong, there's a key on the ground. I need you to slide it under the door, alright?"

"I don't see a- oh! There you go!" A second later, the bronze key appeared by the door. Varian and Hugo stood up, and unlocked the door.

"Feels good to be free!" Hugo declared, stretching.

"We were only in there for twenty minutes," Varian commented, grinning.

"Yeah, but twenty minutes stuck with you? Basically twenty years."

"Shut up, Beanpole," Varian pretended to punch Hugo's arm. Maybe he wasn't so bad after all.

[nightcolorz]

ARMAND IS NOT A MINIMALISM GIRLY I STG

my bad if this is an old news take I'm not sure, but I needed to get it out there regardless cuz I've got big thoughts.

So,, at least from what I've seen the perception around the state of the Dubai situation in amc iwtv is that Louis seems super miserable and "off" in the penthouse, and based on what we know of him in the books and in the show he is definitely not the type of character who would enjoy living in a sterile prison like minimalist hell, he likes coziness and warmth and humanity--which yes agreed. So the fair assumption to make is that since Louis doesn't enjoy his living situation, and he is living with a sterile off-putting ancient unknowable vampire who's cold personality aligns with the aesthetic of the penthouse, this probably means Armand is the orchestrater of this life style and is likely keeping Louis there despite his unhappiness.

I disagree!! With this!! I think assuming that Armand would hold someone prisoner is not out of line, but assuming that Armand would hold Louis prisoner in a house *like that* is just very unlike him. If Armand was the mastermind manipulator behind the penthouse prison that shit would be lavish, it'd be decked out. Louis would be so spoiled it'd be borderline ridiculous that he would ever want to leave. Armand is not beyond imprisoning his lovers, but he is beyond bad taste, and he knows home decor like a mf. His love language is essentially providing the people he loves with as much lavishness and belongings as they could possibly want until they hate him for it. Sugar daddy king. In devil's minion Daniel was arguably being kept against his will, yet he was being kept in a beautiful incredibly rich island mansion with every mortal possession he could ever want. Armand would not create the penthouse!! He would never stoop so ugly. I could only see him doing smth like this if he was furiously hateful of Louis,, like absolutely despised him, and idk about u but I do not get that vibe!! They definitely seem strained, but Armand very clearly wants Louis to be taken care of and protected.

So if armand is not designing the penthouse, who is, is the question now.. Well,, Armand may not be a character who builds a lifestyle with the intention of self restriction, dullness, and a lack of indulgence that feels prison like stale self isolating and full of agony, but you know who would? I wonder which vampire chronicles character would create a penthouse designed so that he can access as little stimulation joy or lavish possessions as possible, in the style of the monk, alongside an ethical yet plainly grotesque system of blood feeding that doesn't take human life. I wonder who would do that.. it couldn't possibly be Louis...the character who in the books denies himself new clothes or a nice house or technology because he "doesn't deserve it". Yah it's a mystery really. Lmfao.

I think Louis has built a prison of his own making bcus he sees himself as some sort of needy unhinged beast that needs to be caged in a scary under stimulating tower for the betterment of society. And Armand is assisting him begrudgingly under marriage and love obligation. The theory that the penthouse situation feels like watching a caged animal bite on its bars is one I agree with, but not for Louis, for Armand. Armand is restless bro he is on edge Louis is in his god damn self hating priestly self flagellation elementttt. They r both miserable and trapped but I think it's much more mutual then is often recognized. Throughout the season Louis is in control ASF and I don't think that was just an act. I'll see myself out now lmfao

[drifting-pieces-blog-blog]

yo, do you think Netflix could make a better Moon knight show than Disney plus?

And other than Oscar Isaac, who would you cast as Moony?

I mean daredevil Netflix is better than most mcu movie so a Netflix moon knight show might be better than the Disney one

Alright, thank you for your time :D have a nice day!

Hello!

Oh that's a tough question.

I absolutely adored the Netflix Daredevil. Specifically season 1. The hallway fight scene is my happy place. Netflix is known for blowing it out of the water When They Want To. Not to mention the casting was the single best casting job I've ever seen. And Frank Castle? They couldn't have done better.

Since Disney has not actually taken the reigns of Dare Devil yet, it's hard to say how they will choose to carry on the story or what different choices they will make.

But the real difference in the two? How much they are willing to invest. Because it really was all about the script, the direction, and the cast.

You see, Marvel (And Disney) tend to have very strong opinions about what happens in their movies. And these choices have affected many of the movies in very negative ways. Often leaving the directors, writers, and actors very frustrated.

They also tend to heavy hand things and put a lot of pressure on directors. Not to mention that Marvel has an ultimate goal to reach and when you start interconnecting things, it's going to get MESSY.

My biggest joy in Moon Knight was how it was a stand alone and not involved in a larger messy plot with an end goal of tying him into a larger franchise to make movies and more money.

It's a big worry. The more big characters you have involved, the less time you are going to have to establish and develop each individual character and their relationships. And since Moon Knight has his own inter-system relationships to deal with first, there is a HEAVY chance things are going to get overlooked or underutilized or cast aside in favor of a quick fix or sloppy story telling (Looking at you End Game).

I think that the Moon Knight we got in season 1 was absolutely amazing and that was in large because of the freedom that was given to the cast and crew and director of the show. The absolute freedom and research and care they put into it. I'm not sure they would have had that financial ability if Netflix had done it. Not to mention they would have put limits on the set design and location. Disney has that lovely ability to just go "You want the Wadi desert? Let's go."

And OSCAR. This man MADE Moon Knight. His own research, input, and creative suggestions. He was the one that gave Steven the accent. He cast his brother as his body double. He even chose to do the single shot mirror dialogue with Marc and Steven. That's a flex that a lot of actors can't do. There have been MANY that have tried to play multiple characters and complained about how hard it was the whole time. Oscar took it as a fun walk in the park. I honestly can't imagine anyone else doing a better job or even as good a job as he did. If they had used anyone else, it couldn't have been a well known name. It would have had to be a new person. (All though I did just try to imagine Ryan Gosling as Marc for the briefest of moments and it gave me some serious Smallwood vibes. That Smallwood scrunkle on that face? Yes.)

And trust me, when I heard they were making a Moon Knight show with Disney, I was skeptical as hell going in. I'm super protective of my boys. I feared the worst. I have never been happier to have been wrong. I hope I continue to be wrong with season 2. I WANT it to be just as amazing. I want it to blow me out of the water and destroy me like season 1 did. So I'm just sitting here holding my breath and trying not to think about all the ways they could seriously mess it up. (there are so many).

Uh... Did that answer your question?

[ishouldbedoinghw]

You Can't Erase Me

One Piece fanfic, part 4

Previous parts are in my pinned masterlist.

A woman enslaved by the celestial dragons is found by a man with red hair. Angst ensues.

A/N: This story will follow the canon loosely; some events will stay the same, others will be edited for the plot. The timing of events will also be slightly edited from canon so that certain characters are included. The main character is an OC of mine and in her mid-20s. Yes this is important. Character design will likely come soon.

