#the man who stopped laughing 4

[lithiumseven]

With this whole Joker mpreg thing:

Jason hearing that Joker is a father. Bruce hearing that Joker has a son. Alfred finding out.

What would be the calamity? Jason’s rage at the unfairness of it all, a reminder of the duality of him and Joker, of once again the mirror of Joker and Bruce, his rage at the child and at fate, the bitter thought of opportunity that crosses his mind, and the even more bitter thought that he shouldn’t have to be the one to do it, the dead dont avenge themselves.

Bruce’s vengeance surging up at the first mention of this “son,” only to immediately fall into the dark pit where he always exists fighting the desperation to kill Joker and the desperation to be better than him for the sake of his family and for Gotham, this time only deeper as the fight resumes as always consuming his very soul. Crying out at the wrath he wants to repay in kind, for himself and for his son, and the cruelty that there’s never been a more obvious path to not succumbing to Joker’s level. That every moment the Joker lives Bruce betrays his own son and that every minute he were dead would betray everyone else, and that this zero sum game just became even more unthinkably level.

Alfred hearing the word child and seeing flashes of Jason playing in the garden and swinging his little feet in the library, as bright and as vivid as though he could call out to him, hearing the word child and seeing a child he raised near unrecognizable in a burial suit as another child he raised shatters over a coffin (not for the first time), funeral suit as dark and bleak as the one his son wears in the box. Alfred hearing the word child and knowing that it means innocence. That no child, no matter who’s child they are, deserves death.

And as this is DC this can’t last, even Duella didn’t, so at some point this Joker’s son is going to die. And what will be the calamity on them then? That the child died, that the Joker lost a son, that it’s all over, and that they were not the one who ended it

[theflowerofthecommonwealth]

Nawhhhhhh- y’all tell me why my Mexican Mama be roasting RoboDad over here. 💀💀💀

I was gonna give her a long speech about how amazing and lovable Nick Valentine is, but before I could she just went right back to roasting him. (Affectionately though, she does like him. Just thinks he’s kinda ugly)

Feito means “little ugly”

Now I have to basically summarize this man’s entire lore in the most simplistic way possible to make her understand this unyielding love the Fallout community has for Nick.

Plz send help.

[aboutzatanna]

If DC ever rejects any of your pitches because they thought it was too crazy just remind them of the Joker Mpreg story.

[phoenix-before-the-flame]

Ok I'm sorry to dig into the traumatic comic experience you're having but i need to ask...how the fuck is the joker mpreg canon? What in the ABSOLUTE FUCK is going on at DC Comics?

Its because the comic book (and animation industry too tbh) all work on fhis principle

[dispatchdcu]

The Joker: The Man Who Stopped Laughing #4 Preview

The Joker: The Man Who Stopped Laughing #4 Preview #thejoker #gotham #batman #DCEU #dccomics #comics #comicbooks #news #dcuuniverse #art #info #NCBD #joker #comicbooknews #previews #reviews #amazon #themanwhostoppedlaughing

The Joker: The Man Who Stopped Laughing #4 Preview:   Why did The Joker cross town? To get to the bottom of the mystery that has been haunting him: Who is the man pretending to be The Joker and what does he want? But every lead he follows is a dead end, and every move he makes brings the Red Hood one step closer to him. What happens when the former Clown Prince of Crime comes face-to-face with…

[sleepier-jane]

Okay okay kinda dorky tanget but sorta horny concerns Issue 4 of "Joker, the man who stopped laughing" is wild.

Not only does the Joker have a child in it but get this... they go full on Mpreg bru. Another crazy part is that the baby's other parent is a woman (Zatana) who's soooooo fuckin hot dude (Amirite @tigerboybites ) and she's like magical so thru the force of magic she's like mmhm I've impregnated you have fun with that.

It was wild it was giving an omegaverse fan was in the writing room and just throwing shit at the wall lmao.

[oatbugs]

lightning fried our satellite dish and now we are alone

[balconyswirls]

i started watching sukeban deka after seeing that midnight pretenders edit months ago, and apart from the fact that saki feels the need to say every person's full name the moment she sees them, jin kyoichiro is lowkey a creep, the same sequence happens every time she catches a villain, and the camera constantly pans in on the cross-shaped scar she has on her palm, i like it. it's entertaining

[oceantornadoo]

sleepy morning (simon riley x f!reader)

part 4 of the two lieutenants series...HORNINESS LEVEL 1000

tw: wet and messyyyyyyyyy MDNI

--

that had to have been the best sleep of your life.

no seriously. extra strength melatonin could not compare to sleeping with simon THEE “ghost” riley. you had never had such a broad, thick man on top of you. and you liked it.

now, however, you found yourself in a much more compromising position.

the sleep had started innocent enough, you both insisting it was a platonic arrangement, a cheap version of getting a weighted blanket. but you had shuffled in your sleep, and now your bodies were tangled. simon's head lay on your collabone, his mouth hovering over your clothed breast, emitting small sighs in his sleep. your nipples were aching at the prolonged stimulation, his breath changing the temperature and making them harden. his hands grasped you beneath your arms, thumbs brushing the sides of your tits. you didn't think it was on purpose, but you had been on the edge for hours.

simon nuzzled closer into you, feigning sleep as long as possible. his left thigh wedged between your legs, his right bracketing the outside of yours to keep you right there. his morning wood, clothed by his thin sweats, laid heavy against your thigh. he could almost smell the wetness between your thighs, the way you tried humping him when you were asleep. little, uncontrolled movements of your hips, up and down, chasing friction. he tried to stop his teeth from sinking into your clothed tit, the softness of it so tempting. you were right there, almost his, yet so far it felt like foreign territory. somewhere he's been plenty of times, unwelcome. he had to tread carefully. then of course, soap had the gall to knock.

"l.t.? yer on recruit training, started a couple minutes ago." simon groaned against you, providing even more friction to your tit. guess he couldn't pretend to be asleep anymore. "'m sick. cancel it." a pause, soap was unbelieving. when simon was sick, if anything, he coached the recruits with even more vengeance than usual. "yer sure?" simon propped himself up on his forearms, squishing you in between them even more. you looked up at him, a dream with your tired eyes and a bit of drool at the corner of your mouth. he laid a small kiss to your forehead, so small you must still be dreaming. "cancel it. 'm bedridden today." his gravelly morning voice must have been enough for soap, who he could virtually hear straightening up after leaning against simon's doorframe. "got it, l.t."

simon breathed a sigh of relief. finally, finally, he acknowledged you. "mornin' dovie. sleep well?" sleep well?! you had slept like the dead. "best sleep of my life, simon. might have to make this a regular thing." you joked, still unsure of the lines that had been erased last night. and that forehead kiss. "available whenever ya need, love." you were still tangled together, his cock still against your cunt. you bucked against him again involuntarily, the whisper of friction too light for you. you both looked down together at where you were almost touching, separated by two layers of fabric. "simon i-"

another loud knock. "what." simon gritted out. "seen the better lieutenant, ghost? we're supposed to run drills today an' i can't find her." it was gaz and you could practically hear the smirk in his voice. simon looked down at you questioningly and you shook your head vehemently. "she's sick. contagious." gaz was choking back a laugh. he must have talked to soap before this. "alrigh', i'll tell price. get better, you two." fuck.

