#you were so preoccupied with whether you could that you didn't stop to think if you should

[druizard]

I have no explanation except that i am sleep deprived

[squircatlies]

Today is the day I unleash my Mr. Bonzo fanart upon this webbed site.

This post is relatively safe up until the cut.

Is the *tips fedora* meme over a decade old? Yes. Do I care? No, absolutely not.

~

Now this is where I recommend "getting off" this post to anyone bothered by graphic depictions of body horror, blood, violence, or Mr. Bonzo (monster, not mascot like above).

I know the first image is silly, but I cannot stress enough how serious I am when I say:

Proceed at your own risk.

Now that you have chosen to continue, I have arranged the images in order of least to most vile and disturbing (though that might be slightly subjective on my part).

Remember that you can click off this post at any time.

Final warning: split tongue Bonzo.

I tried channeling Julia Drawfee with the lineart a little bit. Didn't feel like shading that one, so it's a bit flat.

Where did I lose my colours? Plot twist: the first image in this post is actually the last I've made, so technically I gained the colours. I wanted it to have more of a cheery vibe, unlike the ones under the cut, which I wanted to be kinda dreary and I feel like adding too much colour can mess that up.

Alright, I'll address the tongue. Remember how his head splits in tmagp 12? Yeah, it's a nod to that and also I asked myself "how do I make his design worse than it already is?" and that's the only answer I could come up with. I debated adding stitches connesting the two halves of the tongue but couldn't figure out how, so you're welcome. It will be present in all the upcoming drawings as well.

~

The next one is bloody, but it's not that much worse than the previous one overall.

I was playing with filters after I was done with this piece, because I felt like it lacked something, but didn't know what. Really liked this one, I think it's some sort of a gradient map. It pixelised the image and adjusted the colours a bit, it also really made the blood pop out, though it covered up some of the details.

Why did he lose his hat? It's stupid and hard to draw.

You may have noticed the artstyle change a little, the previous images having neat lineart and little to no shading. That's because I am using different tools, sketchy and soft brushes, that allow me to experiment with lighting and textures more (plus the aforementioned filter altering the image even further).

~

Alright, I feel like this last image deserves a separate warning. It references episode 12 (spoiler ahead), specifically the moment before the bartender loses a hand, though it's not entirely accurate. It's rendered in more detail than any of the previous images, so keep that in mind before scrolling down.

Basically it's pov: Bonzo licks your hand.

I feel like I could've made his tongue bigger in this one, it seems kinda small compared to his mouth. I really like how the skin on his face ended up looking. It took a lot of work.

The spit makes it look weirdly sexual, doesn't it? Listen, that was not my intention, but I'm not erasing it. I set out to make the worst thing I could and, though not without cost, I have achieved it.

I tried splattering Bonzo in blood, but it wasn't really working for me and it covered up a lot of the detail I liked, so I just put it in the background.

The human hand is drawn from reference, which I found by googling "hand reaching out away from the viewer". And let me tell you: google is shit at looking for drawing references, but I figured it was just going to be a sketch to explore an idea, so I didn't bother trying to get a better one. And then I fixated on it for a couple hours, you know, like a normal person.

I literally (and I mean no exaggeration) dusted off my drawing tablet after a few months of no use to spend the entire weekend, after tmagp 12 came out, glued to the screen making those images, except for the b'onzo one, which I made this evening.

Just to clarify: I drew all of those by myself. No filthy AI image generation is allowed in this house. I am capable of committing far greater sins than an artificial intelligence ever will.

The only thing left here is to extend my sincere congratulations/condolences to whoever got this far. It's up to you to either think you're brave or realise that you're foolish for doing so, but be comforted by the fact that at least you didn't make this post, which I cannot say for myself.

[press-f-to-rat]

So. I might have done a thing. A friend (LOOKING AT YOU @kingassblast ) got me into Darkest Dungeon. And I got attached to Bigby and now I've been writing about my new favorite little scrungly pretty much non-stop.

We were just rambling to each other in DMs when suddenly, I had an idea for a prompt: "Paracelsus' research of the Beast finally amounts to something."

And so, I got to writing a little bit :))) Naturally, this isn't canon compliant, but simply a little what if. I know a lot of people (Myself included) really like to make Para and Bigby friends, so. I wanted to write a little something that perhaps would create a rift between them :) a little angst, as a treat :))

Anyway, that's enough rambling from me. Hope you enjoy!! It's below the "read more" :)

'Y-you created your own?!" Bigby's voice thundered through the air, shaking all the delicate glassware Paracelsus kept in her laboratory. "A-and not just that, but—You...you inflicted it upon yourself? V-Voluntarily?!" His voice trembled with some form of horrified rage, that anyone would willingly bring his own wretched curse upon themself.

Paracelsus, on the other hand, spoke with her typical level-headedness, though she could not stop the flow of cool indignation bubbling up from deep within her. “But think of the progress that will come of this! Should you not be glad that perhaps your curse might bring about some good?"

“What g-good could outweigh the d-damage done by bringing another m-m-monster into the world?!"

She could see the green ichor bulging in his veins with every word, the outlines only growing more apparent with his rage.

“Bigby," the Plague Doctor countered, "I have it entirely under my control. My experiments have made sure of that. It cannot harm anyone unless I will it.”

“Th-That is what it wants you to think! And then—wh-when your guard is down—it will exact i-its vengeance!" His voice felt edged with the bile of his blood, seeping from the dark recesses of his mind, where the Beast lurked. Betrayal—That was what this was! She had betrayed his trust! He had thought she would help him—Use the Eldritch poison in his veins to ease the curse. But this! No, no good could come of this. This was madness.

“If I knew that th-this is what y-you were going to use m-m-my blood for, then—I n-never would have let you h-have it.” The words burned in the air where they hung, hot with fury and pain.

There was a pang in Paracelsus’ chest—Was that guilt? Oh, but she knew guilt, and she knew how to bottle it away in her mind like any other poison she’d dealt with. “Then you’re simply ignorant to the potential it holds.” She hissed.

Bigby said nothing. Instead, his blood boiling with rage, he stretched his lips into a snarl, showcasing row after row of sharp, animalistic fangs. A roar erupted from his throat as he tore out of her laboratory, nearly ripping the door off its hinges and slamming it behind him so hard the building shook.

The Plague Doctor sighed wearily, removing the thick, leather gloves she wore to reveal her own hands, unexpectedly transfigured into scaly claws. She flexed her fingers and clicked her ebony talons against one another, feeling her brows furrow beneath her mask. Perhaps that conversation had affected her more than she thought.

Perhaps… perhaps this was a mistake.

But there was no going back from here. Her choice was made, and no matter what happened, she would have to live with it.

It was only now that she took the time to question… What had she done?

[six-eyed-samurai]

SUMMARY: The other Pillars are convinced Tomioka has something against the latest Hashira, but have no idea your husband is simply looking for you during your pregnancy. A/N: I think something glitched when I was making the header...didn't crop properly. Anyway, enjoy this trash and I'm sorry if it's not up to my usual standard but I just got the random idea in the middle of the night! WARNINGS: Fem Reader, pregnancy MASTERLIST/PREVIOUS FICS

Everyone was convinced Tomioka Giyuu hated you right from the start.

You were first introduced to the Hashira when Oyakata-sama called them all for a meeting on the latest reports of demon activity, but requested them all to stay a little longer before being dismissed. Amane gestured for you to come forward with a gentle smile and you shuffled out of the shadows with your hands clasped together in nervousness but with a bright bream upon your face. The Hashira’s eyes caught yours in surprise, wondering if you were perhaps a new Kakushi since you weren’t wearing a slayer uniform, but instead a traditional (f/c) yukata.

Then their eyes strayed downwards and changed their minds about that, but nonetheless still remained in confusion.

“This is our newest member, (y/n) (y/l/n), the (b/f) Hashira. She was supposed to join our ranks quite some months ago but due to her sudden pregnancy she will for now be an honorary member.”

The only sign of your anxiety was the blush on your cheeks and the hand rubbing at your swollen abdomen. “Hi everyone! I’m so happy to meet you all! I won’t be on the battlefield for some time and I’m sorry I can’t fight alongside you for now, but I look forward to getting to know you all. If you need anything, I’m always at the (e/n) Estate.”

The ice was broken and you were immediately approached by many of the Hashira. Himejima-san cried and wished you and your child good health, making you feel a little embarrassed but thanked him anyway. The Mist Pillar Tokito simply stared at you, then at the sky, then at you again before asking what were you doing here again (later on, he startled you by appearing behind and questioning you in that airheaded manner of his if he could talk to the baby).

You were also tackled by the Love Pillar who introduced herself as Kanroji Mitsuri and your new best friend as well as the calmer Insect Pillar, Kocho Shinobu, who despite slightly unnerving you with her smile touched you greatly when she said you could always stop by the Butterfly Mansion for checkups or simply a visit.

“How far along are you?”

“About five months, I think!”

“KYAAAAAAAAAAH! Your baby is going to be so cute! What’s it’s name? Do you know if it’s a he or a she yet? I can’t wait to be an aunt!”

“Heh, I’m not too sure yet, but I have a feeling it’s going to be a boy!”

Mitsuri squealed again, causing you to laugh at her genuine happiness. She whipped her head behind her and called out to the silently glowering Snake Pillar. “Iguro-san, don’t you think the baby will be cute? I really wish I’ll have some of my own one day!”

You and Shinobu shared a smirk as the Wind Pillar grumpily slapped his friend’s back and dragged the furiously red Iguro away, muttering viciously about not wasting any more time in hunting a Twelve Kizuki.

“Oh look, there's Tomioka-san. Why hasn't he come and said hello yet?”

“Ah well, a lone friendless wolf as always.” Shinobu didn't see you originally visibly brighten at Mitsuri’s words and turn surprised at hers.

Indeed Tomioka was standing awkwardly as always a little - long, actually - way off. What was not as always was that horrified, slack jawed look on his face instead of his usual blank, emotionless one.

“Tomioka-san? Are you alright? You've been making that face for a long time already…” Shinobu's eye twitched, but you didn't notice, suddenly preoccupied with Muichiro’s intense questioning of whether he could play with the baby when it was born.

“She shouldn't be a Hashira.”

The remaining Hashira found themselves narrowing their eyes at the Water Pillar's blunt, if not rude, words.

That would be just one of the many events that further convinced them of his intense dislike of you.

***

You started going over a lot to the Butterfly Mansion over then next few months, becoming a fast favorite among the girls for your cheerful attitude and your baby; even Kanao cracked a smile at you when you came around. When the other Hashira arrived to be healed you always made it a point to go pay them a visit and in turn you pretty soon had every one of them in your back pocket, including the harsh, loudmouthed Wind Pillar Shinazugawa who constantly gave you a jolt with the complete 360 with his attitude around you, to the point you could call him a good friend.

Being friends with him usually meant hearing him grumble about the stupid waterboy.

“Why doesn’t he ever look at you anyway, turning away like that. So rude, that little (beep) (beep) (beep)-”

“Eheh, Shinazugawa-san, don’t swear so loudly, he’ll hear you!”

You had stopped by to Sanemi’s room when Shinobu had mentioned he was there to be patched up after a mission and knowing how busy she was, had offered to go help change his bandages with the basic medical knowledge you had picked up over the years of being a slayer. Reluctantly she had agreed and so here you were, chatting away with him until he spotted Tomioka passing by (he poked his head in actually, otherwise Sanemi would never have noticed him) and started complaining about him once more, especially when you had called out to him and Tomioka had simply whipped his head to the side to stare into the distance.

Really, Sanemi wasn’t the only one to notice how Tomioka avoided you like the plague with that stupid, vacant, red expression of his.

“He’s just shy, he doesn’t mean to be rude!” You defended the poor Pillar, continuing with rewinding the new wrappings.

“Tch, you should see how he acts at the meetings, like he’s better than us or something,” was the growling reply. “(beep) doesn’t know how to (beep) talk with anyone with his (beep) attitude.”

“I don’t think he thinks he’s better than all of you, maybe it’s just something else,” You hum, finishing up. “That’s all! I’m glad the demon didn’t go any further than a scratch.”

