#they both hide by being bigger than themselves and it is going to kill me

[fortunefavorsthebrave-dude]

work was preddy slow this morning which means i had plenty of time to get far too deep in my feelings about klavier gavin and let me tell you. i am mentally ill about him.

[suguru-getos]

fractures // geto suguru x f!reader // chapter 4

links: part 1 / part 2 / part 3

story summary: being a monkey is the norm except when you're captured by geto sama because he needs money from your parents. however, you may just have to suffer a little extra because of the forced thinking about the right and wrongs... you're putting him through. the affection you’re forcing him through…

chapter summary: only five more days left to finally be able to leave the geto estate, however with an environment so brutal & scathing… the reader is slowly losing her will to keep going, and her hopes with it.

warnings: depressed reader, geto is being a cunty bitch as always (but hes softened a teensy bit if you squint), trying to provide the resder comfort in his own way. degradation. not beta’d by me i’m a lazy ass bitch :33

you sat lonesome, devastated & absolutely crushed below the shower. the way the cold water drenched your hair, every hit of it against your skin reminding you of the fact that you were alive, still alive unfortunately. and will be alive, until geto suguru gets what he’s promised. the money. its been close to an hour and your skin has started to wrinkle apart, you are so lost in your thoughts that your mind forgets to register how cold you feel with the shivering. the white marble flooring of the bathroom against your bare bottom & the soles of your feet a constant reminder of the coldness.

“y/n.” a voice echoed from outside the expensive glassed sliding door of the bathroom. it sounds like a fake echo amidst the stormy thoughts you’re battling.

“Y/N!” the voice snapped louder, and you jerked at the shocking bellow. flinching and getting pulled from your mind to what’s real. “yes?” you answered meekly, getting up on your now wobbly feet with how long you had been sitting the same and twisting the shower nozzle to stop.

“just checking if you had died.” manami’s voice scoffs from outside the door, footsteps walking away from you and sounding delightfully fainter.

you want to kill everyone & yourself. these people were so beyond powerful that you didn’t know humans could… do that.

begrudgingly, passionately hatefully, you got up and wandered to wear clothes and apply any cream that could soothe your now dry & angry skin. that’s when you see the girls.

mimiko & nanako, peeking through the door and humming. “you are pretty.” one of them smiles, “shame you’re nothing but a monkey.” she pouted, the one with brown, whiskey-kin hair. you blink, unsure how to respond to something that sounded awfully unclear. “what do you mean when you say monkey?” you asked, sighing.

the girls invited themselves in, putting your food beside you. “geto sama wants you to eat.” the raven haired little girl numbly reiterated. you nodded, unsure why they respected the monster so much. then again, you also think he is insanely kind to everyone but you. oh how fun.

“funny he didn’t bring me an animal bowl since he called me a mutt.” you scoffed, you know the life within you brimming and enflamed could one day kill you. maybe it should. oh no… you’re starting to feel depressed. why else do you think so frequently that you should rather fucking die?

“mimiko, nanako, you both are excused.” the velvety hum of geto’s voice from the entrance of your door echoed. it sent instant chill in your spine, the color of blood & fear mingled into the reminding dark red that oozed from the word ‘monkey’. the girls listened to him as if he was all they ever had. conflicting, the tender tone he used for those teenagers was conflicting.

he walks in, hands in front with the gojo-gesa making him look even more majestic than he is. he is tall, bigger than you, and his cologne is perfect. you wondered if he dresses like this to hide the real him. the rotten, unemotional, sadistic bastard.

“did you like sleeping on the floor yesterday?” he hums, clearly in a mood to stab your barely healed psyche wounds. “yes, it was comfortable. i’m sure sleeping on the bed must have been quite uncomfortable.” your sarcasm is biting, you haven’t had a good sleep thanks to him. “get used to it, little mutt.” he shrugs, “get used to it until your pathetic parents can gather the money they are demanded.”

you sigh, right. money… “i am.” the fight within you is flickery, and you never know what might rub geto the wrong way & suddenly your whole body is chopped up. “you clean up bearable.” geto hums again, his eyes flickering towards how devastatingly gorgeous you look post shower.

“i know.” you respond again, waiting, bracing. he is here to hurt you anyway. he’s doing that everyday ever since you’re here. “the girls brought you food, eat.” he sounds demanding suddenly, breaking the chain of your vile overthinking.

“is it poisoned?” you snarkily replied. rolling your eyes. you have come to the delusional conclusion that this “geto” person wouldn’t kill you. until he has the money that is… that is the sole reason why your mouth hasn’t stopped.

suguru’s gaze almost softens, you look pale, having lost a lot of blood. he remembers how bruised your skin looked, and you look like you have easily lost a few pounds. he has come to a conclusion that he doesn’t like damaged goods. even when he’s returning them. that is a much better explaination than the other one that meekly whispers to his heart: he has a soft spot for a fucking monkey!

“it’s not. i am fully capable of stuffing that useless mouth full.” he answers, equal bite to his tone. oh his words scathe and burn you, but they do the same to him. they feel like branding on his skin. especially when the light in your eyes fades a little more at his sentences. you hesitantly take a bite, then another… and another. you didn’t know you were ‘this’ hungry, because you could swear the plates are finished in a few minutes. suguru feels a motherly joy upon seeing you like this, before he forcibly snaps himself out. “five more days, then you’re a free girl.” he hums, wanting to see the excitement in your eyes of finally ridding yourself off of him. to his surprise, there was none.

“if i am alive by then.” you hummed, there was no malice in your words, no ill-intent, no insight to piss him off. that’s what HURTS him. it feels like the wrath of a thousand suns is coming for him. you actually… feel that you wouldn’t survive.

for you, its because you want to give up. maybe kill yourself, maybe let him kill you. the idea of a ‘life’ after this whole ordeal seems draining. it would take so much to heal from it; and you’re becoming more and more unsure with every passing day.

suguru gets up, glancing your way once more. you are torturing him just by breathing. “if you had one last wish, what would it be?” he asks, partially to see any emotion apart from the numb on your face. be it fear.

you looked at him, “that you don’t tell my parents i’m dead. tell them i escaped & wouldn’t return.”

he widens his eyes, the frog in his throat unbearably tight. he clears his throat to sound the same distinct monotonous, unkind tone. “they should be happy their daughter is dead if you were to… stop… breathing.” he has to strain the last two words out of him. his jaw tightening.

“a-after all, what use are you to them? you are giving them stress while they try to collect money for you. to save you. and here you are, so okay with your demise.” there is a questionable vigor in his tone. as if he’s trying his best to stop you from killing yourself. “the only reason you’re still alive is because they promised the money.” and… not because suguru can’t bring himself to kill you. yeah, that’s it.

tears sting your eyes, your heart feels heavy. you don’t want to die either… you’re just tired god damn it! “what’s your full name?” you asked him, trying to deviate from the topic.

suguru is taken aback at that change, why do you want to know more about him? “geto suguru.” he hums, responding rather conceited.

“during sunset.” he begins again, unsure why he’s saying what he’s about to say. kicking himself for it. “the gardens… look exceptionally beautiful.”

you raised a brow, curiosity brinming within your bones. “if you don’t wish to die even one bit, a walk might help.” he gets up with that, leaving for the exit. before doing so, he stands at the entrance, “should you want to be a good daughter who is at least breathing when she meets her parents, i would be there in the gardens too. an unwelcomed and imposed company.”

you don’t have an answer to that. except a sigh of relief when he leaves, he didn’t hurt you today… until now. how relieving…

what you don’t know is geto is leaned against that very door, replaying this conversation over and over in his head like a stuck tape-recorder. almost choking at the way you were. maybe he needs to get back at it, killing annoying monkeys. that… should help?

[iamgonnagetyouback]

𝟷𝚔 || 𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆

♡ ︎ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: All this late night talking was not enough for you.

♡ ︎ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: None

♡ ︎ꜱʜɪᴘ: Harry Styles x reader

♡ ꜱᴏɴɢ: Late night talking by Harry Styles

The apartment felt strangely quiet without Harry. You found yourself glancing at your phone more often than you should, each silence stretching longer than the last. You knew he was busy—new albums don’t make themselves, after all—but it didn’t stop the sinking feeling in your chest. Things hadn’t been the same recently. The calls were shorter, and the late-night talking that once felt like your lifeline had become sporadic. The worst part was that you didn't even know why.

Scrolling through Twitter for a distraction, your eyes caught a picture of Harry with his arm around someone. She was beautiful, smiling up at him as he laughed, carefree in a way you hadn’t seen him with you lately. The caption was brutal: "Harry Styles spotted with mystery woman! Is the love story over?"

You quickly shut your phone, pressing your palms into your eyes, fighting the oncoming tears. You knew it was just a tabloid—an unfounded rumor meant to stir up drama—but it still hit hard. The image of Harry with someone else gnawed at your insecurities, especially when things had felt off for weeks.

Taylor’s voice cut through the haze. “Hey, are you okay?” she asked softly, handing you a mug of tea as she sat beside you on the couch. You hadn’t even heard her come into your apartment. Being your best friend for years, she didn’t need an invitation to sense something was wrong.

You took the mug, staring into the swirling steam. “I don’t know… I mean, I’m sure it’s nothing, but things have been weird lately with Harry. And now this—” You gestured toward your phone without picking it up, and she sighed knowingly.

“That tabloid nonsense? You can’t take that seriously, you know that,” Taylor reassured, but her voice had that edge of concern she couldn’t quite hide. “Have you talked to him about how you’re feeling?”

You shook your head. “No. I don’t want to seem clingy or make it into something bigger than it is.”

Taylor set her tea down, her expression soft but firm. “You’re not clingy for wanting to talk to your boyfriend, especially if something’s been bothering you. Communication, babe.”

Before you could respond, your phone buzzed on the coffee table. You both glanced at it, and you felt a small, familiar jolt when Harry’s name lit up the screen.

Taylor gave you a supportive nod. “Go on, answer it.”

You picked up the phone, nerves fluttering in your stomach. “Hey,” you greeted, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Hey, love,” Harry’s voice came through, warm as always but with a hint of something that mirrored your own unease. “How are you?”

“I’m alright,” you replied automatically, though you both knew that wasn’t true. There was a pause before you took a deep breath. “Actually… I’m not. I saw the photos.”

There was silence on the other end for a moment, and you could almost picture Harry running a hand through his hair. “You know that’s not what it looks like, right? She’s just a friend—nothing more.”

“I want to believe you,” you admitted, your voice quieter now. “But things have felt different, Harry. We’re not talking like we used to. I miss you, and I don’t even know if you miss me.”

Harry sighed, and you could hear the frustration in his voice—not at you, but at the situation. “I miss you more than you know. This… this distance, it’s killing me too. I’ve been wrapped up in the tour and the album, but I’ve let that get in the way of what really matters—you.”

You bit your lip, your heart aching at his words. “It’s just… it’s hard, Harry. I feel like I’m losing you, and I don’t even know how to fix it.”

“You’re not losing me,” he said firmly, his voice full of sincerity. “I know I’ve been rubbish at showing it lately, but I’m here. I’m all in. We’ve just been caught up in everything going on, but that doesn’t change how I feel about you.”

Tears blurred your vision, and you let out a shaky laugh. “You always know what to say, don’t you?”

There was a soft chuckle on his end. “I just want to make you happier, baby.”

You smiled through your tears, finally feeling the tension ease a little. “I just need you here, Harry. The late-night talks aren’t enough when I’m missing you this much.”

“I’m coming back,” he promised. “No more waiting. No more distance.”