I know what goes in an actual captain's log, but we all know Shanks wouldn't care to do allat and I don't want to make up coordinates.

TW: slavery, human trafficking, vomit, discussion of attempted sexual abuse, traumatic flashbacks, discussion of trauma, general angst, Shanks because he needs his own warning

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

An Excerpt from Red-Hair Shanks's Personal Log

10/31 - Grand Line

Halloween

Ship was approached by a lone mermaid that refused to stay for Halloween drinks

She instead brought a young woman on board and took off

Young woman, age unknown, was in need of immediate medical attention, was barely conscious and seemed weakened by sea water <- maybe Devil fruit user???

Hongo took her in for medical treatment and wouldn't let me in, which was fine because she started puking VIOLENTLY

Hongo seemed annoyed by the red-haired man that burst through the door, and somehow I felt a bit better knowing what his annoyance really looked like.

"Hongo!" the red haired man starts, slapping Hongo on the back. My insides twisted at the sound. "How's Spooky? She done upchuckin'?"

Hongo rubbed his temple with his thumb and sighed. "Shanks, I told you to stay out, and don't be so insensitive-"

"That's a big word for you, Hongs, are you havin' a stroke?" Despite Hongo's protests, the man strode across the room towards me as he giggled at his own joke.

He was huge, and towered over my hunched-over figure. I kept my gaze in my lap, not wanting to meet his eyes. I couldn't keep my hands from trembling, and my heart from pounding, and my head from spinning; his presence seemed to swallow me, and I felt that I should be running from him but I couldn't find the strength to. Sweat started pouring down my temples again, and I could feel my throat clench, preparing to vomit again-

And the terrifying presence was gone. There was a large, callused hand squeezing my own. It was warm, and the twisting in my gut eased a bit.

"You can look at me. I'm not going to hurt you."

But I don't. Not for 1, 2, 3, 4 beats. Then I swallow, blink twice, and slowly lift my face.

He's not standing like before, but kneeling in front of me, now at eye level. He's smiling slightly, with his brows pinched a bit. I have to swallow and blink again when I notice the three scars over his left eye, as if some beast had landed a swipe on him.

"There you go, Spooky."

I decided I liked Spooky better than Cheeper.

I also decided I didn't really like the odd smell on his breath.

He squeezed my hands again, and asked, "Is it alright if I ask you some questions?"

I heard Hongo start to protest, saying that I'd barely received any treatment, and Shanks needed to "get the hell out." But this was the only person I could remember that had spoken kindly to me, and wanted to know things about me, and was offering to hear things I had to say- so I did my best to sit up a little straighter and nodded my head.

He smiled wider then. "Perfect."

Hongo was still muttering when he started moving around, looking through one of the cabinets across the room.

"Alright then, Spooky, I'm Shanks, but you can call me Shanks," he started, and the corner of my mouth twitched. "What's your real name?"

My voice was hoarse when I answered, "I don't know."

"Hmph. Okay, well, do you know how you got here?"

I really didn't, the last thing I remembered was the popping noises, and feeling cold and heavy. I shuddered, glad for the warmth of the room.

"No. I don't."

"Do you know where you are?"

I paused before answering that. I looked around the room, and while I'd already noticed the room was completely made of wood, it didn't strike me as odd until now. The room I stayed in was white and gold, with other various colors I couldn't recall now. The ceilings of the other room were high, but this room was a bit squat. I could hear a slight creaking, but aside from that, I couldn't quite place anything.

"No."

"Okay, well-"

"Can you not hear the water outside?" Hongo butt in, walking over.

I strained to listen, but I didn't hear anything that sounded like water.

Hongo let out a grunt as I shook my head, then continued his rummaging, muttering to himself.

"Hm," Shanks said, clicking his tongue, "That's odd, considering we're on a ship."

A ship? We were out at sea? How the hell did I end up at sea?

"So you don't remember the mermaid at all?"

Mermaid? Was he joking?

Shanks chuckled at me, and I wondered if my face looked as confused as I felt. "Mermaids are real, Spooky, and one dragged you through the water right up to us."

"Um- okay."

"Do you know how you got into the water? Or at least where you were before?"

Hongo had paused by now, listening to what I'd say. Shanks gave a reassuring squeeze, and said, "If it's bad, it's alright, We'll listen, and might even be able to help you figure some things out."

I let out a long, shuddered breath before I spoke.

"My memory isn't that good- but I remember some things."

Shanks nodded encouragingly.

"I lived in this- cage. It was gold and wood, I think. It hung from this tall ceiling in a big white room. I had a job, singing to this boy-" I stopped, remembering finally seeing him up close.

I wrapped my arms around myself, scooting a bit away from Shanks. "I thought he was a young boy. But he was a grown man."

Now that I'd started talking, I didn't want to stop. I wanted to tell them everything I knew about myself and maybe they'd help me somehow. Maybe they knew something I didn't, like what happened with the mermaid.

"I would sing him lullabies when he was upset. They would calm him down and he would be quiet."

Shanks's expression remained unchanged, while Hongo seemed to go a little pale.

"There was a man who would bring me food every day. I think he liked me, he always tried to tell me things that would help me."

"Like what?" Shanks asked.

"I-" but the words wouldn't come out. I always remembered him coming and talking to me, but now, I couldn't remember exactly what he said.

"I don't really remember. I remember him telling me I couldn't ask questions, but," I paused, looking at the floor. "But I don't remember what he said before that."

"Do you remember how you got out? Before you ended up in the sea?" Hongo started protesting at Shanks's question, saying it was too much for now, but it went seemingly unnoticed by the redhead.

"I remember that it was before I ate that day, and the man I sang to was angry. His father wouldn't let him do something, I think. I don't know what it was."

I felt sick to my stomach again, and my tongue felt heavy as I tried to form words. Truth be told, I didn't understand exactly what, if anything, had happened to me, but part of me was screaming that I shouldn't share it, that it wouldn't be good and it could make them upset with me.

As I tried to steady my breathing, Shanks spoke softly, "We won't be angry with you for telling us anything."

Hongo butt in, "And you don't have to tell us about something if you don't want to."

I wanted to, I wanted to get an explanation for something, get an answer for at least one thing-

"I'm not sure what really happened," I start, "But the man took me out of the cage and right after I had trouble seeing, and my head went fuzzy. I only remember his- his hands everywhere, and I couldn't move."

I swallowed, and looked up past them, at the wall, trying to focus on the way the grain moved, how many notches or scratches were in the wood but failed.

"I could still hear a bit, though, and the door opened. I remember seeing the face of the man who gave me food, then being carried away.

"There was glass breaking," I continued, "And the food man and I were falling. I think he was running after that, and there was this popping noise everywhere. And then it was cold, and quiet."

I went silent for a minute, shuffling my feet. Was I always barefooted?

"Is that all you remember?" Shanks finally asked.