Shinazugawa grunted, then his gaze caught yours and softened. “By the way, who’s the dad?”

“Oh, it’s -”

“(y/n)-san!” Three heads peeked in from the door shyly. “Can you come and play with us?”

“Of course! Bye, Shinazugawa!”

Like always the reply was only a “tch”.

***

Another thing was that he never stopped repeating what he said at the first time everyone met you: “She shouldn’t be a Hashira”, going as far as to attempt to prevent you from wielding a sword, although this was only noticed by Tanjiro.

You had agreed to the Kamaboko Squad’s requests (aka demands by Inosuke and begging from Zenitsu) to train together, despite Tanjiro’s worries which you brushed off. The boys were very rambunctious and did tire you out quite a bit, but you were having so much fun and they were so eager you just went on sparring with them until even Inosuke muttered a plead for a quick break, unable to beat your incredible swordsmanship.

“(y/n)-chan!!! Who’s the lucky guy you married?! You never told us and I want to know how he managed to score someone so beautiful like you so I can do it with Nezuko-chan!” Zenitsu simpered, scooting closer, ignoring Tanjiro’s scandalized look.

“What’s married?” Inosuke’s voice was muffled underneath his boar mask and the mountain of onigiri you had brought he was stuffing into his mouth, so none of you heard him.

You giggle, placing a hand on your stomach. “He’s very sweet, although he’s honestly very shy and doesn’t talk much. I’m sure you’ve met him before! Can you guess?”

“Woah, really?” Tanjiro brightened, wondering who it could be, but his next question was interrupted by an interrogative monotone.

“What are you doing? You shouldn’t be training.” Tomioka stood in front of them, the first time anyone had seen him interact with you without just staring at the ground. His face was as empty as the void but there was a tiny crease between his eyebrows and Tanjiro didn’t have to inhale to smell the worry reeking off him.

“I didn’t know you were so concerned about (y/n)-chan, Tomioka-san.” Zenitsu’s eyebrows shot up, disappearing under his hair while he glowered judgmentally.

Tomioka made no reply, only swiftly grabbing and removing the sword from your hand. “She shouldn’t be a Hashira, much less train. You nearly died fighting a demon not too long ago, you’re in no shape to be doing this.”

With that he abruptly walked off and left Zenitsu and Inosuke to scream at him for being such an un-gentleman and for not fighting with them while you looked away sadly.

Tanjiro wondered why he didn’t once smell dislike on Tomioka. Only fear.

***

“What’s he got against (l/n)?” Obanai joined in on the conversation from his perch on the tree. He’d look for reasons to hate against the Water Pillar all the time, but unlike the others this time round his hatred was justified.

Tengen rolled his eyes flamboyantly. “I know! He’s constantly acting like she’s a pest to be around, but she doesn’t seem to have beef with him. What’s wrong with that bland creature?”

“Oh come on! We don’t actually know if he hates her,” Rengoku protested mildly.

“Then why does he keep refusing to even make eye contact with her?”

“I mean, Iguro, you can’t talk, you only ever look at Kanroji” - Obanai turned away, blushing furiously as Tengen cackled - “but I get your point. The other day I walked in on them arguing. I can’t believe he would keep reminding her of past failures without keeping her current state in mind!”

“Perhaps he only wants to try and convince her to stay safe during this time and discourage her from slaying for now?”

“Rengoku, my best buddy, you’re too optimistic.”

“There’s no other reason he’d give her the cold shoulder 24/7.”

Soon the conversation drifted to other topics, but little would they know Rengoku was the closest to the truth…

***

Shinobu already had enough on her hands with all the screaming, panic and blood, but of course Tomioka just had to show up at the most inopportune moment.

It had been a relatively quiet day as the two of you sat on the engawa, exchanging war stories over tea when with a sudden cry you had doubled over in pain. Your water had broken and you were heading into labour - quickly.

Just barely the Insect Pillar had managed to get you to a bed and sent the Butterfly Girls scurrying for the necessities, hiding her uneasiness at the slight earliness of your boy’s arrival to keep you calm and help you through it. You were doing well under her coaxing to use Total Concentration Breathing, and thankfully Shinazugawa was still around to help you relax with a familiar face.

Then Aoi had burst in with a frantic expression and thundering footsteps from behind that certainly weren’t hers.

“Shinobu-san, Tomioka is demanding to be let in-”

“Keep him out!” Shinobu grimaced, returning her attention to you. She’s heard and seen what he’s like around you, and other than the fact he has no business to be here she didn’t want to send you into a further state of panic. “He doesn’t like her, and if he opens that mouth of his to say anything more I might be responsible for two deaths.”

You dug your nails into Sanemi’s proffered hand, screaming in pain. He winced but said nothing, only looking up with a determined look in his eyes at Shinobu. “I’ll go keep Tomioka out, just make sure she delivers safely.”

Without waiting for a reply Sanemi rushed out to bar the doorway, leaving Shinobu to assure and handle your birthing with the anxious assistance of the Butterfly Girls. The pain in your stomach was surely abominable, intolerable, and Shinobu found herself growing more alarmed with every minute the baby wasn’t coming out.

“(y/n), I need you to push harder, alright? Can you do that for me?”

“N-no - where is he?”

“Your husband? I’ll get someone to call him, don’t worry,” Shinobu lied with dawning horror that in the entire time she had known you…she had no actual idea who you were married to. “But he wouldn’t like you see you like this, right? You can do it. Just keep your breathing under control.”

“JUST (beep) OFF, TOMIOKA!” Shinazugawa’s voice bellowed through the Mansion. His stocky form soon appeared, stubbornly acting as an indomitable barrier against the equally stubborn Tomioka who was desperately trying to barge his way through.

“Tomioka, we don’t need unnecessary people here to worry (y/n) more-”

”THAT’S MY WIFE!”

Whether it was because Tomioka had never raised his voice before or the sheer shock of it all or the fact you reached out for his hand, Shinobu and Sanemi let him through.

***

“I thought I was going to lose you when I heard you screaming like that from outside.” Giyuu nuzzled deeper into your neck, absently stroking your baby’s tiny hand. “Don’t scare me like that again.”

You played with the strands of his hair with a teasing smirk. “You did to, banging into the room like that, with the “That’s my wife!”. It was very romantic of you, Giyuu~”

“I was in a rush.” Giyuu smacked his face into the pillow, embarrassed while you laugh.

“Ara ara~ Are you both done cuddling? I want to perform a quick checkup on your baby now, if you don’t mind, and all the Hashira are here to ask you a lot of things, Tomioka.” Shinobu stood at the doorway with her customary smile, a twitching eye and crossed arms. Behind her were the shadows of the others trying to peek over her shoulder or head into the room to congratulate you on your baby or beat up Tomioka (both for some).

“Ask about what?” Giyuu lifted up his head in confusion. You snort at his obliviousness, cooing at your precious sleeping baby before gently passing him to Shinobu.

“MAYBE ABOUT HOW (Y/N) IS YOUR WIFE AND YOU NEVER TOLD US?”

“KYAAAAAAAAAH! That’s so cute of you, Tomioka!”

“Do you hate us all or something?!”

“No…? No one asked and I thought (y/n) would have told you,” Giyuu said blankly, glancing at you with wide blue eyes. You sheepishly raised your shoulders.

“I tried to tell them but we kept getting interrupted or had no chance.”

“You did make us all think you hated (y/n) with your behaviour, Tomioka.” Shinobu raised an eyebrow. “After all, you rarely spoke to her and when you did it was only to reprimand her, but I can see now it was probably out of worry for your child and her…although rather harshly.”

“Oh!” You burst out laughing, shaking so hard you nearly couldn’t take back your awakening baby Shinobu was handing over. “Giyuu’s just very shy! See-”

You pressed a quick peck to his cheek.

giyuu.exe has stopped working.

[queenie-the-court-jester]

that isn't very holy of you :/

Yandere church boy x gn!reader

It came out shittier than I hoped for. Not proofread 🌺 I'll fix this when I have the time

Tw: religious themes, noncon mention, minor cult mention

✝️ you had just arrived in the small town of morning star. Having been needing a break from the city life, you rented a one bedroom cabin close by. Planning on staying here for a month, you quickly headed towards your new home, very eager to start exploring the area

✝️ wandering around the town square, it seemed everyone knew eachother. A family like community perhaps? Maybe that's why they all kept staring at you as passed through, must not be use to new faces

✝️that was until a group of children approached, asking you to come play ball with them. You couldn't say no to their puppy dog eyes, and the adult's judgemental stares so you agreed. And it was fun surprisingly! You noticed none of the children had any phones.. or the grown up's for that matter

✝️your first week there you were unsettled, but you just pushed it off as the townsfolks strange behavior, Focusing on unpacking and enjoying your stsy. Until one of the school teachers, a kindergarten one, knocked on your door on a sunday

"hi there honey! On behalf of the people I'd like to sincerely apologize for the cold welcome. It's just been a hard year for all of us! So to make it up you, won't you come to church with us on this fine morning?"

✝️ whether or not you're religious yourself, she managed to convince you to come along. Chatting the whole walk there. Talking about her husband, her children. She mentioned something about having a son your age but you weren't really paying attention

✝️ walking through the grand double doors of the church house, she sat you on the front row with the pastors family, next to a young man. You were startled as she sat on the other side of you, leaning in to whisper In Your ear as she pointed at the pastor preaching

"that's my hubby right there. He's a handsome fella ain't he?"

✝️david looked at his mother in disbelief, he told her a few a times he found you attractive and now look at her! He could practically see the gears turning in her head. thankfully you seemed preoccupied thinking, so he did his best to seem normal while his poor heart beated 300 mph

✝️after the sermon, david turned to you and have you a sheepish smile

"hi.. my name's David, but you can call me dave.. its.. nice to meet you"

✝️you and David hit it off, unlike all the other people. He didn't constantly talk about praising god and forcing his religion down your throat. He was kind, understanding. Laughing at your jokes and nodding along to your words. He never met someone so.. ethereal

✝️growing up, he had a hard time believing in his small towns "god". Watching them cut up and sacrifice newcomers to their false idols, he felt sick to the pit of his stomach heading their screams. But he could definitely devote his cause to you...

✝️he trapped you in this shitty town when he asked you out on a little date a few days later. Unaware he drugged your food and dragging you into his home, waking up chained to a bed. You couldn't tell how long you've been there, but every time you'd try to escape he'd punish you in bed. Not letting you cum or overstimulating you to the point of tears. Why would you want to leave something that can make you feel so good?

✝️he grew up desensitized to blood and gore, so he's confused when you're screaming and crying. Why are you doing that? Don't you know that this is what happens to bad spouses? What do you mean you're not married either? ofcourse you are. Stop being so difficult...

✝️nobody blinks an eye when he strides into town with you on a collar and leash. And that's when you realized, you should have left earlier. Because the whole town was sick in the head. It wasn't like you could call for help because he fucking destroyed your electronics and the people don't even have phones. Something about wifi signals can brainwash you

✝️ he's whipped for you, that much you can obviously tell. but he's smarter than he looks. Eating dinner with his family is just painful,since all they talk about is God god god. It hurts your ears with how often they just Randomly start singing praises. It's bad enough they force you to watch their cult church activities...

✝️if you give in to his demands, he'll let you off the leash but you have to stay close by at all times. If you don't, he'll have to make his punishments a little more extreme. There's also a possibility he'll force you to help around the town. whether that be looking after the children or just running around doing errands. The shock bracelet on your ankle stops you from running into the woods..

✝️if you don't, well.. you wouldn't mind if you became permanently handicapped right?

"don't be so difficult sweetie.. just stay still and it'll cut right through okay?'

[folkwhoredoll]

mutual frustrations - rafe cameron x fem!reader

pairing: rafe cameron x fem!reader

synopsis: keeping your temper and hormones in control is neither yours nor your boyfriend's strength

word count: 1.6k

warnings/tags: smut! (f masturbation, fingering, voyeurism/exhibitionism), slight dom!bf rafe

a/n: hi everyone! thank you so so much for everyone's support on my recent works. i hope you'll like this one. happy reading!

masterlist

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚

"What the hell is your problem, huh?"