"shit, si, i'm sorry. should have slept at my own place i-" another forehead kiss this time, a bit longer than the first. he trailed his mouth to your nose, small pecks here and there. turning his head down, he nosed your jaw, inhaling the smell of your mixed scents. like you were two of the same. one.

"can i?" you were so far gone it took a bit for his question to register. you had tilted your head back to give him more access, a willing prey to your domestic predator. "can- can you what?" he moved down a bit more, cock moving away from your cunt. you unwillingly let out a whine at the loss of contact and he chuckled into your skin. "suck your tits, baby." oh. oh.

"yes, yes. please"

he laughed again, the sensation vibrating through your skin. his mouth finally made contact with your tit, mouthing at it over your t-shirt. thankfully, it was thin, so you can feel the slight suck and the ghost of a bite. he alternated between your breasts, hands rolling the other nipple he wasn't sucking. your shirt was wet, sticking to your skin, drenched in saliva. "simon, can you- please." the last part was a moan as he gave you a bigger bite. "use your words, lieutenant." he was rutting into the bed, cock chasing much needed friction. he didn't want to scare you but his need for you was bubbling over, a pot on the stove too long. "my shirt, ah, my shirt off."

he freed you from your shirt, the fabric drenched in his saliva, sticking to your skin as he peeled it off. your tits were wet and slightly bruised from his minstrations. marked.

"you like my marks on you?" you looked down, not caring about the unsexy double chin as you took in what he had done to you. keeping it platonic was done and dead, and you were going to take advantage of it.

"more."

a willing soldier, he dove back in, licking and sucking like he had been made for it. his right hand went lower, palm pressing against your wet pussy for some much-needed attention to your clit. you had never come from nipple stimulation alone, but you had been edged for hours while you were sleeping. the pressure on your clit was perfect, the wetness seeping through your sleep shirts onto his callused hand. he let go of your nipple with a loud smack, a string of saliva dripping from his chin. "think you can come like this, dove?" you nodded furiously, his desperate little dove. simon went back down to your abandoned tits and you gasped at the feeling of his bite. he pressed his palm harder against your aching cunt, virtually feeling the flutter of your wanting pussy, pleading for him. he rubbed it in circles, up and down, listening to your sounds to find a pattern you liked.

and suddenly he had it, your back arching as you felt that telltale spark at the base of your spine. simon felt it, your desperation increasing tremendously as you bucked into his hand, thrusting out your tits like a bitch in heat. "right there, baby. come fer' me, hm?" you nodded as he gave your tit one last long suck and pressed his palm right where you needed it, your orgasm hitting you like a freight train. he lightly tongued your breasts as you came down, cleaning up his mess. "feel better?" you groaned, the reality of how desperate you had acted finally hitting you.

"they all know, simon. the whole base knows by now." he moved up until you two were face to face. so what if the whole base knew? you had been his since that first handshake.

"so what?"

--

guys this was so horny wowwwwwwwww ovulation hitting me fr

part one part two part three part four

[deadsetobsessions]

Alley Drunk!Danny AU- Part 3

[Pt.1] [Pt.2] [Pt.4]

“Have you considered anger management classes?”

The Batman turned sharply, cape flaring out as he raised his weary fists in preparation for another fight. Only to pause, as he caught sight of a bedraggled man leaning against the pockmarked, water worn, Gotham variety stone of the abandoned post office. Non-hostile. Scent of booze, not strong enough to be fresh, but prominent enough for him to clock the stranger as a habitual drinker. Young. Sympathy softened Batman’s stance. Still, Batman kept his guard up. Good thing Robin was benched, he was off his game today if he hadn’t noticed the young man.

“Nevermind. You run around as a bat. Clearly anger management classes aren’t on your to do list.”

“What do you want.”

He’s young. Not as young as Robin, but… enough that it made Batman gentle his approach. The young man pushed away from his spot, fearlessly slouching towards him. Casual. Unafraid. How curious. Even Gothamites were wary around him, correctly assuming and witnessing his takedowns of Gotham’s Underbelly.

“You do this a lot, don’t you?” The bedraggled young man asked, head tilted neutrally at the bodies strewn around the Batman.

“Hm.”

“Why do you never swing by Crime Alley?”

Batman’s guard faltered at the blunt question, but he regained it quickly.

“I do.”

“You don’t.” The man disagreed amiably. He reached down towards the victims but Batman grabbed his arm in an iron hold before he could rifle through their belongings. The young man laughed and pulled back agreeably. “Is it classism, why you avoid us? The poor isn’t good enough to deserve protection from Gotham’s knight?”

“No. I do this for Gotham. All of Gotham.”

“…Well, there’s always room for improvement, I guess?”

The stranger pulled back and broke Batman’s hold, which had the vigilante sharply focusing onto the man. The stranger was strong, despite how skinny and starved he looked. Few people could casually break his hold and tonight, he added one more to the tally.

“You should tell your sponsor to look into creating job opportunities in Crime Alley. The problem isn’t actually the crooks,” the man told the vigilante, gesturing around them. “That’s just the symptoms. The actual problem is the poverty.”

“I know.”

“And yet, you still avoid Crime Alley.”

“Who are you.”

The man began walking away, throwing a dry “The Crime Alley Drunk, apparently,” behind his shoulder. When Batman took to the roofs to track him, the man had thoroughly slipped away.

“Agent A, did you catch that?”

“Yes, Batman. It appears you’ve gotten the wool pulled over your cowl by a rather mysterious youngster.”

Batman heard a younger snort of laughter. Robin. Who was supposed to be doing homework.

“Please stop making fun of me.” Batman sighed half heartedly.

“Not on your life, B.” Robin chirped.

——

“Ya talked ta Batman?!” Jason crowed at him, excited. Danny had done as promised and met him at the chili dog stand at the correct time, which increased his credibility in Jason’s eyes.

“Sure did. He knocked out like, five guys by himself. It was pretty cool.”

“Fuckin’ woah.”

“Right?” Danny smiled tiredly at the kid. He stayed up all night to pull his shit together, and outright bought an apartment for them to stay in. That safe had a lot of cash, after all. “Come on, kid. We’re heading back to base but before that, we gotta pick up a few things.”