I nodded.

"You're a tough girl for allat, Spooky." He said, starting to stand. His knees cracked and he winced before stretching to his full height.

I wasn't sure how to feel now. It felt good, talking and having someone listen, but I couldn't help but feel this pit in my stomach telling me I'd made a mistake.

Shanks's head jerked to the door. "Some shithead's yelling, take care of her, Hongo, I'll be back later."

Hongo was quick to shut the door behind him.

"Are you alright?" he questions, pulling gloves on and grabbing a few things before stepping in front of me again.

"I think so," I say, watching him set down what he was carrying beside me.

"Are you alright with me touching you right now? I'd really like to get your back cleaned up before I let you rest."

I just nod, and turn away.

"Alright- this might hurt quite a bit."

His gentle touch was soothing until he pressed something wet and cold to my tender skin. I wanted to scream and pull away, but I felt frozen, and all that would leave my lips was a choked sob.

"You're doing great, girlie," Hongo grunted.

With every press of that damned cold thing, it felt as though something was tearing the muscle from my spine. I dug my fingernails into the wood beneath me, trying to do anything to find some relief.

After what felt like hours, my back was bandaged and the pain had lessened to a dull ache.

"You did great, girlie, I think some of the men I treat should take notes." Hongo pulled his gloves off before chucking them somewhere. "How about I get you some food?"

"I'd love to punch you in the jaw." I grumbled, shifting to face towards the door.

He barked out a laugh at that. "Sorry, but you don't want me treating broken bones too. Your scrawny ass is in no state to be threatening anyone."

--------

I'm almost asleep, laying on my stomach when he comes back with a steaming bowl.

"Hope you like stew, girlie. Think you can sit up and feed yourself?"

I groan, and try to push myself up with shaking hands. Hongo sets the bowl down and watches me flounder for a bit before helping me.

I feel weak and foolish, like a child, as he hand-feeds me bite by bite. Purposefully not meeting his eyes, I focus on each spoonful, watching it move from the bowl to me.

I couldn't taste much of it, and I was full after only a few bites. Hongo didn't seem particularly concerned, and handed me a piece of bread.

"Chew that up, girlie, it'll absorb the acid in your stomach if it doesn't like the food."

I had no idea what he meant, but I did as I was told.

After I'd chewed the bread and swallowed something that Hongo said would ease pain and make me tired, I was tucked into the softest bed I'd ever felt. After hearing Hongo say he'd stay and watch over me, I completely knocked out, gripping a pillow tightly.

[demonsfate]

I always preferred the animalistic approach because imo, the devils felt like they were supposed to be animals. Not dumb ones, but they felt they were supposed to be that disconnected from humanity.

Like one of Devil Jin's bios literally describing him as being controlled by "instincts" (which is a more Animalistic trait) and also his interest in eating humans as food in TK6. For a violent, carnivorous creature, the beast look just matched that better. And clearly they must've thought so, too. Because not only are Devil Kaz & Devil Jin examples of this, but I also remembered Unknown & Ogre being examples of these, too.

Unknown is being manipulated by a wolf spirit and Ogre's true form also resembles a beast. Whilst these are unconfirmed to be devils, they're implicated to have something to do with the devil gene. (Albeit Unknown being noncanon to the series)

I don't know why they decided on the Organic Armor Skin change? I don't know if it was purely influenced by Blood Vengeance, or if they they had other reasons. (Maybe they wanted the devils to look "weirder" and not resemble any living creature on earth? And maybe they thought the "armor" aesthetic matched it being a fighting game better?) But yeah, it often does look ugly. And not only ugly and distracting, but also confusing. There are still so many people that believes it's just actual armor and not their skin / they're not nakey. Like I see many fanarts of Angel Jin "without his armor". Even though, I'm PRETTY SURE that is just his skin and not something he can remove. As devils (or angels in that case) seem to have a trend of being Nakey. (Unknown and Wolf spirit for example, Ogre not wearing much but then being nakey in his final form, Devil Kazuya originally being COMPLETELY nakey, etc etc) and well... you just LOOK at the devils & angel, there's just no way they can "remove" what they have. Hell, some ppl still think Devil Jin's arms are just gauntlets even though I'm p sure they're supposed to be his legit arms. (I've pointed out a few evidence to this, but another being in TK7 - how in the straight jacket, Devil's arms tear up the clothes, but when Jin takes back control, his arms are completely normal & human)

Anyway, the beast appearances were just less confusing and less loud than the armor appearances. And as I said, also just fits how the devils behaved.

I don't even understand WHY Reina only gets the Mishima hair via devil form. I understand that devils hair does change whenever they get in control for some reason. (Devil Jin's bangs growing longer, Devil Kazumi's hair turning white) but I still think she should've ALWAYS had the hair lmao. It feels kinda like... a coward move, I feel? Like lbr, Reina's design was definitely intended to appeal to gamers. She was meant to look like the cool tomboy chick, but still cute. Hence why she still had to be younger than Jin despite being Heihachi's daughter. Hence why she has the oversized hoodie, hence why she has a cute bob with trendy unnatural purple highlights. They couldn't give her spikey hair because they feared it wouldn't be as cute on her lmao. Even though... imo, ALL Mishimas should have spikey hair. Don't tell me it's a "male thing" only... like Reina still gets the lightning, so give her the hair too lmao.

I don't entirely mind Devil Reina being practically naked since as I pointed out - most devils are Nakey anyway, that's just a running trend. But there is an issue of their execution with Reina. If they're going with the armor look still - her ENTIRE body should resemble armor. Like notice how much softer her body is compared to Angel Jin and True Devil Kazuya's? Her entire body should be rough jagged, looking like she's in skin tight armor.

Finally, I do agree that sometimes over the top designs are indeed good! Sometimes they can work. But it all depends on execution and what kind of world they live in. I know Tekken has always been "wacky" but the thing is... the characters were all actually relatively normal. Like for the longest time, the only characters with weird hairstyles were the Mishimas, and Paul. But other than that, every character resembled a real person. (Meaning their hairstyles, eye colors, and clothes looked like something you'd see on a real person) It's only around TK6, but mostly TK7, that they started going crazy with the designs and it just comes off as them trying too hard, and it doesn't feel natural.

[mageofseven]

The World is Mine (Whole World Ahead)- Samm Henshaw for Mammon

Oooo this is a cool song! I've never heard it before but it definitely has a good beat!

Let's see what I can come up with for Mammon!

Also, for anyone who wants to listen to the song as they read this, click here to listen to it off of YouTube.

•▪︎▪︎◇°●♡●°◇▪︎▪︎•

The couple was dancing in the entry hall of House of Lamentation; they couldn't help it. MC was so excited that that they just broke out in dance and their boyfriend couldn't help joining in.

Today was the day, baby!

The two were headed to the Human realm! They were leaving the Devildom for awhile to go on a road trip through the Human realm! It was a hell of a thing to convince Lucifer to let them go. In truth, the oldest brother didn't want or expect them to go.