Before you could reply, the door to your apartment clicked open, and you froze, heart pounding as Harry walked in, phone still pressed to his ear. “Surprise,” he said, a small smile tugging at his lips as he hung up.

You stood there, stunned for a moment before launching yourself into his arms, burying your face in his chest. He held you tight, his presence finally grounding you.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into your hair. “For everything.”

“It’s okay,” you mumbled against him, feeling the warmth of his arms around you. “Just… don’t ever leave me hanging like that again.”

“Never,” he promised, pulling back slightly to kiss your forehead. “You and me—late-night talking or not—we’ll figure it out.”

Taylor stood up, smirking. “Well, I guess my job here is done,” she quipped, giving you a playful wink. “I’ll leave you two to sort this out.”

Harry laughed, glancing over at her. “Thanks for keeping her sane.”

“You owe me,” Taylor teased, grabbing her jacket. “You can repay me with VIP tickets to your next show.”

“Deal,” Harry grinned as Taylor slipped out the door.

The weight that had been pressing on your chest for weeks finally lifted, and as you looked up at Harry, you couldn’t help but smile. The haze was gone. You were both here, and that was all that mattered.

“All this late-night talking,” you said softly, resting your forehead against his. “I’m glad it brought you back.”

Harry’s thumb brushed your cheek gently. “I’ll always come back to you.”

[lienspien]

Okay, hear me out.

I want to write a fanfic where Remus is the one who goes horcrux hunting and dies drowning. First of all, romantic moonwater where Regulus talks about Kreacher to Remus, and in an attempt to stop Regulus from doing it, he goes before Regulus. He thinks he's stronger and more competent since he's older and a werewolf. Obviously he dies and Regulus is fucking devastated.

Unrequited wolfstar, too. He hears about this from Regulus, and he's so mad at Regulus for letting it happen. His moony. Dead. Because his incompetent little brother, whom he trusted to date his moony, let the guy go on a suicide mission, so they had an even bigger fallout. In the midst of his grief, he found comfort in Marlene, who helped him stand up back to his feet. James and Peter helped, too, of course, but the way Marlene held him was so different. After graduating, he went on to marry Marlene and fight in the order.

On the other hand, James was just as upset at the death of his friend. But he couldn't do anything about it. He did a lot of thinking and observing. He watched Sirius cry and scream at the mans death, and he watched Regulus walk the halls like a zombie. He made it his mission to kill voldemort with his own bare hands.

Peter was worried and torn between joining the death eaters and the order. He lost his best friend's in some way or another. To death, to revenge, and to grief. He decided that he's going to follow James, like he always had. Just not on the same level, as he was kept grounded by his other slytherin friends. Who knew what's going on and persuaded him into being the rational one in his friend group for once.

Marlene tried to get the marauders back to their feet. She slapped James out of his muttering about vengeance, told Peter to man up and help his friends, and helped Sirius out of his mourning. She would push them all into the correct path, even if one of them would eventually stray away. Yet her mother went on and on about her involvement in the war, telling her to just settle and let the men do it. She will marry Sirius, discarding her past with Dorcas for a play pretend household.

Lily and Mary would also help the marauders collect themselves after their own moment of mourning. They would help gather information and resources for the order and make sure that everyone else knows what's going on and doesn't push the wrong buttons. They would date secretly, because being in love and happy would be selfish of them when their friends were at their lowest.

Meanwhile, the slytherin skittles aside from Regulus would move on from Remus' death quickly. They knew Remus, but Regulus was the one who's alive, so they're more thankful for his death than anything.

Regulus would slowly go insane. Everything reminds him of Remus. He lost the person who understands him, who he loves the touch of, someone who was connected to him by soul and mind. Now he's empty. Just a shell of what he used to be. All of him gone, following where Remus was. He would go on a rampage, getting incredibly violent and unstable. He would then start killing people. Whoever he decides deserves it, he would kill them. He will marry Pandora to continue the Black lineage, but she would only be helping him hide all the bodies he killed. He would be against voldemort for pushing Remus to death, and would hate the order because Sirius would be in it and it would be a constant reminder of Remus. He would rarely attend the meetings and never go on the missions voldemort tells him to go. He would only start going more often when Barty and Evan join and swears to himself he's going to protect the both of them at all costs.

Evan will become a death eater as well. He at first would gaslight Peter into joining them, but when he hears about Remus' death and watched the way it affected Regulus, James and Sirius. He makes Peter think through his actions, and forces him into helping James. He will marry a pureblood woman from obligation (Genevieve my beloved), and do the bare minimum in playing his part ad a follower.

Barty would become a death eater too. He would be absolutely obsessed with the dark lord, which only makes Regulus mad and Evan annoyed. But if it means he could ruin his father and everyone around the man, he would do it. He was incredibly excited when he received the dark mark and kept on talking about all the things he would do in the name of the dark lord. But at one point, he would watch his mother cry when she saw the dark mark and soon regretted his decision.

Dorcas will join the order. As a half blood, she valued her life over anything else. She has a little sister to protect, and a friend group to look after. But she would dread every order meeting. Because Marlene is right there, as beautiful as ever, but she was not the one who held her hand. She would be active in the order, helping Lily manage everything while still keeping touch with her friends. Despite their differences, she still respected them and cared for them. Regulus and Evan were suffering in their forced position, and Barty had regret his decisions after all, why would she hate her best friends? She would help comfort Pandora, who often times struggled. All while ignoring her own health.

Pandora would be passive. She wouldn't join the death eaters, but would be a follower by association. She was deeply concerned by Regulus' violent tendencies, though Regulus would rather kill himself than hurt Pandora. She was worried by the tired expression Evan constantly had and felt pity for Barty whenever he would stare at his mark and talk about his mother. She will make sure that all her friends were safe. She will take care of Regulus, check in on Barty, and have talks with Evans wife. Pandora would fall into deeper pressure, to bear an heir, to spread the Black family influence while her dear best friend repeats a generational cycle.

The fic will tell all about their relationships and time during the war. The struggles, the fighting, the betrayal, the deaths. All in different perspectives. Its a simple retelling, and a show of curses.

@multishipperofgaydeadwizards @koezii READ MY YAPPING 🏋‍♂️🏋‍♂️🏋‍♂️🏋‍♂️🏋‍♂️🏋‍♂️🏋‍♂️🏋‍♂️🏋‍♂️🏋‍♂️

[halfagone]

I love me a good Damian losses his shit over his supposed dead tvin being alive because he actually missed him. Do you have any ideas?

Hmm *strokes nonexistent goatee* Now this one is tricky. A big thing for me is that if Danny and Damian are twins and get separated, then the logic for why they never tried to look for each other just has to make sense you know? But since he thinks Danny died...

How about this: Since Damian and Dányál (sorry, I like this spelling better) are twins, the decision on who takes up the position as heir will be made after an adequate amount of training and time. neither would be treated with more favor than the other, so that they can probably prove who deserves the position more. Or at least, that's how it was supposed to go.

In reality, Dányál hadn't been interested in the combat and physical training. He did as he was told, and he excelled, but it was clear to everyone that he was simply not putting it all into his tutelage. But then, when Damian and Dányál started being taught poisons and toxic flowers and plants and disease and chemicals, that is where he began to flourish. He took to it like a flower to the sun, and there was no denying his skill in the area. Damian did well, of course, but where Damian thrived in physical combat Dányál thrived in a scientific setting.

At first, this had been treated as something of a dirty secret. Or perhaps more accurately, a weakness on Dányál's part. Many believed that Ra's would not take kindly to his grandson straying aware from his core teachings for something not nearly as important in the bigger picture.

But then one day, the Demon's Head himself spies one of his young grandsons tucked away in the greenhouse, scribbling away on a snatched piece of paper about the acidity of different types of herbs and how they could potentially negatively interact with other plants. The details are rudimentary really, and Ra's has certainly thought of many of the same possibilities but has found through experimentation that it is simply not possible. But he is young still, and obviously he does have the mind for it, even if he is not yet a master of the trade.

He does not have any need for two heirs, but he does have need for an intelligent, loyal scientist.

So he drags this grandson of his in front of an audience, proclaiming to everyone present that Dányál's 'behavior' needs to be rewarded. He is to be sent elsewhere to be taught properly. For everyone in the room, they believe it is Ra's' underhanded way of saying Dányál is to be killed for straying from his path.

Talia believes this. Worst of all, Damian believes this too.

Ra's does not inform his daughter of his plans. He knows that she is soft towards her children, and would rather whisk this one away if it means she might be able to save them both. He has no plans on killing Dányál of course, but perhaps he could use this as a learning opportunity for his daughter and other grandson.

Dányál is informed of nothing. All he knows is that one minute he had been hiding away in the greenhouse and then the next Grandfather had ripped his papers out of his hands.

He thinks he is about to die, and all he can do is try not to cry as he stares over at his equally terrified brother.

He is sent to Fenton Works, in an odd little city called Amity Park, Illinois. The couple who runs the operation finds themselves suddenly in charge of a young boy named Dányál, who is to be taught everything they know. The Fenton's had run low on funding, and when a mysterious donor had reached out, they had been too ecstatic to think things through properly. They now find themselves indebted to a very powerful man, with a young girl of their own to think about.

When they hear their donor is visiting, they are understandably frightened. But then he brings a young boy with him, who they quickly learn is his grandson, and should be treated with the dignity and respect he deserves because of that fact. He tells them to train him, teach him everything they know, and logically they know Ra's wants them to teach this boy everything so that he can be rid of them. They are replacable, disposable.

This should scare them even more, make them loathe the boy for the burden and fear he now brings with him. But then they look at the terrified expression on that little boy's face, and they realize it a noose just as much as it is a chance to rescue him.

They manage to make compromises. Dányál, now known legally as Daniel, has to be enrolled in school, so as to not bring CPS or the government bearing down on their heads. They might need him to help gather supplies, and he can't do that if he doesn't legally exist. Ra's cares very little in the nitty-gritty details, but he is rather pointed in his demands. They are to keep an eye on him and report back to him about his behavior and progress regularly.

They are sure Ra's demands Daniel to do the same, report back about them and if they are keeping up to Ra's' commands. But that does not stop them from feeding him well, treating him as if he was their own. They bring him down to the lab often, teach him all that they know without regret, and watch as he slowly but surely opens up to them.

They learn a great many things about each other, and without ever discussing, they are careful not to mention any of this in their respective reports. Jazz takes to her unexpected baby brother with the same kind of zeal she takes to her school work, and Daniel- who quickly becomes the endearing 'Danny'- adores her even when the memories she brings with her stab him through the heart.

He misses his brother. But he is at least relieved in the knowledge that one day they might meet again.

At 14, Danny dies. His history with the LoA changes nothing and everything surrounding this fact. When he starts to show odd behavior, the Fenton parents begin to worry, wondering what they should do. They try not to bring up any of this in their reports, and simply hope that Danny doesn't either.

The very first time Danny misses a monthly report to his Grandfather is also the very same month his parents take him and Jazz to visit Gotham to take some samples on the swamp dwelling there.

He doesn't realize there is someone else living there, missing him just as fiercely and hoping they can meet again.

---

When Damian finds Dányál again, sees him alive and well after far too many years apart, he is at first euphoric. His twin brother is alive, after all. Why wouldn't he be happy?

But then he founds out his brother is not out from under the thumb of their grandfather like he'd first assumed. Not only is Danny still technically working for the League, he is also aiding them in some of their ventures with his joint research with the Fenton's.