“Like what?” Jason asked suspiciously.

“Like curtains in the color you like, groceries, and blankets and bedding, and general cleaning stuff.” Danny ticked off a finger per item.

“We killin’ someone?”

“What? No!”

“Ya said general cleaning stuff!” Jason defended himself. The raggedy kid peered at Danny cautiously, and brightened when Danny only snorted in amusement.

“Oh my ancients, you Gothamites. No, those are for like, actual cleaning. You know, for the apartment I just got you.”

Danny missed the burn of booze, but when Jason looked at him like the child he’s supposed to be had Gotham’s streets never laid its claim on him, Danny didn’t want to fail the kid.

Even if the kid thought he was buying chemicals to clean up a body. He’s the son of two mad scientists, he knows how to get rid of a body, obviously. As if he’d need chemicals to begin with, honestly. His ghost powers are quite versatile.

“An apartment?”

“Yep. It’s shitty, but it’s got all the utilities and I kind of miss having warm water to shower with.”

Jason straightened and trotted alongside the Alley Drunk with a little more purpose. People avoided them. Danny lead the kid to the apartment, handing him a key and letting him explore the sparsely decorated place.

“So, first thing’s first. You go shower. Then, we’ll go shopping for clothes, register you for school, get your school supplies, and grab some lunch. Not necessarily in that order, but ya know. And cleaning supplies.” Danny grinned.

Jason whipped his head around from where he was closely inspecting the windows for insulation- like Danny would let the actual kid live somewhere with drafty windows- and spluttered. Hope, fear, uncertainty battled across Jason’s face as he tried to say something. Danny watched Jason open and close his mouth several times before he finally managed to whisper something.

“I- I c’n go to school?”

“Yes. You are, in fact, legally required to do so, Jason.”

A pause as the kid grapples with the idea, of something he didn’t think he’d ever get to do. A grin bloomed over his face as he realized Danny’s sincerity.

“Then what are we waitin’ for?!”

“For you to shower. C’mon grubby, the shower’s that way. Towels are in the cabinet, and there’s some extra clothes in here,” Danny tossed Jason the plastic bag of clean kid’s clothes he bought from Gotham’s version of Walmart, a store that somehow had the energy of a Tesco and a Denny’s parking lot.

“Fuc- I mean- yeah! On it!”

——

Clearing out the drafts- feel free to continue ^^

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

It's a Match! || 141 x Reader

[ Chapter 9 ] || [ Chapter 11 ]

Pairing: Ghost x gn!Reader || 141 x gn!Reader Words: 1.7K~ Tags: NO SMUT, simon is a flirt, first kiss, simon has a PIERCING, simon needed to be held okay? Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you? a/n: ghost HAS MADE THE MOVE.

Chapter 10: SIMON?!

You had entered the pub looking for someone who you didn’t know. Unlike with John, you didn’t even have a picture of Simon’s face to go off of.

Not that you had needed one. Going inside and scanning the room, you immediately spotted a tall, blond man with a black mask holding a tumbler of whiskey. He was leaning against a back wall by the dartboard, one foot propped up on the wall behind him.

Tall, blond, and a fan of Bourbon. Check, check and check.

You had made your way over almost immediately, being greeted with a squinting of his eyes and a dipping of his head off to the side.

“You look good.” He had said before raising a finger in the air and spinning it, beckoning you to give a little spin. Which you did.

“You don’t look so bad yourself.” You had retorted as he pulled away from the wall and guided you to the bar, one hand on your shoulder, so he could pay you for the drink, as you had so salaciously demanded on Tinder.

After that, he took you outside, to a table in the corner of the outdoor area of the pub. He parked himself on a lone armchair, legs spread and his position relaxed, spine curled ever so slightly, to make him take up less space. As if that’s somehow possible.

Then, Simon tapped his palm on his lap, beckoning you to sit, which you did without question. His hand circled around your waist, pulling your back to press against his chest.

He felt you press your ass back against his bulge, which earned you a dark rumble of a chuckle right into your ear. “Not as shy as I expected you’d be.” He had whispered.

“You’re the one who made me sit on your lap.” You had retorted as you looked back at him, only to get your head swiveled forward once more by his firm hand on your jaw.

“Eyes forward.” He had demanded. “I wanna drink in peace.” He had told you. He was bossy, but not exactly in a bad way.

“I guess that answers my question.” You had told him as you sipped from your own glass. Behind you, Simon did the same. You could hear the ice clinking against the glass as he dipped the tumbler back to sip from.

“Which one?” He had asked after a wet swallow of his drink and smacking his lips lightly.

“If you were going to wear the mask.” You had answered.

“It’s for your own benefit.” He had retorted.

“How’s that?” You had asked, daring to turn back to look at him, only to be stopped by his firm hand on your jaw, correcting your gaze away again, wordlessly.

“I’m not exactly a pretty sight under this.” He had told you. “Would rather not scare you off.”

“I’m sure it’s not that bad.” You had retorted. “And I doubt you could scare me off.” You added. “Though…” You had trailed off, thinking for a moment. “I won’t deny that if you’re like… super disfigured I might have a bit of a reaction to it at first.” You had told him sincerely.

That had earned you another rumble of a laugh behind you as he leaned in, pressing his chest a bit more against your back.

“Tell you what.” He had said softly in your ear. “I’ll let you have a glimpse soon enough, if the night ends up going the way I wish for it to.”

-

After a few hours getting to know each other, in which Simon kept up his promise of being honest within reason, you ended up at a McDonald’s parking lot, eating greasy food in the front seat and talking some more about all sorts of things. 

You told him about your ex, about your family, about work, about your current obsessions in a certain TV show, a certain videogame, a certain actor… And he returned with his own. Who would’ve thought that this mysterious, sort of strange, guy would like Pedro Pascal?

He made you laugh, his sense of humour extremely morbid and sarcastic and his deliveries deadpan, but just smart enough to draw laughter out of you… And whenever you retorted with a smartass comment of your own, you swore you saw him smiling… Even if the mask was in the way, the corners of his eyes crinkled.

And you made sure to dutifully look away when he loosened his neck gaiter at the bottom, in order to stick fries and nuggets and his drink straw under it…

At midnight, you found yourself being dropped off at home… And just like it happened with John, you found yourself not quite wanting the night to end…

So you invited him upstairs.

-

It’s 5 A.M. when you find yourself waking up in his arms, stirring awake ever so slightly by his movement.

The sun is starting to rise, lighting the room ever so slightly, and making it so you can kind of see a few shadows of your furniture around the room.

