#but now the coat has been destroyed! that's a good thing

[ccarrot]

i think in the fifteen concept art notes harukawa mentioned that the coat that dazai wears is the same coat that akutagawa wears now

#so basically coat timeline goes from #mori -> dazai -> akutagawa #and dazai lied about burning the coat when he met mori again. #and y'know dazai is a serial liar. #coat was first given away by mori. then discarded and found by akutagawa i guess. #could represent how mori saw bringing dazai into the mafia as a way of giving him a purpose. #(and also a form of protecting him from. yknow. klling himself) #and then dazai abandons it because he wants to abandon the mafia/mori. and he never really wears it the right way. visual symbolism #and then akutagawa takes it. wears it the right way. maybe bc he likens it to dazai and he cant really move on from that #but now the coat has been destroyed! that's a good thing

[gigabyte-flare]

Insatiable (Part 1)

Summary: You are a researcher for D.S.O. who is responsible for studying Leon Kennedy as Las Plagas overtakes him, maybe even finding a cure. He starts to take a liking to you, too much of a liking to you.

Word Count: 2k

Pairing: yandere plagas!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader (afab)

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Actions depicted in this story are not condoned in real life. You are responsible for your own content consumption. If any of the following warnings trigger you, please read at your own risk. Minors do not interact, this story is 18+ only.

Warnings: Extreme violence and gore, biting, dubcon, forced breeding, gross las plagas-y things, death, mentions of un-aliving. DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT.

A/N: Heavily inspired by this artwork by @chanif-art on Tumblr along with Project Scorpion by @tagzpite. Literally could not get this idea out of my head until I wrote it down. Definitely going to be another series. We're also going to pretend D.S.O. was founded way sooner than 2011 k byeeeeee

“I fought a war and I learned how to win, but how do you fight when the enemy’s within?”

You step out of an elevator led by two armed D.S.O. operatives in tactical gear deep underground at HQ, your white lab coat flowing gently as you walk forward. Grasped in your right hand is a voice recorder. You and the operatives go through a series of heavy steel doors leading you into the bowels of the underground facility.

Is all this really necessary? you think to yourself as you’re led deeper into the abyss.

Finally, you’re brought to a single cell enclosed with clear polycarbonate panels with steel reinforcements. In this cell was a man sitting in a chair that was bolted into the floor, his hands chained behind his back and his legs chained to the legs of the chair. This man is Agent Leon S. Kennedy. You approach one of the panels closest to the steel door keeping him in. 

Switching the voice recorder on and bringing it to your mouth, you state your name before continuing, “The year is 2004. The subject is field agent Leon Scott Kennedy, currently 27 years old and exhibiting the late stages of Las Plagas infestation, his body is covered in dark, vein like marks. Subject is currently slumped over in the chair. He appears to be catatonic.”

Bringing the recorder away from your mouth, you motion to one of the operatives to guard the door. You input a passcode into a key panel next to the door. It lets out a hiss as it slowly swings open. As you step in, the door swings closed and locks.

You bring the recorder back to your mouth and continue, “Agent Kennedy?”

You watch as Leon slowly lifts his head, his face completely covered in the dark veins, his once blue eyes now have a slight red tinge to them, it makes your stomach twist in sorrow, he used to be such a handsome man.

“Subject appears to still have some cognitive ability left as he immediately recognized his name. We’re still trying to understand how he hasn’t broken down now that the alpha Plagas host, Osmund Saddler, has been destroyed--”

“I’m right here, you know,” Leon suddenly spoke, making you jump.

“Ag-Agent Kennedy!” you reply, eyes wide in shock that he’s able to speak. 

“Please, just call me Leon, sweetheart.”

His dark gaze seemed to pierce straight into your very soul. You collect yourself, clearing your throat.

“How are you feeling, Leon?”

Leon looks down at himself, tugging gently at his restraints before looking back up at you, “all things considered, I actually feel pretty damn good.”

“That’s… good, I guess,” you reply, your nervousness clear in your voice. 

You hadn’t prepared for this, every researcher that attempted to interact with him got absolutely nothing out of him, hence why they sent you down. You argued with them, not seeing the point but now you began to realize that the difference was they were all men, you were a woman. 

“Awww… there’s no need to be so nervous, sweetheart, it’s just me, Leon Kennedy. I promise I don’t bite,” he says, a small smirk appearing on his lips, “hard.”

“Do you know where you are and why you’re here, Leon?”

He lets out a chuckle, “yeah, I’m in D.S.O.’s research facility because I’m turning into a monster.”

“That’s putting it rather bluntly, but yes, that’s correct.”

“About time they sent someone cute down here to visit me, the rest were much too dull. If I wasn’t chained up, I’d ask you out to dinner and a movie.”

You feel yourself blushing, “that’s… very kind of you Leon, however that won’t be happening anytime soon, I’m afraid.”

“That’s a shame, because I’d love to take you to bed and make you scream my name,” he growls, a sinister grin overtaking him.

Your heart is pounding out of your chest as your eyes widen at him. This wasn’t like Leon at all, the parasite was clearly twisting his thoughts. You panic, turning around to motion the operatives to open the door and let you out. As soon as you’re out of the cell, you briskly walk away from the cell as fast as you can, not once looking back. You could have swore you heard Leon’s laugh echo after you. 

“I am not going back down there, are you insane?!”

“You’re the first person he has actually spoken to since he got back from Spain,” the lead researcher, Bryan said, setting your voice recorder down onto his desk. 

“So? Your point? I’m not doing it and that’s final!”

“Look, this recording gives us valuable data on him, it’s clear that the Plagas inside him is mutating into a more dominant strain. It must know it’s the last one left,” Bryan said, pleading with you.

“So we’re just going to poke and prod him like he’s some guinea pig? Leon wouldn’t have wanted that! Are you sure there’s no way we can cure him?”

“If we attempt to remove the parasite now, it will kill him--”

“Then let’s put him out of his misery, this isn’t right!”

The silence between you was deafening. After a few minutes, Bryan finally spoke.

“Judging by this recording, the Plagas has one thing on its mind.”

“Which is…?”

Bryan looked up at you, letting out a heavy sigh, “reproduction.”

“All the more reason I shouldn’t be going back down there!”

“He’ll be restrained and you’ll have at least two operatives with you at all times, you’ll be safe,” Bryan leans forward on his desk, folding his hands together, “the data you collect from Agent Kennedy is invaluable in finding out how the parasite works, just… go down and talk to him. I know yesterday was unnerving but there is one thing he said that is true, he’s just Leon Kennedy. He’s in there somewhere, even if the Plagas is influencing him.”

You cross your arms, staring at the floor, letting out a frustrated sigh before looking back up at Bryan, “fine. But I want hazard pay.”

“Consider it done, here’s your recorder back,” Bryan says, sliding the recorder across the desk towards you. 

You grab the recorder of the desk, turning on your heel to walk out of Bryan’s office.

“You are to report down there in an hour, you hear me?” Bryan calls after you just as you walk out the door.

You fight the urge to flip him off, thinking better of it. You walk down the hall into your office, getting your lab coat back on and sitting at your desk. You press play on the recorder, listening back on your interaction with Leon several times. There was one part where you repeated it several times, sending chills down your spine.

“That’s a shame, because I’d love to take you to bed and make you scream my name.”

How long had Leon been locked down here, chained to this chair? How many men in lab coats came and tried to talk to him? He knew he was a lost cause, why were they keeping him alive? How many times did he wish death would come and take him in his sleep?

But then you came, awakening something in him.

Your natural scent filled the cell completely, so many hours had gone by and he could still smell you and you smelled absolutely divine. He couldn’t stop thinking about you, the way your voice was so sweet yet filled with drive and intelligence. The way you blushed when he flirted with you. The way your heartbeat began to race at just the mere mention of taking you.

God you were so cute when you ran off, all flustered, he couldn’t help but laugh; he hadn’t felt alive like that in so long. His reminiscing was interrupted suddenly when he could hear footsteps coming down the hall. Lifting his head, he practically began to salivate when he saw you had returned.

You came back to me, baby, where you belong…

“The subject appears to be conscious and alert, he watched us as soon as we were in his line of sight,” you say as he watches you speak into the voice recorder. 

With a hiss, the door opens and you step inside. Leon breathed in deep, taking in the smell of you, you smelled even better than you had yesterday. He feels his cock twitch in his pants in excitement. He watches as the door behind you closes and locks, just like it had yesterday, trapping you in here with him.

Curse these fucking chains…

“You’re more lively today, Leon, care to tell me why?” you ask, your voice flat and void of any emotion.

“How about you tell me why you smell so nice,” Leon replies, grinning at you, drool running from his mouth down his chin.

He watches you shift uncomfortably before you continue, “I’m not answering that.”

Leon scoffs, shaking his head, “then I’m not going to talk to you, sweetheart.”

You take a deep breath, “if I’m going to be honest, I don’t know why I smell so nice to you, Leon.”

His red eyes scan up and down your form, imagining it without all those needless clothes. Imagining himself pinning you to the floor and fucking you stupid. A strange, clicking sound came out of him from the back of his throat as he pulled aggressively on the chains holding him to the chair. He watches as the two men with guns outside become alert. Leon lets out a low growl as he glares at them.

You turn to face the men, signaling to them to stand down. He watches them both relax before you return your attention to him. 

“The transformation appears to be progressing faster than expected,” you say into the recorder, “are you in any pain, Leon?”

Leon slowly shakes his head, “no, just unbelievably horny, doll.”

“We have reason to believe the subject is displaying an increased libido due to the fact that the parasite inside him knows it’s the last of its kind.”

“Stop talking about me like I’m not here, that’s awfully rude.”

“Fine,” you say, lowering the recorder away from your mouth, “what do you want to talk about, Leon?”

“You should ask those nice boys out there to take these chains off me,” Leon purrs, staring at you longingly.

“Absolutely not, Leon,” you reply, crossing your arms, “those chains are there for my safety as well as your own, at least until we can get the Plagas out of your body.” “I think I’m too far gone for that, don’t you think, sweetheart?”

You take a deep breath and exhale loudly, the sorrow clear in your eyes, “I am so sorry that this is what you have become, Leon.”

“I’m not,” Leon says as that sinister grin overtakes him again; he starts to chuckle.

“Leon,” you begin, stepping closer and kneeling down to be eye level with Leon, “I know the real you is in there, somewhere, you have to fight it.”

Your scent was almost enough to drive him crazy, you were delectable. He licks his lips, that clicking sound coming out from this throat again. His eyes are locked on you and he sees you glance down briefly before looking back into his eyes. He knew what you were looking at, you were looking at the noticeable bulge in his cargo pants.

“You’re so pretty, you know that?” Leon says, his body visibly trembling.

You don’t respond, you simply stare at him with that same sad look in your eyes. How could you not want him as much as he wanted you. His lips curl into a snarl.

“Let me FUCK YOU!” he growls, lunging forward, the bolts in the chair letting out a loud screech as they’re bent slightly.

You stumble back, falling backwards onto the floor as Leon continues to struggle violently. The two men with guns come rushing in, one of them grabbing you off the floor while the other shoots a tranquilizer dart into Leon’s thigh. Leon feels the effects almost instantly, his body becomes limp as he becomes sluggish, his mouth hanging agape as he watches you get led out of the room by the two men, the door shutting and locking behind them as you’re led away.

“Mine,” he whispers in his last moments of consciousness, “all mine.”

Part 2

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader smut #yandere!leon kennedy #plagas!leon kennedy #gigabyte writes #insatiable

[sophiethewitch1]

What We Want - Prologue

In Which A Romantic Breaks The Universe

(Yandere!batboys x f!reader) 18+ MDNI!

SUMMARY

Another lonely birthday, another empty year. You miss your family. You're late for your bills and rent, and even then, you got robbed last Tuesday.