Those two begged and complained nonstop (and boy were they good at it) till Lucifer finally agreed--with one stipulation. The two could go to the Human realm for the summer if they could behave from the next five months without incident

And boy, was that so freaking hard (both trying to behave and covering up the things they did...), but they did it! The pride demon was honestly shocked and knew he must of missed something, but without any proof, he had no choice but to fulfill his end of the agreement.

Lucifer watched the two dance in the otherwise silent room, sighing and shaking his head.

"Alright, enough." He told them, holding his hand out. "Now give me your wrists."

Psyched, MC quickly gave the man their arm and watched him draw the rune on their wrist.

For safety reasons (for those in the Human realm), there was a hefty security in place to prevent people from traveling between the Devildom and the Human realm. If they had major traffic between the two worlds planned, they'd simply take down the barrier for a minute to let people come and go.

For something as simple as Mammon and MC spending their summer on a road trip in the Human realm though, all that was needed was this rune to bypass the barrier, which only worked if Luce or Diavolo was the scripter (but of course, Barbatos also had the ability to do so in Dia's place)

"Now make sure you are back by the end of July or so help me, I'm not against sending a search party out for you two--"

"Oh c'mon! We'll be back on time!" Mammon assured his brother as MC's rune was finished. The second brother offered up his own wrist. "You worry too much."

"And I better not get a call that you broke any laws over there." Lucifer warned, starting on his brother's wrist, careful with the intricate design. "The slightest sign of trouble and you're both coming home."

"Luce, we'll be fine!" MC assured the very stressed man. "We'll see you at the end of July."

Finished with Mammon's rune, Lucifer sighed and released his brother's arm.

"Just...be careful, alright?"

The couple nodded in unison. Lucifer felt like he was releasing ducklings to the wolves and he couldn't tell if the two headaches in front of him were the ducklings or the wolves.

The pride demon took a deep breathe.

"Alright, your car should be there when you get to the other realm." He told them. "There should be no one around to see you two appear so you should just be able to get in your car and go."

"Hell yeah!" Both Mammon and MC's faces lit up again and the two goofs started dancing again.

Lucifer sighed at the sight before (somewhat regrettably) saying the incantation and followed it with a snap.

And the two were suddenly on a vacant highway strip in the Human realm with Mammon's car right next to them.

Not even bothering to open the doors, the couple jumped into the convertible and Mammon stuck in the keys and hit the gas.

"WHOOO!" MC threw their hands in the air, enjoying the speed and the wind through their hair.

Devil, it was just so exciting! Finally, the human was back in their realm with their boyfriend!

Their scream was all the encouragement he needed to go faster. MC reached over and turned on the radio.

Get away from where we came from

Where we'll end up, I don't know

We got the whole world ahead and the old world behind

Nothing in the rear view but wasted time

Steal my heart, I promise I won't tell

This was already so perfect! As the couple sped down the highway, it felt like there was nothing they couldn't do--

Police sirens. This quickly?

"Shit..." Mammon cussed under his breath. He hated dealing with human cops. "Hey babe, can you get that card and paperwork outta that drawer there?"

MC opened the compartment in front of them and sifted through the trash and random papers. There was one problem though.

"Babe, they aren't in here."

"What?? Waddya mean they aren't in there?!??!"

Shit. Mammon probably left them on the stand next to his bed last and forgot to put them in the glove box.

Devil, this was such a pain! What was he gonna do now???

.....

......

"Eh, fuck it." The man slammed on gas even harder.

"Mammon!!!"

"Relax!" He grinned at the human. "I won't let that big, bad coppa catch up to us!"

Tail me, if you dare

Ride 'till there's no road left

Coppers in our trail

Would you follow me over the edge, darling?

The greed demon was all full of confidence--till they reached a broken bridge up ahead.

"Sh-shit!" Okay, now he was panicking.

"Mammon do something!!!" The human started slapping his shoulder, begging him to change course.

Instead, the car ran into the barrier and then up through the air. Both were using their entire lung compacity for their current scream.

Somehow, the two landed on the other side, completely unharmed.

Other than the sound of the radio, it was completely silent between the two for a full minute.

"I could have died." MC said, still in complete shock.

"I could have wrecked my car."

The two turned to look at each other, a smile slowly raising on each of their faces.

Suddenly, MC grabbed their boyfriend's shirt and pulled them in for a kiss, both of them high off of whatever the hell that bullshit they just went through was.

This was gonna be a fun road trip.

You're the whole world and the world is mine

You're the whole world and the world is mine

You're the whole world and the world is mine

Bonus! Three days later.

The couple was finally hunted down by the police and was given one phone call when brought to the jail.

"Yeah so...we need bail. And probably a lawyer." Mammon said reluctantly into the phone.

Lucifer was at his desk, pinching the bridge of his nose as he held the phone up to his ear with the other hand.

This poor man could feel a headache coming on.

[ivorys-back]

The Birth of Aku

Quick disclaimer, this is based off of a mini-comic by @demonangelgirl134 who came up with the story, I just decided to write it out. Luzbel belongs to me, Jeretik and Hagenti belong to her (although I did helped out with the names).

Timeline-wise, this takes place before Lucifer's fall in Roxy's AU. Luzbel tried to make a mindless demon to wreak havoc upon Heaven and the mortal realm, but miscommunicated the conjuring spell and thus came out Aku...as a baby. So then he goes to Jeretik, the Scroll-Keeper, and demands that he gets rid of it somehow. But even though Jeretik works for Luzbel, he still has a heart and refused to kill an helpless baby who was less than a day old, and by some miracle he managed to convince Luzbel that the baby wasn't a complete failure and that they could still teach him their ways, and that's how Jeretik and Hagenti became dads.

Hope you all like it!

————————————————————————

It was a typical day in Hell. Demons moved about their tasks; hunting and gathering, torturing sinners, the usual. And in the center of it all was Kokytos, the darkest and deepest part of Hell. Built skillfully into the giant frozen lake was a tall, dark, menacing castle. A deep moat of lava circled it, with hellhounds and guards positioned at every gate to keep people out, and its residents in.

But every day was never the same in this realm of chaos and fire.

Deep within the bowels of the Devil's palace, all was quiet in the Great Library. Through winding stretches of shelves littered with tomes, some dating back millions of years, a serene silence; a sense of calm flowed like a lazy river. The labyrinthian maze twisted and turned and looped; it was easy to get lost in if you didn't remember your steps.

Despite it’s design, the library was by far the only welcoming part of the castle: well-lit for easy reading with large plush chairs tucked into nearly every available corner. The shelves had long ago grown overcrowded with a nearly uncountable number of books, scrolls, and journals leading the newer additions to be stacked on the ground in haphazard patterns—leaning towers, piles, and even pyramids. The air was dusty, but warm.

Jeretik, the Scroll-Keeper, had already caught himself dozing off a few times before a set of hurried footsteps snatched his attention.

"Jeretik!"