Bleary-eyed and groggy, you rub your eyelids, finding Simon’s silhouette still next to you and looking at you.

“You alright?” You ask him softly, receiving a soft ‘Mhm’ in return. You pull yourself away from his arms, leaning up on one of your elbows to look at him.

“Had fun last night.” He tells you as he stretches a bit. “Should probably be heading back to base in a minute, though.”

Your bare leg rubbed lightly against his thigh which was still clad in denim, a consequence of the two of you having had some sort of… sleepover. That’s the best way of putting it.

“I’m glad. I had fun too… Weirdly enough.” You reply as you start to sit up in bed as well. “Never did think I’d end up getting… laid but… not. ‘Laid together in bed’, I guess?” You joke a bit, still too groggy to really make a joke.

“Can just call it cuddling.” He replies as he pulls the covers back a bit in order to sit up and turns on your bedside table lamp, lighting the room in a warm-toned orange-y light and casting shadows further toward the door and the hall.

He still has that neck gaiter of his on over his features, or… maybe he took it off and put it back on? You can’t be sure, you were asleep.

After coming home, you talked some more, played Mario Kart on your switch, watched a horror movie, during which he complained way too much about the realism of the blood splatter and the injuries… And then you kind of… cuddled to sleep.

“I think we both needed this.” You tell him as he nods his head. “Haven’t gotten a good cuddle in… well, ages… And you’re surprisingly comfortable.” You add.

“Definitely.” He tells you, his eyes squinting a bit again. “I… like you.” He admits.

“I… Thank you?” You reply as you sit up in bed next to him, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“That felt wrong to say aloud. Felt a little bit like a little boy in the playground.” He admits and chuckles at himself.

“Yeah… Well… I like you too.” You reply and chuckle as well at how silly it feels to say it so openly.

“Of course you do.” Simon retorts, his tone still flat and deadpan even as he spoke himself up and acted cocky.

“Oh piss off, Simon… It’s too early to deal with your shit right now.” You grumble and nudge at him with your elbow.

“Oh, c’mon… You dealt with it all night last night.” He tells you as he leans over, getting his face close to yours, the neck gaiter just softly grazing against your shoulder.

“Shut up.” You reply, a smirk on your lips. His eyes crinkle into a smile as well, which makes your smirk soften into a little smile.

You gently grab his face with his hand which makes his eyes widen and, as a reflex, he grabs your wrist and stops you from pulling down/up his untucked neck gaiter and show you his face.

This had happened a couple times last night. One of which was you trying to tuck a corner of his mask into his neck had earned you a grab from him, that only relaxed when you explained your intentions.

He’s a deeply mistrusting person, you’ve noticed… And you are strangely intrigued by it.

“Relax.” You tell him. “I’m not going to pull it off.” You assure him once more, which makes him relax.

Instead, you lean forward and press a kiss to his cheek, right on the edge where the mask meets his cheek, your lips softly brushing the stitching of the top of the gaiter. 

His breath hitches and his eyes close for a moment, seemingly basking in the warmth of your little kiss.

As you pull back, his eyes snap open again and he rushes forward, grabbing your whole jaw with his large, rough hand before pulling your whole face toward him once more.

His other hand moves the gaiter up just enough to capture your mouth in his, but not enough to earn you a glimpse of his features. 

His mouth is warm, his lips chapped and dry to shit, and his tongue is… Is that a piercing? Your eyes double in size when your tongue rubs against the cold metal nubs of his barbell piecing.

Simon’s eyes are open too, the corners crinkled in amusement at your shocked reaction. He keeps his grip on your jaw as your eyes slowly fall closed, giving into the kiss.

It’s completely different compared to John’s kisses, or Ethan’s back when you were together. Simon kisses like he wants to take your breath away.

After a moment, he pulls back, the neck gaiter quickly falls back down to cover his face and when your eyes open, it’s as if nothing happened. Simon is up on his feet, putting on his boots and leather jacket.

“We should do this again.” Simon tells you. “I’ll text you.” He adds and winks at you before turning and walking out of your room.

After a moment, you hear the front door of your apartment close and there you are, left sitting in bed, blinking away the shock.

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[aboutzatanna]

To everyone freaking out about the following:

-This is from a back up Joker: The Man Who Stopped Laughing #4.

-The story is told from the Joker's POV.

-Joker is an unreliable narrator.

-Therefore this is NOT canon.

There was a previous issue where he was fantasizing similarly about Power Girl.

Basically, Mr J got his ass kicked by Zee at the start of the issue and his copium is this fantasy.

Please SHARE as far and wide as you can.

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

Revenge, a Dish Served Colder than Snow || Young!Coriolanus Snow x Reader

GIF by @kvtnisseverdeen and divider by @firefly-graphics

A/n: I'd just like to say that this is not book or movie accurate whatsoever. Finnick is not even alive yet when Coriolanus was in his early 20s. I just really wanted to include him in this because he's hot and I love him. Also, lets just imagine he has been gone long enough that the next hunger games was about to happen.

Warnings: choking, swearing if there are others lmk

Wc:

P.t 1 P.t 2

Coriolanus Snow Masterlist

Previous

“Go fuck yourself Coriolanus,” You sneer at him as you turn around but was stopped when his hand takes a hold of your arm. “The fuck did you just say to me?” He scrunches his eyebrows, fury in his blue eyes. You shake off his grip, staring at him square on. “I said, to go fuck yourself. Or, if you find her, go fuck Lucy Gray!” You rage, spinning around and walking out of the bathroom.

Coryo stands there in utter disbelief at what had just happened moments earlier. The image of you causing a scene infront of everybody and that tribute from district 4, his hands roaming around your body shamelessly. He felt pure rage coursing through his veins as he slams his fist against the wall.

~

Coriolanus watched with curious eyes once he saw you enter the room. He hadn't seen you for a couple weeks after that day he came back and moaned out Lucy Gray's name while fucking you. Even under that masquerade mask, Snow could tell it was you.

His eyebrow quirks up when he notices a man by your side. "Who is that?" He points to the mysterious man beside you as Livia looks over to where he was pointing. A chuckle leaves her lips, "Jealous, snow?" She swirls the alcohol in her flute before taking a sip.

"That right there beside your dear y/n is none other than Finnick Odair," Livia wets her lips. "A tribute. From district 4," She continues as Coriolanus' eyes follow the two of you, Finnick's hand resting far too low on your back for his liking.

"What is a fucking tribute doing with her then?" He scoffs, leaning forward on his seat. "Has your time as peacekeeper in district 12 forgotten how much power Y/n has?" She looks at him as if he was an idiot. "She just vouched for him, convinced her daddy to let him stay with her." Liv shrugs.