Still, you buy yourself a cupcake, because you need it. I mean, hey. What's dessert for if not to get over cheating boyfriends and dead relatives?

As you blow out the candle, watching the clock switch from 11:59 pm to midnight of the next day, you make a wish.

And because the world doesn't like to make much sense, it comes true. Your life is suddenly flipped on a dime, and you're stuck trying to catch up with it. Fantasy becomes reality. You're a Wayne now, apparently. Or you used to be. You're loved, you're rich, you're talented and powerful.

Well, sort of. Careful what you wish for, right?

(TRIGGER WARNINGS AND MASTERLIST HERE)

PREV - NEXT

The cupcake is smashed. Pink icing and gaudy star-shaped sprinkles coat the interior of the box, and the pastry itself has devolved into crumbs. You just stare at it. It had cost you seventeen dollars. It was expensive, yeah. But you’d spent the last three months walking past it every morning and afternoon in the bougie cafe’s windows. You’d waited. You’d wanted.

And it was destroyed. Completely. The perfect swirl of the buttercream was no more. The single, delicate flower made of frosting had lost half it’s petals. You weren’t sure how you could eat it. The wrapping had been warped, but maybe a tea spoon would work?

You let your head fall into your hands, a sob wracking your shoulders. And then less than a second later you swallow down the feeling, and stride over to your shitty apartment’s tiny kitchen. You grab a lighter, a plastic wine glass and the bottle of white wine Molly had given you earlier today. You hadn’t told her what happened yet, but she could tell something had. She’d gave you the wine, a hug, and the promise to always be by your side.

Despite today’s circumstances, despite this week’s circumstances, despite this decade’s circumstances, you were going to have a good birthday getting black-out drunk.

You weren’t going to let yourself sink into one of your funks. Even if it was the worst day of the year by far. Even if it was the second worst birthday of your life.

You just don’t. It’s not allowed.

Your phone rings. Sliding it out of your pocket, you stare blankly at the name on the screen. Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.

Malcom. One of George’s friends. You reject the call, block the number, and slide your phone back in your pocket. See? Dealing with things like an adult. Not throwing a temper tantrum, not crying, not… well, destroying your life in an epic meltdown. You’d had a few of those. Still, despite your obvious erraticness, you hadn’t been fired this year. Yay!

You told yourself you were getting better, even as the universe seemingly conspired against your happiness. You were kind of convinced it was.

Turning, you play with the cap on the wine, walking over to your old ratty couch and falling into it. The beast groans at the contact, but you pay it no mind. The thing was probably older than you, and you were celebrating your twenty-first today.

You were an orphan in Gotham, it was not your first time drinking. Molly had dragged you to so many awful parties over the years. But this wine was probably the fanciest you’d ever been given. Scratch that, definitely was. You pour yourself a glass, stick the birthday candle half-hazardly into the largest chunk of cupcake, and grab the remote.

The only true comfort you can get on this day. A woman, a reporter. She speaks, but you can’t really hear what she’s saying. You chug down a glass of the wine, apologising in your head to Molly, and then pour yourself another.

It takes a few minutes, but your muscles relax, and her words tune into focus.

“Today’s memorial, is once again sponsored by the Wayne foundation.”

Yeah, because they’re the only charity organisation in the city. The family of billionaires were debatably the only good ones in existance. Debtable because you weren’t sure if they were good enough themselves. As an orphan who’d known the cruelty of the system yourself, you were a mix of bitter and grateful towards them. Sure, they’d been the only thing that kept you out of true poverty. You were still an awful bitch about it.

You always had been the jealous type. The other kids who got better backpacks or toys or whatever had you seething with fury. The multitude of orphans Bruce Wayne risen out of poverty were not safe from your envy. It didn’t matter if you were… Well, a little bit, just a teeny-tiny-tiddly-little bit… obsessed. Obsessed with them. Kind of manic about it, actually.

You were working on it. Today was a bad day, and you were a little too raw. So, like every little dumb animal on the planet, you went straight to your creature comforts. You pretended you were a roman eating and drinking on their chaise lounge, watching their magnificent entertainment.

Delusional. Your sofa was falling apart at the seems, your cupcake was debris and your entertainment was a memorial service. Wine was good, though.

Gotta focus on the good parts.

You watch the TV screen, the reporter’s voice drifting in and out of focus. There was a family photo of the Waynes and their family friends, all in perfect suits and dresses and pearls and fancy watches. You’d bet that those little accessories were worth more than a year of your rent.

And you lived in fucking Gotham, both the most expensive city to live in, and the worst at the same time. A miracle, truly.

Anyway, they were all stunningly beautiful, even some of the guys. God knows how much the internet went on about Richard Grayson’s long eyelashes. You’d always been enamored with Dick’s good looks. Even Damian Wayne who had only turned nineteen a few months ago and was three years younger than you was already being fawned over by the tabloids.

Gotham’s newest young rich bachelor. Bitterly envious, that was you. You didn’t like that emotion, though, so you turned your attention to others. Namely, delusion.

You let yourself get swept up in daydreams. Of having a rich family, of one so close knit as the Wayne’s. Of having a handsome, loving, kind partner. You don’t let yourself dream about your real family, of a George that was faithful.

You just don’t.

Maybe someone like Tim Drake. Loyal, everyone who knew him described him as loyal. His romances with Bernard Dowd and Stephanie Brown were famous. There were hundreds of papparazzi photos of him with big bundles of roses and a sweet look on his face. You thought someone like Tim Drake would probably be like one of the heroes in your romance novels. Something silly like a meet cute in an airport, or maybe a bookstore or a cafe. He was pretty famous in Gotham’s niche hipster coffee scene, right?

Yeah, you could see it now. Some dumb but cute scene where you get confused and accidentally take his order. You get the same drink, and bond over your shared love of caramel syrup. Like he didn’t live on the opposite side of the city from you, and you probably couldn’t afford whatever fancy shit he drunk. Italian coffee beans versus… well, you didn’t actually know what you bought. You knew it didn’t taste very good, but it was dirt cheap.

What were you doing? Ah, yes, silly daydreams about romance.

But even as you think of Tim, Dick Grayson was so pretty, and he’d had his fair share of partners too. Someone with such an angelic face had to have a personality to match, and the media agreed. Of course you didn’t really know what he was like, this was all just fantasy. Other than numerous tabloid interviews and television, which suggested he had a kind heart and a love for bad jokes you truly knew nothing about the guy. Still, he’d be the golden retriever trope, you think. Or the knight in shining armor, saving his heroine from one of the many disaster’s plaguing Gotham and confessing his love in one big final act. His meet cute would be the airplane one. The blue of his eyes, it makes you think of the sky. You’d take his seat, but he’d be super sweet about it. Like he didn’t have a private jet, and would never be caught on economy.

You think Damian Wayne could play a good romance lead as well. From what you’d seen, he seemed to have a terrible personality, which was perfect for any modern romance. A classic enemies to lovers, with some bickering. Maybe he’d have secretly loved her the entire time, and maybe there’d be a good grovel at the end. So, appreciating his character, he’d have to have a meet ugly. Probably get stuck in an elevator with him or something, and he’d get to display his keen intellect and argumentative nature.

You swirl your wine, nodding your head. Brilliant ideas today, you should talk to Molly more. She’d definitely appreciate your wisdom. She wanted to be a screen writer one day, and all this would be very helpful. She was going to college for it. You couldn’t afford college.

Maybe you were drunk. Maybe you were a genius. It was hard to tell, so you take another sip. That’ll help you figure things out.

“As always, the Wayne families’ faces are morose as they celebrate the late Jason Todd.”

And as always, you felt an odd connection with the dead man. Your lives had both technically ended the same day, in the same grand calamity. Sure, you were still technically alive. Kicking about. But everyone you loved dying in one fell swoop, right in front of your eyes? You felt more like a ghost these days.

Weren’t you supposed to be fighting those sorts of thoughts off? Whatever, it was too much effort anyway.

Your slight obsession with the Wayne family had been initially started by Jason Todd. You hadn’t been thinking about him as much recently with George in your life, but he swung right back into place as soon as George left your life. Like a magnet, or more likely, a compulsion.

But now you were brought right back to the morning after. Seeing the entire city grieving the day after you’d lost your family, your first thought had been ‘Good, I’m not the only one,’ and then you’d stopped being an idiot and realised the city was mourning Jason Todd, heir to the Wayne name. Sure, there’d been hundreds of others who’d died, but that was Gotham. Your family had gotten a plaque filled with tens of other forgotten names, Jason had gotten framed photos hung around the city.

Today, his photo was once again surrounded by thousands of bouquets. Peonies, roses, daffodils, lillies, a rainbow of petals that almost covered his memorial stone. It reminded you of your sad-ass cupcake. When the camera zoomed out, you could see your smaller set of poseys against one of the thirty towering monuments, the tiny names crammed into the rock. Your families name was on line fifty-two, near the bottom. You could only afford the flowers once a year, but you visited once a week at least.

There were other flowers. Other offerings. Other candles. Jason’s dwarfed them all.

You sometimes couldn’t tell if you hated the dead man or were hopelessly in love with him. Obviously it didn’t matter. Even when he was alive he was out of both your league and your tax bracket.

Still, you were absolutely certain of it, Jason Todd would beat up George Lancaster. So fucking bad. To a bloody pulp. He’d be eager to do it, as well. You could hum and haw about how you thought violence was bad but he’d see right to the core of you.

The part of you that wanted George Lancaster to suffer. And he’d do it with a kiss and a promise that he’d make it slow. He’d save you from all your monsters, and he’d do it eagerly. And that was the fantasy of it all, wasn’t it?

You lift your glass, in celebration of your dead parasocial imaginary boyfriend. You hoped he wouldn’t be jealous of your new living parasocial imaginary boyfriends. Hiccuping out a laugh, you swallow down another gulp.

And even then, of course you wanted Bruce Wayne as a father. As someone who has seen the worst of the world, and would protect you from it. As someone who would wipe away the tears, who would save you from your own self. And you wanted Cassandra as a sister, someone to groan over guys with and steal clothes off. You wanted the close relationships they shared with Barbara Gordon and Stephanie Brown, with Duke who’d only recently come into their fold. You even wanted their dog you’d seen in photos, the cat that Damian posted on his instagram, the fucking cow they kept for god knows reason inside the estate. You wanted everything, every part of their lives. You were a jealous person, but more than that, you were a greedy person.

You glance at the clock.

11:57.

You shakily open the candle packet, picking a green one out. That had been Sam’s last favourite colour, but he switched them so often it was hard to remember. You stab it into the pink frosting. Julie always chose pink for her cake. Chasey loved flowers, particularly poseys. The flowers had looked like posesys before they’d been crushed.

You light the candle. It’s tiny flame flickers in the dark room, the warm light overpowered by the cool from the television. You peek back over to the clock.

11:58.

And Mum always made her wish at midnight, because she believed that was when it was most likely to come true.

What would you wish for? You never did, because you never knew what you wanted to wish for. Everything you wanted, everything you could’ve wanted, was gone. It couldn’t come back, it was impossible.

11:59.

You look at the TV, at the blinding forms of the Wayne family. Of their graveyard, with the manor in the background. It’s as impossible as everything else. But that’s what they represent for you, isn’t it?

Something hopeful. Something impossible.

You wanted impossible.

12:00.

You lean over the messy cupcake, and blow the candle out. It disappears in one blow, and you sink back into the couch. You take a few crumbs from the cupcake and sneak them past your lips. In your drunkenness, you probably get more on the couch than in your mouth.

You let your eyes flutter shut, and because only you can, you give yourself the comfort of lies. You imagine loving embraces, whispered platitudes. You imagine that today was a good day, that you’d find yourself tomorrow happy. That you wouldn’t wake up with a hangover, that you wouldn’t have a shitty job, an evil ex, and mountains of debt.