Rafe had been frustrated all day. His dad had been yelling at him since early morning, Barry wouldn't stop calling him, and a brief fight with his sister for running off with her Pogue friends had pushed him to the edge. It didn't help that you had been snappy all day, either. It started with your short and sarcastic replies to his questions, and he grew tired of seeing your eyes roll and your deep sighs.

Truth be told, you weren't doing it on purpose. You were just craving his attention, and your frustration over his frequent disappearances to whatever business he had to attend to was carelessly reflected through your actions.

"Seriously! Where did this attitude come from?" he said, raising his voice slightly but not yelling.

"Well, I wouldn't have a problem if you just noticed me, Rafe!" You grumbled.

"Are you fucking joking? I have literally been talking to you, but you were the one who refused to answer me properly!" Rafe seethed.

"Oh, please. The first time that you acknowledged my presence was an hour ago. I have been here since morning!" You defended yourself, remembering how you initially went over to his place to bond with each other, but he was so preoccupied with his thoughts that he walked past you several times without realizing it.

Rafe inhaled deeply and closed his eyes. "You know what? Whatever. I've had a long day and don't need any of this right now."

Your face was starting to feel hot as you felt your anger grow. Suddenly, his huge bedroom felt small as your chest tightened. "That's it? You're going to push me away again? What the fuck am I to you, Rafe? Do I even mean anything to you?"

"You're pulling this shit right now?" He growled, brows furrowing as he looked at you with darkened eyes. "If you mean nothing to me, I wouldn't even look at you."

Rafe started to walk closer to you slowly, cornering you until the back of your knees hit the edge of his bed. His face lowered to your level, with a threatening look on his face.

"But guess what, princess? Here I am, still tolerating your goddamn bratty attitude." He said lowly.

You could feel his radiating anger, making you gulp as you think of whether or not you should still say something as words die at the back of your throat. Despite your own displeasure, your boyfriend's dangerous face made you gulp. And unsurprisingly, you liked it. You liked it so much that Rafe did not miss your subtle attempt to push your thighs together.

He chuckled darkly. "So that's your problem then, hm? You're fucking horny."

You felt your breath hitch, mouth open, as you quickly thought of an excuse. As expected, you came up with nothing, leading Rafe to shake his head in amusement.

"You could've just told me, baby. I'd drop anything to make you feel good." Upon hearing his words, your eyes lit up hopefully. You started to feel excited until Rafe walked beside you to sit on the bed, harshly pulling you towards him so you were entirely situated on his lap. "But you decided to act like a fucking brat instead, and I can't have that, can I?"

Your boyfriend hastily grabbed the back of your neck, pushing your face towards his to kiss you roughly before you could react. Rafe kissed you with passion, forcefully separating your lips with his tongue. You moaned against his lips, hips starting to grind against clothed crotch.

Unbeknownst to you, he was already plotting what he could do to punish you. And you only realized that after you felt his lips travel to your neck.

"More, Rafe. Please fuck me." You gasped upon feeling him slightly bite your skin.

"No." He replied bluntly, pulling away to meet your gaze with a smirk. "You really think I'm gonna fuck you after what you did?"

"W-what?" You asked, visibly confused.

"Oh, baby. You should've seen your punishment coming." He taunted, shifting your positions so that he was standing again and you were lying on the bed. "You won't be getting my dick tonight. If you wanna come, do it yourself."

Your mouth was open in shock as you processed his words, frustration building up again. "Are you kidding me? Fuck me."

"You're in no position to order me, darling. Make yourself come right now, or I'll extend your punishment for a week. We both know you can't go that long without my dick."

If you weren't horny, you would have slapped Rafe's smirk off of his face. But you were desperate; your hormones heightened after making out with him. You groaned, tilting your head back, figuring that making yourself cum without his cock is much better than not being able to cum at all.

"Go on, baby. Take off your clothes; I wanna watch."

Grunting, you briefly sat up to remove your clothes individually as Rafe stepped back to watch you. You kept eye contact with him as you took off your bra and underwear, smirking when you saw his eyes hungrily scan your hardening nipples down to your inner thighs.

 "You can touch me, Rafey." You attempted to persuade him with a sweet smile, but he knew better.

"Nice try, sweetheart. But you should know by now that that won't work for me. Now lay back and spread those legs."

You followed his instruction, positioning yourself so that you're laterally positioned on his bed. Rafe moved to his small couch across the room, observing your movements like a hawk.

"Like this?" You teased him, lifting your leg and spreading your thighs apart, giving him a perfect view of your plump breasts and wet slit.

Rafe could feel his cock growing harder and harder with each second. He wanted nothing more than to ruin you at that moment, your pussy tempting him to cum inside. But he prevented himself, knowing he had to let you know who was in control.

"Mhm. Now play with your tits. Don't stop until your nipples are hard." He said, watching as you slowly moved your hands up to massage your breasts. You moaned with each stroke, your thumb toying specifically with your nipples until they perk. "Good job, baby. Now remove one hand and touch your pussy. Don't insert a finger yet."

You followed again, one hand trailing down to your stomach until your fingertips touched your outer walls. You gasped loudly, turned on from your own wetness. "Rafey."

Rafe savored your moans, eyes not leaving your womanhood. "Spread your walls for me. I want to see that pretty cunt."

You obeyed, letting out a deep breath as you used two fingers to separate your walls, giving Rafe a fantastic view of your delicious cunt. "Want to come, Rafe? Please."

"You will. Just be patient, alright?" He cooed. "Insert one of your fingers."

You slowly push one finger into your pussy, having no difficulty in doing so because you're too soaked.

"Add another one. Go on, sweetheart. You know your spot." Rafe urged you, proud that you were doing so well for him. "Curl your fingers in. That's it."

"Fuck!" You screamed in sudden pleasure, letting Rafe know that you were able to find your G-spot. "Wish this were your fingers."

"I know, baby. I do, too, but you need to learn your lesson. Now make yourself come."

You whined upon hearing his words, pumping your fingers faster while continuing to massage your breasts. You were becoming desperate for a release, and Rafe's hungry smirk gave you enough motivation. If you couldn't have his dick, you would at least give him a proper show.

You were a moaning mess in front of him, and he loved every moment of it. Your continuous mumbles of his name increased his ego, knowing that you would never be able to satisfy yourself like he does.

The sound of your wetness as you fingered yourself was like music to his ears. And before he could think about what he was doing, he found himself in front of you, absentmindedly reaching forward to place his thumb on your clit.

"Oh!" You screamed upon contact, your hips slightly rising. Rafe couldn't avert his eyes from your pussy. He groaned at the sight of both of your fingers playing with your cunt, your walls visibly pulsating as you chased your own release.

"That's it. Be a good girl and come on my fingers."

"Yes, yes, yes." The exact words left your mouth as you felt your mind go blank, overwhelmed with nothing but pleasure. You continued to fuck yourself as Rafe toyed with your clit faster. "Fuck, Rafe. I'm going to cum."

"Go ahead, pretty girl. Give it to me." Rafe's cock was aching so much, and he felt like he was about to lose control. And he knew he did, when his mouth let out his most wanted thought. "Come for me. Come for me, and I'll give you my dick."

Hearing those words made something snap in you, making you release in an instant. You squirted around your fingers as he remained touching your clit, your thighs shaking from the orgasm that was taking over your body.

Rafe grunted at the scene. "Good job." He softly grabbed your fingers away from your pussy before wiping the sweat off of your forehead. "You did good, baby."

You were still catching your breath when you felt him kiss your forehead softly.

"Now I believe I owe you my cock?"

[tihgnari]

ꕤ 50. i think i ruined your PJs (ღ)

tw: none! :') / wc: 1.7k

you stare at your phonescreen, watching it vibrate on the kitchen counter. your hands sweat, and your heart races, as you hesitate to answer his call, contemplating about what to say.

a door slams and thoma appears in front of you in an instant. paper bags of fast food left on the dining table. "what are you doing?" he says, eyeing the phone before staring back at you. "answer it al—"

the phone stops ringing, ayato's caller ID disappears, and it returns to your lock screen. the panic you feel is indescribable, and you defeatedly think of calling him back and saying sorry for being unable to answer his call the first time.

ayaka lets out a pained groan. "you both are absolutely impossible! why didn't you answer it?!"

"i was nervous! i don't know what to say—"

"just answer it already!" thoma exclaims with a frustrated expression similar to ayaka's.

you wanted to pull your hair. why can't you just woman up and answer it?! you grab your phone off the counter, irritated at yourself, as you snap back at thoma.

"well, i can't anymore. it stopped ringing!"

as if on cue, the phone lights up, vibrating in your hands as your heart drops once again at the sight of ayato's caller ID. thoma audibly gasps and hurriedly rounds the kitchen counter to grab your shoulders. "answer it! now!"

"alright!" you push his hands away before clearing your throat, trying to level your voice so he won't find out that you were 100% freaking out at his sudden call.

"hello?" you speak into the phone. after a few seconds, when no one answers, you hesitantly say. "…ayato?"

no one is speaking on the other end, you can't even detect faint breathing. you pull the phone away from your ear, checking to see if the call is still ongoing, and the increasing seconds displayed on your lock screen confirm that it is. why isn't he speaking? should i not have answered?

faintly, you hear thoma and ayaka's enthusiastic "what's he saying?" behind you, but you stay silent, waiting for him. you open your mouth, wanting to address the person on the other line once again, when—

"hey."

his voice sounds defeated as if he's been crying for hours. you knew he wasn't in a good state right now from the voice alone.

your cheeks heat up, and you grip the phone harder. "hey," you answer stupidly, dazed and running on autopilot as you space out. every fiber and molecule of your being on edge as you give ayato your full attention.

you bite your lips, wanting to say a certain something to him after going weeks and weeks of not speaking to him. however, you held yourself back.

"i was thinking," ayato starts. "maybe you'd like to talk? you know… about everything?"

a small smile appears on your face, and you unconsciously nod even if he won't see you.

"i'd love to."

—

"are you really sure you guys don't wanna come up with me?" you ask ayaka, who sits behind the wheel in her white lexus and thoma in the back seat. you three are at the parking lot of the hotel ayato told you where he was staying.

he initially asked where you were so he could come to you, but after thorough persuasion, he relented on you going to him instead.

ayaka takes off her seat belt. "we're sure. he only asked to see you."

"just update us about how he's been. we'll wait for you here." thoma says.

you nod, stepping out of the car and walking toward the elevator. you met eyes with a woman at the front desk. she bows to you, a customer-service smile on her face, as she approaches you. ayato says he'd ring the front desk, so you can just come straight to his suite. the woman follows you to the elevator and taps the key card into a scanner before pressing a certain floor. whether or not she recognizes you, she doesn't say nor make it noticeable as she turns her heel back to the front desk.

you chew on your bottom lip, emotions running at an all-time high. you don't even notice the popping sensation in your ears as the floors get higher, your mind preoccupied with what you'll say to him, how you'll act. after all, the last proper conversation you had with him was back at their hospital's VIP room—which is weeks ago, give or take, and it did not even end well.

the elevator dings! and the doors open, sealing your fate.

there were only three rooms on this floor, and ayato instructed you to make two lefts to get to his room at the end of the hallway. the carpet is spotless, and your dirty white sneakers look so out of place as you make your way to his suite. just as you raise your hand to ring the doorbell, the door swings open, and there stands before you in all his glory—

"ayato," you say, dumbstruck. you don't notice how he is in mismatched silk pajamas, nor how a few of his hair stands on weird angles; you see his already pale skin that looks paler than usual and the bags under his tired eyes.

"yn—hey," he says, just as dazed as you. as if he can't believe you're actually standing before him right now. "uhm, come in."

the first thing you see is the thick white curtains hiding the floor-to-ceiling windows, blocking out the skies' magnificent orange and yellow hues as the sun has begun to set. the suite looked much like any other hotel room, only it looked fancier and more luxurious with its white marble accents paired with wooden furniture. the living room is well-lit, and from where you're standing, the sliding door to the bedroom is open, allowing you a slight peak.

you see a leather bag open on the lamp desk, chargers, and other necessities placed haphazardly around it. one of his carry-on is sprawled open on the floor behind the bed, while the rest is zipped shut at the far corner of the room, looking untouched.