Coriolanus lets out a scoff, "Are you jealous of a district boy? He is pretty handsome don't you think. A strong competitor for sure," She says before standing up and leaving Snow in his thoughts. A few minutes later, he gets up from where he was sitting and manoeuvres his body across the crowd of elitist members and other wealthy people of Panem.

"What are you doing here with him?" Snow pops a grape into his mouth as you pause your actions and look to him by your side. Of course he was going to be here. "And why do you care? Coriolanus?" You chastise, "Do not. Call me that," He mutters at you, a stern expression on his face as you smirk.

"Well, if you must know. I took a liking to the tribute and let's just say, gotten quite comfortable with each other," A smile makes it to your lips as you could see Snow visibly annoyed. "He's a fucking tribute-" "Oh isn't that rich coming from you, Snow?" You let out a laugh as you face him. "That's exactly what I thought when I questioned your intentions with Lucy-" "Y/n, don't" "And there you were. Moaning her fucking name while inside me!"

You harshly say as a couple people around pause to look at you both. Coriolanus could tell you had drunk a bit more than you could handle. "Y/n, let's talk somewhere else," He takes your hands, ready to pull you away. You yank his grip off of you.

"No! I'm not done!" Snow runs a hand down his face at your loud outburst. "I never knew that you could stoop so fucking low you know. First it was cheating so that your precious tribute would win, and then you go chase her in her district and-" You couldn't finish your sentence as Coriolanus lurches towards him, hand gripping the base of your neck as your look at him in horror.

He squeezes it enough to make you shut up and gasp slightly for air. The people around you gasp at what had just happened. "Shut the fuck up. Shut your mouth before I do something I will regret," He spat, his hand squeezing as he shakes you."Get off of her!" Finnick shouts, pulling Snow away from you as you hold onto him, your hand touching your neck.

You then push Finnick away before doing something that further fueled the fire inside Coriolanus. You bowed. Just like her. Exactly like how Lucy Gray bowed at the reaping ceremony. A few stifled laughs could be heard throughout the room as Coriolanus looks horrified. He gulps, loosening his tie as you smirk at him

Coriolanus quickly leaves the room, breathing heavily as he runs his hands through his hair. He didn’t know what took over him. But he saw red the second you mentioned Lucy Gray. He swore he never intended to harm you. But he couldn’t help it.

His pent up emotions from the past couple of weeks needing diffusing. And you were pretty darn good at pushing specific buttons within him. Coriolanus caught glimpse of your figure entering the bathroom, he follows you whilst looking around, making sure no one was around.

You stared at yourself in the mirror, tears brimming your eyes as you study your neck, already bruising from his iron like grip. You were horrified, shocked, and most of all hurt, by Coriolanus. He never once touched you with such violence and he always reassured you that he would never hurt you and here you were. Crying in the bathroom stalls.

Even after the events that occurred when he came back, you couldn’t stop thinking about Coryo. You just couldn’t help yourself. He was your first everything. You lean your hands on the counter as you drop your head, tears cascading down your cheeks.

Coriolanus immediately heard your cries the minute he’s close to the bathroom door. He pauses. Leans his ear against the door and lets out sigh before entering. His entrance caught you by surprise as you stumble back upon seeing his tall figure.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I hurt you.” He says, sadness and guilt laced in his tone as he looks at you in sympathy, his eyes flickering your neck where he caused damage. You refused to meet his eyes as you turn your head to the side.

“But you should know better than to publicly humiliate me infront of everyone-“ A loud scoff emits your lips as you turn to him. “Go fuck yourself Coriolanus,” You sneer at him as you turn around but was stopped when his hand takes a hold of your arm. “The fuck did you just say to me?” He scrunches his eyebrows, fury in his blue eyes. You shake off his grip, staring at him square on. “I said, to go fuck yourself. Or, if you find her, go fuck Lucy Gray!” You rage, spinning around and walking out of the bathroom.

Coryo stands there in utter disbelief at what had just happened moments earlier. The image of you causing a scene infront of everybody and that tribute from district 4, his hands roaming around your body shamelessly. He felt pure rage coursing through his veins as he slams his fist against the wall.

Before you walk through the door, you stop and turn to face him. His expression angry, his hands were bawled up into fists, the wall beside him had a whole where he punctured it with his hand. “Don’t ever try talking to me again, Coriolanus. I mean it. Or I’ll do something you’ll regret.” You conclude before turning back around and walking away.

Coriolanus Snow knew without a doubt that you were capable of so many things that would hurt him, and his reputation. And he did not need further damage. So he listened. Regret seeped into him every single day as he left you alone. He would always watch you from afar though, he loved you, there was no denying.

What occurred that day with Lucy Gray was a mistake, a mistake he wished he could take back more than anything.

Taglist: @valenftcrush @ghostlycrystobalove @esquivelbianca @duds31 @threeinchminimum @shadowsepiphany @novacaneformybrain @crazylokonugget @unclecrunkle @darkqweenn @marihoneywk @beckinator7 @stelleduarte @1950schick @celineandtulips

[pellucid-constellations]

If It All Fell (3)

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: If it all fell apart—if you forgot who you were—would you love him again? Would the bond guide you back? Azriel doesn't know if that uncertainty is one he can bear.

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings: Angst (obvi)

a/n: It's about to reallyyyy get started in the next part (I promise there will be fluff in this fic eventually). Thank you so much for reading and interacting with this series ❤️❤️ I love writing it!!

Part 1 ♡ Part 2 ☆ Part 4 ☼

Series Masterlist

~~

Mor’s fingers slid along book spines as she circled the room. A fire crackled and popped beneath the mantle, providing ambiance as the blonde retold another story of your life. You, unsure how to move about the space, remained seated in a rather large chair with an uncomfortably low back. 

“Gods, you wouldn’t talk to Rhys for a week. He was beside himself,” she laughed, shaking her head in faint fondness. “You refused to stay at the House out of pure spite. That’s when you and Azriel decided—” 

She cut herself off, nearly tripping on the ornate rug under your chair.  

“When Azriel and I decided what?” you probed. 

Mor bit into her lip, taking a large breath. “That story is for another time.” 

You hummed, hiding your frustration beneath a close-lipped grin. 

A story for another time.

This was your story, and yet, there were so many pieces that weren’t making sense. There was so much being kept from you—you could feel it—but why? Why did Mor omit some things and freely speak of others? Why was the topic of Azriel so… taboo? 

Your thoughts traveled back to the lunch yesterday, the way Azriel had abruptly vanished. He hadn’t been able to spend even an hour in your presence. The rest of the meal had been tense, with Cassian attempting to save your feelings by sending subtle jabs Azriel’s way and Mor shooting daggers at the swinging door. 