That you’d have people who loved you, who could ease the pain.

And you don’t even care who they are.

MASTERLIST - NEXT

#Series:WWW #yandere batfam #yandere dc #yandere batfamily #yandere batfam x reader #yandere x reader #dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #tim drake x reader #red robin x reader #damian wayne x reader #robin x reader

[chaoticace2005]

Reasons the Mothman should die, collectively written by the residents of the Hazbin Hotel:

Coding for Characters: Vaggie, Charlie, Pentious, Alastor, Niffty, Husk, pretty much everyone

TW: References to abuse

He’s holding back Angel’s progress. (Vaggie, is killing really necessary?) (I am concerned about going after a Vee)

I’m hungry (ALASTOR!)

Ms. Angel gets nervous when on the phone with him.

His coat is tacky.

He’s a bug! And bugs must be DESTROYED!

So Angel stops feeling like he has to be so damn fake. This is getting on my fucking nerves.

HE LICKED CHARLIE!!! (Vaggie, wait it’s okay.)

Color scheme sucks. Purple AND red?!

He makes Angel sad, NOBODY should make Angel sad.

Those obnoxious glasses just make him look stupid.

He’s a manipulative, abusive prick.

ANGEL DIDN'T KNOW BOUNDARIES WERE A THING?!?!?!?!?!? (Honestly that explains a lot.)

NOBODY deserves to be in an abusive relationship.

Too many arms. Nobody needs that many. (...Angel has that many?) (Well maybe he shouldn't.)

Ms. Angel keeps coming home all messy!!

He’s ruining hearts for everyone. Me and Angel already have enough. At least those are on our bodies, what’s his excuse?

Hearts should not even be ASSOCIATED with Valentino, THIS IS NOT LOVE.

I can do without all the sexual depravity. While I am in Hell this is NOT one of the reasons.

If I have to hear that ringtone one more damn time-

The Eggies found some of his films. They should never be exposed to such horrors. Now I have to explain what “a sex” is.

Makes picture shows that are a disgrace to the idea of “entertainment.”

He’s making a bad name for Uncle Ozzie. This is NOT “lust.”

So we don’t have to listen to another one of Angel’s pornos. (Agreed, it’s quite horrifying!!)

So Ms. Angel isn’t tired when she gets home and can save the kinky stuff for then :) (Niff, really?)

So the kid stops coming home with bruises and cuts that I fix up at 3 am. (Husk, what the fuck?)

Because what the FUCK Valentino?

He keeps forcing Angel to do drugs. (HE WHAT?! Like crack??) (That but also I’m pretty sure whatever comes out of him is an aphrodisiac.)

I want to use his antenna as a backscratcher

Has that whole red color thing going on. Only I am allowed to wear red :) (Al, your text isn’t even red.) (My what?)

What is up with his red spit and smoke? Seriously disgusting.

The red stuff from him may be what allows Velvette to create her “Love Potions” which funds Vax’s stupid endeavors (Do you mean Vox?) (Who?)

FOR MY COLLECTION :D (…yeah okay.)

Really is making a bad name for Overlords. And not in the fun way.

Angel’s shown trauma signs of abuse in our meetings. Im pretty sure it’s Valentino.

Make a doll out of his fur so I have a main villain for roach puppet shows!!!

His only purpose is to keep Veks occupied but considering Vixen’s inane attempts to catch my attention it isn’t working.

So Angel can have his soul and he and Husk can run off into the sunset together like in a fanfiction!!! (Ah, yes that would be nice.) (WE WHAT?!) (Oh Husker, denial doesn’t suit you.)

So Angel can get a good boyfriend THAT’S NOT ME to stop these bullshit allegations.

So Angel can admit his feelings to Husker because our cat surely isn’t going to be the first to do it. (ALASTOR I SWEAR TO GOD!)

Who knows how many other people he’s abusing.

Seems to give Vicks confidence. He has enough of that as is. It much more fun to destroy him.

He makes Angel sad which makes Cherri sad!

HE HIT ANGEL!!!

Called my dear Rosie an "old hag" NOBODY CALLS ROSIE AN OLD HAG.

Angel is a good friend and deserves so much better.

I’ve forgotten what moths taste like.

He keeps trying to get Angel to move out :(

Told the kid he had to lose weight. What the actual FUCK. (Ill kill him.)

He’s annoying and looks quite stupid. How has this not been added yet?!

He’s making a bad name for Spanish speakers everywhere. (Yeah it’s embarrassing.) (Wait… what?)

He’s making a bad name for pansexuals everywhere.

He’s making a bad name for wing-holders everywhere. (HE HAS FUCKING WINGS?!) (Oh, yeah, I didn’t tell you?)

Too tall. This is ridiculous.

Won’t admit he’s blind so he’s become even more of a public safety hazard.

If I get one more transmission of him and Box commiting lascivious acts someone will be eaten. I don’t care who. What the purpose of these are I don’t know. Advertisement? (I think it’s to make you jealous boss.) (Ha! Jealous of what? Mediocre sex with a pathetic excuse for a businessman with a TV as a head?)

Because Angel deserves fucking better.

#character switching #I’m sorry for colorblind readers #if there is any way to help make this more legible please let me know #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel memes #stupid hazbin hotel lists #angel dust #angel dust hazbin hotel #valentino hazbin hotel #Valentino bashing #tw: Valentino #protective hazbin family #vaggie hazbin hotel #charlie morningstar #niffty #husk #husker #huskerdust #hazbin hotel husk #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin vox #voxval #staticmoth #sir pentious #hazbin hotel crack #but also serious

[nimpnawakproduction]

The ultimate reference sheets for all of Vash's outfits in Trigun maximum (with commentaries)

IT IS DONE. I'M FREE. Now I can forget all about Trimax and draw Trigun stampede designs only hahaha (just kidding I have things for Trimax on the stove).

Trigun bookclub was an awesome initiative, I loved the manga with my all heart and wanted to honor Nightow's designs ;w; I also wanted to help my fellow artists with references for Vash's clothes because DEAR GOD it's difficult to understand how the hell he dresses himself in the morning. I have a lot of fun dressing and undressing him like a barbie doll. My hyperfixation is completely healthy.

I put a "read more" section to avoid spoilers :) !

The July coat

The very first coat in Trigun chronology and the one he wores during the destruction of July ! There is not a lot of panels to take references but I tried to stay as close as possible to the manga. I don't know what number of prosthesis he had before but let name this one Prosthesis 1.

Scars map

Next, nakey Vash ! There's A LOT of changes between one panel to another. Scars changes places and forms panel to panel and the design evolved from the first chapters of Trigun, the time we see him naked as Eriks and his undressed state while he was a prisoner on the Ark. I drew the scars that appeared more than once or were in clean view in a panel (but really you can do like Nightow and draw as many scars as you want without thinking about consistency, this boy has been in a meat grinder)

After July underclothes

Or the jumpsuit that gave me grey hair. His suit does not make ANY sense, I don't know how the hell he dresses himself in the morning with this. My solution is that it's very long gloves and chaps strapped to a belt. The position and shapes of the belts changes IN EVERY PANEL. Same for his knee guards, sometimes they're here, sometime they cover his shins, sometimes they are tiny..... I gave up in the end and draw them as we see them in the very last panel he wears this suit. But damn he looks good in it.

Also in all of the 13 volumes, there is not a single panel with a clear view of his holster (I checked...) so here is my interpretation.

This is prosthesis n°2, the design is a little different from the first one so I guess Prosthesis 1 got destroyed (this happens a lot).

After July coat

The very first Trigun coat he wears in the manga ! Very simple, very basic, it gives him impossibly wide shoulders but Vash deserves it. The first one is worn Post July until Vash's confrontation against Brilliant Dynamite Neon. The second one is the state of his coat after the sandsteamer incident. He loses his prothesis after his fight against Monev the gale. He meets Wolfwood with only one arm and stays that way while he fights Knives for the first time.

Eriks

I took liberties with colors because there's no colored panels with Vash as Eriks. Yes I drew him without suspenders because he has them for like 5 panels and then Nightow drew him without them for the rest of Eriks arc so I made choices ;w;

I love the fact that Vash choose to wear tight jeans even in his casual outfits, this boy will not let his skin breath. This is now Prosthesis 3 ! It's way less advanced than the ones he wore in the rest of the manga, the other ones seem to replicate skin.

After his years as Eriks

And now the first Maximum coat, he wears it until the famous Yuri hospital arc! Finally an undersuit that makes sense, I love it, too bad Nightow-san decided that I had to suffer and changed it again to add BELTS EVERYWHERE. We only see his legs in this part of the manga so I gave him the same top because I can.

The tubes he has on his waist are filled with bullets, he can connect them to his prosthesis to have a mini machine gun.

We are now at Prosthesis 4 !

Hospitalization on the Home ship

The famous Yuri hospital phase! Vash definitely shared his wardrobe with Wolfwood, you can't tell me otherwise.

The first outfit still shows Prothesis 4 but he keeps it for like 5 minutes and lost it again against Nine-lives. I don't really know if the prothesis comes with the integrated glove or if there's synthetic skin under it but why would he keep the glove on if it's not intergrated?

The second pictures is the different outfits he wears during his convalescence. I took liberties with the colors, I drew this in like 10 minutes, everything seems easy when you don't have to draw BELTS. We are now on Prothesis 5 ! Nightow drew it as a regular arm so I guess Vash wears gloves on top of it??????

Back on the road in pursuit of Knives

He wears this one after his stay at Home, throughout the Dragon's nest ark and until his 2nd fight against Knives.

I liked the design of his jumpsuit until I looked closer at the panels and saw that the design change ON EVERY ONE OF THEM. Knee guard on only one knee? No kneeguards? Two??? WHO KNOWS ??? I tried to make it work but really go wild with this one, even the author does not know how his pant looks.

Still prosthesis 5, BUT UNTIL WHEN?

Prisoner on the Ark

THEY MASSACRED MY BOY. Did they even feed him at least in 7 months? Those pictures are the definition of the drenched kitty cat left under the rain. Give this man a blanket and a therapist.

Bye bye Prothesis 5 ! And see what I mean when I say that his outfit does not make sense????? It comes out in parts????

After his imprisonment on the Ark

The last suit in the manga! He keeps this coat until the end of the story. From this point, only his hair changes (or the color of his coat).

I adore the little angel wing symbol on his left arm, such a cute addition. Too bad it appears in one of the most traumatic event of his life.

Speaking of his jumpsuit...The return of belts.... But at least this outfit stays relatively coherent except for his kneeguards who appear and disappear panel from panel but most of the time he doesn't have any, so no kneeguard it is. Prosthesis 6 hello !

Final battle and end of the story

It hurted to drew those outfits ;w; And working on the design of his coat when he fights Legato made me realize where Orange studio took inspiration to chose the colors for Vash's coat in the final episode of Stampede ! Great job ! I tried to color the same effects as one of the illustrations showing dark Vash but I'm not really good with colors..... He actually radiates energy but with some purple undertones, I took some liberties because those are my drawings I do what I want.

I'm not sure at 100% that he has a tuft of blond hair left when his outfit turns black but his hair is all black at the end of the fight. His prosthesis is destroyed at the end of the fight. He got another one in the final chapter. So 7 prosthesis throughout the story!