"so—"

"yn—"

you both speak at the same time. he meets your eyes sheepishly, letting out a small laugh, a hand rubbing the nape of his neck sheepishly. "ladies first," he insists, and you don't argue.

"when did you fly back? seems to me you've been here for a few days now," you say, looking around. "i thought for sure you were still in another country."

"oh, i flew back a day after the wedding."

you nodded understandingly.

silence surrounds you both until ayato breaks it.

"would you like anything to drink or eat? i can order room service."

you smile, "a glass of water would be fine."

"alright, take a seat."

so you settle yourself on the plush sofa as he disappears in the kitchen for a few minutes before coming back to place your water on the low coffee table. you expected him to sit nearer to you, however he sits on the sofa across from you, and a frown tugs at your lips until you remember he's just being cautious. you guys did end on a bad note…

when your eyes meet, he shoots you a small smile as he nods. giving you the opportunity to speak first.

"well, i wanna start by saying i'm sorry," you interlace your fingers together on your lap. "for deceiving you. you definitely did not deserve that, i just got so scared—that i'd lose ayaka, and what your reaction would be if you found out… which you did, still."

ayato hums. "i understand your point, with ayaka. however i'm still quite hurt with our dates, as i did put my utmost time and effort into them," a solemn tone takes over his voice, and you can feel your heart breaking. "i would've accepted a proper rejection. i know how to respect a woman's decision."

"no." you answer in a heartbeat. "look, i know sabotaging our dates can possibly come off as me not reciprocating your feelings but that was just me making bad decisions."

ayato blinks, dumb founded. it takes time for him to properly start speaking. "i'm afraid i'm not following…?"

you sigh, not really knowing what to say—well, technically, you knew what to say, you just didn't know how.

well, might as well bite the bullet and blurt it out.

"i like you, ayato. i like you so much, even if i know i don't deserve you. because… because…" you didn't know you were crying, attention focused on the man in front of you to even notice the wetness of your cheeks.

your throat feels clogged up, and you choke on your words, unable to carry their weight. "i know how much i hurt you. i lied to you and didn't even stop to think about what you could've felt, i completely disregarded your efforts, and i was selfish. so i get it, when you told… told me that you shouldn't have liked me because i wouldn't… wouldn't like someone like me either —"

his scent engulfs you whole as he pulls you into an embrace. you feel a slight tremble in his hands as he firmly holds onto you, almost as if making it a confirmation if you truly were in between his arms. you break down in front of someone for the first time in weeks, your mind playing flashbacks of how you had to stifle your crying in the bathroom so ayaka won't hear.

it was as if a dam broke, and you couldn't stop your tears from cascading down your cheeks. you didn't know what you were crying about — you can't exactly pinpoint if it was because of this concrete fear of nearly losing ayato, of the harsh criticisms of the public, or you were just so overjoyed to be in his arms without having to worry about anyone or anything.

despite all the snot and tears you're probably getting on his expensive pajamas, ayato holds you tight, gently rocking you back and forth because he knew, he just knew, that his silent presence can comfort you more than his words at that exact moment.

after you have calmed down, resorting to small sniffles every now and then, did you decide to pull away. not completely, just enough to meet his gentle eyes. he smiles, tilting his head. "do you feel better?"

you nod slightly, shame suddenly washing over you.

"i'm sorry, i think i ruined your PJs."

"oh, these?" he shrugs his shoulder, laughing. "i have ten more sets of these, and you can cry on each and every single one of them if you want to."

LOWKEY » previous : masterlist : next

a kamisato ayato social media au

summary — it was only recently you found out kamisato ayaka was, in fact, not an only child after all! seeing ayato for the first time gave you the severest case of the butterflies but according to ayaka, he’s off limits, especially to you as her most treasured friend. well, what she doesn’t know won’t hurt, right?

notes — the end lol jk

🏷 i. @rinrinchin @nejibot @viiolettee @katsumikumo @starryeyedkoko @xingqiusliegee @boxdisappeared @lovelyycherries @love6cks @kiyowoir @luvvmeilin @blackberri-jelli @moonlightbqe @kazooms @tricethecharm @lynnforever @kaedear @xiaoisahawtie @crowbird @apotatouwu @xinii @euryrue @aequha​@nuttytani @plinkuro @aixaingela @milesluvrrad @windasteriaa @cherrytomato2 @zannivrs @eishtar @wccycc @ceylestia @sweet-almonds @queenaveryrules @veyu002 @ukinya @adeptusx @x-xxiaos @loveyoutothestars @ssalamanderr

[physalian]

There’s this unskippable Google AI ad on YouTube where this girl consults the robot about how to cancel dinner plans with the people across the table in the most annoying voice (likely because I have seen this ad now and had to listen to her asinine questions 20 times at least) and this ad, right here, speaks to my frustration around AI:

It disincentivizes critical thinking.

I know the ad is a joke and meant to be lighthearted and I’m only this annoyed because it’s unskippable and irritating af, but every time I see it all I can think is “if you can’t manage enough creativity and critical thinking to come up with your own excuse to cancel on your friends, maybe you shouldn’t have those friends.”

I have a relative who is firmly in the ChatGPT camp and, for example, yesterday I was trying to figure out how to compress a video file and was venting to them about it. They sent me back something I didn’t read from ChatGPT. Meanwhile, I looked up a YouTube video and figured out how to do the rest on my own, and getting the file compressed was immensely satisfying. Far more than mindlessly and thoughtlessly consulting the robot.

“It’s just like a YouTube video!” They’d told me.

No, a real person put time and effort into that video. That robot stole their content without their consent, didn’t credit them, and spat it back out. I used to patronizingly refer to ChatGPT as "the magic conch" and now I can barely do that anymore because that metaphor is becoming all-too real.

While I can understand the barriers it lowers—like if you struggle with writing the robot does it for you, or if you need a piece of art and are too poor, you can generate it for free. Mindless, repetitive tasks that eat up creative juices that can just be automated by a robot, too (even though everyone can tell when a response is canned and artificial and no one appreciates talking to a machine).

If you keep consulting ChatGPT for how to articulate what you want to say, or just straight-up having it do the hard work for you, you’re never going to learn. Yes it’s taken me 8 years to reach the quality and skill of writing I have but as another Tumblr post out there said: The time will pass anyway.

I can’t draw to the skill level that I’d like to. Doesn’t mean I’m not going to keep practicing until I get there. I thrive off that sense of accomplishment. There’s no little hit of dopamine from typing in a prompt and clicking a button and I certainly don’t appreciate the final product scalped without consequence from real artists.

Or, like when I had to fire a beta reader for flagrant abuse of AI in her work: I can copy-paste my manuscript into ChatGPT, too. I’d paid her for a human response, not garbage feedback that couldn’t understand what I was writing beyond that there were words on the page. I wanted so badly to ask her why she does a job in a creative field if she's just going to have a robot do all the fun parts? I beta read at a great loss of profit because I enjoy beta reading and it's a fiercely competetive market. Surely if she wanted to scam people, she could have done so in so many other ways. You don't need to know how to pen complex prose in your every day life, but by god, you do need to know how to effectively communicate, contextualize, and argue your perspective and this ridiculous ad joking about cancelling dinner plans sure is funny, until it isn't.

And I know the people who made AI probably did so with the best of intentions but people can be lazy and cheap and we love taking shortcuts to save money and I stand by this: "Your scientists were so preoccupied with whether or not they could, they didn't stop to think if they should."

So. Yeah. This is a writing advice blog and this post has almost nothing to do with it, but that ad annoys me to no end and I had to say something somewhere about it. Bottom line: Robots were supposed to make the hard jobs, the monotonous jobs, the overcomplicated jobs, the belittling jobs easier, not make us all into pudding-boned Wall-E people. If you want to write, learning is absolutely free - write on the back of your grocery receipts for all I care. If you want to draw, pick up a notebook and pack of pencils from the local dollar store and start drawing.

What you made will always mean more to you than something that didn't cost you time, effort, brain power, or even money to obtain.

[goldennikko]

MIDNIGHT REALIZATIONS — miyawaki sakura

summary : you had no idea that a midnight meal with sakura would make you think about things. well, no, not entirely.

pairing : sakura x 6th member!reader

tags : f!reader ; idol!au ; reader is '00 liner ; dense!reader ; reader is in denial ; implied hate ; swearing

requested: ✘

word count : 2.1k

you didn't know why you were awake that night. well, correction, why you were abruptly awoken. 

perhaps it's due to the soft moonlight illuminating the shape of your face and striking your previously closed eyelids. your phone buzzing nonstop next to you, which you ignored because you knew now was not the time to read the comments, could also be the cause. 

your supposedly peaceful mind wouldn't stop racing with thoughts you couldn't understand; it had to be because you were still sleepy or had too many thoughts to deal with all at once. even a mind reader would feel dizzy if they entered your mind.

you sighed, tossing and turning in your bed, unable to fall back asleep. the absence of something was bothering you so much that it was preventing you from returning to your previously unconscious but peaceful state.

wracking your brain to figure out what was missing, a frown formed on your brow as you came up with no answer, your head suddenly empty due to not knowing how to answer your question.

"shit." you muttered and sprang up into a sitting position, your gaze drawn to the moon, which was occasionally obscured by the swaying curtain.

but then you heard a noise. 

you turned your head to the door, blinking as you listened to the soft shuffling of feet fade away. someone else was awake. you hummed in delight, relieved that you weren't the only one awake this late, and stood up to leave the room, following whoever that was.

despite your drowsiness, you navigated the familiar halls with ease, though your movements were a little slow.

you were standing outside the kitchen before you knew it. kkura unnie, her name rang in your head, but you couldn't say it because you were too preoccupied with watching the older girl move around with familiarity. sakura hummed a song softly under her breath, which gave you comfort.

sakura hummed a song softly under her breath, and you were singing along in no time. your voice was a little too soft, but that didn't stop sakura from hearing you because she could recognize your voice no matter how small or weak it was.

she turned around, an adoring smile on her face as she watched you approach her.

"why are you awake, hm? sakura inquired, looking at you from the corner of her eye as you buried yourself in her side. she loved the warmth you gave off as your arms slithered around her waist, ignoring the harsh and quick beating of her heart.

"i don't know, unnie." you murmured in her shoulder, eyes falling shut.

sakura couldn't decide whether to be relieved that your eyes were closed because you wouldn't notice the red hue covering her face or disappointed because she couldn't see the softness of your gaze whenever you looked at her, which you weren't aware of.

nonetheless, sakura was happy to have you next to her at the moment and continued cooking.

"what are you cooking?" you asked, not wanting to fall asleep there.

"your favorite."

sakura noticed how you lit up and couldn't help but smile at your natural body response. you opened your eyes and looked at the side of her face, a puzzled expression on your face.

"i thought you hated it?"

you noticed the blush on her face this time, and despite your confusion, you ignored it and waited for her response. sakura wanted nothing more than to hide her face in her arms as she felt her face heat up, but she wasn't aware of your gaze on her, which she should be grateful for or else she'd combust right then and there.

the older girl huffed softly. "no, i don't."

you pouted. "you said you hate it."

sakura sighed. "i don't. it's… one of my comfort foods." definitely not because it was yours.

she definitely disliked it before, but seeing your dejected pout every time she rejected it made her feel guilty, so she tried it on her own. it didn't take long for her to fall in love with the food, but not just because of how it tastes, but because every bite reminded her of the way your face lit up when you smelled or saw the food from afar. she'd remember the happy noises you made while eating it, your shoulders bouncing uncontrollably in delight.

although you were relieved to hear that, realization came much sooner than you expected. your arms tightened around her waist, causing the other girl to look at you, her brows raised in confusion. sakura ignored the small gap between your faces, appearing calm on the outside but clearly panicking on the inside.

"you're cooking our comfort food then you need comfort?"

sakura loved the worried expression on your face and chuckled as she reached up to tuck strands of your hair behind your ears. the ghost brush of her fingertips across your skin caused goosebumps to form, your eyes widening slightly as your heart rate increased slightly.