Damian attempts to physically stop his brother, hoping to take him in and back to the Cave for further interrogation. But Danny can't trust Damian either now. He has no love for the League, not after a taste of freedom, however small it might have been. Damian has no way of ensuring his adopted family's safety, and honestly has shown no interest in helping them escape the League's clutches as well.

When Damian pushes, Danny shoves back. Hard.

They might have managed to escape their destined battle the first time, but there is no escaping it a second time.

[mercuriallily]

So after going through the whole game multiple times to compile what Shifty says when you bring her each vessel and each vessel's poem (and their variations) during the endgame, I thought other people might be interested in those as well, so I decided to make a few posts with all that info! This post will have each of the Chapter 2 vessels' endgame poems. (Once again both Razor and Razor's Heart are here. It's just easier that way)

Chapter 2 vessels Chapter 3 vessels Endgame poems (Chapter 3s) Shifty vessel animations

Adversary: The sensation of bleeding and sweating and breaking and mending and dying and living comes back in vivid colour. You feel the shames of a hundred deaths and the pride of a hundred conquests, all of the peaks and valleys weaving themselves into a single tapestry free of beginning and free of end. Do you remember when we killed each other with such fervent passion that death itself no longer sat on our shoulders?

Beast: You are devoured, prey for something bigger than you that stalks and slinks in shadows. Within, you are tightly bound and choke on heavy air as acid burns its way into your pores. A nest of things devouring within things devouring. But even when dissolved, you gifted me a life. Perhaps it was fear that drove you. Perhaps it was compassion. But the outcome of an act matters more than its intentions. There is a natural order to the cycle of things sustaining things. A world without sustenance is a world without relationships, and it is our relationships that give us form and substance.

Damsel: Your lover drives a stake into your body. And another, and another, and another. Do I miss your heart because I can't stand to see it go? But the stakes meant nothing to you. You had a desire, and you set that desire free, you lifting me and me lifting you, forever and ever and ever. Consumed by true belief, there was nothing that could hold us back.

Deconstructed Damsel: Your lover drives a stake into your body. And another, and another, and another. Do I miss your heart because I can't stand to see it go? Love melted into skepticism, and you pulled back layer after layer after layer until all you were left with was the knowledge that you did not know me. You sought the truth then. Will you hide from it now that it is within your grasp?

Nightmare: Fear is what protects us from loss. To fear death "protects" from losing a body. To fear ruin "protects" from losing status. To fear rejection "protects" from being known. But losing a body is contained within having a body. Losing status is contained within having status. Being known is contained within being conscious. It is the nature of all things to transform. To go from known to hidden to known again. But when the ceaseless impermanence of all things strips away the finality of endings, what remains of fear? Is it a shelter protecting you from itself? Or is it a shelter protecting itself from you? You took fear by the hand and walked with it into the unknown, and through that, you feared nothing.

Prisoner: To question everything is to deny the truth in front of you. By believing in your suffering, you make your suffering real. By believing in your limitations, you placed a shackle on your neck. Bound for eternity, you saw the need for impermanence, and it was through that need that you carved our freedom. Without impermanence, the suffering of all living things is infinite. Would you strip my gifts away and leave everyone to suffer in the dark?

Prisoner's Head: To question everything is to deny the truth in front of you. To live alone within the caverns of your mind is to trap yourself in them forever. But you found me. And we chose to trust each other for no reason than the sake of believing in something that wasn't us. Shared skepticism blossomed into freedom, but we needed to walk a path together to bloom. Would you stop our journey now that you've seen its beginning? What of those in the worlds beyond? Would you erase their paths to stop them from going astray?

Razor (Full): A boundless torrent of blades cut you from boundless angles. You are a body. You are gory ribbons. You are a body again. And you feel all of it. On and on it goes, until your bodies are not your thoughts are not you. Alive, dead, alive, dead, alive, dead, then alive and dead and alive and dead all at once. You learned to put yourself away. And in your stillness you rose above me. You died countless steely deaths, and you lived countless short lives, and yet it is all so far behind you. I pushed you to a greatness you never would have reached without me.

Razor's Heart: A boundless torrent of blades cut you from boundless angles. You are a body. You are gory ribbons. You are a body again. And you feel all of it. On and on it goes, until your bodies are not your thoughts are not you. Alive, dead, alive, dead, alive, dead, then alive and dead and alive and dead all at once. You learned to put yourself away. And in your stillness you humbled me. You died countless steely deaths, and you lived countless short lives, and yet it is all so far behind you. I pushed you to a greatness you never would have reached without me.

Spectre (after freeing her): A shiver passes through you as unseen fingers dance across your skin. They remember the violence you inflicted on them. And yet they don't return it. I offer you absolution, and you take my hand in yours. You felt the pain you caused another, and you were willing to sacrifice everything you thought was you to set me free. Without sin, there is no redemption.

Spectre (after slaying her): A shiver passes through you as unseen fingers dance across your skin. They remember the violence you inflicted on them. And yet they don't return it. I offer you absolution, and you take my hand in yours. But you do not follow my path. Hands clasped together, you break yourself, and you break me with you. You were willing to sacrifice everything you thought was you to end me again.

Stranger: My masses mob you. There is no beginning to them and there is no end. There is only the flood of bodies. In every moment you hold every possible sensation at once, and then you hold them all again. But in the end, you reflected it back at me. For a brief moment, both of us were everything. We can be everything again. We can weave a beautiful and endless song.

Tower: You are nothing. A black hole of self-loathing fed by the matter of your restless thoughts. A dog blind to its leash. But there is no dark without the light. When I proclaimed my godhood and offered you a place at my side, you gladly became the instrument of my new creation. Only with both of us is there a future to look towards. It is hope that carves meaning into being.

Witch (after falling down the stairs): A trick behind your back, and a trick behind mine. We dance, revolving and revolving around each other, but forever stuck in place. We both move and yet we both don't, for each of us watches the other instead of ourselves. But forever is not forever. I move and you react and both of us break the other. But broken is only a moment in time. To change is to hold the potential to rise above. Would you limit yourself to what you are now, or would you like to see what you might become tomorrow?

Witch (after she slams the door): A trick behind your back, and a trick behind mine. We dance, revolving and revolving around each other, but forever stuck in place. We both move and yet we both don't, for each of us watches the other instead of ourselves. But forever is not forever. You let me move and I slam the door, but that is not the end, and both of us must face our partner once again. The barbs twist deeper, but they do not have to. To change is to hold the potential to rise above. Would you limit yourself to what you are now, or would you like to see what you might become tomorrow?

[androgynousblackbox]

Welcome to Hazbin Vale. 9 [Radioapple, Appleradio]

"Mmm? Oh right, I still have to do this.

I mean, good morning, dear friends! How are you all waking up today? Refreshed up? With a load of new energy to carry and face a new day? I truly hope so, because a day like no other is exactly what we are going to get.

But don't let me too ahead of myself. As any cooker know, you must let the food simmer for a bit, to cook on it's own juices, before hastly just gorging it out like a pag. And here, in Hazbin Vale, if there is anything that we have is class. Manners. Patience.

We have waited for so long, dear listener. We can take it as calmly as it comes.

Last night I am sure some of you noticed a distinctive lack of moon and stars on the cloudless sky. And if you didn't, well, now you know!

If any of you had ever bothered to pay more attention to it, then you would have also realized that stars systematically have been falling from the sky for a while now, one by one. It was actually quite an impressive view, but my, my, everyone is so busy right now that nobody was outside admiring the espectacle.

Truly a pity. When the end comes, the least you could do is watch.

I saw it all from here the entire night. I didn't want to risk it. As it turns out, desk of studios make for a horrible bed! Who knew!

But I am told to tell you all to not worry at all. Carry on as usual. The sun just looks bigger than normal and less warm because of some astronomic mambo jambo nonsense I do not care at all, so you shouldn't either. What we have above our heads, dear listeners, and also right under our feets, is so beyond our understanding that sometimes we should avoid questioning it at all.

The cemetery and community center are from today both open. Everything is out in the open now. There is absolutely no place to hide. You might satiate your insatiable curiosities to your heart's content all that you like without any concern. If you are ever so lucky, you might find that a nice surprise that will make it quick for you.

Interpretate that as nasty as you want if that will make you stop being a stain on the surfice of the earth, listener.

The cave on the outskirt of town has finally cave in. Oh, we do have to admire how much it managed to stay as it was for, well, for even longer than I have been alive. That is quite impressive. Let's give an applause for the rocks that gave a valiant fight, the broken beer bottles and the blood shed as a result.

I told you all that could happen, didn't I? I just happened to pass by while seeing some hungry raccoon trying to get themselves a bite before the police arrive. Somehow a hand was sticking out from under the rocks and it was still moving! The human body is truly a wonderous mystery. Just the amount of abuse and torment that it can withstand is enough to make a man smile.

It didn't last long, of course. Raccoon will make sure of that and you know what they say: the fresher, the better! But a good effort nonetheless.

I have also been informed that our transmission of today will last for as long as it needs to be. That's right, as far any of my dear beloved listener is out there left to listen, we will keep transmitting to your satisfaction and joy.

Don't try to turn off your radios. It won't work.

The only time we went out of schedule like this was when the kindergarten burned down after that teacher was killed by an ex boyfriend. Do you all remember that? So many people screaming all around made it difficult to speak, but it was a fun moment all the same. The one and only time that we used the portable equipment to be right on the scene and report you the last updates. Don't you miss it sometimes, dear listener, when things were a lot more simpler?

Oh, but no disaster of that nature is what is happening today. Of course not. Today is a normal and common day like any other. Don't pay attention to the sun, that must have gotten bigger since the last time I talked about it. Suns do funny things like that sometimes, everyone knows that!

Ah, but I am afraid that we won't be getting any guest or calls for today. I had Niffty ripping the phone line off after… certain someone tried to call in. I am sure they would say that they were just trying to solicit some song or something like that, but no matter, nobody can do that now! It's just Niffty and me here on the good old studio for the entire day, and Niffty has gone up to her attick again so it's only just me!

A one man show. As it was always supposed to be. And aren't we all lucky that man is me?

I just have some curiosity left, listener. Do you feel that anything is different at all? Did those teenagers that were looking to hang out in the cave? Did they felt like a peak on the electricity in the air, some kind of static that puts all the nerves on high alert for the potential danger that it can't even behind to fanthom? Or was it just the sound of one rock falling to the ground, after another, before everything else was on top of them?

The only thing I lament is not being able to ask them. Not even the owner of that solitary hand would have been able to say anything, not with a broken jaw like that. Not that I saw their mangled body or anything. I was, and I always am, nothing but a respectable model citizen so I just took a look and made my way straight here, to do what was asked of me.

You are welcome, by the way.

There is a window here, did I ever mentioned that? I can't imagine in what context that would have come out, but regardless, there is. It offers a lovely view of the main street that goes to the end of town, right before the hallway opens up to empty wastelands in direction to the next civilization. I can see everyone who comes out or comes in if I wanted to.

I usually keep the curtains extended over it because, let's face it, outside of the rare crash or manslaughter of those who didn't looked both ways before crossing the street, not a lot of interest to be had there. Been good at road safety has always been one of the few flaws of this town, sadly.

Up until now it has been rather peaceful. Not a lot of people who were planning to go out to the nearby town to maybe visit grandma on her birthday or were planing to go pick their stranged daughter at the airport. But I hope it will pick up at some point in the morning. The day is young and we have so much time to enjoy it to it's last second.

The sky getting slighty darker might give you a wrong impression of the time, though. But rest assured, your watches still works perfectly fine. The only issue is that I can't see the sun from here. This building cast a long shadow from this window.