#play with vash like a barbie doll #I love reference sheets #took years to do but it helps so much when drawing comics #or writing fics #how the hell do you expect me to show him undress if I don't know how his clothes work #anyway enjoy #vash the stampede #vash #trigun #trigun maximum #a's art

[heich0e]

suna recently moved into a new place.

the building he's in now is much nicer than the last one he lived in, and in an even better part of town, too—it's a newly built place that's still only half-occupied, leaving him with so few neighbours on his floor that he claims sometimes it feels like he's got the whole building to himself.

living in a new-build (a half-build, technically, since there's still active construction happening in some of the units on other floors) presents its own unique challenges, though. since no one's ever lived in his unit before him, he's sort of like the guinea pig; the first to discover which of the design elements are functional and which aren't. like how the tap in his bathroom had accidentally been installed backwards, so the hot and cold water markers were switched—a realization he regrettably only came to after stepping into an ice cold shower for the first time.

or how the intercom system in the building isn't quite up and running yet, so every time he has guests over he has to come all the way down to the lobby to let them in himself.

"wow, what are the chances of running into you here?" rintarou drawls as he opens the building door for you, allowing you to step in out of the cool night outside.

pretty good, you'd wager, because he knew you were coming and had to be here to let you in.

you're too tired to make any sort of snarky remark though, shooting him a pointed look instead as you step past him in the doorway and into the lobby's warmth. coming to suna's place had been a last minute decision made late in the evening when a poorly-timed (or well-timed on his part) text landed in your inbox; you weren't dressed for the weather, but had been close enough to walk from the little bar where a few of your friends had gathered that evening.

"cold out?" he asks you as he lets the door swing shut, turning and following along behind you as you begin making your way towards the elevator.

"freezing," you reply, still holding your coat tightly around your frame. you're narrowly fighting back the way your teeth threaten to chatter.

"sorry, I came down as soon as you called to tell me you were on your way," rintarou frowns a little as he takes in the way you have your arms wrapped around yourself for warmth.

"no, i know," you wave off his concern, pressing the UP button on the panel next to the elevator in the lobby. "i should have called sooner but i didn't want to take my hands out of my pockets since it was so cold on the walk here."

you'd only fished your cellphone out of your pocket when the building was in sight a few metres down the road, preserving every little bit of warmth you could for as long as possible.

"you know, you wouldn't need to wait for me to let you in if you'd just let me give you a key fob."

the elevator doors slide open to take you both up to rintarou's floor, and your glance over at him from the corner of your eye as the two of you step inside.

you don't want one of suna's key fobs. firstly because he'd already broken the only spare he had thanks (indirectly) to you—having once tried to toss it down from his third floor balcony while you were waiting out front in the middle of the night. it had landed on the pavement underfoot and shattered into approximately a million pieces—leaving him down to only the one connected to his own key ring. he'd told you it really wasn't that expensive to get his building manager to replace it, but you'd vehemently spurned the suggestion, which brings you to the second point—

having a key to rintarou's place (however temporary) just feels too... serious.

too serious for you and him, and whatever this decidedly unserious thing between you is, anyway.

"who's to say you won't destroy that one too?" you brush off his suggestion as the elevator doors slide closed.

the inside of the elevator still has those thick, padded blankets hanging up to protect the mirrored walls while they finish construction, and still have people constantly moving boxes and furniture and whatever else into the vacant units units. it makes the already confined space feel even smaller, and you try to ignore it as suna presses the button for his floor on the panel off to the side of the doors.

"fine, freeze then," rintarou shrugs, but you can feel his eyes on the side of your face.

"the cold wasn't even the bad part," you sigh, wincing a little as you shift your weight from one foot to the other. "i haven't worn these boots out before and my feet are killing me."

suna glances down at your feet, taking in the knee high boots you have on your feet.

"oh," he says, his tone a bit different now in a way that makes you look at him suspiciously. "those are nice."

"you're such a freak," you laugh under your breath and he peeks up at you without a hint of guilt on his face.

"i mean it," he insists.

"i know you do," you snort.

the elevator dips slightly as it arrives to rintarou's floor, and it makes you wobble a bit unsteadily. rintarou wraps his arm around your waist to steady you without missing a beat.

"they really hurt that bad?" he asks, peering down at you curiously.

from this close you can see just how unfairly long his eyelashes are, and how they flutter as he blinks down at you. you hate how nice it is to feel his warmth seeping into you when he holds you like this. you hate the thought of him stepping away again even more.

"yeah, it's my own fault though," you answer quietly.

the elevator doors slide open, and you move to step out, but rintarou rushes ahead of you. you watch, confused, as he crouches down just on the other side of the threshold of the sliding doors.

"really?" you ask him with a laugh, rolling your eyes as he waits for you to climb up on his back.

but it's late, and you're tired, and your feet hurt.

(and you really like how warm he is, even if you'll never say it.)

so you carefully hop on, wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist, and let him carry you off in the direction of his apartment—endlessly grateful for how few units on his floor are leased, and therefore how your chances of running into anyone in your current state are lowered.

you can only see the slightest bit of rintarou's profile while he carries you like this, but you can tell even from the glimpse you get that he's looking awfully smug as he carries you to his door.

"don't look so pleased with yourself," you mutter, squeezing your legs a bit tighter around his waist in warning.

rintarou's hands slip down from where he was loosely holding you behind your knees until they grasp your thighs and the leather upper of your boots.

"these really are nice you know," suna remarks quietly, his thumbs brushing along some of the stitching at the sides.

"i'm not keeping them on in bed," you warn him flatly, his apartment door now in sight at the other end of the hall.

"why not?" suna sounds so plaintive it almost makes you laugh. his grip slips all the way down to your ankles now. "it's not like they can hurt your feet while you'll be on your back, anyway."

"rintarou!" you hiss, slapping one of your hands over his mouth to shut him up, scandalized at what he's said in the middle of the hallway—lack of neighbours or not.

you feel his lips spread in an obnoxious grin under your palm, but you don't dare pull it away.

"keep it up and you're getting thrown off the balcony next, pervert."

#lol nobody look at me #tw feet #<- this is more for my own peace of mind (there is no peace of mind for me to have when it comes to this guy) #suna x reader #suna rintarou x reader #hq drabble #hq writing #writing

[goingmerryfics]

❤️ Your Blog. Can I request something? 🙏 Id love about Law and reader who is very affectionate and caring, e.g. brings him snacks in his office when he's working late, cheers him up when he is upset. All in all reminds Law alot of Cora.

Kind and caring S/O w/ Law

Content: Gender Neutral reader, SFW!

Notes* I love this idea! I got a lot of good ideas when I sat down to write this and it all pretty much amounts to “this man truly needs a break.” which means I went a little haywire with it. Spoilers for Dressrosa/Law's backstory

Happy reading :)

Law

Dating you was absolute bliss for Law

If he was shut up in his room working, he knew he could count on you to come visit eventually

Even if, after responding to your knocking and saying that he was busy, you still enter

You’ve got some lemon water and specially made Onigiri by your own hand all set up pretty in a tray

He tries not to smile too much while you set it down, kiss the top of his head, and quietly urge him to take a break- or at least stand and stretch because how he’s sitting can’t be good for his posture

Normally he wouldn’t pay that any mind, but you had an effect on him that he couldn’t explain. You gave him a special sort of feeling in his heart- a feeling that only one other person had ever given him in his entire life

Law gets up to stretch and to reach for you, that way he can press a kiss to your cheek and tell you he loves you

You’ve noticed he’s softer around you, though he never could quite tell you why

You also notice that whenever you two are sitting close or lying together, it doesn’t matter what you’re doing- he likes to look into your eyes as much as he can

He can’t explain it- it doesn’t matter that your eyes aren’t exactly the same colour as his. They’re kind, they’re caring, just like he is

One day, the heat on the submarine gives out and you seek Law out to ask a favour

“One of my sweaters? Yeah, you can borrow one. Just don’t ruin it.”

The warning means nothing, he knows you wouldn’t destroy any of his things on purpose

So you head for his room while he returns to helping the others fix the heat, shivering in your suit

Law’s room is an organized mess of books, clothes and sheets. He was never the type to keep anything clean for too long, but then again he was a busy man. You didn’t mind it, but you do know how he appreciates it when you can help him out with the little things. First, a sweater. You swear that you’re about to start seeing your breath from how cold it’s getting.

You dive into his closet and sort through his things for that yellow one you like, when you notice something interesting. Something hung up, obviously important since it’s in one of those zippable clothing protectors. A suit, maybe?

The thought of Law in a suit makes you squeal a bit. Now you have to see it.

Carefully, you take the hangar out and your first remark is at how incredibly light it is. It’s not heavy enough to be a full suit set, so you start to unzip it to satisfy your curiosity.

A few loose, black feathers hit the ground before you can figure out what you’re looking at. It’s a full feather coat. It looks like it’s been tailored- the collar has been cautiously cut with a loving hand, which makes you remember the strangely similar style of feather collar on his blue sweatshirt. There are also some messy holes in the back of it.

You hum curiously, and put it back into the protector bag for the time being. Then you grab the sweater you’d come here for, take the hangar, and bring the coat with you back to your room.

The heat returns. Heart Pirates huddle around the heat and try to warm up quickly, but Law has a better idea in mind on how to warm up. He also just really wants to see you in his clothing. But he spots something as he’s headed down the hall that makes his heart drop. A single black feather.

He’s wearing his blue sweater and he hasn't touched the coat. So why…

He rushes first to his room, throws the closet door open and his eyes widen at the missing coat, so he makes a B-Line for your room

It’s not that he thought you would wreck it, but it’s something he’d rather keep safe. Those feathers fell off every time he touched it, and he wanted so desperately to preserve the last item he’d ever have of his beloved Corazon.

When he reaches your room, he barges right in without knocking and finds you holding it up, looking it over. Your room is a mess of loose thread. Your desk has sewing scissors and a little ball with various sized sewing needles poking out of it, and your sewing machine is on.

“See?” You hold it up to him, showing off your handiwork. Slack-jawed, he scans over the once bullet holes that have now been expertly closed and repaired. “I’ve never seen you wear this, but I guess it’s because all those feathers kept falling off, right?”

He’s silent, but he knows just what he wants to say. It just takes him a moment.

“Law?” You ask, smile falling a bit, thinking maybe you’d done something wrong.

“Put it on.”

“Huh?” You take another good look at the coat. “You sure?”

He nods, and watches how you pull it over your shoulders. It’s way too big for you- did a damn giant wear this!? -but you still strike a pose, holding up a peace sign next to your face for Law and grinning wide.

“Do I look good?”

He takes a few steps forward. You open your eyes again and get the quick glimpse of tears in his eyes before he pulls you in for a hug tight enough to crack your spine. You can hear his quiet sobs and gasps in your ear, and it breaks your heart to think that maybe you’d done something wrong.

But he whispers that he loves you, and then he whispers it 3 more times just to be sure. You tell him you love him too, and he takes a deep breath to pull himself together.

“Are you ok, Law?” You ask, eyes glued to him. “I can put it back if-”

“No, just…” He wipes his face, then takes your hands. “I think there’s someone I’d like to tell you about.”

#one piece #harleywritesop #hwop #law x reader #op law #law one piece #trafalgar law #trafalgar one piece #trafalgardwaterlaw #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgar op #one piece spoilers

[zwolfgames]

|Mistakes|Platonic Yandere Alastor x fem!reader

Requested: /

Warnings: Alastor, condescending behavior (thats it for part 1)

Parts: Part 1 (you are here) , Part 2 , Part 3

(Takes place before the Hazbin hotel and before Alastors dissapearance. + You have jellyfish features cuz demons have those extra animal things idk.)

(3rd person POV)

Here you were, Y/N L/N. Or well, thats what your mortal name had been.

After twenty harsh years in hell you had just stuck with only Y/N. Died at twenty four, how sad.

Tough thats not your problem at the moment, the real problem is your current situation.

Extermination day.

It had started half an hour ago.. Angels poured from the skies like dark birds, bad omens. Angels of death.

Angelic blasts and weapons rained down upon your neighbourhood. The appartement you had worked so hard for to get was in ruins. Your ceiling had fallen down and blocked you into your windowless kitchen...