"no, i'm just hungry. i want to eat." sakura smiled gently before turning back to the food.

you couldn't think of a proper response as you tried to calm down your heart, afraid sakura would hear it. you groaned silently and buried yourself back into her side, your grip tighter than before, but sakura didn't mind because she was used to it.

after that confusing reaction on your part, as you tried to figure out why your heart did that, silence enveloped both of you. sakura would check on you every now and then to see if you had fallen asleep, but would continue to cook if she was sure you were still awake.

but your grip on her waist was a clear indication that you were awake, your fingers tugging on the fabric of her top, a habit you developed as you clung to someone, usually sakura.

"y/n?"

you raised your head. "unnie?"

"food is done. help me ready the table?" sakura asked as she reached around you for the plate.

you moved away from her, much to sakura's dismay, which she desperately tried to hide. you both moved silently around the kitchen until you were seated at the table with sakura across from you.

there were no words exchanged between you two, but the joy on your faces was obvious as you dug into the food, while sakura simply watched with a smile of her own, chopsticks not moving due to her daze.

of course, you noticed she was only staring, and when you finally lifted your gaze from your plate, you squinted at her.

sakura arched her brow. "what?"

you didn't respond and reached across the table, your chopsticks stopping just before her lips. "eat."

"but—"

you glared at her, your cheeks puffing, and despite your anger, sakura found the sight in front of her cute. "eat, unnie."

sakura laughed and complied, allowing you to feed her. you watched her chew, making sure she truly loved the food; not because you didn't trust sakura, but because you wanted to see it for yourself.

you got your confirmation when her eyes lit up and she hummed as she finally removed her gaze from you because she had been staring the entire time and the intensity of your gaze was making her face flush for the third time tonight.

"it's good. i got it right this time." sakura commented.

you nodded furiously. "it's so good! probably the best one i had!"

sakura giggled. "now, you're just being dramatic; it took me a few tries to get this dish just right."

you shook your head as you tried to speak with your mouth full, your cheeks puffing up cutely once more, causing sakura to lean over in concern.

"please eat before you speak."

you did as told, bursting with energy from within to argue with sakura on her statement.

"i've never lied to you, unnie! it's really good, i swear! you're amazing!"

sakura smiled shyly, her heart full of your compliments, and reached up to tuck her hair behind her ears, a habit you knew she had whenever she was embarrassed in a good way.

"thank you, y/n."

"mmf mmf mmf!"

"please eat before you speak."

"yes, ma'am!"

if the other girls or anyone else were around, they would notice the love in sakura's eyes whenever she looked at you. it was as clear as day, and even sakura was certain she was obvious, but you somehow missed it.

or perhaps you were aware of it and simply refused to accept it.

"done?" sakura inquired, and you nodded, smiling broadly at her. 

the older girl returned it and stood up, prompting you to do the same.

"go to bed, y/n." she said.

you pouted. "i want to do the dishes."

sakura gave a firm shake of her head. "i'll do it."

you stood there, crossing your arms and staring at sakura as she cleaned up the table. sakura saw the impending tantrum, but simply laughed, patting you on the head as she approached your side of the table.

"just go, okay? i'll do it, it's fine. they're not that many." sakura assured.

your lower lip jutted out even more, trying to get sakura to give in, but as much as she thought you were cute, sakura gave you another firm head shake. you deflated like a balloon losing its air, and she chuckled, one hand reaching up to wipe the mess you made around your lips.

"you're such a baby."

you froze as her fingertips brushed against your skin again, lips ajar as you watched her eyes scan your face. you resisted the urge to gulp or lick your lips, instead curling your hands into a fist and concentrating on slowing the quick pace your heart had decided to set.

your shoulders jumped in surprise as her eyes met yours. sakura noticed but ignored it as she patted both of your cheeks. she smiled, and you weren't expecting it when she stood on tiptoes, closing the gap between your faces. your eyes closed as you felt her lips against your cheek and you gulped as you realized you were disappointed, not because she kissed you, but because of where she kissed you.

but you didn't know why.

the temperature of the kitchen unexpectedly rising, or maybe it was just you and your body, caused your face to flush quickly as if you had eaten the spiciest food ever. you tried to relish the sensation of her soft lips against your cheek, but her lips were gone as quickly as it came.

"good night, y/n."

"g-good night, unnie..."

sakura smiled one last time before leaving to deal with the dirty dishes. you only stood there in stunned silence for a few more seconds before turning around to leave, nearly fleeing in embarrassment when you realized she probably noticed how red you were. sakura did notice it, and she saw you almost sprint upstairs out of the corner of her eye.

sakura sighed. "cute."

you were relieved to return to your room, throwing yourself on the bed and burying yourself in the mattress, wishing it would swallow you whole.

what the hell was that?

it's not like you weren't used to kisses. you were constantly the victim of your members' kisses, particularly yunjin's. you always got kisses from the american from the time you woke up until you went to bed because she enjoys teasing you and the only reaction they get from you is either a scowl when you're not in the mood or a happy grin.

so why? 

when sakura did it, why?

you nearly tore your hair out in frustration and embarrassment, the scene from earlier replaying in your head as if it were an interesting loop you discovered late at night on some app that you would gladly watch again and again. however, the loop was annoying in both good and bad ways this time.

you covered your red face with a pillow, almost screaming, but then remembered that most of your members were sleeping. the thoughts from when you were woken up from a deep sleep had been forgotten, and you were supposed to be at ease now. even after only a short time with sakura, she always managed to bring you the comfort you needed.

maybe it was the absence of something from earlier.

those burdensome thoughts, however, were all replaced by a single thought, supposedly realization, but you still refused to accept it and it hasn't fully loaded in your brain.

you groaned.

why the hell did i turn red?

nikko note: i know this wasn't in my wip, but i'm trying out my writing shit first before i get back to the requests because i feel like i forgot how to write. fuck school. anyway, i'm not back ENTIRELY, but i'm getting there hehe. i hope this is good JWJASJAJSA thank you for reading! have a good one!

[loggiepj]

UNTITLED WANDA SHORT STORY

Part 11 | Part 12

Vision: You and Wanda seem pretty close.

You look at him from your hiding position. You and Vision are currently in a mission — to take down one of the aircrafts manned by Hydra. It's connected to their headquarters.

Meanwhile, Wanda, Nat and Steve are evacuating the children that were taken as hostages for experiments out of the area.

V: Did she say anything about me?

You don't know how to reply to that.

Vision only shakes his head then sighs.

V: Forget I asked, it's just . . . She's acting a bit strange, different, I mean, whenever we're together.

You cannot think of a better response. You do spend a lot of time with Wanda these days. But you can't admit to him what Wanda had told you about her and Vision and how he has changed since he came back from the dead without hurting the guy. Through time, you have softened around him, whether you liked it or not. It's safe to say that you have truly accepted Wanda will never be yours in this universe.

You: Maybe she's just preoccupied with her missions and stuff. Don't let it get to you. You're overthinking things.

This doesn't settle well with Vision.

V: Yeah, maybe you're right. Maybe I'm just overthinking things.

You and Vision leave the hiding spot when you both see one of the Hydra agents leave the aircraft.

Steve's voice goes through your earphones.

Steve: Nat and I have successfully evacuated the children to the Quinjet. Any luck in there?

Y: We'll check further. The agent just left the aircraft.

Once inside, you both take a look of your surroundings, checking anything that could help take down Hydra's future plans. You swear you can hear something ticking but you haven't eaten since this morning so you might just be imagining things. Then you jump from surprise when Vision suddenly says something behind you.

V: It's a bomb. This aircraft's a bomb. It's lined up around the edges, and it's about to explode in one minute.

Y: How big?

Vision takes time before he replies, calculating.

V: (his eyes widen) The entire city will be affected.

You curse as you make your way to sit in front of the controls.

Y: Get everybody out of the premises, Vision.

V: No, I'll handle the mission from here. I'm a synthezoid, I can come back to life unlike you—

You immediately think of Wanda.

Y: I'm not making that same mistake again—

V: If this is about Wanda, like you said, don't let your emotions get to you—

Y: I'm not. This is the only way.

Vision still doesn't move. You have already turned on the aircraft's engine and the necessary controls, ready to take off.

Y: Vision, please hurry! We don't have time.

V: (nods) Take care, Y/n.

This is it. The sacrifice you should have done in the first place — your fate in this universe.

Ensuring that Vision has managed it outside heading towards the others, you begin to take the aircraft off into the atmosphere.

After a couple of seconds from takeoff, the line suddenly cuts through your earphone.

Wanda: Y/n, what the hell do you think you're doing?!

You smile, tears finally slipping from your eyes as you maneuver the aircraft towards the atmosphere, away from the city.

Y: Don't worry, Wands, Vision's safe and sound.

You hear sobbing from the other line.

W: Y/n, please don't do this. Please come back.

Y: It's okay, Wanda—

W: I didn't mean what I said to you back then. I'm so sorry. You mean everything to me, Y/n, please.

You exhale a shaky breath.

Y: Wands, it's okay. You're going to be okay.

W: You come back here this instant!

Y: Please know that I have never stopped loving you, Wands. And it's totally okay if you don't feel the same way about me.

W: Y/n, no—

Y: It's okay.

There's a short pause.

W: I love—

The line cuts off when you reach outside the atmosphere, and time runs out as the ticking has gone silent. You close your eyes, imagining that Wanda's last words say she loves you too.

Back at the Avengers compound, one of Tony's satellites outside Earth detects a massive explosion.

Taglist: @smromanoff @nightingalexx @dubleshcpi @marvelwomen-simp @casquinhaa @the-mute1 @samallen20062837392 @swiftie1-0-1 @pampeop @bxtrflyr @cherlenovix @eliii1sblog @justgotlizzied @aliherreraaa @natsgloriouspurpose @aliherreraaa @esposadejoyhuerta

[cannebady]

It's the future. How far into it, really, is of no matter here. The important bit is that they've finally reached some degree of an understanding.

There's an angel back in a bookshop in Soho, enthusiastic in his separation from the holy host and distinct lack of separation from the original tempter.

Well, he supposes lack of separation is a relative term.

Right before, well, before. Not Before of course, no, not that far back, but before their second, second chance he and Crowley were as close as they'd ever been. There were talks and walks and good lord the touching. They were so close then, right on the precipice before the Metatron and Aziraphale's most shameful cowardice yet.

Crowley had tried, of course he had. Brilliant, brave, honest Crowley throwing his heart into the ring in the final hour, a pleading hail Mary met only by an angel's repitious distance and foolish devotion to the wrong entity entirely.

Crowley does have reason to be vexed with him.

But that's behind them too, because they've always been stronger together and now, after all that's transpired (which shall be discussed at a later date), they've begun to establish a new normal.

And Aziraphale is grateful, well and truly, deeply grateful for the wellspring of forgiveness, or possibly acceptance, that proliferates in his dear demon. His best friend, the love of his life, a pure anomaly that Aziraphale had coveted since before he knew it was sinful to.

He certainly doesn't give a toss about the concept of sin now. Not now that his apology (a rather garish, lengthy spin on their apology dance that included no fewer than eleven doves, four streamers, twenty-seven individual steps, and one heartfelt apology made while holding the hand of a shell-shocked demon who looked nearly as relieved as he was conflicted) has been cautiously accepted.

They started small. Coffee once a week at Nina's shop to hash out their thoughts and catch up under the watchful eye of someone far wiser than them.

It was after the fifth coffee date (they're not dates, he keeps reminding himself, to little effect) is the first time it happens.

It, in this instance, is a moment of tension as one of them almost breaks the silence on the one piece of the Debacle they haven't bled out yet. They talked about the difference in their "exactlies" and how Aziraphale had always needed to fix things to feel worthy and how Crowley's loneliness had been nearly crushing, and that's really saying something for a demon.

But they hadn't talked about the kiss. About Crowley's desperate, last-ditch-attempt kiss meant to show Aziraphale what he could offer.

They hadn't talked about how it was almost enough to rip Aziraphale from his self-imposed duty. Or how he hadn't gone one day, not ever one hour, since without thinking about how wrong it was that he didn't kiss Crowley back with everything he was.