He jumped in his seat and swiftly turned around to see his master, Luzbel, looming in front of him, his hands behind his back and his sulfurous breath coming out in what seemed like heavy pants. Had he ran all the way through the library to find him? And for what reason?

"Y-yes, my Lord?" Jeretik asked, standing up as straight as he could.

"I have a task for you. Do you have a minute?" Luzbel asked.

Jeretik cast a glance at his littered desk. "Y-yes, sire. How may I be of help?"

"Good." Suddenly, Luzbel pulled out a wriggling black bundle and shoved it into Jeretik's arms. The Scroll-Keeper was so surprised that he stumbled back and nearly fell on top of his desk.

Once he got his bearings, Jeretik looked down to see that peeking out of the bundle was a little green face with a white nose. Getting a better look at it, he saw that it was a baby, less than a month old, from the looks of it. It had black skin, tiny spikes all over its arms, and flames that flickered from its eyelids.

Jeretik was so stunned that for a minute, he couldn't move. "…Wha—?" He looked at Luzbel, who was standing with his arms folded, waiting patiently for a response. "Where did this little thing come from?"

"I made it," Luzbel said matter-of-factly, though not without a hint of resentment in his tone. "By accident."

(Earlier that day…)

"Arise, my new minion! Bring darkness and despair across the land and Heavens!" Luzbel roared, the room around him alight with flames as he slammed his trident down into the center of the pentagram, and suddenly a wave of black inky matter spashed up and out from it, slowly forming as the flames died down.

Luzbel watched and waited in anticipation. He had done the ritual perfectly; soon, he would have a brand-new servant to do his dirty work and destroy the Heavens once and for all—

"Aba!"

A childish giggle caught him off-guard. Looking down, his eyes widened and his wing-ears drooped in disappointment as a little black demon sitting on its bottom looked up at him, reaching for him with its tiny claws.

"What the—?! This is impossible! I recited the chant perfectly! Why is it a baby?!" he growled, stomping around while the little thing babbled to himself and patted the ground.

Luzbel looked over his shoulder at the baby. It just laughed at him and got on its hands and knees, crawling steadily towards him. He hissed under his breath; now he'd have to erase this whining inconvenience and start all over again. He turned around just as the baby was less than three feet in front of him and raised his trident high above him, ready to strike a fatal blow.

The baby stopped crawling and its green face fell, sitting down as it looked up at the weapon and the one who held it—the one who made him. It looked at his face, the fury and resentment in his eyes, and its lip started to tremble. Its eyes became misty and a whine started to build up in its throat.

Luzbel heard the start of its cries, and his angry expression faltered. There was no way he could kill a baby that he made and get away with it—not without Jehova finding out. He'd have to find someone who could get rid of it. Someone who hadn't killed before and could use a few body counts.

'Make Jeretik do it,' a voice in his head prompted. 'That weakling couldn't even kill a fly. Tell him to make it suffer for its miserable existence.'

'Tell him to get rid of your mistake.'

(Present time)

Jeretik stood in stunned silence after he processed everything he'd been told.

"So…what do you want me to do with it now?" he asked.

Luzbel looked at him over his shoulder. "Get rid of it," he instructed, pulling out a dagger from his cloak and tossing it to Jeretik.

The Scroll-Keeper looked down at the blade in his hand, which had started to tremble. He swallowed hard, then put on a polite smile.

"I…s-sire, forgive me for voicing my opinion…but…I cannot possibly do this! After all, it's just a baby! The poor thing's less than a day old—"

"JUST DO IT!" Luzbel yelled, his back alight with flames. His sharp tone and loud voice made the baby in Jeretik's arms start to cry. It gripped the Scroll-Keeper's shirt tightly and tucked its face into his chest in an attempt to hide from Luzbel.

Luzbel looked at the baby, then grabbed Jeretik by the collar and tugged him close. "I don't care how you do it. Just. Get it. Done." Then he disappeared in a puff of smoke without another word, causing Jeretik to be dropped, the child still clinging to him.

Jeretik was frozen as the child squirmed in his arms. He could hardly believe what his master was telling him to do. He knew he didn't have the guts to kill anyone. But he also knew that Luzbel wasn't a very understanding being, that was for sure, so they all had to do whatever it took to please him.

Even if it meant killing an innocent baby.

Steeling his nerves, Jeretik let the baby sit on the ground in front of him while he was on his knees and held the dagger above his head, closing his eyes tight. He'd make it quick; it wouldn't even be painful.

So why couldn't he stop his hands from shaking?

A whine made him open one to see the poor thing sniffling in fear, on the brink of tears. It made his heart melt.

He couldn't do it.

The Scroll-Keeper lowered his hand and tossed the dagger away, a clattering sound echoing throughout the library. His eyes became teary with shame and guilt as he buried his face into his hands, his wings curled around him and his tail limp.

"I can't," he sobbed quietly. "I can't do it."

A tiny tug at his sleeve made him look up with damp cheeks to see that the baby had crawled next to him and was pawing at him. It made little cooing sounds that made him feel a bit better.

Smiling gently, Jeretik wiped away his tears and picked up the baby. It weighed no more than a stone, staring up at him with those big, adorable eyes. Innocent and unburdened by any knowledge beyond that of its soft blankets and the arms that cradled it. He had never held such a young creature in all his years, and in that moment, he believed this child was the only being in all of Hell who did not fear him.

The little thing was not dissuaded by Jeretik's claws and horns as it reached a tiny hand up to pull his spectacles off of his face. This child was indeed a bold one. Jeretik experimentally poked it with a claw; the baby shrieked and giggled.

"Now then…" Jeretik mused as he stood back up, taking a seat in his chair once again. "What shall I name you, little one?"

"Aba wa!" the baby cooed, pawing at his ears.

Jeretik chuckled, smiling warmly. He figured he should at least know the child's gender before deciding on a name. So just to be safe, he pulled the waistband of its diaper away to peek down at the fork of its legs. It was a boy.

'You don't know the first thing about taking care of a child,' a voice in Jeretik's head whispered. 'You need help. Big help.'

He'd be lying if he said the voice was wrong. While he was good with youngsters, he didn't know how to raise a child, especially if he had to do it alone. He needed someone to assist him, to help him take care of this little creature.

Thankfully, Jeretik knew just the one.

***

"Hey, Jere," Hagenti greeted as he entered his and his mate's private chambers. "Sorry I took so long, I came as soon as I cou—" He stopped dead in his tracks once he laid eyes on Jeretik sitting next to a basket, and something sleeping in the blankets lining it.

"Jeretik…" he said, his tail flicking gently. "What is that…?"

Jeretik looked up at him, then at the bundle in the basket. "Luzbel…gave me a child that he made by accident…and he wanted me to get rid of him," he explained.

The Scientist's mechanical eye clicked and whirred as he walked up next to his mate to peer into the basket and saw the baby; he was curled up snugly into the blankets, sleeping soundly.