Your whole appartment must be destroyed... Just you and your kitchen... If you were lucky, the angels wouldn't search for any sinners here...

And maybe... your unexpected guest would be of aid if they did.

You hadn't dare speak to him.

Alastor... Radio Demon. An overlord.

The red, deer-like demon had shown up in your kitchen when the ceiling crashed down... Why? You didn't dare ask.

Surely he could do some wicked magic nonsese to get out, unlike you and your absolute lack of impressive powers.

Maybe he just tought this would be a good hidey hole. Or he saw you as his next prey... One's clearly nicer then the other.

The tall overlord simply hums in his radio accented tone. Looking at his sharp fingers with that same grin on his face.

It hadn't changed since he came in here. Just kept on smiling.

"Lovely day today, wouldn't you say?"

He spoke... The overlord spoke to you! Shit- now what? Smile and wave! Fall over and die!

"Couldn't be better..." You sigh in clear sarcasm. You don't know what compelled you to play jokes with mister 'could kill you in a snap'. But perhaps you felt doomed enough to just go for it.

Alastor chuckled rather charmingly. Still smiling. His sharp yellow teeth looked... scary, to say the least.

"My my, what positivity. You must be a wonderfull sinner." Alastor grins and looks down at your seated form.

You were simply sitting on the kitchen floor, knees to your chest as you leaned against the wall.

You hum in acknowladgement.

Alastor had eyed your features... You weren't the most common animal he'd seen a sinner be manifested as.

Sure everyone had their human like parts... but.. jellyfish? He's never seen a jellyfish sinner before.

A big, seetrough cap on your head, like that of a jellyfish. It must be attached to your head... Long glossy tendrils hang from it. Practically coating you in a protective curtain.

Alastor wonders if you sting...

"I like your cap. You look more serene then most sinners." Alastor atempts at conversation once more.

"Thanks... I like your horns." You reply, albeit a lot more awkard then he was. Cmon, you can't blame yourself. Overlords are scary!

Alastor keeps smiling. Atleast you were polite enough to compliment back. Your awkardness was amusing.

The clear struggle for survival was evident in your eyes. He liked the look. What? He's a sadistic killer.

"Whats your name, jellyfish girl?" Alastor asked, maybe in a little bit of a belitteling manner... but he was showing intrest. Who's he kidding, he's just bored and he'd rather chat with this sinner then face angels outside.

"Name's Y/N. You- I mean.. I know you- sorry." You retsrain from hitting yourself multiple times.

Alastor chuckles again. Oh how fun, you're getting so nervous just from his presence. Better then the usual fear or fawning tough... he can work with this.

"Alastor, dear. How about some bevarages as we wait out this extermination? Mhh? Im sure your little kitchen has something." Alastor suggests. Oh- hanging out with the Radio demon on extermination day, yea sure, why not?

"Oh.. sure.. I've got... water and fruit juice..." You trail of solemly at your.. clear lack of good options.

"Why, no alchohol, dear? You're a rare creature." Alastor hums in amusement as he takes in your sad fridge. Money came slowly when you were in hell! Okay?! You're not into any shady buisiness... so.

"So thats a no to drinks...?" You ask awkardly.

"I'll take water." Alastor answers.

You nod and serve him a glass of water. Atleast your fridge still works, so it's cold.

Alastor gently takes the glass and takes a sip. He sits down next to you on the floor. Albeit at a respectfull distance. Maybe cuz he just doesn't like being close... or he wants you to feel safe. Wich, good try but you don't.

"So, Y/N. Those tendrils of yours. Do they sting?" Alastor asks with a broad smile.

"Yup. From what i've seen, really badly." You nod, getting just a tad bit more comfrotable now since you two were just talking about random things.

Alastor raised a brow, and he does the dumbest thing you have ever witnessed... wich seemed highly unlikely of an overlord.

He grabbed a tendril... What is this dude thinking?!

You saw the signature 'zap' sparkle trough the overlord. His hair fizzed up and he was out like a light.

Did he take your defences as a challange or something? What now? You've accidently killed lower sinners with your sting but... an overlord would be fine... right?

He's just.. sleepy...

You sigh and lay him down properly on the floor and try to find something to cushion his head with... Not a lot of good options in your kitchen... a bunch of towels it is then!

You managed to make the unconcious Radio Demon atleast a little comfy.

You awkardly try to get his hair flat again so he wouldn't... remember, maybe?

You were mid stroke when Alastors red eyes shot open. You flinch back immeadiatly as he gets up.

Tough instead of striking you, he laughs.

"A dangerous little thing you are, mhh?" Alastor chuckles and observes you.

"I suppose so.. sorry." You rub your neck, hoping he wouldn't oblivirate you for... well him touching your tendrils. It's defenitly his own fault, but that doesn't work like that with overlords.

"Don't be sorry dear. I should have believed you. Is that the full extent of your powers?" Alastor muses and looks at you closer.

Atleast you knew that if he were to physically try and attack you, he'd just get zapped like everyone else, good to know.

"I.. think so. It's like a protective little shield.." You answer with a nod. Alastor seems amused by the way that action makes your jellyfish cap bobble along.

"I can see that... don't like being touched, do you, dear?" Alastor asks with a toothy grin. You nod again.

"May I know why?" Alastor follows up.

"..No." You decide.

Alastor let's out a dramatic gasp.

"Oh deer, such attitude." He smirks and looks upon your messed up kitchen.

Deer puns... wow...

Oh a little mystery. How fun. You deem to be quite amusing.

Alastor keeps staring at you. It's making you feel a bit intimidated.

"... Music?" You suggest quietly. Looking up at him carefully. Holding out an earbud.

"From this... thing?" Alastor narrowed his red eyes.

You nod. "It's an earbud. Connected to my phone... my whole living room is in shambles so... no other means of music.. listening?" Your words were getting messed up as you were set under this demons scruntionizing gaze.

"Fine.." Alastor sighs in distaste. You notice you've messed up so your music choice had to be top notch!

He's from 19... 20? Something? Old. He's an old guy... old music... What does your downloaded list have to offer.

Frank Sinatra...

Who doesn't love that guy! Best guess. All or nothing.

As Alastor tries his best to put an earbud in his strange deer ears, you play the music.

It takes a couple seconds but the deer demon seems... content. A little sparkle in his eyes!

Yes, you guessed right! Take that, anxiety!

First mistake: Sharing good music.

_____☆_____

I really like splitting one shots into parts on here and then just upload just one whole thing on Wattpad, its just so cool to see feedback.

#yandere x reader #platonic yandere #xreader #oneshots #yandere #alastor #female reader #yandere alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #demons

[victoria-writes]

Elvish For Dummies

Pairing: Legolas x Reader (gender neutral)

Summary: Set after the events of LoTR. You live with Legolas in Mirkwood and he teaches you Elvish. Pure fluff.

Word Count: 1039

Notes: Established relationship, reader is human, tried to make the sindarin elvish as accurate as possible so apologies for any mistakes, I’m multilingual so I based this off of my own experience with learning languages 

Read it on AO3 here

Story:

Despite the fellowship having disbanded, each day with Legolas seemed like another adventure. During your perilous journey together, the two of you had grown closer than either of you thought possible. The mere thought of being apart from you pulled at his heartstrings. He could not bear the thought of being separated from his new love. After the one ring was destroyed, the elf invited you to come with him to Mirkwood. Hastily, you agreed, for you too could not wait to start a new life with the elven prince. 

Since reaching Mirkwood, many seasons have passed and you two grow closer by the day. Under his guidance, your archery skills and ability to speak Elvish have improved. He took it upon himself to privately tutor you in the tongue of his people. Legolas still giggles when you fumble certain words on your tongue, but is quick to apologize, never wanting to discourage you. He says you have made remarkable progress and that you possess great linguistic potential. Whether that is true or he is exaggerating with sugar coated words, you cannot tell but it feels good to hear his encouragement either way. 

Most of your days together included walks through the woods and riding horseback, but today was a gloomy rainy day. A day that, Legolas decided, would be a wonderful excuse to help you get back to your studies. It’s not that you did not enjoy Elvish. Oh no! You quite liked hearing him whisper loving words to you as he held your gaze. 

“Meleth nîn, Im tur feel cín emel dring dan sab - My love, I can feel your heartbeat against mine”, he would say as he held you in his arms, his breath dancing upon your skin with each syllable. 

Saying you enjoyed that would be the understatement of the century. Everything in Sindarin sounded like poetry. Even the most mundane sentences were said with purpose and flowered language. Unfortunately for you, that also meant the most basic phrases you had to learn weren’t your typical ones. Instead of “I went to the store”, you had to say “I depart to look for food - Im gwann- na thír an aes”. It seems that most Elvish children learn how to say things like “I can feel it in the earth - Im tur- feel ha in i coe” before they learn “please” and “thank you”. No wonder they all sound prophetic when they speak common. Creepy oracle sounding sentence structure as your first language combined with being thousands of years old will do that. 

“Meleth nîn, you’re drifting off. Shall we return to our lesson or is a break needed?”, Legolas' words break you out of your trance. You look up from your desk, covered in notes, to see him towering above you, eyebrow raised and arms crossed. 

“Apologies, I was merely pondering the linguistic differences between Sindarin and Quenya Elvish”, you quickly come up with the excuse to hide the fact that you were simply not paying attention. 

“Is that so?”, 

“Yes, yes, the distinction between Elvish languages is very interesting to me”.

“This is the third time this lesson you’ve been distracted by those differences”.

“Ah, well…”, you trail off, caught red-handed. 

“Y/N, I will not force you to learn Sindarin if you do not wish it”.

“No, no, no, I want to learn. I promise. It’s all just new to me and takes a moment to sink in. Please, repeat what you said. I’m paying attention”.

Legolas smiles but does not repeat himself. Instead, he moves on to an exercise he is sure will get your attention. 

“We shall review what I have taught you thus far.” 

…

“ Very good, Y/N. Now how would you say ‘the stars shine white’?”

“ I elena mír thilivern” 

“The grass is green?”

“I thár na- calen”        

“Very good pronunciation. You have done well. I believe it is time to learn some new vocabulary”.

You take out a new sheet of paper from your stack, ready to write. 

“You need not write for this portion. Repeat after me.” 

“Okay”. You put your quill down. 

“Meleth nîn.”

“Meleth nîn. I know what that means already. You say it all the time”.

“And what does it mean?”

“My love”, your lips turn upward in a shy smile.  

“Very good. Let us move on then”, he smiles brightly, as if pleasantly surprised despite knowingly fully well that you knew its meaning. 

“I’m ready. Hit me.” 

He suddenly sits down next to you and takes your hands into his own.

“Im mel cin”  

“Im mel cin”  

“Do you know its meaning?”   

“No, should I? I’m sorry.”, your eyes widen as you try to recall whether he had said it before in a previous lesson. 

Legolas throws his head back with laughter. This may be the hardest you’ve ever seen him laugh before… and it’s at you. Great. 

“Apologies. Apologies.”, he manages to get out between giggles, “The look on your face was priceless.” Your face sours at this and Legolas manages to resist a second burst of laughter from it. He thinks you equal parts hilarious and adorable. 

“You would not have known this phrase as I have never spoken it to you before. I do think it is high time for you to learn it”.

“Okay, so what does it mean?”, you scrunch your eyebrows together, ego still a little hurt from being laughed at. 

His grip on your hands tighten but his touch stays gentle as ever. He has always been gentle with you. His gaze holds the same softness. No, even deeper.  The blue of his eyes seem more vibrant and invite you in to look deeper within him. His eyes tell of a love that can never be truly explained in any language. Legolas has always had a staring problem when it comes to you, but this is something different entirely. Your cheeks redden at his seriousness.

“I love you”.

Your eyes widen once more and before you can react, he kisses you. Deeply. Passionately. 