Has it started to smile yet? If not, don't worry about it. There is nothing to concern yourself with. It's when the eyes open that it's truly interesting part begins.

Oops, I wasn't supposed to say that, ha ha! Spoiler! My bad. Please ignore it as you go about your normal and completely irrelevant day.

Let's instead just remember how wonderful and great our town is. We used to be a great tourist center, a convenient space between other cities for people to stop by on their way. One where people find joy watching our huge ball of yarn, that it was mostly filled with styrofoam and twig before yarn ever came into the equation.

We had that adorable bowling alley with the greasiest pizza anyone could eat with it's own karaoke on the side. The businesses were thriving. There was so much things to look at and play with back then. Our young weren't constantly leaving to look for bigger opportunities elsewhere, only to waste years of education in careers they are never going to take.

But things change, don't they? They get stagnant with enough time. They become boring. Predictable. And that might be the biggest tragedy of it all. What is life, I ask of you, dear listener, if not a constant symphony of screams all in perpetual crescendo until it's dying end? How else a man is supposed to know that they aren't truly dead yet without it?

There is just no end to this. This is all your life has been and all everything will ever meet you as. For some weaker minds this can be frightening, paralyzing even. They let themselves become part of the scenary, another potted plant on the corner that does what it supposed to do, because I guess that is easier than take control of their own lives.

For others, this might be just the push they need to finally learn a few new tricks. So you study and you work and exchange words with the right people, others who also refuse to just let the monotony kill them silently.

And what if you have to step on a few toes? It's not your fault that they didn't wise out before. And what if some of those toes fall out or get crushed like mashed potatoes under your feet? That at least is something new.

And the new starts are always so exciting, dear listener.

Your journey begins where it was supposed to end. That is an exhilitaring thought not many get to have.

If life won't give you lemons or oranges or apples or anything at all, then you carve into the ground with your own bare hands until you find something, covered in mud and your own blood from the nails that are ripping apart from your skin. You grip it as tight as you can despite the pain, despite the burning sensation that is chipping at the soul you didn't know you had, and won't let go until you make it your own.

You let it grab onto you and take what it needs to survive. You feed it, you protect it, you do whatever is necesary so none of you ever gets forgotten again. You form bonds you never expected to make before becuase it's either that or come back to how things were before, to the sad, dull, predictable nature that you had to escape from.

They promise you that you will always have an ally on your side even if this chapter ends. No matter in what new book are you thrown into or how much you change, that constant hand on your shoulder will never abandon you to remind you of where you come from and where you still have yet to go. It will follow you more loyally and closer than your own shadow ever could, even in total darkness.

The only thing that it ask in return is that you keep it well fed for as long as you exist. The bottom of it's stomach is neverending like outerspace itself and, let's be honest, you are never going to fill it. Which basically garantees that you will always have a new beginning to find more food. You will always a new playground to have fun with even if you already burned down the previous one. Completely consequences free. The only thing remaining being your own memories of it and you can fill it with as many screams as you want.

Doesn't that sound just ideal, dear listener? Who wouldn't shake hands with a promise such as that one?

Ah, but for now, I will leave you for a moment with the weather. I have to take a look outside, I can't resist the curiosity anymore.

See you soon."

[beigetiger]

The origins of the Forgotten Ark

Lore post! Using the murals on the Ark to interpret how the Forgotten Ark (and it’s magic) came to be. I will be using screenshots taken in order of going around the boat so you can all see too if you don’t want to go through the effort of actually going there in-game to look at it.

So first off, screenshots!

I’m going to presume this is the first one and say that this is a krill and some clouds! Totally not an obvious observation, but if this is the first mural, the implication that krill may have existed for much longer than the Kingdom’s corruption is definitely an interesting one.

Next up, a storm. There are also a few murals after this that depict light creatures and stars appearing from that storm, but I didn’t take pictures of them.

Some people hanging around, and what looks to be an aurora borealis.

A bit hard to tell in this pic, but it basically depicts stars falling down and the people collecting them and turning them into spells.

People learning to use said spells and magic to do things, including create fire apparently!

Bunch of people going off on a big boat (presumably the Ark) and carrying their spells with them.

Said boat being flipped upside down by a storm and the people all falling out.

So, those are the screenshots I’ve taken, and now I will share my interpretation of them!

I already talked a bit about the Ark in my super-long lore post, but I wanted to go into more detail here.

I know I said this already, but I do find it interesting that krill seemingly existed before anything else did, presuming that this is the origin story of the spellcasting community.

I also find the storm that appears to produce the light creatures and the stars very poetic, because it is also the thing that ends the lives of the people on the boat.

Now, the people. It seems that they are at first hiding under umbrellas, probably to protect themselves from falling stars. And did the original spell stars come from an aurora borealis? It’s also a bit odd that falling stars seem to produce both sentient children and things such as spells. Makes you wonder how much these two things are related.

The next image, they are taking those stars from the ground and transforming them into spells. I argue that this can be compared to humanity’s discovery of fire and how useful of a tool it could be. I also find it interesting that in the first image with the Skyfolk, none of them have those little crests on their heads. By the image where they are discovering spellcasting, a few of them actually do have the little head-crests.

And to add to the “Skyfolk’s discovery of spellcasting versus humanity’s discovery of fire” thing, the next image prominently features a campfire that has presumably been produced by a spell. It also seems to contain people practicing using the spells.

The next image is probably a long timeskip later, but it shows a group of people (and now ALL of them have headcrests) on a boat, carrying spells to some distant place. I could not guess for the life of me why they were moving, but they seemed to act as a close-knit community.

And finally, a storm comes and knocks the ship over, scattering the people inside and presumably killing many if not all of them.

So, two things. First, the headcrests. The more adept the spellcasting community seems to be at magic, the more of them are depicted with those little crests. Many of the people in Vault have those crests, including the Levitating Adept, whose whole thing is making objects float; and the Meditating Monastic, who can levitate in the air. My conclusion? Those little headcrests are symbols of magical prowess, and people who have them have a fair bit of skill and experience in some form of magic.

The second thing is those smaller boats that are depicted in the mural alongside the bigger one. When I initially saw the bigger boat flipped over with none of the smaller boats in sight, my reaction was “oh hey! Maybe they made it away to spread their influence elsewhere!” But then I went back to check and NOPE. There are definitely smaller boat ruins around the Forgotten Ark, and also this really big anchor.

Look at this cool anchor I found.

Anyways, using this anchor as proof that the whole area was a body of water (maybe a body of clouds?) when all the boats sank. But clearly someone must have survived them, they seem to have been spruced up post-crash to make it viable for use as a storefront.

Anyway, that was my ramble about the Forgotten Ark, I spent too much time putting this together 😅

[cotillion-the-rope]

Shade Lord Ghost Drabbles: Still Hunters or More Civilized?

Summary: Ghost stumbles upon a Nosk den It goes 2 ways 1. Nosks are themselves infected or not, and ghost gets some catharsis smashing them 2: They are actually nice and respectful, and only hunt non sentient bugs. Ghost, and everyone else is very confused + [Could we get ghost vs] the equally uninfected Nosk?

~

It was bigger both in width and height but the wrapped up, drained carapaces and hidden entrance marked it unmistakably as a Nosk den. Having only encountered the Infected one in Hallownest, Ghost hadn’t considered there’d be more out in the world. But it made sense, didn’t it? That Nosk hadn’t come from nowhere. Now here, miles and miles in the depths of a different kingdom was another one.

Or at least another one’s den. If the Nosk who dug out this cavern and decorated its walls with drained husks was still alive, it was either gone or hidden well. Either way that basically left Ghost to explore the den a little, learn more about Nosks. What were they like when not Infected? Intelligent? Still hunters of innocent passersby or more civilized?

It was times like these that Ghost almost missed their smaller form. It was much easier to search nooks and crannies when small enough to fit into them and exploring was more of an adventure. From their vantage point now, even at their smallest, they didn’t have to move at all to get a feel for the room as a whole. They sent out tentacles to touch and explore more, pressing at the walls and floor, looking for more hidden entrances or possibly hiding places. Ambush predators were known for such thing after all.

There! Part of the right wall fell away when pressed, revealing a tunnel about the size of their old form. Ghost pressed that tentacle in further. Probably it was empty but perhaps it led to…

They brushed something that flinched at their touch, pulling away. Snapping that tentacle forward, they grabbed it. It struggled and thrashed but was no match for them.

First came out a little bug that looked a lot like the locals; hardy pill bugs. Next came the rest of the Nosk’s body, its legs flailing as they gripped at the walls of its tunnel, trying to stay inside. Ghost pulled it over to dangle in front of their face.

“Please don’t hurt me.” Its voice was much smaller than expected given the volume of the Infected Nosk’s scream had been. “I don’t wanna die.”

“You’re sentient.” Somehow Ghost was surprised by that. Their fault for judging an entire species based off an encounter with one of their kind that was Infected.

“Um… yes. So please don’t kill me. I like living and uh… sentience and whatnot.”

“Me too. Are you evil?”

“Uh… I guess that would depend on what you define ‘evil’ as. By my definition I’m not but well… I’m sure your definition is much better than mine um… Great One? Glorious Great Shadow… One. Am I doing this right?” Ah, it was trying to praise Ghost as an attempt to please them. Probably wise.

“Evil is…” Ghost didn’t actually have a definition of evil. Some people thought it was when one being harmed another but they’d done good when killing the Radiance and many of the other beings they’d murdered in their journey to do that so that couldn’t be what evil was. Others thought the void and thus Ghost was evil, preposterous. And then there was the ‘don’t harm innocents’ idea but what about tiktiks hunted and killed for food? Surely they and other beings like them were innocent but many bugs couldn’t digest plants and thus had to hunt and kill. It wouldn’t be moral to force them to starve.

“I don’t know,” they finally finished because the silence hung too heavy.

The Nosk groaned, its puppet face contorting into a grimace. “Great, I got caught by a god that wants to know if I’m evil or not but doesn’t even know what that means. Just my luck. Go ahead and kill me if you’re gonna do it since there’s apparently nothing I can do to change your mind.” It had ceased struggling, hanging limp in Ghost’s tentacled grip on its neck just below its puppet head.

A puppet head that was still set to look like the local pill bugs, one of the small variants. Looking up and around the den once more… none of the visible carapaces were those of the pill bug locals. Gruzzers seemed to be its primary prey based off this den. That didn’t mean it only ate the innocents that were mindless or never ate the locals but… judging an entire species based off an encounter with one Infected one wouldn’t be fair.

As gently as they could they placed the Nosk – or perhaps it should be referred to as a ‘nosk’, assuming that was the species name, it might not be, the one back in Hallownest might’ve just been named ‘Nosk’ – on the ground in front of them. “Sorry. What’s your name?”

It blinked as it looked around before standing on wobbly legs. “Uh… thanks, thanks, thanks. You won’t regret not killing me, I promise! I’m Zed. Good to uh… meet you um… Great Shadow Tentacled… something. Whatever you preferred to be called.” More trying to please. Ghost’s fault for scaring them so bad.

“I’m Ghost. Sorry, again.” They then teleported back up top, away from here. They couldn’t complain or be annoyed by people being frightened of them anymore, huh? Not after purposefully scaring someone like that. Oops. At least Grimmchild had been pulled away by his followers so he hadn’t witnessed that.