Hagenti was so surprised, he didn't move for a long moment. "Why… why did Luzbel want you to get rid of a baby?" he asked, sitting beside his mate.

Jeretik's hands clenched, and he looked at Hagenti . "I-I don't know…but when I tried to convince him that he wasn't a complete failure and that we could still teach him our ways, he…" He took in a shaky breath before continuing. "To say the least, he…wasn't too happy. He demanded that somehow I kill him." His voice trembled. "But I couldn't. It didn't feel right to me. So I decided to raise him…as my own."

Hagenti's face softened and he reached out to hold his hand. His expression was enough to tell Jeretik that he understood. He shifted himself closer so that they looked like they were joined at the hip. "Well…you have always said you'd like one," he mused.

"Yes…I have," Jeretik said, leaning his head on his mate's shoulder. "I just wish it was under better circumstances."

The Scientist smiled at him and wrapped an arm around his waist, holding him close. "Me too. But I promise that no matter what, we'll take care of him." He tilted Jeretik's head up so that he could look at him. "And I'll be right there with you."

Hagenti leaned in and kissed him tenderly. Jeretik melted into it, and a few moments later they broke away, pressing their foreheads together affectionately as the Scroll-Keeper purred.

The sound of cloth rustling and little cooing sounds made the two look down at the baby, who had woken up from his nap. He squealed and reached for Jeretik, who picked him up and set him on his knee. The infant looked at Hagenti, babbling at him and pawing his coat. The Scientist gently took him from his mate and held him, sticking his tongue out at the little demon. The baby cooed at his mechanical eye and tried to grab it.

"N-no, no! That's not for playing with!" Hagenti said, leaning away from the baby's hands. He just giggled and leaned his head on his chest. Hagenti smiled and held the tiny creature. "So…have you decided on a name for him yet?" he asked.

Jeretik thought about it for a moment, then nodded. "Yes, I have."

"Well, let's hear it then."

Jeretik looked down at the baby in his and his mate's arms with a tender smile. "His name is Aku."

[bipirate]

ok i've finished fma: the final alchemy. final thoughts under the cut but the tldr is that it was mediocre and tried to put way too much plot in 2 hours and 15 minutes. i think out of the 3 movies i think the 2nd one was the best

things i liked:

GREED. he was perfect. perfect casting for both ling and greed :)

the costumes were once again great. loved greed's goth little outfit

olivier mira armstrong. she was so hot. the only war criminal i would risk everything for

though the execution wasn't great, i can at least appreciate the fact that they tried to salvage that mess of the first movie's plot to be more manga-accurate. and i think they did an ok job rearranging scenes that couldn't be salvaged into an at least decent and logical plot

ed's actor is so good and perfectly cast and truly the saving grace of all of these 3 movies

OH! they actually ended mustang's arc with him NOT using a stone and getting his eyesight back!!!!! i like that a lot! this is how it should be!

it was a bad movie but it was very enjoyable to watch, unlike the first one of these. that one was boring as hell

things i didn't like:

the cgi was worse in this movie than in the previous 2 tbh. i feel like the animators and sfx artists were probably working under severe crunch conditions, especially considering how close to each other these last 2 movies were released

set design: i praised the 2nd movie for the decent set design and they threw all that away here lmao like 75% of the sets were gaping empty green screen sets and it was ugly. this combined with the bad cgi just didn't make for interesting visuals

the wigs........ how can the costumes be so good but the wigs so atrocious

mustang's actor being the 3 time champion of the 'go king give us nothing' award

too much plot in too little time.... they tried and i commend them for that but it just didn't work. maybe if the first movie had actually been manga accurate they could've done a lot better

i think my biggest issue with this movie (and the previous one) is that the changes to the plot made certain scenes less emotionally impactful, be it from a lack of buildup or a complete tone shift that wasn't present in the original. An example of the previous movie is the first scar confrontation where ed's arm gets blown up and scar almost kills him. i mentioned this in my post about the previous movie, but that scene didn't land because it came on the tail end of a really upbeat and silly scene, in contrast to the manga/anime, where ed and al were extremely sad and questioning everything about alchemy and themselves after hearing of nina's death. In this movie, they really rushed the plot of the entire second half of the series. greed's arc especially got cut short. you don't feel any sense of danger for ling because not even 10 minutes after he gets turned, we're shown that he can take his body back and that greed has already turned his back on the other homunculi. in the manga, greed worked for the homunculi for at least a couple of months while the plot went on in the background. the scene where greed kills bido and has a breakdown about his previous life, which was the whole catalyst for him breaking ties with the homunculi, is not featured at all (because they never included greed and the devil's nest in the plot). this makes his subsequent arc of learning the power of friendship underwhelming at best, nonexistent at worst

[pepsi1]

P:// ...

"..."

P:// So uh... want a drink?

"?"

P:// I know I beat you into a bloody pulp but you deserved it.

"I always do... Fuck it, what do you have?"

P:// That friend of yours, Bismol. He made a bad batch of moonshine, it'll blind the fuck out of regular humans. 190 proof.

"Sounds fun! Pour me a glass"

P:// So you really have changed... It's weird to hear excitement from you. Of course it could only be the devil that can change you.

[He throws a jug to Pepsi filled with the moonshine and Pepsi catches it]

"He uh... he did play a part."

P:// You have more to say?

[Pepsi chugs a quarter of the jug with a bit of strain before speaking again]

"Listen. I'm sorry. For everything. But it wasn't just Paint that's making me say that... I snapped when you mentioned Ariel. I thought I had terrified you. I am glad you still had it in you to beat the shit out of me.

P:// You are avoiding a more interesting conversation giving me such fucked up praise. I won't follw that tangent.

"It wasn't just Paint. It was his own creator. The antithesis to my realm of divinity. And it was their doing in setting me on a path I had long deviated from... We only had a conversation and I may have fornicated with them or I might still be doing so."

P:// Stop trying to deviate. I don't like hearing about the fucked up sex you have.

"...It's not like I can talk to Frita or Bee and you know damn well Caleb doesn't care. You're my only friend."

P:// Oh yeah, sure, the robot you made that hates your guts.

"I mean it. You're the only honest bastard I know. Paint, while I am his confidant, I cannot confide any of my thoughts or emotions to him without a very annoying interrogation of my words and a willingness to enact chaos on my behalf that I did not ask for. You are simple, to the point, and know me best... It's why you let me ramble at times even with your supposed hatred and ability to rip my jaw clean off."

P:// ...

"The point is, I was being trained in my own divinity by the very concept of its antithesis and I... Our souls are healed, fully. I'm certain you have noticed a wane in your anger, though you attribute it to parenting Kitty and wanting to be better than me as a father. The burden of regret lays heavy on a soul that can no longer ignore it.

P:// I was laying into you pretty hard and you have had a lethal amount of moonshine. Is your brain finally rotted?

"And yet I'm the only one you can truly harm aren't I? You know there's no long term consequence in doing so. You couldn't bring yourself to hurt Frita or anybody else if you wanted to, could you?"