“I love you. I love you. I love you.” he repeats again and again into your lips. 

…

Maybe learning a new language isn’t so bad, if you have the right teacher.

#legolas/reader #legolas x reader #lotr #legolas greenleaf #legolas #lord of the rings #legolas x yn #lotr x reader #legolas x y/n

[lvpislvzuli]

If you are an Avatar fan then you’ve probably been rather bewildered by the unaccountable animosity that has developed toward Spider. What’s obvious is that the brains of some moviegoers are rather blank slates.

Here’s the thing—Spider Socorro’s arc in the film requires some reflection and analytical thinking on the part of the audience. Automatically labeling him a traitor or a Terrible Person demonstrates a lack of effort to understand this complex character.

Of course, it is natural that we may find ourselves frustrated with Spider for seemingly going along with the RDA/Recoms and for saving Quaritch’s life. After all, those are the bad guys! But if you take the time to analyze some of the plot points and Spider’s own personality and history, you can better understand his motivations.

Here are a few key takeaways to help you empathize with Spider’s choices. I think most Avatar fans will have already picked up on these.

One: Early in the film, Spider is kidnapped and interrogated by the RDA. An interrogation that borders on physical and mental torture. This is a sixteen-year-old kid who has never been in that kind of terrifying situation, so of course he’s going to take the first opportunity he has to escape, even if it’s with the Recoms on their mission to hunt down the Sullys. Anything to not be handed back to the lab coats, right? But even then he is still being held hostage by Quaritch, who places a tracker inside his Exopack to keep tabs on him. Spider is smart—he knows he has no choice but to tag along with the Recoms.

Two: It’s important to recognize that despite having spent his whole life on Pandora growing up in the forest among the Omatikaya People—befriending the Sully kids, painting blue stripes on himself, and speaking their language—Spider knows he is still just a human. And even though he has a confident personality, it is reasonable to assume that there are times when he feels different or inadequate. Sort of an “I need them, but they don’t necessarily need me” kind of situation that many of us can relate to.

But now Spider finds himself surrounded by a group of foreigners from Earth, who it turns out appreciates that he is Pandoran. Appreciates that he operates with the knowledge and physical capability of the Na’vi. Here he can prove his worth and skill, and it’s obvious that Spider gets caught up in the feeling of being useful (and of being smarter than the Recoms, because let’s admit it, Spider can be a bit cocky 😆).

However, this is only the case until he witnesses the violent potential of Quaritch and the Recoms in those heartbreaking scenes where they destroy Metkayina villages and murder Ilus. Spider has a wake-up call at this point in the film, and it’s here that he actually stops “helping” the RDA.

Three: Saving Quaritch from drowning. Spider’s decision to rescue Quaritch at the end of the film boils down to two inconvenient but very realistic and credible reasons.

A – Quaritch is his father. We cannot try to claim that a son choosing to save his father from death is an evil or traitorous act, even if the father himself is evil. Especially a father who potentially just saved his son’s own life, because I don’t think Neytiri was bluffing during that standoff. So yes, he’s clearly not happy about it, but at that moment Spider accepts that Quaritch may have saved his life, so in return he saves him from drowning.

And B – the simple fact that Spider is a good person.

In addition, I think some people have overlooked that at the end of the film, Spider ditches Quaritch and returns to the Sullys without hesitation. That speaks for itself to the resolution of his arc in this film.

So there you have it. I wanted to contribute this to the discourse in the hope that it might sway a few minds. Spider is a fascinating character, particularly because of his intrinsic relationships with both the heroes and villains of this story. Saving Quaritch’s life has put him in a really tough spot, and I don’t think this character is finished being caught in the middle. I’m very excited to see where Spider’s story goes.

Amazing writing James Cameron and amazing acting Jack Champion!

💙

#spider socorro #miles socorro #avatar 2 #avatar the way of water #miles quaritch #pandora #james cameron

[stardustprompts]

vengeful  -  v.e. schwab  sentence starters change tenses/pronouns as needed !!  some lines have been edited for clarity / length / ease of roleplaying  tw :  death , violence , language , mental health

‘what a fucking cliche.’

‘envy really doesn’t suit you.’

‘don’t you turn that knife on me unless you plan to use it…’

‘you should have let it go.’

‘you can’t just do that to me!’

‘you’ve been gone for hours.’

‘you never said I had to play fair.’

‘that’s a risk I’m willing to take.’

‘you look like a narc.’

‘it feels like dying.’

‘people have an idea of pain. they think they know what it is, how it feels, but that’s just an idea. it’s a very different thing when it becomes concrete.’

‘I did this. I did this to you.’

‘I am alive because of you.’

‘you think I’m playing god? fine, you play, (name). you decide, right now, who should live. us, or them?’

‘it’s a big world. you’re not the only one with talents.’

‘isn’t it silly to lie when we both know the truth?’

‘I think sometimes you make the easiest choice instead of the right one.’

‘make me the villain of that night, (name). wash you hands of any blame.’

‘a promise you can’t keep is just another lie.’

‘I don’t want you to save me. I want to save myself.’

‘I warned you when we met, I wasn’t a good person.’

‘killing me won’t bring her back either.’

‘think hard. we all have to live with our choices.’

‘the next time you point a gun at someone, make sure you’re ready to pull the trigger.’

‘we survived. that's what makes us so powerful.’

‘blood is always family, but family doesn’t always have to be blood.’

‘not all family is blood, right? sometimes we have to find a new one. sometimes we get lucky, and they find us.’

‘this isn’t a stupid game. it’s my life.’

‘are you used to getting what you want?’

‘hasn’t it occurred to you that I can protect myself?’

‘in this world, in my world, people get hurt. they die.’

‘people die in every world. I’m not going anywhere.’

‘you want to be more, (name)? prove it.’

‘they may think they’re kings but we’re the power behind the throne.’

‘i’m not a fucking coat, (name). you don’t get to check me at the door.’

‘where I go, you go. we’re in this together. step for step.’

‘did you always know that you had what it took to end a life?’

‘I thought it would be hard, but in that moment, nothing was easier.’

‘you were never one to dwell on the past. I loved that about you, the way things always just rolled off.’

‘every end is a new beginning.’

‘I underestimated you once. I don’t intend to do so again.’

‘the only difference between us is that you naively insist on preserving what I know should be destroyed.’

‘I played god once and it did not end well.’

‘oh no, it will never work between us.’

‘sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt, you just looked sad.’

‘while I admire how far you’ve come, the fact is, you’re tracking mud into my home.’

‘we can’t shape our past. only our future.’

‘don’t you ever wonder if it’s our fault?’

‘life is more than an equation. a person is more than the sum of their parts.’

‘normal is overrated.’

‘A\a magician doesn’t reveal his secrets.’

‘every power has its limits.’

‘we don’t decide who lives and who dies.’

‘now who’s letting their ideals cloud their judgement?’

‘how quickly we devolve. people become animals the moment they are caged.’

‘if you were superhuman, what would your power be?’

‘ignorance is only bliss if you want to get caught.’

‘i’m still here, still doing what I can, because I want to keep people safe.’

‘never underestimate a woman.’

‘I thought I could save him. I tried. but it didn’t work.’

‘power belongs to those who take it.’

‘sharks come swimming when you make a splash.’

‘that’s quite a talent you have there.’

‘I only hope you’re ready to do the right thing,’

‘you help me, and I’ll help you.’

‘everything’s got a limit. you should find yours.’

‘I don’t feel anything.’

‘oh, sorry, if you thought this was a girl’s-night-out kind of thing where we get drunk and bond, I’ll have to pass.’

‘why settle for one weapon when you can have an arsenal?’

‘the life I had is gone. there’s no getting it back.’

‘the life I had is gone. there’s no getting it back. i’d rather make a new one. a better one.’

‘I thought you were done with hiding.’

‘people can see an awful lot, and believe none of it.’

‘why sit around sulking when you could hurt the people who hurt you?’

‘let’s talk about revenge.’

‘there are limits. I can’t stop nature. can't change it’s course.’

‘whatever’s happened to you, however you’re hurt, you’ve done it to yourself.’

‘oh, I like to think I have a great deal of nerve.’

‘if you had a damn bit of sense you would have run.’

'knowledge may be power, but money buys both.’

‘sometimes subtlety is overrated.’

‘when people stay in the dark, it’s easier to make them disappear.’

‘I don’t want to survive, I want to thrive.’

‘what now? you gonna throw yourself a fucking party?’

‘if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you had something against me.’

‘if I wanted you dead, you would be.’

‘whatever you’ve heard, it’s probably true.’

‘is there anyone who doesn’t want to kill you?’

‘how many excuses will you find to vindicate your own stubbornness?’

‘careful is a calculated risk. and I’m very good at making those.’

‘the truth is, there will always be someone stronger than you.’

‘you do what you can. you fight, and you win, until you don’t.’

‘once upon a time, power was determined by linage—- the age of blood. then it was determined by money—- the age of gold. but I think it’s time for a new age. the age of power itself.’

‘let me guess, I’m either with you or against you?’

‘you always preferred being predator to prey.’

‘we just have to lie low until it’s over, and then—’

‘when this is over, you and I are going to have words.’

‘it appears that we are evenly matched.’

‘it always comes down to this, doesn’t it? to us.’

#rp sentence starters #rp prompts #rp memes #literature prompts #literature sentence starters #vengeful sentence starters #vengeful prompts #v.e. schwab sentence starters #v.e. schwab prompts

[lunchboxpoems]

OCTOBER

1.

Is it winter again, is it cold again, didn’t Frank just slip on the ice, didn’t he heal, weren’t the spring seeds planted

didn’t the night end, didn’t the melting ice flood the narrow gutters

wasn’t my body rescued, wasn’t it safe

didn’t the scar form, invisible above the injury

terror and cold, didn’t they just end, wasn’t the back garden harrowed and planted–

I remember how the earth felt, red and dense, in stiff rows, weren’t the seeds planted, didn’t vines climb the south wall

I can’t hear your voice for the wind’s cries, whistling over the bare ground

I no longer care what sound it makes

when I was silenced, when did it first seem pointless to describe that sound

what it sounds like can’t change what it is–

didn’t the night end, wasn’t the earth safe when it was planted

didn’t we plant the seeds, weren’t we necessary to the earth,

the vines, were they harvested?

. 2.

Summer after summer has ended, balm after violence: it does me no good to be good to me now; violence has changed me.

Daybreak. The low hills shine ochre and fire, even the fields shine. I know what I see; sun that could be the August sun, returning everything that was taken away —

You hear this voice? This is my mind’s voice; you can’t touch my body now. It has changed once, it has hardened, don’t ask it to respond again.

A day like a day in summer. Exceptionally still. The long shadows of the maples nearly mauve on the gravel paths. And in the evening, warmth. Night like a night in summer.

It does me no good; violence has changed me. My body has grown cold like the stripped fields; now there is only my mind, cautious and wary, with the sense it is being tested.

Once more, the sun rises as it rose in summer; bounty, balm after violence. Balm after the leaves have changed, after the fields have been harvested and turned.

Tell me this is the future, I won’t believe you. Tell me I’m living, I won’t believe you.

. 3.

Snow had fallen. I remember music from an open window.

Come to me, said the world. This is not to say it spoke in exact sentences but that I perceived beauty in this manner.

Sunrise. A film of moisture on each living thing. Pools of cold light formed in the gutters.

I stood at the doorway, ridiculous as it now seems.

What others found in art, I found in nature. What others found in human love, I found in nature. Very simple. But there was no voice there.

Winter was over. In the thawed dirt, bits of green were showing.

Come to me, said the world. I was standing in my wool coat at a kind of bright portal — I can finally say long ago; it gives me considerable pleasure. Beauty the healer, the teacher —

death cannot harm me more than you have harmed me, my beloved life.