Maybe you and Azriel were enemies? It certainly didn’t feel that way whenever he was around. Granted, you’d only seen him twice since waking up, but those two times weren’t filled with hostility or ire, were they? 

Mor moved over to the window. You clenched the cushion of your chair between tense fingers. 

Did Azriel not like you? 

The thought sent daggers through your chest, which was odd, considering the man had only spoken about four words to you. But… he had to like you, didn’t he? When Mor spoke of your family, of your place in this court, she always included Azriel. He was always some part of the stories of your life. 

But that didn’t mean the two of you were friends. 

That didn’t mean he liked being around you. 

Perhaps the Inner Circle was attempting to rewrite history—reform a bond between friends that had long been burned. Maybe the two of you had constant disagreements and fights and the rest of them were sick of it, using your lack of memories to drive you back together. That would certainly explain Azriel’s disappearance yesterday. 

The conclusion ate away at you. It ate and ate until you were left feeling hollow. How could one person—a person you didn’t even know—be affecting you so much? There was a vast array of other problems you should be dwelling on. 

“He doesn't like me very much, does he?” 

You hadn’t meant to ask the question; the words had spilled out without permission. 

Mor’s head jutted back in confusion, her mouth opening in the shape of a scoff. “Who?”

“Azriel,” you clarified, suddenly feeling so small in the large, confusing chair you sat in. “I know I lost my memory, but I still grasp context clues, Mor. You’re always hesitant to speak of him and he didn’t exactly seem overjoyed to be spending time with me yesterday. Listen—” you held your hand up, stopping Mor from giving you the excuses you could see welling up “—I don’t care, okay? I don’t care how bad it all sounds. I just want to know the truth. I can’t… I can’t even begin to figure this all out without the complete truth.” 

The conflicted twist of Mor’s brow was glaringly apparent. She brought her fingers together at her waistline, fidgeting with them in what you assumed to be a nervous habit.

A lick of sympathy made you add, “Come on, it can’t be that bad, right? Whatever it is?” 

A pause.

“I don’t know if I should be the one to explain this all to you,” Mor said, struggling over each word. 

“It seems like no one else will.” You stood from your chair, ignoring the strange sense of loss from your departure. Did the rest of this room smell so much of cedar and night-kissed air? “Please, Mor. I’m so confused. I know more about myself, about you and I—you’ve done a wonderful job at that—but… I need to know everything. There’s a chance that I… a chance that I don’t get my memories back. I need to know who I am. Every part.” 

You brought your hands up to grasp at Mor’s, pleading with her through your gaze. Your friend—she had become your friend—stared back at you with so much disparaged hope. 

“You could still—” 

“Please, Mor.” 

You squeezed her fingers. 

She closed her eyes and sighed. 

“Y/n, Azriel—” 

Something crashed, causing Mor to yank your hands back until you were secure behind her, her body acting as a shield between you and the door. There was another bang, a panicked voice, and then heavy footsteps. Your back pressed against the glass window, a chill sinking into your bones. 

“—in her and Az’s reading room.”

The door slammed open not a moment later, Cassian bursting through in a frazzled state. He quickly scanned the room before landing on you and Mor. He locked eyes with the blonde, gave a quick nod, almost indistinguishable, and then turned his gaze to you. 

“You want to meet our High Lord?” 

~~

You could feel the tension the moment you stepped into the room. 

Shadows battled for purchase around Azriel, his fists clenched at his sides as he stood opposite Rhysand. A desk separated them, filled with papers and books and notes. Neither made any indication that they had heard your group enter the office until Rhysand shot his eyes to the corner of his vision.

Azriel sighed, deep and menacing, as if Rhysand had insulted him gravely. 

But he hadn’t said anything. 

Rhysand’s jaw shifted to the side. 

Cassian spoke, and it was then you realized his arm was pressing you back into the doorway. “Everything good in here?” 

Mor stood ground behind you, keeping a firm hand on your back. 

“Everything is fine,” Rhysand replied, steady voice matching his steady gaze on the male in front of him.

“You both sure? Because you told me to get her and I don’t know if having two Illyrians—” 

“Everything is fine, Cassian,” Rhysand repeated. Some of the tension left him. With a sharp look in Azriel’s direction, he turned his attention toward you, craning his head to the side to catch you behind Cassian’s broad shoulders. “Hello, y/n.” 

A nervous breath left you; whether it was from the hostility in the room or the greeting from the High Lord, you didn’t know. When Cassian nodded to Azriel and moved to the side, allowing you a full entrance, you glanced around quickly and caught the eyes of each person once, and then twice. 

You licked your drying lips. “High Lord,” you responded, bending at the knee and lowering your gaze. 

You had no recollection as to how long a bow was supposed to last. There was just some intrinsic part of you that knew the gesture was needed. Rhysand was a High Lord and you were… well, you weren’t sure what your title was—if you even had one. What your place was within this court. 

No one had deigned to tell you. 

When you rose after a seemingly acceptable amount of time, you were met with a still silence. All of the previous tension in the room melted away to create space for the stifling pause that permeated the air. Rhysand blinked at you, and then blinked again. 

And then he had to cover his mouth because he began laughing. 

A new emotion you could not remember experiencing invaded every inch of your body. It took you several seconds of enduring Rhysand’s muffled laugh before you recognized it as mortification. Pure, unadulterated mortification. 

You clasped your hands together in front of your waist and took a harrowing breath in, trying to fight back the sudden burn in your nose. 

Azriel, who had been watching you with careful grace since you stepped out from behind Cassian, turned his head with a sharp snap and growled at his High Lord. The leather around his fingers, placed there to keep his blazing siphons in place, groaned as his fists constricted once more. 

Rhysand banished the argument before it began, attempting to wipe away the laugh with his fingers. “I’m—I’m sorry, y/n,” he chuckled, collecting himself further, tucking his hands in his pockets. “I know this is not funny for you, but… but I have never seen you do that a day in your life. And you have met several High Lords.” 

You glanced around to gauge the reactions of the others in the room, finding Cassian with his tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek to fight a smile and Mor staring up at the ceiling, in the midst of that same battle. Some of the embarrassment fled, but it was only replaced with confusion. 

“I.. I’m sorry, I just assumed—because you’re a High Lord, I assumed your station required—” 

Rhysand shook his head and gently corrected your rambling. “In a public space, perhaps. Maybe not in Velaris. And certainly not from someone I consider to be a sister.”

A sister. 

Your family. 

Right.

“I’m sure Helion would welcome the greeting,” Cassian huffed out from beside you, his words laced with an unrealized laugh. “Especially since the last time you greeted the High Lord of Day you told him to never again try baking in his entire immortal life. Not even a hello.” 