So upon the steps of the bookshop, after the fifth coffee not-date of the rest of their lives (part two), they prepare to say goodbye as the angel frets about whether it's too soon to invite his favorite demon inside (or to spend the rest of their lives together, either would be lovely). While preoccupied with invitations and proposals, he fumbles with the key to the shop door, enough so that Crowley reaches around him with a, "Let me get that for you, angel," in just enough time for Aziraphale to turn around and look him in his ochre eyes.

Time feels paused. Considering Crowley's abilities, it may have actually stopped. But Aziraphale can't think about that because they're so close, closer than they've been since before, and all he can think of is dragging those red lips down to his own and showing Crowley the depth of his devotion.

Crowley seems similarly caught in the liminal space of the moment, frozen on an event horizon that is as terrifying for him as it is exciting.

Aziraphale almost leans in, he's so close to it that it's almost an inevitability, but then he sees a trace of panic cross Crowley's features and time starts again instantly.

It's too soon. They haven't talked about it. Once they have, perhaps he'll be permitted a second go at tasting his demon, but he won't force Crowley across any more lines. It's his turn to match speed.

So he pulls back slowly, with a smile he hopes conveys his understanding and acceptance. Crowley looks uneasy for a moment, stuck in where they almost landed, before he too, pulls back.

They say a warm, if stilted, goodbye and Aziraphale locks himself in the shop for the rest of the day. They're working through it, but sometimes he can't believe his own stupidity. He left this behind and he can't even fathom why at this point.

---

It happens again because of course it does.

The next time they're coming back from Aziraphale's favorite sushi place, because they've graduated to a coffee not-date once a week and one dinner not-date in the same week and he's tickled about it.

Crowley has been his sparkling self all evening, funny and sharp and silly and Aziraphale's so ridiculously charmed by him he feels like there's glitter in his performative veins.

The Bentley stops outside of the bookshop and Aziraphale's heart aches for a time in the not-so-distant past when it would've been natural to ask Crowley in for a nightcap.

For now, he turns to thank him for a lovely meal, but when he shifts he sees that Crowley's staring at him in a way that makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up. His gaze is locked on Aziraphale's mouth and he seems completely caught in his own mind. Aziraphale can only imagine he's remembering, because he's also remembering and good lord his self control is waning.

Suddenly, Crowley snaps out of it, turning his head sharply and grinding out, "Night angel, see you Wednesday," as Aziraphale takes his cue to get out of the car and head inside the shop. It's longing and abrupt, but they don't look at one another. Something in that breaks Aziraphale's chipped heart just a bit more.

It hurts, but he's brought it on himself for being a fool. He allows himself a cocoa, then a stiff glass of whiskey before he settles in with a copy of Persuasion and pointedly thinks of nothing.

---

Three months or so in, and it's happened so often that Aziraphale wonders if it's a cosmic joke or some kind of karmic backlash for his hallmark poor decision-making.

They've had so many almosts it's doing his head in.

There was the one at the drive in where they saw Casablanca and Crowley had looked so handsome limned by the screen light that Aziraphale almost lost his better judgment.

There was the pub where Aziraphale won a game of pool with a move so complicated and borderline impossible that Crowley looked like he may just swing him around and plant one on him in pride. Aziraphale wishes he would've. But that same shuttered (shattered) look crossed Crowley's features and Aziraphale found himself challenging Crowley to a second match to pull him out of his spiral.

Then there was the farmers market, and the duck pond, and the beach, and every other bloody place they went to and if the tension didn't break soon Aziraphale was concerned his patience just might.

But he doesn't complain because Crowley comes to the shop at his leisure now, walking in like he has a claim to it (he does, he does, he does) and that makes Aziraphale so happy he could almost lose consciousness.

But he's starting to wonder after his own ability to keep letting things go as, presently, they're both on the sofa in the room above the shop, in front of a roaring fireplace that came loaded with a divine miracle to keep it from burning or even singeing a single page, (a condition of Crowley's that Aziraphale was happy to acquiesce) and the exact right amount of wine in their systems to know better but not necessarily do better.

It's a dangerous combination because good lord does the firelight make Crowley incandescently beautiful (or possibly, it's Crowley doing so to the fire, as he's always beautiful) and Aziraphale is weak.

He realizes, after a moment, that it's quiet save for the crackling of the fire and last he'd remembered before getting lost in his head Crowley was talking but now, the air is thick with familiar tension and he can feel those serpent eyes on him.

He looks over and is caught in the softest, hungriest gaze he's ever seen directed his way. He can feel his own cheeks flush in sympathy and he watches Crowley notice, watches Crowley take in the click of his throat as he tries to swallow his want lest he tarnish this delicate balance of theirs, and watches as Crowley's hand comes to his own and trails upward, feels heat and goose flesh break out on his arm (his sleeve is rolled up, there's no barrier, oh fuck) in the wake of those elegant fingers as they travel higher, and loses his measured breathing as it traverses his bicep, his shoulder, dear lord his neck, then settles holding his cheek.

There is no mistaking it this time. No broken glances, no rage, just heat and static and love.

Oh, Aziraphale can feel the love pouring off of them both and it's like his thirst being slaked for the first time in ages.

"Crowley," he starts, and before he can continue he hears a rough, "Yes, angel. Just yes," and that's all he needs.

He grabs Crowley's lapels, a gentle mirror to before, and brings his lips to his beloved's and a moan rings out that both will blame on the other and both will be right to.

Crowley's lips are syrup sweet on his, his hands grasping with a whole different kind of desperation, the kind the screams "I love you, and I've loved you, and I'm going to continue to until the Sun burns out and then I'll find a way to love you some more", and Aziraphale is torn asunder by the heat building in his chest.

Crowley's breathing is a mess of gasps and low growls and Aziraphale answers with moans, and hums, and his arms wrapping around his perfect, brave serpent until the demon is in his lap, right where he belongs.

Ever the egalitarian, Crowley gives as good as he gets, cleverly licking into Aziraphale's mouth, biting his lip just to soothe it with his forked tongue, and Aziraphale has his hands lost in blood red hair and his mind lost in Crowley's blood hot embrace and he's crying but Crowley's crying too so it's alright.

They kiss for ages, allowing the second one to make up for the millions of times they should've done it before, until Aziraphale rests his forehead against Crowley's, stroking a thumb down his cheek to his jaw. Letting them catch their unneeded breath.

"I am terribly, irrevocably in love with you", Aziraphale whispers between them. It's about time he took the leap first.

Crowley's breath hitches and his eyes snap up to Aziraphale's. He looks into his blue eyes and Aziraphale lets him find what he needs reflected there.

"Angel," he starts before losing his breath again, "I never thought-" and fresh tears well on his lovely face.

"My dearest, you needn't say anything. Say what you will in your own time. I'll love you regardless," he jumps to reassure. Now is not the time for him to demand reciprocity. It will hurt and he will wait. It's alright.

The demon almost scoffs, but it's stopped by a small, sincere smile. "Of course I love you," Crowley replies, voice low and earnest, and impossibly steady. He says it as if it's an undeniable truth. It is.

Aziraphale makes his own desperate noise as he hears his devoted love returned to him and he's kissing Crowley again before he knows it.

They're finally here, in this world they've protected together. Finally on the same side and the same page.

As Crowley drifts off some time later, with his head on Aziraphale's shoulder and Aziraphale's lips to his temple, the angel allows himself to let their future take shape in his mind.

There will be peaks and valleys, he imagines, but it'll be perfect anyway.

[listofwhyyouloveher]

Two-bit headcanons with a reader (Abt Johnny or pony boys age) who sort of thinks of him as a parental figure (for some reason💀) and accidentally calls him dad pretty pls

Summary: Y/n thinks of Two as a parental figure, but what will happen when they accidentally call him dad!?! (OMG??? LIVE REACTION???) Warnings: mentions of bad parents, mentions of bad childhood. Author's Note: the penjamin got me feeling a slightest bit silly. It was no secret that you had a rough childhood. It showed itself in the way you walked, carried yourself, and even traced back to the moments when you found yourself hiding behind's Two's frame in situations that made your head spin. Obviously, that was not a new situation for you both. Ever since your parents kicked you out, Two started working to try to get you in a safe spot to live. Although he could't spend every night with you he made sure to visit you every day. It continued, like a cycle, making you more accostumed to his prescense, even looking forward to his daily visits. The idea of Two-Bit grew on you, but you just couldn't pinpoint what it was. It wasn't a friend kind of thing, the feeling felt far more mature than that, but it definitely wasn't love, at least, not the dating-marriage kind of love. It wasn't until Two stopped by to check up on you on a Tuesday afternoon while you were washing dishes that you realized why. Your mind was preoccupied with rinsing the suds off of your plate while listening to Two-Bit prattle on about how he'd help you repair your broken AC. You wiped sweat from your brow, fanning yourself while shifting from one leg to the other. Your mind was more or less completely muddled. "Sounds good, Dad," You yell, tying the familiar feeling of love and security to a father. There was a pause in Two's sentence, but you paid it no mind, continuing to wash the dishes, unaware of what you'd just said. "Huh?" Two-Bit ask, peeking his head around the kitchen door. You looked up. "I said, 'Sounds good'," You smiled, forgetting entirely. "No, you said something else, you said 'Sounds good, Dad'," He said, shock displayed on his face. You nearly dropped your dishes. "Did..did I really?" You asked, nervously, mentally bracing yourself for your whole relationship with Two to crumble. "Yeah," He said, a soft smile growing. "Oh gosh, I'm so sorry." You said, putting the dish down and turning off the water. "No, no..it's ok. I don't mind," He beamed. You raised your eyebrows before smiling. You didn't know whether to explain why you said it or not, but you had a feeling that Two-Bit already knew why. "Here, let me help you with the dishes," He nudged you over a little so he could stand in front of the sink before turning the water back on. You sighed heavily, letting the weight you'd been carrying, the burden of being without a caring family, for so long fall off your shoulder.

[ruhorih4ra]

Holi! 🌞 I'm sorry, I'm losing motivation (the hiperfixation is leaving my body [I'm lying, that shit is already gone <fuck>]). 😔

Part 10!

Get out of my way 🌈

Lilith seemed unfazed by your surprised face. “Don't look at me like that, everybody has little outbursts from time to time,” you argued. “You made my brother cry like a baby!”

“Firstly, Mammon cries like a baby all the time. Secondly, he made me cry first!” You tried to escape Lilith’s reprimand but the Little D.’s were too engrossed in the sales of the Little D. of Greed to help you out.

“My brother was willing to sell his car for you!” “Pffft oh what a big sacrifice! You know what? I was willing to give my life for him.” With that, both you and Lilith decided to finish the argument. Neither of you felt even an ounce of satisfaction.

“I still think that’s not enough for that little bastard to show.” You signaled the Little D. of Greed with a brief movement of your chin. The long haired woman sighed while raising two fingers. “Two.”

Tuesday.

For better or worse, you shared a fair amount of courses with Satan. Every time you felt his eyes on you, you'd turn to face him only to watch him quickly look away. That repeated until the last class was over and you could head to the library. “Mc, wait!” you were quick to dismiss him. “Whatever you have to say can wait.”

Unfortunately the blonde demon was more stubborn than you thought, discreetly following you without arguing further. “Stop. What are you doing?” Satan's face was emotionless. “Are you talking to me? I'm going to the library.” He replied. “So that's how it's gonna be.”

You turned around, changing your plans. Immediately, the sound of other shoes heading in the same direction as you made you stop. Without turning around, you peeked out of the corner of your eye. “I thought you were going to the library.” “Not anymore.” Satan said.

“I can always just teleport somewhere you can't follow.” he didn't seem too preoccupied by your statement and his next words showed you why. “I can always follow the trace of your magic too.” a scowl appeared on your face, it gradually deepened as you felt irritation arise. “No, no you can't.” He seemed to be fighting with himself before accepting defeat.

“There is something you should know.” suddenly, a dense black mist spread across the hallway and from that mist the black shape of Satan appeared. “If I say I'm sorry enough times, would you forgive me, kitten?”

“No way! Just leave me alone, you little jerk!” You said. “How did you-What?” You understood that Satan had mistakenly received the insult but you didn’t bother to correct him. Being forced to live around seven selfish demons and their little dumb imitators was exhausting, you didn’t care about pretending anymore.