. 4.

The light has changed; middle C is tuned darker now. And the songs of morning sound over-rehearsed. —

This is the light of autumn, not the light of spring. The light of autumn: you will not be spared.

The songs have changed; the unspeakable has entered them.

This is the light of autumn, not the light that says I am reborn.

Not the spring dawn: I strained, I suffered, I was delivered. This is the present, an allegory of waste.

So much has changed. And still, you are fortunate: the ideal burns in you like a fever. Or not like a fever, like a second heart.

The songs have changed, but really they are still quite beautiful. They have been concentrated in a smaller space, the space of the mind. They are dark, now, with desolation and anguish.

And yet the notes recur. They hover oddly in anticipation of silence. The ear gets used to them. The eye gets used to disappearances.

You will not be spared, nor will what you love be spared.

A wind has come and gone, taking apart the mind; it has left in its wake a strange lucidity.

How priviledged you are, to be passionately clinging to what you love; the forfeit of hope has not destroyed you.

Maestro, doloroso:

This is the light of autumn; it has turned on us. Surely it is a privilege to approach the end still believing in something.

. 5.

It is true that there is not enough beauty in the world. It is also true that I am not competent to restore it. Neither is there candor, and here I may be of some use.

I am at work, though I am silent.

The bland

misery of the world bounds us on either side, an alley

lined with trees; we are

companions here, not speaking, each with his own thoughts;

behind the trees, iron gates of the private houses, the shuttered rooms

somehow deserted, abandoned,

as though it were the artist’s duty to create hope, but out of what? what?

the word itself false, a device to refute perception — At the intersection,

ornamental lights of the season.

I was young here. Riding the subway with my small book as though to defend myself against

the same world:

you are not alone, the poem said, in the dark tunnel.

. 6.

The brightness of the day becomes the brightness of the night; the fire becomes the mirror.

My friend the earth is bitter; I think sunlight has failed her. Bitter or weary, it is hard to say.

Between herself and the sun, something has ended. She wants, now, to be left alone; I think we must give up turning to her for affirmation.

Above the fields, above the roofs of the village houses, the brilliance that made all life possible becomes the cold stars.

Lie still and watch: they give nothing but ask nothing.

From within the earth’s bitter disgrace, coldness and barrenness

my friend the moon rises: she is beautiful tonight, but when is she not beautiful?

LOUISE GLUCK (1943-2023)

#louise gluck #poem #poetry #october poem

[willowser]

you find pro-hero touya naked on the sidewalk.

face down, ass up, and completely unmoving; it's a little after 5 in the morning, which is maybe why no one has found him or offered him any clothes. or finished him off.

it's nearly december, but all the ice around him has melted into a slick and dangerous sludge, and snowflakes are sizzling when they make contact with his back. skin a tender pink and baby-smooth; another reason you know he's still alive, aside from all the heat he's generating on such a frozen morning.

"hey," you nudge him lightly with the toe of your boot until he grunts and begins to stir. "i don't know how your quirk works, but laying in the cold like this can't be good for you."

some kind of nonsense noise fumbles out of his mouth as he squints up at you, frown etched so deep that it looks like it hurts. it almost feels like he's mega-wasted and is burning off a hangover, but you squat next to him and don't smell alcohol or weed or vomit or even nicotine. just ash, as the early morning wind stings the inside of your nose.

"c'mon man," you scoff when he turns his back to you, like a teenager not ready to get out of bed. "don't make me leave you out here."

pro-hero touya has tattoos everywhere — or at least in his most visible spots, with his costume. piercings, you're not so sure about; the last time you saw his face up close on a big screen, he might have had a vertical bar through his lip and several in his ears, but you vaguely remember a tabloid article about him almost getting his mouth ripped off during a high-speed chase. you know there's something though, a bunch of metal in his face and head.

this touya has nothing. none of it; born fresh right here, in the muck and the ice.

of course the first thing you think is: clone-touya.

some evil ne'er-do-well has obtained pieces of his dna and is trying to create a super weapon to destroy the city, and in a cruel twist of fate, you get to be the one that finds him. responsible, suddenly, for the could-be end of the world. least you can do is offer him your coat.

you try again at nudging him, with the side of your foot this time so as to put more weight into it, and, surprisingly, he complies rather easily, rolling completely over until he's flat on his back. exposed and bare to the elements.

"whoa," you mutter, eyes shooting up to the windows of the department store he's in front of. trying, at least, to offer him the small courtesy. "you're gonna get a public indecency charge at this point."

this is not the first time you've seen pro-hero touya's dick against your will; two years ago, some sex tape he made leaked and your co-worker was so excited to have it in her possession that it had been shoved into your face, sound and all, in the middle of your shift. there had been metal there, too, but this clone-touya is brand spanking new.

only one of his eyes is cracked open, a thin sliver of his icy blues peeking at you through a veil of snow-heavy lashes. something about him sprawled out on the concrete like a sloppy angel makes your heart squeeze, even if you don't particularly care much for him or his heroics.

"alright," you sigh, shrugging out of your coat to drape over his hips. "don't move, i guess."

it's lucky that he's half-alive right outside your job; in the following twenty minutes, you use your key to get back into the building and pick out a simple set of clothes from the men's section that you'll deduct from your paycheck later. when you come out of the back to find him again, he's at least pushed himself up into a sitting position and is coming to against the wall. in his lap, your fluffy jacket is damp and soggy and drooping and now useless.

if someone would have ever told you that one day you'd be here, helping to dress pro-hero touya like a toddler out of the bath, you — don't know what you would have said. laughed, maybe, eyebrows raised, totally lost. you feel much the same now.

a creeping unease has started at the base of your spine at his silence. finally dressed, he simply watches you, hazy, with half-lidded eyes, and you don't know what you're expecting from someone like him, but the cold shoulder is not it. it sucks that he's actually handsome because you didn't think you were the type of person to get caught up in him, but — all his features are sharp, like they've been carved by careful hands.

shorter in person, and, funny enough, that gives you the confidence to poke him in the cheek, like a brat.

"you okay in there?"

pro-hero touya doesn't retaliate to your impishness — which furthers your concern — only swallows and smacks his lips, squinting into the coming day as it dawns.

you take that as a no.

when you loop your arm through his, he lets you, and offers no objection to being led down the sidewalk. he's — warm, which you knew, but winter is sinking through your thin sweater and the plethora of heat rolling off him nearly has you purring. easy to sink in to, to your surprise, more than pliable in this fugue state.

there's a breakfast place not far from the department store and you think maybe he just needs to eat, or something. drink some water. you've been up since late last night with inventory and the thought of a fat stack of syrupy, buttermilk pancakes is motivation enough to hurry him along.

this early, there are very few people out to gawk at him on the street and you're glad for it, because you don't know how you'd explain this to your coworker if you were to end up in some tabloid. the most attention he garners is when you wrench open the doors to the cafe, and even then, the overtired, middle-aged woman just chews her gum and gestures to a table at the back.

when she brings water, you order a breakfast plate for him and yourself, and the first thing clone-touya says to you, after she's gone, is:

"i don't like pork."

you try not to make a big deal about him finally joining you in the physical world, settling for a shrug. "then don't eat it."

he snorts, still a little disjointed as he stares at the fading pattern of your table. you watch him take it all in: the salt and pepper shakers, the napkin container, the dead flies in the window pane, his tall, sweating glass.

all at once, he drinks it down so fast that some of it slips from the corners of his lips and down his chin, and when he wipes a limp hand across his mouth, you just scoot your glass across to him. and he does it all over again.

despite the weather, he wets a hand to run over his face. "what day is it?"

"thursday."

for some reason, he laughs once. huffy and short, scratchy. with a shake of his head, he turns towards the window, leaning into it like he needs to remember where he's at.

you don't think he is, but you still ask: "y'okay?"

his eyes cut to you, alive, and he considers you for a long moment. "you know who i am?"

you shrug, unable to tell if he's asking because he doesn't know, or if this is some kind of intimidation tactic. "think so." and then when he doesn't respond immediately, you tack on: "don't look right, though."

it makes him laugh, sharp and sudden. "yeah, right?" he shoves up his sleeves to trace the bare skin of his arms, rubbing his thumb over his wrist before making crescents with his nails. clone-touya goes silent again, and he doesn't look up until the food arrives.

before he can complain, you snatch the pork sausage off his plate and the quick action brings him back to the physical world again. back to the table and back to you.

he smiles like a ghost, mouth haunted on the pale, untouched skin of his face. "i have to work really hard at keeping my temperature regulated, or else my quirk will just—" he shrugs before downing another glass of water. when he finishes, he wipes a hand over his mouth, sloppy, and then takes an over-large bite of his pancakes. "eat me up."

you — don't really know what to say. this isn't a conversation topic you ever expected to have with him, not that you ever could have expected one to begin with, but you think he might just be — talking. to you, sure, but not to be polite.

"and if i just keep going and going and going," he speaks with food in his cheeks, and you're a little surprised at how bad his table manners are. but maybe he's just really hungry. "it'll just incinerate me into nothing."

so casually he says it, eyes far out the window, trained on the day as it wakes. you want to say that your clone theory is really coming together — how could he know all that, if he didn't actually incinerate himself into nothing? — but you take in his inkless arms and unpunctured nose and your stomach twists.

"so...then what?" when you speak up, his eyes cut across the table again, expression unchanged. his answer is a lazy gesture to himself with his fork. "you just...come back?"

"good news is," he laughs, insincere, "if i get a tattoo and hate it, i can just start all over again."

you don't know how to feel about that — well, you do, but you think your pity will only annoy him, so you say, "sounds like a waste of money."

clone-touya shrugs and you can see the food get caught in his throat, too large of a bite that has him stealing your water again. "got enough of it."

“your time, then?”

he doesn’t bother to look at you, as he shake his head; it feels rude, like some sort of dismissal. “what’s that fuckin’ matter?”

“okay,” you grit your teeth as he chews on your ice, and try to remember your own manners. maybe he’s grouchy because he just woke up from some kind of ash-nap. “what are you gaining from it?”

and that — has his jaw stilling, nostrils flaring as he finally, finally takes you in. whatever he finds in your face isn’t enough, and you’re reminded, again, that you really aren’t a big fan of this guy. he leans close as he whispers, “you wouldn’t get it.”

and you lean in just as close. “so explain it to me then.”

against the nearly empty plate, his cutlery sings when he drops it, suddenly. with food still stuffed into one side of his cheeks, he sits back in the booth and crosses his arms. childishly, you feel like you’ve won something, and your smile makes his eyes narrow.

“and who are you, anyway? some civilian?” clone-touya — or real, angry touya; you’re not sure anymore — doesn’t bother to keep his voice down, not even when the only other table in the cafe turns to look at him. “y’wanna know what it’s like to be daddy’s prized possession? fine. how much time you got?”

you shrug, crossing your arms as you lean into the table. hugging yourself, making yourself warm against the frost outside, and in his eyes. “what’s that matter?”

#HE’S SUCH A JERK but he’s just sad 🥺 #getting all he ever wanted isn’t what he thought it would be 🥺 #does he have any friends ?? anyone to confide in ???? does anyone CARE WAAAHHH #alexa play creep by radiohead #✿ willow writes #✿ thoughts: dabi/touya #✿ theme: pro hero touya

[radioappleheadcanons]

@nunalastor I was going to send you this as an ask, but then it got long and I figured, I'd just make it its own post.

Human AU

Charlie is taking a break from school after her first year because she doesn’t know what she wants to do. Or rather, she doesn’t know which of the many things she wants she should follow. She wants to run a non-profit to help people, anyone who needs it. She wants to run a hotel. She wants to be a businesswoman like her ‘Aunt’ Rosie. She could take over any of her aunts or uncles from her dad’s side. There is just too much to choose from. Her girlfriend Vaggie is in the other boat, not knowing what she wants to do, but because she has no clue what she wants now she’s finally free of her family.