Whatever discussion was occurring prior to your entrance was long forgotten. Even Azriel cracked a smile at that, and the room was filled with more than Rhysand’s laughs. The sounds, although new for you, had a smile tugging at your own lips. It was the first time since you woke up that no one was frowning at you, or fighting off tears, or storming away in bouts of shadows. 

In fact, the feeling was so jarring you found yourself laughing as well—a tentative laugh, but one of the first that felt real. 

It was a few more moments of joyous forgetting before silence took over again, but it was a lighter silence this time. Rhysand motioned to the chair facing his desk, and you took the seat, Cassian standing tall behind you, Mor positioning herself on the arm. 

Azriel remained standing just a step away. 

His face was void of a smile once again. 

Rhysand cleared his throat. “It seems wrong to introduce myself now, but I must ask that you call me Rhys—or Rhysand, if I’ve really done something to piss you off. But not High Lord.” When you only nodded in agreement, he looked down at his desk, something lost in his eye. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around for you sooner. I’ve been researching—trying to figure this out.” 

“I know. Thank you, Hi—Rhys,” you corrected. Cassian squeezed your shoulder from behind. A shadow followed the movement, slinking down from the Illyrian’s hand to loop around your neck. 

“There isn’t much literature on witches, unfortunately. Not here. I’ve had Amren, another member of our court, looking through what she knows. She—well, she knows a great deal about many things that we don’t understand.” Rhysand sighed. Humor left him. “The consensus so far is that anything done by a witch can only be undone by that witch. Meaning—” 

“Meaning there’s no hope unless we can find her,” you finished for him. “But—” your brows furrowed “—I’m the only one who saw her. Mor’s told me about that day. No one else saw the witch but me and now I…” 

The burning in your nose was back, this time accompanied by the pounding in your head and the pressure in your chest. Both had become constants in your life. A sickening sort of panic twisted its way through you, leaving your breath unsteady even as Cassian ran a comforting hand over your shoulders and Mor offered silent encouragement at your side. 

The only thing keeping your tears at bay were the shadows that had sought you out, their presence tickling your skin and serving as a distraction. That, and the azure glow continuously catching the corner of your eye as Azriel clenched and unclenched his fist. 

“There are two avenues we can take,” Rhys offered with a kind, calm smile. “I am able to see into minds, oftentimes past what even you might be cognizant of. If you allow me to, I can enter your memories and take a look… maybe see the witch or something useful.”  

You could make it worse.

You remembered bits and pieces from the day you were attacked, but some things were clearer than others. You had no idea who said what, but you knew someone had warned Rhys against this—someone had wrapped themselves around you and kept him far, far away. 

“Would that hurt?” you asked. 

A trembling exhale fell from the shadowsinger’s lips. You turned to look at him, but he kept his eyes forward. 

“I would do my best to ensure that it didn’t,” Rhys comforted, his own eyes darting from Azriel and back to you. “At any sign of discomfort, I would stop. The goal would just be to see where your memories lay, if they were accessible at all. And to see if there was anything hidden about the witch.” 

You nodded, trying to reconvene privately as you stared down at your fingers.

He would just take a look. Maybe it would somehow stop this incessant pounding in your head or maybe he would be able to see the memory of the witch. Maybe your memories were there, and you just didn’t have access to them yourself. 

Maybe, maybe, maybe…

“If you aren’t comfortable with that—” Azriel’s low voice cut through your rampage of thoughts. “—we still have several people looking for information. As spymaster, I can assure you that all personnel available are on the hunt in Spring Court.” 

You looked up, and Azriel met your eye for the first time since that disastrous lunch. Something felt like it fractured within you, a desolation so sharp it stung, but just as abruptly, that feeling washed away. It felt as if it seeped through some crack only to be reined in and slammed behind several locked doors.

You rubbed at your chest in an attempt to soothe the ache the feeling left. Azriel flickered his gaze down to watch your hand, clenched his jaw, and then looked back up. Softer this time—an apology you couldn’t comprehend. 

“Thank you,” you whispered. “It means a lot that you are spending so much time on this. I—I can’t begin to thank you fully.” 

Some of the conviction you had grown so used to seeing on Azriel’s face crumbled. He took a half-step towards you, a seemingly unconscious movement. 

“Anything.” His voice was so soft it was almost a whisper. “Y/n, anything.” 

It wasn't until Rhys spoke again that you were snapped out of the trance Azriel had locked you in. “I cannot guarantee I will see anything, if you choose to allow me in,” the High Lord explained. When you looked over at him, a sad smile lingered. “Which is why an alternative may be needed.” 

“Of course,” you nodded, an encouragement for him to continue. 

Rhys pushed his fingers together as they sat atop his desk. “We would take you to Day Court. Helion—the High Lord Cassian mentioned—is skilled in spell-cleaving. He may be able to undo some of what the witch did, if that’s possible. Or just give us a better read on the situation.” 

Mor startled from beside you, “Rhys—” 

“It wouldn’t be like last time,” Rhys placated, once again glancing toward the shadowsinger. “It wouldn’t.” 

“Couldn’t Feyre—” 

“She doesn’t have that much control over each of the court powers yet. We—we tried.” 

“Feyre?” you asked, but the question was directed to no one and no one answered it. 

“It’s a brilliant plan, isn’t it?” Azriel spit out, vitrole tainting each syllable. The heat rose in the room.

Cassian cut in this time, his voice a vibration at the back of your head. “Azriel, maybe—” 

You couldn’t focus on anything they were saying as each line spoken left you with more questions, more pieces you couldn’t connect. Azriel was mad, Mor was concerned, Cassian was attempting to play the mediator. You had no idea what role Rhys filled, but you assumed it was the level-headed High Lord who only wanted the best for his court. 

But Azriel was too livid and that emotion drowned out all the rest. 

It wouldn’t be like last time. 

What happened last time? 

“I can’t go through that again,” Azriel stressed, his palm now flat on the wood of Rhys’s desk. “We can’t put her through that again.” 

But it had sounded like the Night Court was friendly with Day; Cassian made it seem like you were close enough with Helion to make jabs at his cooking. 

Put you through what? 

“Maybe,” Cassian gritted out, his fingers kneading comfort into your arm. “This isn’t the best discussion to be having. Maybe we start with the first plan and if Rhys can’t find anything, we talk about it.” 

Azriel leaned away from the desk, a sharp breath leaving his nose. The shadows that had swarmed around him calmed and flowed along the floor, stopping at your feet. A link between the two of you, it looked like—like a thread or a river or a bridge. 

You expected Azriel to leave again, to storm off and avoid this entire situation. You wouldn’t exactly blame him; even with Cassian’s negotiation, there were still so many contingencies and unknowns. This wasn’t simple or clear cut, and it would take a lot of time—time perhaps not so willingly given. 