“Mc! Please! What do we need to do?!” you’ve never seen him like this, so desperate and helpless. “What do you want me to do!?” you looked around, wondering why Lilith wasn't bugging you to forgive her brothers. “What are you looking for?” Satan asked you, nothing ever escapes him.

“You're very perceptive, aren't you? How come that you never noticed how bad I felt?” He opened his mouth and closed it almost immediately, he did the same at least three more times. Eventually, he closed his eyes and began speaking at a very slow pace. “Listen to me, Mc. I don't care about Lucifer.” you frowned, looking at him in confusion. “And?” “I don't care what Lord Diavolo wants either.” He didn't stop looking at your eyes as he spoke, but his words made no sense to you.

“And you’re telling me this because?” your irritation was escalating. He seemed troubled and you knew he was fighting with himself, whether he cares for Lucifer's opinion or not, it looked like this particular time he was on his side. “Because I care for you! And right now it doesn't seem right to tell you this but you have to trust me!” He took each of your arms with his hands, waiting for a response.

“I don't have to trust you, and honestly I don't get why I should.” You shook off his grip. “Why don't you go to Sc, I'm sure she must be waiting for you.” Satan's mask was slowly cracking but you didn't notice.

“Mc, please. Please let me explain it better.” Satan tried really hard to keep his composure, but the way you brushed him off hurt. He scratched his hair, pacing back and forth, breathing and counting to ten. “I think I'll pass, I have things to do.” “No, no, please listen.”

“See you, Satan.”

“NO! LISTEN TO ME!” The floor crushed when he walked towards you, he had changed into his demon form. You backed away from him, surprised and frightened by the sudden outburst of anger. You hadn't been the source of it in so long.

He was at your side in seconds, grabbing your arm with one hand while roughly grabbing your chin with the other. “WE ARE TRYING TO PROTECT YOU!!”

Your whole body was shaking, your eyes had closed on instinct. You could feel Satan's messy breath on your face. The more time you refused to talk, the tighter his grip became.

You filled your lungs with air before facing him. “Protect me from whom? Protect me from...you?” his face lost all its anger and he walked away from you in two strides.

“No! I was trying to…” He looked at your arm and then his hands, he was distraught. He couldn’t believe how little it took him to reach a breaking point, how little he could take before hurting you, even if it wasn’t his intention. You’re better off without him and the mark on your arm was proof of that. “I should have known better since the very first time you threatened me.” You said, your voice was low but steady.

A quick glance at you shattered Satan’s resolve, he wanted to protect you, but what greater danger is out there, if not him? “You’re right. I’m sorry, I won’t bother you anymore.” He murmured, but he didn’t make the effort to leave, just stayed there trying to force his legs to obey him. “Would you let me take care of that?” He said, incapable of simply walk away.

“No.” You said sharply. You healed your arm easily, no more than a touch and the bruise was gone. Satan’s amazement was visible, his eyes were full of admiration and respect. He knew about the raw magic inside you, but to see the progress you made in such a short time helped him understand what he feared most. “I guess you don’t really need us anymore.”

You averted his eyes and sighed, if he could know how miserable you feel without them. “I suppose not.” After a while you turned around and left him there, and if he let a couple of tears fall, at least there were no witnesses.

“What?! How do you know that!? You weren’t even there!” You said and Lilith shrugged. “That’s not the point.” Your ancestor looked at the distance, her gaze lost in the darkness of the Devildom’s sky.

“Why didn’t you try to stop me as you usually do?” She seemed tired. “I wasn’t there!” You still had doubts about how exactly she had found about the incident with Satan, but you decided to change the subject.

“Where were you?” She cleared her throat nervously. “I was busy with your little demons, they’re getting stronger.” You shook your head and rolled your eyes. “Mammon and Satan had it coming, so…” “Tsk tsk tsk, Mc.” Your jaw dropped. Did Lilith just Tsk me? Lilith wagged her finger disapprovingly. “There is more” She raised three fingers.

“Three.”

Wednesday

“For the last time, Asmodeus, I don’t want you to paint my fucking nails!” You removed your hand from his once again, after multiple attempts from Asmo. “But Mc! I chose this color specifically for you!” He whined and protested. “Leave my room, now!”

The corner of his eyes filled with unshed tears. “Mc, please don’t be mad with me anymore!” You got up from bed and opened the door. “Out. Now.” He didn’t move, instead he hugged himself and bit his lips. “I just… you know what it means to me.”

You did remember what it means, Asmo told you painting the nails of his brothers gave him comfort, it also showed that they were a family. He told you doing the same for you was a way of showing that you were part of the family too.

It was comforting, but you were too blinded with disappointment to properly care. “Tell me why.” You murmured, already savoring your next words. Asmodeus frowned. “What?” He asked, confused.

“Don’t.” Lilith appeared behind Asmodeus. “Please, don’t.” You sighed and rolled your eyes, but indulged. “Forget it, Asmodeus. Just leave.” The demon shook his head and changed his pose. “Don’t call me by my full name!” He whined. “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know, Mc!”

You spit a short laugh before getting close to him, something that caught him off guard but he didn’t complain. “Why would I ever want to be seen as part of your family?” He backed off, hurt evident on his face. “You’re not Mc.” He said shakily.

He looked at you again and was horrified. “Mc we need to do something. What happened to you, hon!? Oh don’t worry, everything’s going to be alright, dear.”

You were more confused with each passing moment, looking at him in awe. “Excuse me, what?” He hugged you but it didn’t last, you broke the hug as fast as possible. “It was you, you happened.” You snatched the things he’d brought and promptly threw them out of your room. “I don’t want to see your face again, it disgusts me. Understood?” You said before closing the door in his face.

“He cried a lot that night.” Lilith’s face of anguish was hard to ignore. “You’re pitying them too much, Lilith.” She shook her head, moving her hands with exasperation, signaling to nowhere. “He covered all of the mirrors in his room!” Lilith shouted, and you felt guilty, you hadn’t given that much thought to your actions and it seemed that your brain was trying to ignore the damage that your words had caused. “I guess I did overdo it a bit”

“A bit?”

“Aren’t you hungry?”

“No.”

“There is more?”

“There is more.”

“Fuck.”

Part 12 ಠ⁠‿⁠ಠ

Taglist: @yuumaofc @kodasstar @asmolover1234 @gallantys @prefesro @urminebutidontwantyou @fiveofspades @owl778 @unknownbish101 @sadlily1 @pinkvelvetcake1 @bontensbabygirl

[daytaker]

1. Apology

(Existing Sucks So) Let's All Be Shadows.

A Satan-centric Nightbringer Timeline Fic (Read on AO3)

Chapter Starring: MC, Satan, Lucifer Chapter Word Count: ~2,000 Chapter Warnings: Canon-typical violence

"Never play around with my body again."

First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Latest Chapter

1 2 3 4 5

One of the first things I did when I was thrown back in time was knock a rampaging Satan unconscious. It’s been a while since then, and I’m still not entirely sure whether or not I feel guilty about it.

It stopped him from hurting anybody, and I don’t regret that, but… I guess it gnaws at my sense of fair play a bit. He had no idea what was coming. Besides, you don’t get a second chance at first impressions, and I had made a stinker of a first impression on Satan.

Regardless, what’s done is done, so during my first walk through the Devildom with the brothers in this new era, Beelzebub marched with an unconscious Satan slung unceremoniously over his shoulder.

I remember getting a decent look at him as he dangled there, bouncing gently off Beel’s back. It’s always night in the Devildom, so the artificial street lights there are second to none, but they still cast an eerie pall over his face, and the contours of his face formed shadows that were unusually sharp and unhealthy-looking. He was grinding his teeth just about the whole time too, and even unconscious, his hands were balled into fists. I tried to remember if the Satan back when I'm from did either of those things. I didn’t think so.

Of course, I wasn’t thinking too hard about any of that as I walked to the House of Lamentation with Diavolo and the boys. I was mostly preoccupied with my sudden and unexpected displacement in time. I was relieved when I met up with Solomon at the gates to the manor. We discussed my situation, and I spent the next few days trying to come to terms with what had happened to me, all while Diavolo impulsively and zealously recruited me to help found his shiny new academy.

So when I entered the House of Lamentation a few days later and felt a pair of eyes boring into me, and when I looked and saw Satan for the first time since the incident, the fact that I'd recently delivered him a psychic slam so hard that he lost consciousness didn't even register. He stood on the stairs above me in the entryway wearing a grim, tight-lipped expression, his tail curled around his right leg, and his eyes had never looked more cat-like.

“Good morning,” I called out to him after an awkward silence.

“Don’t you have something you want to say to me?” Satan folded his arms, tapping his finger on his bicep impatiently.

I stared stupidly at him for a few seconds, completely mystified.

“Do I?”

That seemed to annoy him. I could feel chilly energy begin to swirl around him as he leaned over the bannister, gripping it with white knuckles.

“How stupid are you?” he growled. “After what you did, that’s all you can think to say? ‘Do I?’ Is this how most demons operate?”

I wasn’t making much headway, still blinking at him like a dying fish, when Lucifer emerged from the dining room, tailed by Asmodeus. He glanced at me, looked up at Satan, seemed to read the situation instantly, and let out an exasperated sigh.

“Satan has, rather immaturely in my opinion, been waiting for an apology for the incident the other day at the new academy,” he explained, crossing his arms and casting an annoyed look at his brother. “Apparently he hasn’t yet realized how ineffective passive aggression is when the other party isn’t there to witness it.”

“Isn’t it so much better than aggressive aggression, though?” Asmo put in. He beamed warmly at Satan, who balked irritably under such an adoring (or maybe condescending) gaze. “Satan’s getting better at managing his temper, I can tell!” He turned to me, wearing a heart-stoppingly earnest smile. “We’re so proud of him!”

“Stop talking about me like I’m not here!” barked Satan. That chilly energy around him was growing stronger, and I could tell from the sudden discomfort on Asmo’s face and the exhaustion on Lucifer’s that his darkening mood wasn’t lost on them.

I took a step toward the stairs.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to get hit so hard.”

“But I was.”

“...But you were,” I conceded a little sheepishly. “...Are you feeling alright now?”

What followed was an uncomfortably long silence. Lucifer rubbed his temples, Asmo rocked forward and back, hands clasped behind him, and Satan stared at me with an inscrutable expression and narrowed eyes.

“...Somewhat,” he finally admitted, looking down peevishly. “So I’ll accept your apology conditionally.”

Conditionally? I hadn’t been counting on that. I could feel sweat beading on my forehead. “What’s the condition…?” 

“Never play around with my body again.”

Predictably, Asmodeus gasped. “Are you sure you won’t end up regretting that, Satan? I mean, if we’re really going to have such a cutie around all the time, you never know–”

“I think I do know,” snapped Satan. “Not all of us think like you do, you pervert.”

Asmo gasped again, and Lucifer sighed, wisely turning on his heel and heading further into the house before he could get drawn into things.

“I accept your condition,” I said, hoping to interrupt the rising conflict.

“I can’t believe you’d call your adorable little brother a pervert!” Asmodeus whined, crushing those hopes.

“You’re not my brother, but you are a pervert.” Brushing Asmo aside with that remark, Satan stared moodily down at me and nodded, acknowledging my reply. “Good. Then we shouldn’t have any more problems.”

“I have a problem!” insisted Asmo, who would not be silenced.

“I’m well aware,” Satan said dryly.

Ever persistent, Asmodeus crossed his arms and jutted his chin out defiantly in Satan’s direction. “I have a problem with all the awful things you say about me! And not just me, though it’s certainly most unacceptable when I’m the target. But you’re too hard on the others too!”

Satan didn’t say anything, but his expression darkened. Asmo continued.

“I know you get angry easily, but that’s no excuse–!”

“You think I need an excuse to put you in your place?” The crackling of dark energy around Satan was becoming more and more physical. “You think I give a single damn if I hurt your feelings? I’m not your brother, and I’m not going to treat you like you’re my brother, and if you’re a pathetic loser or a pervert, I’ll tell you so!” He pointed directly at Asmodeus. “You are a pathetic loser and a pervert!”