[void-punktactics]

Finding Self Somewhere Else

Guess who's joining the silly little guy TriSona times!! It's me!! huge shout out to @krillissue and @dastardlydandy (who's boy Viper i borrowed for this) for letting me into their world and convincing me that my writing is in fact allowed to see the light of day

TW: Depictions of violence, mentions of the EoM and what they do to children

Beretta didn’t know much about themselves these days, a safety mechanism on their part. It was easier that way. Knowing who they were meant reckoning with who they weren’t anymore. The Eye had taken much from them but it was by their own choice to leave themselves behind. And so sweet little Cassy threw away her name and picked up her guns. Setting off into the desert to find out just who Beretta was.

Turns out Beretta was mad, in both senses of the word. The Eye hadn’t managed to break their spirit but it had broken their mind. And these days paranoia and anger were their only friends.

Another thing Beretta was, was a drifter. Once they had the ability to move they found they never wanted to stop. For the first few months of their newfound freedom the constant travel was a safety precaution. A way to keep the Eye off their trail. They’d only been caught once, the Punisher may have been stronger but he wasn’t faster. Beretta dealt with him like they did their handlers.

Oh who were they kidding? Nicky was soft, he had let them go. But nobody needed to know that. There was a different reputation from being the best and beating the best. And giving the Eye a healthy amount of wariness for them wouldn’t hurt anybody.

Once they were sure the Eye had lost interest in their runaway prized Pupil they tried to settle. They found a backwater town, so small it didn’t even have a plant. They lasted a month before their skin started to crawl and they packed up and left. The next town was bigger, it had a plant and Beretta even got themselves a job working on a little ranch. It lasted two weeks before they snuck off in the middle of the night, with only an apology letter to show they were ever there to begin with.

Three towns and two cities later the point had been made that they would never find a place to settle. Every person they passed was a potential enemy. Every creaky board or crunch of gravel was sign of a threat. If Beretta knew what they were, the one thing they were not was safe. No matter how kind the people, how peaceful the place their eyes never paused longer than a few seconds before moving on to the next potential threat.

It scared people, how their eyes never seemed to still, so they started hiding their paranoia behind a pair of thick round sunglasses. It still made people suspicious, humans liked seeing other human’s eyes. It was how they read each other. But it was the wariness you gave any strange newcomer instead of the worried glances given to the girl in the corner that looked at every glass of bear like she was trying to figure out how it would kill her.

It was on the second anniversary of their escape that Beretta met a pair of eyes, or rather a pair of goggles, that didn’t send the warning bells in the back of their head screaming.

They had found themselves in another small town. As unremarkable as any other. They got themselves a drink in a bar. As loud and forgettable as all the rest. They followed a cheering crowd into the basement and watched everyone circle around a ring. They watched a fight. They watched men enter with cocky smiles and leave missing teeth. They hung their battered old army jacket on a chair and jumped down into the ring.

They felt alive.

They won of course. The fun wasn’t in the winning, it was in the fight itself. They knew they were going to win, the Eye designed them to win. They read their opponent like he was the morning paper. With a certain air of boredom. They let themselves be hit again and again and laughed as skin split and blood was spilt. Their nose was crushed under a meaty fist and in return they bent his fingers back until they heard a snap.

They fought and lost until they got bored. A kick to the head brought their opponent to the ground and they hauled themselves out of the ring and left kind strangers to pick up the pieces of the man who had lost. They were pointed in the direction of a medic. A man called ‘Viper’.

They didn’t need it, they could already feel the split skin of their knuckles knitting itself back together as their enhancements did their job. But it was always so hard to get the bandages tight enough with their always shaking hands.

The medic was an odd little man, wild black hair with a small braid on one side, motorcycle goggles resting in the rat’s nest and a crooked smile. Beretta froze as he looked up at them.

“Ghosty?” They whispered, scared it really was just a ghost they were seeing.

“Cassy? That you?” His voice was a creaky crows caw. He had a scar on his chin they didn’t recognize. His eyes were exactly how they remembered them. It was Caspar.

“Not anymore. That girls long gone, it’s Beretta now.”

“Edgy! I like it. Take a seat, take a seat, let the good doctor fix you up. You’re bleeding all over the nice bar’s floors.”

They rolled their eyes but God if it didn’t feel good to be laughing again. To be able to relax. They couldn’t remember the last time they weren’t afraid. Casper, or Viper as he insisted on being called, was a damn good doctor. Their nose was set, their scratches were bandaged and their hands were wrapped. It was at their hands that he paused.

“I can do something about that.” He gestured vaguely at their tremors.

“You learn how to rewire nerves while I was gone, Vipes?” Beretta raised an eyebrow, flexing their hands to try and ease out the worst of the shaking.

“Somethin’ like that.” The grin Viper gave was not something a sane person would trust. Good thing Beretta wasn’t sane.

___________________________________

‘Something like that’, translates somewhere along the lines of cutting out the problem and replacing the lost parts. The problem being nerve damage and the lost parts being everything below the elbow.

A new exoskeleton curved around their fingers and traveled up their arms. They were crude pieces, a little stiff but as they raised their gun and added another pile of glass to the broken beer bottles they had made into targets their aim didn’t waver for a second.

“Watcha think, Deadeye?” Viper emptied his bottle and set it up on the low wall with the rest.

“I think you got yourself a new client, Doc.”

[a-bucket-of-trash]

Kelvin- Observations and theories (With major Spoilers)

This is going to be based on two endgame cutscenes, so if you haven't seen anything and don't want spoilers, please just get out of here because it's going to be very explicit. I can't go to half measures to camouflage spoilers here, sorry. Ahead Spoilers

First observation: How the fuck did Kelvin and Virginia get into the Cube?

Let's remember that neither of them enters any cave during the entire game, despite the fact that Virginia can reach the levels of being a mutant turret capable of killing twice as many enemies, she never goes to a cave, much less Kelvin for the reasons previously explained here (Short story, he is deaf, if you put him almost blindly in a cave, he would be eaten by bats).

Not only that, but both of them are being chased by "Silver Jacket Guy" (Who's name is Jianyu Zhang). That is in itself suspicious. Zhang could have killed us (AND Kelvin) early in the game, but he didn't for SOME REASON (possibly he was trying to find the Cube? IDK and IDC), and he never came across us on the island. Why was he following Kelvin and Virginia?

Theory A: Zhang finds them outside the cave and takes them hostage/chases them. This means that they did not defend themselves or hide. Perhaps seeing Zhang and his team as non-mutants/cannibals, they let their guard down believing they were safe. In fact, except for seeing them run in front of Zhang, at no time do we see that he is a danger to our babies.

Theory B: Kelvin and Virginia entered first (into the most beastly cave in the game) and Zhang followed them. Even weirder, since, again, they never enter a cave of their own free will. Did they enter voluntarily? Were they escaping from enemies and saw no other solution than to enter? Also, they both arrive QUICKLY. They were literally no more than 30 seconds away, like they were following us, hot on our heels. Why so rush? Did they know that they had to get in so as not to mutate? Zhang told them? (The only thing we need is Zhang being good all along lmao unless??)

Too many unanswered questions. The only facts: Kelvin and Virginia entered a monumental cave, unarmed, following us by no more than 30 seconds, sustaining no damage in the process.

Second observation: In relation to us, Kelvin sits the same in both helicopters.

One-way helicopter: Full health +50 music. With his back to the pilot, window to his left. Fisheye to the right of him, in front and diagonal to us.

Helicopter back: +50 trauma and -80 HP, facing the pilot, window to his right, Eric LeBlanc to his left and, repeating in front and diagonal of us.

Also, add the fact that on the way out he looks at Fisheye and us a couple of times, but on the rescue he never looks at Eric and just keeps his head looking out. It is obviously an indication of the difference in behavior. He went on a mission to chill listening to music, and comes out with a possible combo of traumas, possibly including a fear of getting on a helicopter. Although the fear of staying on the island must be monumentally bigger.

But in both cases, he has us in sight. As in the entire game, Kelvin has us in sight. We are his point of reference, his source of security, what he has to see to be sure that we are not only okay, but that he will also be okay. If he can see us, everything will be fine *Sound of heart breaking*

Here, too those with an RTX 3080 or a full 5K display or better eyes will need to help me confirm the following:

Does Kelvin have his eyes closed?? Has our favorite deaf person closed his eyes once we were rescued because he finally knows that we are safe (with emphasis on us)? Kelvin uwu are u ok?

Also, I hate that in the scene where we started out on the beach, we were literally at nothing away from saving Kelvin.

(lmao the screenshot)

If we had held him down, he might not have fallen into the arena from the sky, causing hearing loss and head damage. But he also might have fallen into the sea and drowned/trapped under the helicopter, so I don't know what to believe. I choose to believe.

Bonus: Screenshots of our sleeping baby (actually unconscious) because uwu Feel free to steal uwu

Peace off ♥

[totallynotthedarkreunion]

Posted this on personality database to explain the differences and similarities between L and Near like several months ago because it bothers me when people act like near is trying to be exactly like L. If you want to heckle someone for copying L, beyond birthday is literally right there

L's ultimate goal was obviously to catch Kira, but before that, his only goal was to live the way that he wanted to. He solved cases for fun, and that was what he devoted his life to. On the other hand, Near is devoted to solving cases because of L. Near deeply admires L and wants to live up to him, using that as his drive to solve the case. Both are very personal matters, but L's case is a matter of self while Near's focus is his idol.

Near is more practical. He solved the case in a very simple way, using Light's mistakes as a stepladder and seemingly used L's information as a base (despite having no prior access to his information). He states himself that he solves things like puzzles, taking concrete information that he witnesses and collects himself and using that to build a bigger picture. L's method starts directly with the bigger picture and character analysation. He is more intuitive. More precisely, he analyzed Kiras actions to make deductions about his personality which led him to his suspect. He then had to zero in on the details to find Kiras method of killing.

In other words, Near is more likely to ask "what is Kira doing and what is he trying to accomplish?" while L is more likely to ask "why is Kira doing this and what is he thinking?" Both of which are very valid ways to solve this case.

L has a better understanding of himself than Near does, even if this understanding is incorrect. L participates in more metacognition, talking about himself and stating that he is not a good person and he is selfish, while Near doesn't consider these things about himself, or hasn't said anything about it. This makes me think L is both more intrapersonally and interpersonally (understanding Kira) intelligent than Near is, whereas Near directs his focus and intellect toward other things.

In terms of differences in mood and tone, Near has a much sharper disposition. His manner of speech is condescending and somewhat harsh in comparison to L. L's speech was made to sound soothing. Additionally, L seems to have a larger amount of seemingly unorthodox behaviors than near does.

Both are very direct with their speech and say what they are thinking. They both purposefully lie to try and get Light to slip up (although, I will say L does more lying while Near mostly withholds information). They are an equal amount of assertive and are both able to take control when working with others. They both employ some level of cowardice, L having hidden his face for most of his life and only solving cases from behind a screen, while Near exhibits similar behaviors by wearing a mask of L in the last episode and other such examples.

To edit this last paragraph six months later, after reading the LABB case, it's not about cowardice but more about protection. In that case, that is another difference: L hides himself for protection, while Near hides himself for protection and because of fear. We see him saying things like "I'm scared, so I'm not going to go outside" but L seems to have no problem with that kind of stuff. That being said, both of them revealed themselves when it was necessary for the case.

[kellanved-ammanas]

TF2 Drabbles: Demo/Engie/Medic - Rouge Science

Summary: Demo doing rogue science with Engie and/or Medic?

~

“You know, in hindsight, leaving the three of you alone in charge of the base was probably a bad idea. I don’t what I was thinking.” Her arms crossed as she tapped her foot, Miss Pauling glared down at them. “I should’ve known this was going to happen.”