But he didn’t. 

Azriel bit back a snarl and pushed back into the shadows, but he didn’t leave. 

You felt his eyes on you from the corner of the room, and something within you calmed while something else chafed. 

Amidst a soft ringing in your ears, you caught Mor’s low grumble. “At least now we know why they were at each other’s throats when we walked in.” 

Cassian scoffed out a disbelieving sound. 

And you… you gave in to a few of the tears that had been burning behind your eyes, completely missing that the crack in your chest had returned. Completely missing that it was the cause—emotions that weren't entirely yours influencing the dampness on your cheeks.

Part 4 ☼

[selineram3421]

*slams alarm clock against the wall*

Hissy Kitty

Part 4

Part 3

Alastor X Reader Warnings ⚠

⚠ mentions of alcohol, all caps for shouting/yelling, our deer man in denial, cussing ⚠

"What just happened?", Alastor asked.

He looked around with furrowed eyebrows, confused.

"Are you ok? What was that?", you got his attention with your questions. "Why did you threaten Sir Pentious?"

Then he noticed how close you were, and the hold he had on you.

"Alastor?"

Ripping himself away, he took a large step back. Looking you up and down in a panic before taking a step into the shadows, disappearing from your sight.

You stood alone in the hallway, wondering what had caused such a reaction, both the anger and the panic. Then you walked to the lobby, seeing your brother working at the bar and you took a seat on a bar stool with a sigh.

"Never thought I'd see you come up to the bar like that.", Husk quirked a brow. "Need to talk to the bartender?", he asked, getting a cup ready.

"No.", you sighed and crossed your arms on the counter, resting your chin on them. "I need to talk to my older brother."

A drink was placed in front of you before there was another one next to it, then your brother walked out from behind the bar and sat on the bar stool on your right side.

"Alright kit, lay it on me.", he said and got his drink to take a sip.

"It's just been weird.", you started off. "I know Alastor is around me to bug you, we've established that.", you gestured to each other. "But the others think that he's trying to court me?"

"Pffffft-!", Husk sprayed out some of his drink.

"Which I know is not true, because that isn't what's been happening but Charlie and Pentious think that. And the weirdest part just happened a few minutes ago.", you continued.

Your brother coughed before wiping his mouth.

"What happened?"

"I was talking to Pentious and then all of a sudden Alastor appeared behind me.", you gestured as if someone was behind you now. "Pulled me away from my conversation with Sir Pentious and threatened to cook him."

Your brother was quiet, holding his cup as he thought before placing it down on the counter. He turned his body to face you and placed a hand on your shoulder.

"I need to know every detail of what happened, this doesn't sound normal but I can't be too sure.", he says. "That smiling fuck is not normal in general."

"Ok.", you nod and start over. "Sir Pentious had stopped me in the hallway.."

.

Alastor teleported somewhere far away from you within the hotel.

He couldn't go back to his tower, you were too close by and he needed a moment to think, to not worry about being found by you. Then he remembered that you held his face, the lingering feeling of your touch on his cheek made his chest tighten.

"Alastor? Is everything ok?", he heard the familiar voice of the Princess.

Somewhat surprised, the deer demon takes a good look around of where he is. He had teleported himself into Charlie and Vaggie's room.

"Apologies dear, I was in a bit of a rush to notice where I was going.", he says with a tight smile and fixes his coat. "I shall be off.", he turns to face the exit.

"Oh wait!", the Princess gets up from her seat and walks over. "Let them know that their clothes are finished. Niffty sure works fast."

Not paying any mind to it, he glances at the blonde.

"Who exactly?", he asks.

Then she says your name.

He stands still like a deer in headlights.

"Why would I let them know?", he turns to face her with brows furrowed slightly.

"Because you're always around them, I assumed that you were going to see them again.", Charlie explains.

"HA!", the Radio Demon laughs. "Do you think me a lovesick fool? Following them around like some dizzy-"

"Love?", she says confused. "I never said anything about love.."

He stares at the Princess for a moment, seeing her make the realization before quickly making his way towards the door.

"¡'m |€@v¡n& Ω¤￦."

"Al! What's so wrong with being-?", Charlie followed behind him.

"Being in love?", Alastor stopped walking to finished her question, turning around to face the Princess.

"Yes! Why is that a bad thing?", she continued.

So many reasons. He thought.

"It makes a person ￦€aK.", he replied instead. "It clouds one's thoughts, blinds, consumes, ruins.", he shook his head. "I could never allow myself to fall so low."

The Princess looked at him with a sad glare.

"I don't know if my word on love means anything but to me love gives strength, it inspires, encourages, protects-"

"IT DOES NOTHING TO HELP PROTECT SOMEONE!"

Feeling the ends of his smile start to turn down, he looked away and made his way to the door.

"I'm leaving.", he said, voice void of static, deciding to use the shadows to escape from the conversation quicker.

Teleporting to his Radio Tower, he sees the mess of glass was cleaned up.

"Good, now I can get to work and forget about this whole th-"

The trap door slammed open, causing Alastor to snap his head around to see who had dared to enter his tower uninvited.

"You've got five fucking seconds to explain yourself.", Husk growled as he stood in the room.

"What are you going on about?"

"You touched my sibling again but this time you were pissed off.", the cat demon stomped his way over to the deer demon. "Why would some other demon touching them piss you off so much, huh? I told you countless fucking times that they aren't yours."

Husk jabbed at his boss's chest with his claw.

Alastor grew taller, letting his anger show. "D¤ Ωo+ toμ©h m€ aΩd ¡ wiL| dθ a$ I pL€a$e."

The two glared at each other until the cat's eyes widened.

"Holy shit.", Husk lowered his hand.

"￦hAt?", the Radio Demon hissed, ready to teach the ex Overlord a lesson.

"You're in love with them.."

*glares at the morning sun* No.

~Seline, the person.

Part 5

Taglist@

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The Joker: The Man Who Stopped Laughing #4 Review

The Joker: The Man Who Stopped Laughing #4 Review #thejoker #gotham #batman #DCEU #dccomics #comics #comicbooks #news #dcuuniverse #art #info #NCBD #joker #comicbooknews #previews #reviews #amazon #themanwhostoppedlaughing

Writer: Matthew Rosenberg Art: Carmine Di Giandomenico, Romulo Fajardo Jr., Nick Filardi, and Tom Napolitano Publisher: DC Comics Price: $4.99 Release Date: January 3rd, 2023 Why did The Joker cross town? To get to the bottom of the mystery that has been haunting him: Who is the man pretending to be The Joker and what does he want? But every lead he follows is a dead end, and every move he makes…