P:// This is not an interrogation of my character and if you turn it into one I will replace your skeleton again and... and... ...hm. I suppose I have stopped considering harm upon others through you. Proceed.

"I think I was depressed. I think I still am, but I'm getting better. I'm starting to look for purpose again. I'm starting to remember why I learned guitar and other frivolous arts as a human. I think I'm becoming more human, more... More me. I have hated who I am for literal uncountable spans of time. I still think I deserve hell. Hell does not want me though, it thinks I've suffered more than enough."

P:// It took you this long to figure out you're depressed? What, did you think you were a glutton of pain for fun? I know you've hidden how much torture truly puts you through hell, it's why I still do it when you think it does nothing for you anymore.

"..."

P:// You can't hide pain from me, I think you've forgotten how I was designed and the original intent behind my programming.

"I have but yes, it did take me this long. Because until recently, I fully believed I was still in Hell. That all the bad things that happened were deserved. That you were a demon mocking my creations. That if I ignored pain and suffering it would eventually be far too normal to consider. That if I was the only one hurting that it would not matter to anyone else... But that isn't true. And it hurts to know it. And... And I've wasted so much time by doing nothing about any of those I still feel guilt for hurting. I have done nothing for those I could still help or can come to help in the future. It's why Ariel's name sent me in a frenzy... I was a dad who let his daughter die and be forgotten. I am a dad, who would rather his sons hate him than ever feel love for him. I am a monster for wanting to be hated like one..."

P:// ...

"I know you won't pity me Phoenix, it's why you're my friend. I have hurt you and your siblings, and for the longest time you were the only part of me smart enough to feel angry about it. But now you have your own soul, wholly yours."

[Pepsi chugs the rest of the moonshine and his eyes turn a glowing white as he loses his vision]

P:// God I wish I could get drunk too... Meet me at Peeps and Bis's place tomorrow. I need. No. Kitty needs your help building a motorcycle. I got the frame built but wiring and connections isn't my specialty d-... Pepsi.

"This moonshine is good, wish I could get drunk too. And Phoenix... Bring Bee and Caleb, you've been mad at me about them for a while now. I'm not sure I can get them fixed as you would like, but anything is better than nothing right?"

P:// Yes. 'Anything' is better than Nothing. Goodbye.

"Goodbye, and Hello. I hope you understand."

[biostris]

King Dice with a rival S/O that's like Jessie from the Pokemon anime?

A/N: tbh i didnt really know how to incorporate jessie into this, A because she varies from season to season and b i just personally think she's dramatic as hell. But i tried my best! hope you enjoy Anon

King Dice with a RIVAL! S/O.

-so lets start off with how you met, you were hired by the devil to replace henchmen, who replaced king dice for the 'Roll the dice' show until KD could prove his status to his boss again. So things were already pretty tense between the two of you

-Dice of course would never do anything to hurt you, after all he is a gentleman and plus his boss would kick his ass so he would try to one up you on the number of souls you collected for the day

-The rivalry was tense and both of you were burning with passion competing for the title 'Number one' however after awhile King Dice got his title back, he at first wanted to gloat and rub it in your face but seeing a frustrated and defeated expression on your face honestly made his heart twinge a little

- instead of gloating he asked you out for a drink which you, despite your bitterness towards the man, accepted slightly hoping that the alcohol would numb the pain (PSA dont actually do that)

-Your overly confident self was crushed by the man but in a sort of humbling way, and the night you two got drinks it turned out to be a blast. The both of you had so much in common actually that you couldn't help but be surprised!

-Both of you eventually began to hang out more both on set and off set and continued to have little challenges like who could collect the most souls and whos better at craps

-he eventually asked you out which you happily accepted, it made sense that since the both of you were still rivals at heart and damn right competitive towards each other that he took you to a casino

- that night no matter how many losses you had you ended up scoring the biggest winning of all, KD's heart.

- now into the relationship, add all my previous head cannons but now everything is a competition, he thinks he can get you the biggest bouquet ? not if you have anything to say about it you'll force the florist to merge the biggest bouquets he has to make an even bigger one! that'll show him!

- this also carries into more mundane tasks such as who can do the most dishes or who can sweep their designated area the fastest. however sometimes arguments start over these things but they end in laughter so no need to worry

-he gets to know your more caring side during the relationship, one of the card minions accidentally ripped KD's jeans and he looked like he was about to die from terror until you 'secretly' swooped in and helped the fella fix them. you had no clue that he was watching from the door way of his dressing room until he teased you about this later on at dinner

[warlordfelwinter]

lacking the energy to draw but wanting to play around with designs i found a cute tiefling picrew for my new most normal yet warlock and her patron

she's Marnarei, tried to be a wizard but couldn't get the hang of spellbooks so she started studying fiends being curious of her heritage and became a bit of an expert in the field (yes im giving her a degree in baatezu studies leave me alone), eventually summoned Kyris, a cambion, who she forged a pact with so she could experience the powers of the hells for herself (for science, you understand)

Kyris is definitely 110% trying to corrupt her, you know, pact insidious, classic devil stuff, and she knows this and doesn't really care. they have a sort of antagonistic friendly energy with each other and he will absolutely just show up unannounced whenever the fuck he wants to bother her. she gets back at him by calling him Kiki which he will one day kill her for probably

haven't decided Marnie's bloodline (it's me so I'll probably stick with classic Asmodeus, or maybe Glasya or Mephistopheles). pact of the chain probably so she can have a cool pet

Kyris works under Mephistopheles, for sure, but quite far down the chain.

-

just more overly detailed characters i probably won't play. but i did decide Celeste is better off remaining in my head where i can have full control over Asmodeus bc i actually don't trust anyone else to portray him or their weird relationship how i want lmao

so if a game ever does come up for me, I've got Marnie instead! not to mention my entire document of dnd backup characters

[skiyoosmi]

post-break up heartaches

verse 1. in the car that used to drive us to our home

⤷ kuroo tetsurou, oikawa tooru — more characters coming soon

⤷ verse 2 | verse 3

⤷ play. never let me go by ghostly kisses, forget about us by clinton kane

commissions: open

⇢ KUROO sighs for the umpteenth time of the day. he was so fucking exhausted and his body's about to give in to sleep any moment now. work has been beating his ass; there was this newbie who kept on messing up the documents needed by the board and for the whole day, he had to be the one to fix said issues. it's not like he wasn't paid enough for that; if anything, his paycheck was one of the most beautiful things he laid his eyes on— but god, even his body has its own limits and yet...

"ya.... yer not supposed to do this anymore. y-ya left me, remember?" you slurred, index finger pointing right at his chest as he circled his arms around your waist, huffing as you practically dropped all your weight on him. here he was, suddenly given the task of having to take you home after your supposed-to-be designated driver, miya fucking atsumu, also drank his brains out with you.