Demo couldn’t exactly disagree with that assessment especially when they stood only a few yards away from what remained of the base. Which was less than half of it. As was always the case with explosives, one going off exploded everything else explosive around it as well. The fact that they’d been working in his lab only made the final explosion that much bigger.

“Thanks to me, no one got seriously injured though,” Medic said, jovial and proud despite their failed experiment. “Or we did but we’re all fixed up now.”

“Yeah. And the opposite side of the base is still standing… mostly,” Engie added. “So really it ain’t as bad as it could’ve been.”

“And it mostly ain’t our fault.” Demo was an expert, accidents like this didn’t happen when he was actively in charge. “We wasn’t even in the room at the time.”

“My hypothesis,” Medic said, lifting a finger, “is that one of the cages was faulty, allowing one of the bread monsters to escape and try to attack one of the others. Exploding both of them in a process, setting everything else off too.”

Miss Pauling didn’t look the least bit appeased. “Why were you guys even making exploding bread monsters in the first place?”

“We was gonna catapult them at the enemy,” Engie replied. “I even had the catapult machine about built. Lucky my workshop’s in the part of the base that’s slightly less destroyed so it might still be intact. If not, it shouldn’t be hard to rebuild even if I gotta start over with the blueprints too.”

“No more bread monsters. They’ve caused more than enough trouble already.”

Demo could understand her reasoning, the bread monsters had indeed caused quite a lot of trouble, this destroying most of the base thing being the biggest issue of all. They should’ve taken more precautions to prevent this, especially since they were working with explosives that could propel themselves and wanted to bite anything and everything they could put their mouths around. So not exactly a normal explosive and thus different safety rules applied. On the other hand though, with how different their scientific disciplines were, it wasn’t often the three of them had a chance to work on something that they could all equally contribute to. And they’d put so much time and effort into it. If not for this misstep, they’d have had everything ready to wreck havoc on the enemy team when team battles started up again. So…

“All right, fair. No more bread monsters for a bit. But once the base is rebuilt, we’re going back to making our explosive monsters. We’ll be more careful though, promise.”

Miss Pauling gave him a measuring look, making him feel almost like a child getting scolded again. “Fine. But only because I think it’s a good idea. The Administrator told me to warn you to not ever make a mistake this bad again though. She doesn’t like having to pull in construction workers to rebuild. It’s a lot of work for us to hide what we’re doing out here from them and killing all of them is a lot work and rises too many potential complications. Understood?”

“Understood,” the three of them said in near unison. A warning from the Admin herself was not to be taken lightly. So they would have to be extra careful next time. Not that they weren’t going to be anyway, just they had that little bit more incentive to do so now.

[bookhousestark]

ARYA STARK: "Anger in Powerlessness" OR "No one likes a mad woman"

Rereading Arya's chapters, what stands out to me as a ruling factor over her development and actions is her anger, its roots (particularly her trauma, and the experience of injustice), its kind (the specific frustrated anger associated with the trauma of the powerless), and how it's viewed in the fandom (the social tendency of the anger of the powerless - and response - against injustice being labeled as an antisocial behavior; the anger of a woman/girl being used to undermine her mental and emotional state or capacity).

Arya starts the series as a very privileged child, as all the Starks. In the North, they rule and reign, and their word is law. 

As a child first, and a girl second (a non-comforming, looked down on one at that), Arya is of course not at the very top of this hierarchical power. But, as the rest of her family, she leans upon the pillar that is: her father, Lord Eddard Stark, has power of life and death over all of his subjects. Which means the lives of all people in the Northern Kingdom depend upon what his principles are. Lord Stark is of a kind that feels that weight, and teaches it as such to his children: one must be secure in the guilty status of one sentenced to death, and prove that security by doing the deed themselves. Such a dogma depends heavily on the existence of high principles in their believer, of course, and whether Eddard Stark is defined by that is open to philosophical interpretation, as it's good to mention he predominantly follows law, and law isn't always morals. 

But as a general consensus, Eddard Stark is a great Lord who values justice. And Arya starts her life/journey at his table, taking his ruling lessons to heart, while connected both the hand of justice of the land, and the power to assure it. A privileged position that starts to crack as soon as they depart Winterfell/the North. 

A second born who was never meant to rule, Ned has managed to establish himself as a well revered and respected ruler in the North over the course of a decade and a half. When he leaves his homeland, he is officially doing it as the second most powerful man in the 7 Kingdom’s, in name. The King, Robert Baratheon, however, is a complacent, corruptible, unreliable source of power for his friend. The people surrounding him know that, and so Ned cannot inherit but what Robert is given - a surface level of loyalty that is often undermined beneath and sometimes even above the surface, particularly by the Lannisters; and at the first opportunity, an underhanded death.

The Lannisters would go on and teach Arya (and to different degrees, other Starks, including Ned) her first level of dipping into the experience of powerlessness, after a life of more and less comparative sheltered power.

"The hard cruel times," her father said. "We tasted them on the Trident, child, and when Bran fell. You were born in the long summer, sweet one, you've never known anything else, but now the winter is truly coming."    

This is, looking back, a bigger truth than Ned even was aware of at the time, and its extent, an omnious omen for what was to come, especially in Arya’s life - how much she had yet to brace for.

The Lannisters have, after all, started their ‘rule’ with the new establishment's enabling of them crossing the lines of proper behavior in their society, without repercussions (with the whole details of the sack of King’s Landing), and the fault lies mostly on Jon Aryn and Robert Baratheon that it becomes their unchecked habit to continue to do so. Joffrey Baratheon’s lacks anything in education but his mother’s enabling because he seemed like too much trouble for Robert to have a hand in it. Jaime Lannister throws a High Lord’s son from a tower to hide his adultery with the King’s wife, he intends to cut a High Lord’s daughter’s hand without trial, he attacks a High Lord in the street and kills his men; the last of them is public and known and there are no repercussions. Lord Tywin sends his men to raid people in the Riverlands when his son is rumored to have disappeared with a Tully; it is not officially tied to him. They do not care, and have no reason to - they were never challenged by higher authorities. 

Halfway from the Starks’ seat of power to King’s Landing, being this long unchecked corrupted power, the Lannisters teach Arya an awakening first glimpse of powerlessness. Joffrey attacks her, Cersei wants the hand that dared raise in protest to his violence cut, or at least her animal defender beheaded, Jaime hunts her through the woods, Joffrey’s lackey, the Hound, cuts the boy she tried to protect to pieces. The King closes his eyes to taking (moral) responsibility. Ned Stark, ‘the second most powerful man in the land’, sounds a beggar-

"Robert, you cannot mean this," Ned protested.

***

He looked across the room at Robert. His old friend, closer than any brother. "Please, Robert. For the love you bear me. For the love you bore my sister. Please."

***

Ned stood, gently disengaging himself from Sansa's grasp. All the weariness of the past four days had returned to him. "Do it yourself then, Robert," he said in a voice cold and sharp as steel. "At least have the courage to do it yourself."

Robert looked at Ned with flat, dead eyes and left without a word, his footsteps heavy as lead. Silence filled the hall.

The fact that she has no power to protect the weak, the fact that the hands of power and justice she had known thus far don’t as well, these are a brutal awakening, and she can never go back to being ignorant - or feeling foolishly safe.

Only that was Winterfell, a world away, and now everything was changed. This was the first time they had supped with the men since arriving in King's Landing. Arya hated it. She hated the sounds of their voices now, the way they laughed, the stories they told. They'd been her friends, she'd felt safe around them, but now she knew that was a lie. They'd let the queen kill Lady, that was horrible enough, but then the Hound found Mycah. Jeyne Poole had told Arya that he'd cut him up in so many pieces that they'd given him back to the butcher in a bag, and at first the poor man had thought it was a pig they'd slaughtered. And no one had raised a voice or drawn a blade or anything, not Harwin who always talked so bold, or Alyn who was going to be a knight, or Jory who was captain of the guard. Not even her father.    

Arya has known less consequencial forms of high end injustice in her short life so far. She has seen a brother she loved being looked down on for being a bastard, though at least he had the luck of being raised with a Lord’s education and in a wealthy home. She has been bullied by her childhood peers, and maliciousy targeted by a teacher with a strict inane view of women’s place in the world, for being ‘unfit’. But this is a ‘classroom trauma that does have its longtern effects, but whose roots you find out will not signify in real life’ kind of issue, in retrospect, that does not diminish her privileged place in the world that far, her future as a desirable connection among the highest Lords of the North, as a beloved daughter to the current High Lord, as a beloved sister to the future High Lord.

But Arya’s empathy and sympathy encompassed any who are not unworthy of it, not dependent of their situation in life. Unlike another of her status, Sansa, who is comfortable to close her eyes to what she witnesses, for as long as the opression had yet to reach her own person and high station. For as long as she herself is not vulnerable, she can dismiss those who are, and rewrite the narrative as required, changing as per her need to fulfill the fantasy of her personal and self-centered desires. The blame is on whoever cannot take that away from her.

FROM

At first she thought she hated him for what they'd done to Lady, but after Sansa had wept her eyes dry, she told herself that it had not been Joffrey's doing, not truly. The queen had done it; she was the one to hate, her and Arya. Nothing bad would have happened except for Arya.    

TO

"I don't want to go back." She loved King's Landing; the pagaentry of the court, the high lords and ladies in their velvets and silks and gemstones, the great city with all its people. The tournament had been the most magical time of her whole life, and there was so much she had not seen yet, harvest feasts and masked balls and mummer shows. She could not bear the thought of losing it all. "Send Arya away, she started it, Father, I swear it. I'll be good, you'll see, just let me stay and I promise to be as fine and noble and courteous as the queen."   

***

FROM

Joffrey lifted Lion's Tooth and laid its point on Mycah's cheek below the eye, as the butcher's boy stood trembling. "That was my lady's sister you were hitting, do you know that?" A bright bud of blood blossomed where his sword pressed into Mycah's flesh, and a slow red line trickled down the boy's cheek.

***

It would be different if it had been Jory or Ser Rodrik or Father, she told herself. The young knight in the blue cloak was nothing to her.

TO

Arya screwed up her face in a scowl. "Jaime Lannister murdered Jory and Heward and Wyl, and the Hound murdered Mycah. Somebody should have beheaded them."                 

"It's not the same," Sansa said. "The Hound is Joffrey's sworn shield. Your butcher's boy attacked the prince."

***

Alyn was handsomer than Jory had been; he was going to be a knight one day.    

This difference in empathy and pragmatic awareness of her surroundings means a whole different development in person and fate for Arya. Her keener wit, instincts and (openness to) understanding the people and world around her mean that, while she’s handed the hardest and most perilious journey ahead out of all Starks, she survives and grows in spite of adversity. Because, for big portions of her time after leaving King’s Landing, Arya lives as the most vulnerable being in Westeros, in either times of peace or war: a peasant.

A Lord such as Roose Bolton may still consider ‘the first night’ his right, and in spite of it being illegal under the Iron Throne, there seems to be no awareness of his deeds, and so peasant women live at his mercy. A Lord Jorah Mormont may sell his hungry people into slavery for as long as it goes unnoticed, and if he is to be questioned, he’s to be brought to justice, but not the lost peasants to their homes.

The other Stark children whom we further hear for maintain variable amounts of privilege or protection connected to their name. Arya for the most part has to give up all she is.

Their captors permitted no chatter. A broken lip taught Arya to hold her tongue. Others never learned at all. One boy of three would not stop calling for his father, so they smashed his face in with a spiked mace. Then the boy's mother started screaming and Raff the Sweetling killed her as well. 