Announcing his arrival with a dramatic sigh and all the bravado he could muster, Mammon strode into the front hall, his hands on his hips. “Alright, alright, quiet down! Big Bro is here. What’s the problem?”

“Oh, you want in on this?” Satan shouted down at Mammon. He was back to gripping the bannister like a vice and leaning over the edge. “You’re shallow, self-centered, and so stupid and pathetic that I’m ashamed to be associated with you!”

“Whoa whoa whoa!” Mammon lifted his hands, clearly thrown off-guard by the sudden barrage of insults. “Take it easy! What’s wrong?”

“Don’t you dare condescend to me!” He scowled darkly at Mammon. “Don’t treat me like I’m your little brother!”

Mammon sighed, shook his head, and turned to me to offer up an explanation. “He’s goin’ through a phase lately. He’s always goin’, ‘You’re not my brothers!’ and ‘Say that again, I dare ya!’”

“Don’t talk about me like I’m not around!” Satan bellowed for the second time. Granted, Mammon hadn’t been there to hear his first warning, but that didn’t do anything to ease Satan’s growing rage. 

“He called me a pervert,” Asmo told Mammon, ignoring Satan’s outburst.

“Oi, Satan,” Mammon groaned. “You know he doesn’t like it when people point that out! Just let him be!”

“It isn’t true!” Asmodeus argued, and he turned to me. “It isn’t true.”

“Okay,” I said with a nod. Just agreeing seemed to be the safest way ahead.

“You’re both delusional,” Satan snapped, vaulting over the bannister and landing like a cat on the ground in front of us. “Nothing is more pathetic than someone who won’t even admit what they really are.” He turned his gaze to me, and I was just starting to wonder if he was going to tear me a new one when the clacking of Lucifer’s shoes sounded on the floor behind me.

“I shouldn’t have bothered walking away,” he said with the air of a man who suffers fools for the greater good. “This will stop. Now.”

“You,” snarled Satan. He spat the word out like it was poison on his tongue. “You’re worse than any of them.”

“Satan, I would advise you not to provoke me,” Lucifer said with a chilly calm.

“You try to keep us all under control because you know this is all your fault,” Satan seethed. He almost looked like he might start laughing. 

“Oi, oi, you're at this again?” Mammon groaned. “We’re adults, y'know? We’re responsible for ourselves!”

I looked between the brothers, feeling just a little bit out of the loop. What was Lucifer's fault? The Great Celestial War? Their less-than-ideal social standing in the Devildom? Something else entirely? Whatever it was, it seemed like the brothers didn't need any clarification.

“Let it go, Mammon,” Lucifer murmured. He continued to stare down Satan with all the cold exasperation of a disappointed father. 

“It’s all your fault! Everything!” Satan stalked towards Lucifer, spittle flying from his mouth with the intensity of his words, a corpse-like emptiness in his eyes. “You arrogant, self-righteous, clinging, cowardly failure! You ruined your brothers and got your sister killed! I should do us all a favor! I should kill you!”

“Enough!”

There was a crack throughout the hall as if thunder struck indoors, and my hands flew to my ears, though it was already too late. Asmo shrieked, and Mammon shouted, inadvertently gripping him in a tight embrace. Even Satan looked startled enough to be snapped from his wrathful fugue. Now he was suspended in midair by coils of invisible chains, binding his arms tightly to his body and his legs together.

“Let me go!” he demanded, squirming futilely against his restraints. “Let me go! I’ll kill all of you! I’ll grind this whole world into powder! How dare you!”

“I’ll do nothing of the sort,” Lucifer said calmly, dusting off his collar. “I can’t allow you to simply run roughshod through this house threatening to destroy worlds and kill people.”

Meanwhile, after extracting himself from Mammon’s grip, Asmodeus went right ahead and threw his arms around me, as if Mammon had made him realize that this was the perfect opportunity to get handsy.

“Gyah~! Lucifer and Satan are so scary, aren't they?” he whined, petting my hair. “There, there, little one. Asmo is here.”

“Would you knock that off? You’re gonna make me puke.” Mammon sighed a little too nonchalantly and started walking down the hall, away from the entire situation. “Anyway, come on, Attendant. Let’s get outta here.”

“Have you seen my bathroom yet?” asked Asmo, letting go of me and prancing after Mammon. “I have–”

“Ya got your own jacuzzi, yeah, you’ve gold us,” Mammon snapped.

I hesitated and took one last look at Lucifer and Satan. Lucifer seemed tired and frustrated… Maybe even a bit sad. And Satan still looked like he wanted to kill him.

“Hey, hurry up!” Mammon called from down the hall. “You’re gonna get vaporized if you stick around there!”

He made a good point. So I backed out of the entryway before turning tail and hurrying after the others.

[ckret2]

youve gotten a few asks about billford before, and your plans for ford's relationship with bill in your fic, but im curious if you personally ship it yourself/*like* it. and, just for the hell of it, if you have any opinion on billdip too, since that one's even more controversial.

I'm gonna put most of this under a cut since it's not only long, but also long about two different topics, but the tl;dr is:

Yeah, I'm a fan of billford. I don't think it's canon, inevitable, or necessary to their dynamic, and I'm still on the fence about whether things will tilt toward the romantic in my fic or if it'll stay platonic, but I do enjoy the ship a lot because it has a lot of (obsessive, weird, unhealthy, angsty) elements that interest me to explore in ships. Billdip, on the other hand, does nothing for me. I don't care about how people ship imaginary characters in their fictional fandoms and I'm not gonna block anybody for liking it, so this isn't a moral stance, here—I just don't like it personally.

One of the things that intrigues me most about a ship is the idea of love that's gone so far it isn't even love anymore but punched out the other side into unhealthy obsession, and "I'll spend the next thirty years of my life hunting you to death" versus "What if I turn you into a gold statue and carry you around to stare at you a lot" sure fit right into "unhealthy obsession." On top of that, some of my favorite ship dynamics are:

the worshiper and the person they've picked to revere as their god, either metaphorically or literally—with bonus points if the person they've devoted themself to doesn't deserve that worship and maybe isn't even all that special, and the worship actually reveals more about the mind of the lover than it does about the (un)divine nature of the beloved

the mad scientist and the muse who gives them ideas and inspires their work (one of my all-time OTPs has a line where the mad scientist says to his ex "we were each the muse to the other"), with bonus points if they both get so caught up in "what can we do together? What dreams can we make reality—" that they plunge into full "so preoccupied with whether or not they could, they didn't stop to think if they should" territory—and bonus bonus points if they eventually come out of the haze of SCIENCE and one of them is horrified by what they've done... but maybe the other one isn't.

two people who are wildly compatible with each other (similar hobbies, tastes, worldviews! they fill in the gaps in each other's personalities! they each happen to be the other's type! they understand each other like no one else can! whatever, fill in the blank!), but for some reason one betrayed the other, they've tried to kill each other, and now things are vicious and bloody and painful and raw between them; but if they talk to each other and accidentally let their guards down for even a split second, all that history is still there, they still like the same stupid movies and share the same stupid inside jokes no one else will ever understand and have the same stupid complementary life dreams, they could have been good for each other, but there's no road back to where they were before the betrayal. Their chemistry is like two huge magnets strapped to land mines: the attraction is as powerful as ever but heaven help them both if they ever touch.

or, alternatively, two people that have all that chemistry, but are just really toxic and do bad things when they're together and enable all each other's worst tendencies, even if they don't necessarily do bad things to each other; and they've got to navigate the fact that they might adore each other so much but they are objectively worse people when they're together.

I like ships with inhuman things. As a writer I like waxing romantic about the inhuman things and trying to convince the reader that yes, this too is beautiful and lovable when seen through the eyes of a lover. I will make you take the stupidest love interest seriously for five minutes. I've romanticized a sticky pile of goo, I've romanticized a robot spider, I've romanticized the concept of being a disembodied voice, I've romanticized a pteranodon made out of lava, and I'll romanticize a cyclopic gold-plated corn chip too, don't test me. Who better to adore a sentient triangle than a scientist-artist who sees the beauty in precise angles?

Depending on the headcanons and/or AUs you're working with, you can get all of these pretty darn easily out of Billford.

I like writing Ford as the awed naive intellectual, hungry for knowledge, for the secrets of the universe, for more, who was utterly dazzled and starstruck by this divinity who tantalized him with esoteric secrets—and who's been furious at Bill for thirty years for betraying him, hurting him, threatening his home and everyone he loves, but underneath all that also furious at him for not being what he advertised when he could have been that; and Bill, meanwhile, playing it cool, far too comfortable playing the role of faux god, but privately, secretly distraught that his favorite "student"—the one who takes Bill's "teachings" and gets creative and inventive with them, the one who always wanted to know more, not just about the universe but about Bill personally—his favorite student no longer worships him, doesn't even respect him, doesn't even see him as an equal, but looks at him like he's the scum of the universe, and Bill won't even admit that it bothers him but it's killing him that nothing he does can get his favorite to so much as smile at him again.

That's the dynamic in my head when I write them. You could play it as purely professional, a god disappointed to lose a worshiper like a boss disappointed to lose his best employee or a celebrity disappointed to lose the president of his fan club; or you could play it like platonic friendship, maybe a QPR; or you could play it like a romance. I like the zest added when you toss romance into this already nasty mess of emotions. I like capping off all that heartache with, "—and if things had turned out differently, maybe I would have taken your hand and traveled with you to the ends of eternity, if only you weren't [such a brutal heartless backstabbing piece of shit]/[unable to forgive a few white lies and some light torture]."

Billdip, on the other hand, does absolutely nothing for me. Not even just for the age reason—that does squick me out, but even if I try to look at it like "okay pretend he's aged up" or "stick it in an AU where they're both dumb kids having dumb kid crushes" I just, see nothing there. I don't even see anything there platonically. Like, legitimately—for the fic I'm working on, I've been trying to figure out what kind of dynamic/interactions they'd have beyond just "Dipper scowls at Bill a lot" and even on that level I've been struggling to think of something compelling between them. I look back on the fact that for a good few years billdip was the ship in the fandom and I go, "why? where's the meat? what do they do for each other?"

I'm forced to imagine that the ship must have been based on some combination of "fandoms naturally want to ship the everyman main character with the charismatic fun villain," "a bunch of teens with crushes on Bill were using Dipper as their self-insert stand-in," and "people assumed Bill wasn't lying when he said Dipper impressed him and didn't start revising that opinion until we got to see firsthand that he uses lines like that on everybody." It feels really uncharitable of me to the shippers to assume that their OTP is founded entirely on statistically average fandom trends and character misinterpretations rather than, like, y'know, traits actually present in the characters, so I'm taking it on faith that there's probably more to it than that and I just don't see it because it just ain't my jam.

When I do try to speculate harder on "how would I get them to interact with each other in a compelling way, like, just in a platonic sense?" my brain starts going "well, dipper's a nerd who's into the paranormal, he wants to know about mysterious things? maybe he's fascinated with bill as a mysterious thing? and maybe... idk, why would bill give a hoot about dipper—maybe bill takes advantage of that fascination, tempts him with more information, maybe he's amused by Dipper's curiosity about weird things—?" and that's usually about the point where I go "this is just, the way Bill and Ford met. This is the watered-down junior version of Bill and Ford's first few weeks." In trying to figure out what the heck Bill and Dipper would even talk about I keep accidentally recreating a less interesting version of Bill and Ford's dynamic.

I want and need Bill and Dipper to have an interesting character dynamic in this fic so being unable to come up with something that personally compels me has been actively frustrating me lmfao, but it does serve to illustrate my main point here: man, billdip does nothing for me so hard that I can't even see them platonically interacting.

[beannary]

What mischief do kids get up to? Well, when I was a kid I learned how to make mustard gas out of common household cleaners and chemicals and created some in the backyard at 3am.

In hindsight, it was definitely a "your scientists were so preoccupied with whether or not they could that they didn't stop to think if they should" moment

That and the time I lit my art project on fire to get out of class early (fun fact: a ton of super glue on cotton balls will cause a chemical reaction that will start a fire)

i am stealing this from you and making nettie do this it is exactly something that she would do omg