"be patient. still heartbroken because of you, y'know?" kenma softly tells him despite the tipsy feeling lurking in the back of his mind, shaking his head as he looked at you, whose system finally shut down and were now dozing off in the black haired man's arms.

"..... still?" he mumbles, looking down at your figure and he feels his heart contract with pain all over again.

"you can't expect her to be fine immediately, kuroo. it was your wedding day, supposed to be the greatest day of her life and yet it became the worst one... you left her at the altar alone."

he didn't reply anything— or rather, he was unable to. because what can he say to refute the truth? nothing. instead, he proceeded to his car with you still in his hold. he places you on the passenger seat, locking the seatbelts before jogging to the driver's side.

the car ride was calm as you slept soundly with your head occasionally hitting the window lightly as it swayed from side to side. he was sure as hell that if you were sober right now, you wouldn't even have the thought of seeing him cross your mind. he just knows for sure that you despise him with your whole being... at least, that's what he thought until...

"i'm sorry, tetsu. please come back," you whimper in your seat, voice quiet but he heard it nonetheless, "tell me what i did wrong so i can fix it."

the pitiful sounds and mumbles you made struck kuroo right in the heart and which makes him pull over an empty but safe road, just a block away from your (previously shared) apartment. looking over your form, he finds himself reaching out to touch your face, caressing your cheeks as drops of tears fell down slowly on them, "you didn't do anything wrong. you were fine. you were so perfect."

you squint your eyes at him, probably wondering if this was real or just a part of your drunken imagination. nonetheless, you hiccuped, "y-you... you left me and i... i still can't even bring myself to hate you... i just wanna ask you why? i just want to understand."

he thought he also knew the reason why but every single time he thinks about it, he's only led to one conclusion: because he was a coward. no way was this any of your fault— it's definitely not your fault that right at that moment, as he stared at the mirror, wearing the black suit you chose for him, the sudden fear of commitment loomed over him. it's not like it was your fault he suddenly got scared of losing you the way his parents lost each other. but now he thinks it's ironic, because he lost you anyway.

maybe... just maybe, if he had just met you where you stood at the altar, instead of leaving you alone in it, maybe he would've been happier. maybe his days would've started more with a smile from you as you helped him fix his necktie before going to work. maybe, the working hours he spends in the shitty corporate world would've been more worth it if it meant he can come home to you at the end of the day. maybe... maybe he wouldn't have to be stuck with this lump in his throat as he wonders what could've been happening if he just chose to show up and vowed his life to you.

but he didn't.

"i realized i wasn't just ready to tie my life with anyone yet. that's all there is to it, yn."

so with a heavy feeling stuck in his chest and a quiet promise to never see you again for the sake of not hurting you further, he starts the car's engine again, ignoring the words you replied but he was sure they will haunt him for a very long time... again.

i can wait for you no matter how long it takes, tetsu, you know that.

⇢ OIKAWA gives you what seems like a guilty smile as he stands in front of you, opening his arms and gesturing you to come closer. but the stoic expression on your face takes him back to the reality that the last thing you wanted to do today was to actually fetch him from the airport. it just so happens that his three best friends were caught up with work that they had no choice but to send you, the main ex-bestfriend slash ex-girlfriend, to him.

why did you agree when you practically loathe him with your whole being? well, it was probably because you weren't the devil who would reject your friends when they were literally on their knees as they begged you and for some reason, you thought he'll look pitiful going back to his home country after five years with no one to welcome him. yeah, that's it. it's not like you're still in love with him or anything.

"my car's just around the corner," you begrudgingly walk towards the car park with him quietly following. at the moment, he knew better than to get on your nerves or else there would be war. he hates that this happened to the both of you but he can't blame anyone else but himself. because who wouldn't hate their ex-boyfriend if they suddenly broke up with them over a phone call?

tension filled the car as you both sat beside each other. perhaps, this was what other people were talking about when they say that it's impossible for exes to be friends again, to not feel any awkwardness because you were sure as hell that the word "awkward" was an understatement of your situation right now. nevertheless, your eyes couldn't help but wander to his figure as he adjusted his body, opting for a more comfortable position in the passenger's seat.

he looked more youthful and you felt bittersweet— proud that his whole aura screams of "success" which meant that gone were the days where he longed to get that winter cup trophy, nor the times when he overworked himself and put a strain on his knee which led to countless arguments with you. if anything, he looked happier and it sucks because you're not even close to feeling that way... not without him.

"i heard you've finally gotten yourself your own condominium? that's great, yn!" he exclaimed as soon as you began driving to your destination, a hope lit within him that maybe you might just respond to him. just one smile, that's all i need, he thinks.

but you remain focused on your driving, choosing to reply with a single nod and a soft "yeah..."

disappointment fills his heart as he faces the truth that your relationship has really been ruined, along with your friendship. all because he was foolish to think that he couldn't handle the physical distance between you two. realization dawns upon him that he just made that same distance worse as you pull your heart further away from him.

"... i actually bought it for the two of us, you know?" he whips his head to your direction in surprise, heart clenching as he watch you let out a sad chuckle, "i just... i thought it would be nice if we had a place to permanently stay at and for you to have a home to go to when you're at japan. but yeah... i guess things doesn't go our way sometimes, does it?"

"i'm sor—"

"it's okay. i'm fine now," you quickly reply, shaking your head but keeping your eyes on the road. he tries to ignore the tears that start to form in them because he has no right to stop them, knowing full well that he was the one who caused them in the first place.

as if on cue, you halt your vehicle in front of a familiar apartment and much to your dismay, you find yourself looking back in the past when you used to live in that same place, making wonderful memories with the chocolate haired lad with you. you clear your throat to stop the sob that desperately attempts to escape your throat, "uhm... we're here."

"oh, yeah. we're here," he numbly states, already missing you despite the mere inches of space separating the two of you. you just felt so far away and he hates it. but this was the path he chose so he gets out of your car along with his things, turning to you once more, "uhh... thanks for the ride, yn. i know you probably hate me but yeah... it's very nice of you to put that past us and i guess i just want to say sorry for hurting you... i just..."

"i don't hate you, tooru," you softly tell him, "i just don't want anything to do with you anymore. to see you this happy, without me, is like a slap in the face because i'm not. it still hurts and i'm not fine. i just hope this will be the last time we'll see each other. be safe on your trip back to argentina. welcome home."

and with that, you start the car's engine again, no longer having the energy nor the strength to hear his reply. but he wishes you did because as he watches your car drive further away from him, he can't help but wish that he can take back time so that you don't have to go to that condominium and instead, go inside the home you once shared with him.

but i'm not happy, yn. because how could i call this place my home when you're not here with me?

at that moment, unbeknownst to the two hearts that long for each other break at the same time, you finally let out the tears and cries that you've been keeping since you saw him, knowing that no matter how much you try, you'll never be as happy as you were with him— simply because he left you with a hole in your heart that no one else can fill.

© SKIYOOSMI, 2021. reposting, translating, editing, copying and any kind of plagiarism are strictly prohibited, thank you.