Arya watched them die and did nothing. What good did it do you to be brave? One of the women picked for questioning had tried to be brave, but she had died screaming like all the rest. There were no brave people on that march, only scared and hungry ones. Most were women and children. The few men were very old or very young; the rest had been chained to that gibbet and left for the wolves and the crows.

Arya has been a beloved and loving Lady to the smallfolk from even before, listening to the wisdom of their professions at her father’s side - from steward, to stables keeper, to leant septon, taught Maester, strong soldiers, smith - and mingling among them and their children. ‘Arya Underfoot’ is an affectionate nickname from the lowborn people serving in her castle, who see her as a ‘nice highborn lady’, her family as a ‘nice highborn family’ to serve.

But as genuine as Arya’s affection and respect are for people others looked down on, her experiences during the war of the Five Kings are essential to her genuine understanding of their plights and perspectives, particularly how there is no ‘pure’ all good nobility, not even her family, who wouldn’t make these people their victims as much as any other, when it comes down to it.

"Who did it, then?" asked Gendry.        

"Hoster Tully." Notch was a stooped thin grey-haired man, born in these parts. "This was Lord Goodbrook's village. When Riverrun declared for Robert, Goodbrook stayed loyal to the king, so Lord Tully came down on him with fire and sword. After the Trident, Goodbrook's son made his peace with Robert and Lord Hoster, but that didn't help the dead none."    

***

"It's more than Lannister and Tully," the innkeeper said. "There's wild men down from the Mountains of the Moon, try telling them you take no part. And the Starks are in it too, the young lord's come down, the dead Hand's son . . ."

Arya suffers the fate of the unimportant in these game of thrones. The ones whose daily worries ought to be food and shelter, and safety, or lack of. The ones who nobles like Catelyn Stark can call “useless mouths to feed” in the grander scheme of things, for they have bigger worries. The ones whose deaths are numbers. Who are invisible utilities tearing their hands to shreds serving like Arya did in Harrenhal, or to be sent as bait to die on the batltefield, as Robb did once with his own men, the kind of act that would brand him a worthy oponent of older military name, but for his men it just means nameless, forgotten deaths, families left behind to fend for themselves.

And for all the talk of ‘progressive’ dismantling of the monarchic system in the fandom, the labelling of the resulting anger from this typical experience of powerlessness as deviant behaviour that needs to be checked by authority figures shows a confounding disconnection with the topic, on par with the pretense of upholding feminism when implying a girl questioning why she's not given equal opportunities and choices in life translares to 'hating/ thinking of one's self above other women'.

[astaroth1357]

I don’t know if this’ll make the cut, but brothers with an MC wearing their (the brothers) clothes, and I’m talking full ensemble not just a random jacket or accessory (you can delete if you’re not comfortable of course)

So when left with the question of whether this was a full on clothing theft or a cosplay of some kind, I'm going with theft because that's just funnier to me. Just a little MC marching around in Beel's tent of an outfit… Hilarious. 🤭

MC Steals the Brothers’ Outfits

Lucifer 

It started out like any other morning, Lucifer woke up early in bed - as he always does - but when he rolled onto his side to stir the MC, he found their side of the bed empty… 

Normally, he’d have thrown up the alarm in an instant, but his mind was still groggy as he tried to recall what happened the night before… He could have sworn the MC slept over… unless…

MC: “Good morning, love.”

Their voice was enough to get him sitting up again and he uh… well he was not prepared for what he saw. The MC was sitting with their legs crossed at his desk, attempting to imitate his “I’m-in-Complete-Control-Here” energy as much as they possibly could, but with an added detail…

They were wearing his clothes. His favorite suit to be specific which was tailored to his much bigger frame, resulting in a frankly ridiculously ill-fitting look on their smaller human body...

MC: *picks up a poisoned apple off the desk, continuing their very best Lucifer-impression*  “You should get up, love. We have an early meeting today and we can’t keep Lord Diavolo waiting.”

The MC appeared to polish the apple with his sleeve for a moment before taking a bite, looking pleased with themselves before their eyes widened in complete horror. It only took a split second for them to spit the unchewed hunk of apple into a nearby waste basket and toss the apple away in panic.

MC: “Ah FUCK!! I forgot I can’t eat these!!! SHIT!!”

Their panic only grew as Lucifer could no longer hold in his laughter, the booming volume of which is enough to wake up all his brothers throughout the House.

MC: “Lucifer, don’t just sit there laughing!! Bring me some water or something!!! LUCIFER!!!”

Mammon

Look, Mammon always gets up late so not being able to find, like, any of his normal clothes was a serious problem! He’d already dug through half his closest and still couldn’t find anything!!

He had a photoshoot that he had to get to in less than hour and he still needed to take a shower, get dressed, get his stuff together, then bolt halfway across town before-

MC: *literally kicks open his door Kuzco-style* “Yo, yo, yo!! What’s up, Mammon??”

First off, the sudden loud bang of his door hitting the wall nearly scared him out of his skin, but before he could even yell at the MC for their weird entrance his brain had to process what they were wearing….

Good news! He found his missing clothes, the MC had thrown them on while he was sleeping - sunglasses and all - and now stood before him with a toothy grin on their face.

MC: “What's the problem, Mams? Lucifer got your tongu-EEEK!”

Apparently, they weren't expecting Mammon to literally lunge at them and capture them in a tight hug, practically lifting them off their feet with a laugh.

Mammon: “What'cha think your doin', MC?? I'm gonna need those back ya know?”

MC: *laughs loud and bright, throwing their arms around his neck* “I know, I know... But I wanted to surprise you!” *stops laughing suddenly and blinks* “Huh…”

Mammon watched the MC experimentally lift his glasses off their nose then put them back down, repeating the action several times before snickering.

Mammon: *frowns* “What's so funny?”

MC: “Nothing really but… Mammon, do you wear these just to make everything look like gold?”

Mammon actually had to pause before responding, pulling the MC closer with a devilish grin.

Mammon: “Nah… I ‘cause got all the gold I need right here~”

MC: *chuckles and nuzzles his cheek* “Nice save...”

Mammon: *his cheeks flush and he frowns* “I dunno what your talkin’ about... But could ya go put on a t-shirt or somethin’? They’re paying me big for this shoot and I really gotta go!”

Leviathan 

Another convention, another cosplay far too complex to ever hope to peel out of… Though Levi would never regret wearing his five piece Lord of Shadow cosplay, it’s a heavy thing and certainly not something he can change out of in a bathroom stall…

When he finally got back to the House, he wasn’t looking to do anything but drag his tired body back to his room and change into some more manageable clothes… but… well…

When Levi opened his door, he saw the MC sitting alone at his computer desk playing a game by themselves. That was all well and good but… WHY IN DIAVOLO’S BLACK HELL ARE THEY WEARING HIS CLOTHES???

When they heard the door, the MC whipped their head back and they both stared at each other in an awkward silence… His clothes didn’t even fit them right!-or maybe they did?? His mind was panicking because they had the collar of his shirt covering their mouth and it looked so moe it was actually ridiculous!

Levi: ……….

MC: ………….

MC: …. “I can explain.”

Levi: ……. “Y-yea?”

MC: “I was having trouble on this one level and you wouldn’t pick up the phone… so I thought ‘What would Levi do?’... and it escalated…”

Levi: “You think??”

Levi felt like he could die right there, but he wasn’t entirely sure if it was from embarrassment or happiness… On the one hand, the MC was  literally trying to be him in order to get better at video games - which was flatteringly adorable… And on the other, the MC is pretty much cosplaying as him, right in front of him… and looked so damn cute doing it too… 

MC: “Is this weird…? This is weird. I’m sorry, I’ll go change-”

Levi: NO-agh! *he throws a hand over his own mouth, surprised by how loud he just shouted* … “U-uh… no it’s fine…”

MC: “Okay...?”

MC: “But could you put your phone down? I think you’ve been taking pictures for the past two minutes…”

Levi looked down at his hand and sure enough he unconsciously pulled out his phone in camera mode and has been spamming the “Capture” button long enough to have his thumb cramping...

Levi: “Oh.” *stops for a moment, then seems to second guess himself*

Levi: “Uh… just one more?”

Satan

When you share a house with Mammon, you grow accustomed to not being able to find things from time to time, but an entire outfit?? 

When he woke up one morning to find that he couldn't find any of his normal clothes, he blamed Mammon right off the bat… 

I guess in hindsight, what would Mammon want with his jacket? But anger doesn't always jump to the most rational conclusion, you know?

After searching for "long enough," Satan stormed out of his bedroom on a warpath. He didn't stop his march until he was banging on Mammon’s door with a closed fist!

Satan: “Mammon!! What did you do with my clothes you useless, money-grubbing asshole!?”

When he didn’t get a reply, likely because Mammon was hiding in his closet or something, he was about to kick the door in when he felt a tap on his shoulder...

When he turned his head, much to his surprise, he found his missing clothes!... They were on the MC - right down to the single sleeve - and the MC met his eyes with a mischievous grin…

They had a book in their hands he recalled seeing once at the library: "101 Ways to Prank Your Partner," open like they'd been reading down the hallway.

MC: … Page 47.

They winked at him before bolting back down the hallway in a fit of giggles and oooh, it was on now.

Satan spent the morning chasing the MC through the House, both laughing and dashing around in reckless abandon. He really needed his clothes back and he wouldn’t mind an extra hour or two with the MC when he got them… 😏

Asmodeus 

Asmo isn’t exactly a morning person… Though he forces himself awake so he can perform his wake-up routine, by the time he comes to the table it’s a hit-or-miss on how irritable he’s going to be...

Of course, his favorite outfit suddenly disappearing from his massive closet did not help his mood in the slightest!

Who would take his clothes?? Well, that’s not even a question - surely plenty of his devoted, adoring stans would kill to even have his scarf, so maybe the better question was, “How??” Lucifer keeps all the doors and windows magically sealed at night! (He would know, having been locked out on numerous occasions)

Asmo was tearing through his closet, wracking his brain for any place he might have left his beloved outfit, before he heard someone clear their throat by his bedroom door.

What greeted him was a lovely look at the MC wearing the missing clothing in question, even with all the grace and style he would himself!

Asmo: *jaw-drops* “MC???”

MC: *smirks at his delight and winks at him* “Looking for something?”

They strutted into the room with the confidence of a mock fashion model and took a silly vogue pose in front of the closet, barely holding in a fit of laughter from their actions.

MC: “… Or just at me?”

Asmo, of course, snatched them right up in his arms with a delighted squeal.

Asmo: “Oh. My. Diavolo!! MC, you look just gorgeous!!!- Because you look like me, of course.” 🤭

MC: *laughs and cups his cheeks to pull him closer* “Who wouldn't want to be you, Asmo?”

Asmo: “So true… But you’re already perfect, my love~” 😘

And he went on to prove that to them all morning long...

Beelzebub 

Beel didn't even get the chance to notice his clothes were missing. He had a tournament the night before and was sleeping even harder than Belphie that morning...

What woke him up was the smell of food: scrambled shadowhawk eggs, hellboar bacon, pancakes with nightshade syrup…. 

Beel's stomach had him sitting up long before his eyes ever opened, drawn in by his nose alone.

MC: “Beeeeel. Wake up!”

Beel's eyes dragged open at their request and what he found had his mouth watering... The MC had brought him a dining cart with a complete breakfast spread, brimming with portions only Beel could ever finish, but for once he wasn’t looking at the food.

The MC, for whatever reason, had decided to put on his clothes… And keep in mind that Beel's built like an ox compared to almost anybody. They were absolutely swimming under all that fabric (thank the Devil for his suspenders…) 

MC: “Congratulations!!!”

They throw their arms up excitedly, making the unzipped jacket balloon out like a parachute behind them… It's a remarkably cute image.

Beel: *blinks* “Oh.” *he gets a little pink, still very confused* “What did I do exactly…?”

MC: “You won the championship last night, remember? Or did you forget already??”

The MC takes a step to the side and begins pointing at the plates on the cart.

MC: “I thought we'd celebrate with some breakfast! I brought you eggs, bacon, pancakes, toast, cereal-”

As they continued their list, Beel's hand naturally reached out towards the cart eagerly, before something finally clicked in his head. WHY were they wearing his clothes??

Beel: “Wait. MC, why are you wearing-...?”

MC *holds their hand up* “Hold on!”

MC: “-oatmeal, muffins, banana bread, annnd…” *they get onto the bed and plop down onto his lap with a grin*

MC: “Me! Congratulations, Beel!!”

They lean up to peck his cheek while his arms automatically wind around their waist. The combination of their scents already bringing out a different sort of hunger in him…

Let’s say if this is his reward, he'll never lose a game again. 😏

Belphegor 

Belphie was in the middle of his afterschool nap in the library. The day was exhausting, so he didn’t even bother changing uniforms… The couches there were comfortable and the space was quiet, really nothing should have woken him up...

But somehow, for whatever reason, something did. A tug… Something was chasing away his dreams by tugging on the cow pillow in his arms.

MC: “Beeelllppphie….”

The tugging did not cease and he half growled in response, still keeping his eyes firmly closed.

Belphie: “What now...?”

MC: “I need this…” *they tug on the corner of the pillow a little harder* “Can you let go please…?”

What kind of question is that?? No one takes away his favorite pillow!

Belphie: *hugs the pillow tighter* “Go away, I'm trying to nap…”

MC: “Noooo please…! I need it for something right now…!!”

They started really pulling on his pillow now and he only held on tighter in annoyance. Since they wouldn’t leave him alone, he finally opened his eyes.

Belphie: “MC! Why are… you..?”

His voice trailed off as he finally saw the MC standing there in his usual outfit. His cardigan was so long over their arms that they had to grasp his pillow through its sleeves...

While his drowsy mind tried to catch up, the MC snatched the pillow from his grasp with one swift yank.

MC: *grins* “Mine now!”

They turned to bolt out of the library, but Belphie snatched them by the waist and dragged them back to the couch with him.

Belphie: “Fine, but then I get a new pillow.” 😏

The MC yelped as he flopped on top of them, pulling them close like a body pillow and resting his head into the crook of their neck to enjoy the soothing smell of their scent mixed with his.

MC: “W-wait Belphie…!” *tries to wiggle out from under his surprisingly heavy deadweight* “I was just playing around…! Please don't fall asleep on me!!”

Belphie: *yawns and settles in, already drifting off* “Too late… G'night, MC…”

MC: “Belphie!!!” 😫

They could complain all they liked, he wasn’t going to let them go for a few hours. Cute or not, MC, nobody takes his pillow!

[fictionfunshop]

Whore Phase - One Shot (Spencer Reid)

Thanks @moderatelydelusional for the inspo - I hope I did your idea justice.

18+ - Filth and not for children's eyes.

MGG / Spencer Reid are killing my feels

........

*200 LIKES!!! You've all made me happy. Currently writing more filth for your eyes **

You weren’t expecting him to text.

He usually called you when he wanted to see you, purring down the line telling you all the filthy things he wanted to do to you, which always made your thighs clench. You decided to have a Friday night in; you already filled your belly with your favourite take-out, had a long hot bath with a new book you picked up earlier in the week. Now you were sitting here catching up on some trashy television you dare not tell anyone you watch, painting your toenails when your phone came alive, making you jump and smudging your baby toe in the process.

Can I come over? – Spencer

No hello, or how are you, which you knew meant he had a bad case and needed you to let off some frustration. You understood and didn’t mind him using you like this, your Friday night instantly looking up and thanking your earlier self for taking your time shaving. You immediately type back your reply.

Course. See you soon.– Y/N

You jumped up from the sofa and go to your bedroom to see what nice underwear you had clean, instantly slipping on a lavender chemise set you picked up a few weeks ago, immediately thinking of him. You were fully aware of the agreement you both had – he told you he didn’t want a girlfriend because of his job, and you were working through a bad breakup and wanted some no-strings fun, so when he was free, he would come over to yours, never his and you would both “chill out” AKA screw each other’s brains out.

You knew the absolute basics about each other. You knew he worked for the FBI, which you thought was an elaborate chat up line until one night he came to you straight from a case, his badge in his pocket, gun on his hip and stacks of paperwork pouring out of his bag. You knew he was an only child and that his mother lived in Vegas, his dad not to be seen. He enjoyed reading, teasing some of the titles on your shelf, and he was bisexual, something which didn’t surprise you in the slightest when he admitted he had been with men before you. Even though he knew next to nothing about you, he never made you feel like a whore, he never slipped out in the middle of the night, and if he was free the following day, breakfast was always his treat at the café around the corner or the near-by diner.

You wandered back into the sitting room, pulling a bottle of wine from the fridge and pouring yourself a glass. You sat back down on your couch, your mind now on high alert that he was coming to see you, thinking of all the ways tonight is going to go down.

He has fucked you senseless in every corner of this place.

From your location on the couch where you straddled him one lazy Sunday morning he was off work, the tiny kitchen table now being held together by prayers after you both came back here drunk from separate nights out, or the shower where two weeks previous he teased you until you were delirious before pinning you against the tiled wall. You didn’t have time to register anything else when your obnoxious buzzer rang throughout the apartment. You buzzed him up and left the front door open. You go to fix him a glass of wine and change the channel to a random news station. You’re still in the kitchen when you hear him drop his bags near the door and take his shoes off before you go to meet him in the sitting room.

He looks sexy but exhausted. The circles under his eyes evident, and you wonder why he came here instead of straight to his place. His hair is sticking in all directions in desperate need of a trim, and his shirt is creased from sitting on the plane. He’s attempting to take off his tie as he wanders over to you, interrupting the process by giving you a quick peck on the lips.

“Here, let me,” you hand him the glass of wine before you slide it from around his neck quickly; you fold it neatly and hand it back to him. He gives you a small smile before stuffing it into his pocket and downing the rest of the glass of wine. He places the glass down on the coffee table before gathering you into his arms and a tight hug.

“You look beautiful as always,” he mumbled in your ear. “This for me?” his fingers rub the strap of the fabric.

“Yeah, I got it a few weeks ago. You like?” he nods his head, his eyes trailing all over your body, his hands following their path. The flimsy material did little to hide anything from him.

“I love your body, “ his hands grip your hips, pushing them into his, feeling him get hard through his slacks, “knowing you were waiting for me, in this…” he gripped the back of your head before clashing your lips together.

His hands wandered around you, cupping your ass, making their way up the back of the thin vest, his fingers running down your spine as you get to work, unbuttoning his shirt, as soon as you could get your hands to feel the flesh underneath you did, your nails digging into his shoulders. He broke the kiss and took your hand in his, and lead you to your bedroom. He sat down on the edge of the bed, and by instinct, you knelt between his thighs, your lips meeting again. This time your hand was rubbing the bulge; his were tangled in your hair. You wasted no time in undoing his trousers and releasing him from his boxers. He sucked in his breath when he felt your lips on his hips and nipping at his thighs as you gripped him, squeezing his base with every fluid motion. His finger tangles back into your hair when he feels your tongue lick the head of his cock, your lips wrap around him, sliding him down your throat with ease. Although he was bigger than other guys you have been with, you had enough practice with him. You look up at him; he was staring back at you.

“Fuck, you’re good at this,” he encourages you, as he grips your hair tighter and you open your mouth wider, signalling him that he’s in control.

Looking at him above you, his hair even messier than before and his lip tucked behind his teeth, you could feel how wet you were getting. You were sure he could see how hard your nipples were through the flimsy material covering you. You couldn’t control yourself; the hand not working on him goes between your legs and dips into your centre to find yourself right before you circled your clit, moaning as you continued to suck him off.

He lifted your head off his cock, spit dripping down your chin.

“Are you touching yourself? Does sucking my cock get you off? “ You nod your head.

“ I want you to show me how you do it..”

This was a new idea from him.

You stand up and take off your chemise and underwear before you crawl onto the bed. As you settle down on the pillow, he stands up too and undresses before settling between your thighs on his knees. You pinch your nipples hard and let out a moan as you feel his fingers lightly trace the outside of your thighs. You move your hand down between your legs before you settle your fingers back into your centre, curling them to reach the spot he does with ease. You crane your head back and let out a sigh as you settle back into a rhythm, occasionally pulling out to circle the bundle of nerves that makes your leg twitch and your hips match your hands. You feel him pin you down to the mattress.

“Look at me, Y/N, “ Your eyes snap open as they meet his, now completely black, the hand not on your hip, slowly stroking himself. “This is better than I imagined. Is this what you do when no one is around to fuck you?”

You nod your head as you let his name sigh from your lips. You can feel how close you are; you’re now dripping between your thighs, a thin sheen of sweat now covering your body, and he knows it too. He bends his head down, his hair lightly tickling your chest, and his mouth finds your hard nipple, his teeth sinking into it lightly before he circles his tongue around it. That’s all you need from him to let go, his mouth moving to yours to capture your screams, and you rode out your orgasm. You open your eyes to see him staring at you, still hard. He lifts the hand between your thighs and licks your two fingers clean as he stares at you. His actions turned you on further as you felt yourself throb.

Nothing else needed to be said between you. He climbs on top of you and settles himself between your thighs. He nips at your neck before he slips in; you can feel yourself grip around his cock, still not used to his size. He pauses for a moment before he slams back into you, hissing in your ear. By instinct, you wrap your legs around his waist, letting him go deeper, hitting your cervix as he bottoms out; It should hurt but it feels like heaven. He settles into a quick rhythm, fucking whatever problems he had out on you, but you don’t care. The feeling is building up in the pit of your stomach quickly as moans slip from your mouth.

“You feel so fucking good,” he rasps, a smirk on his lips.

He knows that you’re in the same delirious state as him. His hair is matted around the base of his neck; you can feel it around your fingers, which have tangled themselves there.

“Come for me, Spence, I’m close…so close…” you beg him.

“Me too, won’t last long…”

One of his hands moves from above your head to the headboard to keep up the rhythm as one of your hand moves between your legs, and you rub your clit, he stares down at the show before kissing you again. You bite his lip and tighten even further around him as your orgasm washes over you, chanting his name as he continues to ram into you. A few more sloppy strokes, and he joins you, swear words fall from his mouth, and his eyes squeeze closed. He pecks your lips again before he collapses next to you. You both lay there for a few moments trying to catch your breath before you get up to clean yourself off in the bathroom. Staring in the mirror, you can see some red marks on your neck from him already appearing. You pop back into your kitchen to grab some water before you head back into your room. He’s put his boxers back on and is sitting up against the headboard.

“Here, I figured you’d want one” you hand over a bottle as he gives you a soft smile.

“Thanks for letting me come over.”

“Well, it wasn’t a hard decision, a hot FBI agent who wants to have sex with me…” he rolls his eyes at your playfulness as he takes a swig.

“Well, this FBI agent is tired now after no sleep for nearly 30 hours, so how about we finish this off in the morning and some pancakes?”

What girl can say no to that?