They move in with Charlie’s dad and ‘Uncle’ Alastor. They aren’t quite sure what the relationship between them is, because they know it’s not biological, and they don’t act like a normal couple. But they’re clearly more than good friends (They’re in a QPR, but the girls don’t learn that until later). Nifty, Alastor’s ward is there. As is Husk, who refuses to explain why or how he got there. Alastor just smiles somewhat evilly when they ask him. It’s Luce who explains to them that Alastor paid off a large amount of Husk’s debts from a time of drinking and gambling and that part of the terms was that he had to stay with them to prove he could get and stay sober. He tells them not to mention it because it’s a touchy subject.

Charlie thinks Alastor is wonderful for that, and it helps her warm up to the man whom she had started to have mixed feelings about. She knows Alastor and has known him for several years, but she never realized how close he was with her dad. It’s because of this story that Charlie feels confident that she can bring the thin and very white blond guy she found getting beat up by drug dealers home. Alastor has very very mixed feelings about this, because it was funny when he did it. It’s less funny when Charlie does it. But Luce helps pay off the guys and promises that if he behaves he can stay with them. Nifty is the one who recognizes him as the Adult film star who went missing some weeks ago. Alastor demands to know how she knows that because he could have sworn he’d found and destroyed her collection/any accounts she had. (He never gets an answer)

Charlie and Luce are glad that he had never sold and moved out of the large house he had bought when Luce’s siblings had still been under his care. It’s the home she grew up in, and if it felt a little too big when it was just her, her dad, and her mom; it had felt 10x worse after her mom left. She still has a little hope she’ll come back, and her dad does too, even if he’ll never say it. That’s why he kept the house. But now, that dream doesn’t seem so heavy anymore. Not with the seven of them living together, and the frequent visits from Rosie, and Angle’s friend Cherri. Somehow Cherri’s not-boyfriend ended up staying with them too. No one is really sure how that happened.

This fluffy, hurt/comfort (with a little bit of angst) AU features such things as:

Forcing Alastor to get a new coat because the one he has is a vintage 20s piece that really needs to be retired

Helping Angel fight his addiction to drugs and reconnecting him with his twin sister

Charlie and Vaggie figuring out what they want to do with in life

Lilith returning and them figuring out how she fits in their lives now

Luce finding non-traditional jobs he enjoys and can do while working around his depression (he’s very well off, so he just started living off savings after Lilith left and his depression got worse)

Cherri and Pentenoius getting together

Alastor ticking off his ex-friend and coworker Vox

And More!

#qpr radioapple #💚 aka mine #AU HCS #charlie morningstar #vaggie hazbin hotel #hazbin nifty #hazbin husk #angel dust #hazbin rosie #lilith morningstar #hazbin vox #long post

[ereana]

drabble prompts: zhongven; 2, 36, and/or 50

Zhongven 2 - The thought of losing you scares me

Venti was angry.

He didn’t like being angry. It scraped against his mind like shards of glass turning the very air around him into sharp stinging winds, the sort that left humans chilled to the bone on a cold winter’s day when not even the warmest coat could keep out the cold.

It was a little embarrassing really. He was one of the oldest gods left yet he still was at the mercy of his own emotions unlike a certain blockhead who—

The sound of splintering wood filled his ears as the tree beside him disintegrated into sawdust as the very air around it tore into the bark in a sudden fit of rage. Venti pinched his brow and let out a deep sigh.

Right. This was why he was here sitting on one of the cliffs overlooking the Stone Gate instead of drowning his sorrows at the Angel’s Share. Diluc might actually try to kill him if Venti destroyed the building because of his bad mood. Plus he didn’t want to accidentally hurt any of his people who were completely innocent and had nothing to do with his current displeasure unlike a certain traitorous liar of a lizard that he was determinedly not thinking about. 

A few unlucky birds flying overhead let out chirps of alarm as they were suddenly spent spinning towards the ground, with a flick of his fingers Venti corrected the breeze and sent them gracefully soaring towards Liyue.

He watched them silently for a few moments. While he wasn’t the sort of being to lose himself in melancholic thoughts there were times when taking a minute or two to just think could be helpful. And it wasn't like this was a normal situation either.

If it was normal, whatever normal meant to a wind wisp turned god turned ex-archon turned bard — although he had been a bard for quite some time so maybe the chronology needed some rethinking — then he wouldn’t have any issue controlling his anger. Venti would like it to be noted, probably in one of his own songs, that he was usually pretty good at the whole self control thing. He hadn’t turned his anger on Mondstadt when he’d learned what happened to Dvalin. There were secrets that could shake the world locked safely behind his teeth. Granted there were perhaps a few too many people who knew his true identity but it wasn’t his fault that his people were so perceptive!

With all that compelling evidence in mind, Venti was confident in asserting that had this been a normal issue he would not have had to exile himself to a barren cliff edge because he was a danger to everyone around him due to his fury turning the summer breeze into blades of anemo.

He nodded decisively before groaning at his own inability to deal with the actual problem

Although judging by the footsteps steadily approaching the problem had come to deal with him instead.

Venti closed his eyes and waited until the intruder had reached the top of the cliff, unable to get too close because of the protective vortex which now surrounded him but close enough to hear him.

“I’m mad at you.” Venti stated quietly, his voice devoid of its usual humour.

“I can tell.” Morax — or was it Zhongli now — said calmly. So calm it made the winds whip up into a frenzy sending blades of freshly cut grass spiraling into the sky. 

“Is that all you have to say?” He asked, and now there was a note of anger in his tone. “After what you—” Venti cut himself off, clicking his tongue in frustration at the mix of hurt, relief and sadness which swelled inside his chest.

“No, there is much I would say to you. If you would allow it.”

Venti laughed, a harsh sound that grated against his ears.

“Oh now I’m suddenly someone worth talking to. Now. When the damage has been done and the dust has settled here you come ready to make things right once more. What does the immediate upset matter when it can be fixed with a deal or a contract to replace what has been….” Venti stopped and finally turned to look at the man behind him. “I thought you died Morax.”

Morax stared at him quietly. They’ve known each for far too long to hide anything from the other and Venti can see in an instant that he won’t get an apology for what happened. Morax will offer one for hurting him, for not seeking him out straight away after the matter had concluded, but he won’t apologize for the act itself. 

“You had to, my dear. In case someone was watching the wind had to mourn the loss of the mountain.” Morax stepped forward causing Venti to instantly drop the vortex in case the old fool actually hurt himself.

It only took a few of his husband’s long strides before Morax was lowering himself to sit beside Venti. Venti, who hadn’t seen him since he woke up from his unplanned five hundred year long nap, dropped his head onto one firm shoulder. It was about as comfortable as using a rock for a pillow.

“The thought of losing you scares me more than anything. It almost broke me.” He admitted softly. 

If there really had been a murderer in the world Venti would not have stopped until he’d ripped the air from the culprit’s lungs himself.

Mor— no Zhongli was probably best to use now. Morax had died.

Zhongli wrapped a hesitant hand around Venti’s waist. Venti let him, too tired and too relieved to push away the comfort. His husband wasn’t wearing any gloves so the warmth from the golden veins in his hand seeps through Venti’s shirt to his skin. After five hundred years Venti was back where he belonged.

“Don’t do it again blockhead.”

A press of lips against his head, the stroke of a thumb against his waist, and the first contract made by the man known as Zhongli.

“I promise.”

#genshin impact #zhongven #zhongli #venti #my writing #hope you enjoy!

[profounddestinyrebel]

Pretty much my ideal dcxdp coexisting world

Danny had all his canon happen before Bruce and the JL started their vigilante careers

Before Bruce was born or Martha and Thomas even got married

Phantom Planet never happened and the world never realized that they were almost dead in the first place (I apologize for mentioning it)

Danny retires after blowing up the portal and designing a new system of gov for the Infinite Realms (why the hell is that a monarchy anyway? Fighting being a way of communicating AND the way of determining a ruler does not make sense so I'll choose the better one)

Danny still visits the Infinite Realms but mostly lives his life

He still has interesting things happen to him but more because he apparently has a curse placed on him than anything else 'may you live in interesting times'

Danny manipulates the curse by getting into situations on purpose and then resolving them without getting attention drawn to his civilian id and normal life

He keeps track of immortals and big names that deal with death magic so as to lower the chances of being summoned

The more powerful the Realm Being the more powerful the summoner has to be to summon them and with how powerful Danny is there aren't many he has to keep an eye on

Ra's has been losing Lazarus water at a steady rate for over a decade but only now has it become a noticeable loss. The day the that he notices is a Very Bad Day for the League of Assassins (the day Danny lets himself get caught satisfies his curse for 2 whole months)

Danny hasn't aged much at all since he left Amity at 17. He's still short but mimics the effects of age with stage makeup and other tools used by actors to look older they actually are. This is how he meets a certain Alfred P. who remains a good friend even though they never really meet in person.

His parents blow themselves up and wipe their house off the map when tinkering with a device designed to lure realm beings to them. Danny isn't really sorry they're gone. He finds out after leaving Amity that he wasn't really their kid and he wasn't even adopted. They made him in their lab while distracted from their obsession with ghosts then completely forgot they had done so when they refocused on ghosts. His growth chamber (terrible name) was coated in ecto which allowed the device to reactivate and allow Danny to finish incubating into a toddler then (suspicious) it mysteriously popped him out before his the fentons noticed the growth chambers success.

His parents never took any notes on the clone experiment out of the house due to it being a (perceived) failure. After going back to their ghost obsession they completely forgot about it so no one knows. Jazz only found after Danny told her and he only found out after growing older and continuing to look less and less like either of his parents.

Danny finds the notes and that's what inspires him to leave Amity, to start looking for his bio parent. The Fenton's had no clue that the clone they grew was Danny. They dismantled the growth chamber when Danny was four (actually two) and never realized that the toddler they adopted was the clone of wonder woman they made. They never said anything to anyone about Danny being adopted so Vlad has no idea that Danny isn't Maddie's child.

Vlad starts to age drastically after the portals are destroyed and Danny figures out that Vlad isn't a halfa after all. He's just a normal ghost who can prey on people like spectra but with an obsession directed at Maddie originally and then Danny. Afterwards Vlad gets shunted off into Walker's prison because of all the toxic and human crimes he's committed among them brainwashing, mind control and mind wiping various wealthy and not so wealthy individuals into giving Vlad their money and companies.

Ellie has to explore the Infinite Realms (literally Infinite though so she's not confined) only because she can't really produce her own ecto. She has to absorb it from her surroundings so she can wander safely all over the Infinite Realms (so long as she calls for help when she gets in over her head) but not the human realms unless she takes a buddy who can produce a steady stream of ecto for her.

Vlad makes Danny his heir so now he's rich enough to travel even after giving all the people Vlad stole from their money back. It turns out that Vlad was good with making more money once he had it.

just Danny being a crptoid for the entire magical community and them being unable to talk about it if they even know of him

while danny runs a NASA and space account where he talks about NASA's recent achievements, newly discovered stars, planets and new alien races that Earth has been in contact with

#dpxdc #dp is before all dc vigilantes start #danny stops aging #perfectly preserved at 17 #he uses make up to seem older as the years go by #no ghost king #down with the Monarchy! #clone of wonder woman danny #dead fenton parents #no one knows that danny is phantom except for jazz sam and tucker #danny hasn't been able to find his bio mom #or dad #does find it odd that with so much maternal dna and minimal paternal dna that he turned out male #the giw had fake authority #they never even informed the us gov that ghosts exist #for gov/military took advantage of the ghost situation to quarantine amity #danny mind wipes them #too dangerous for them too keep all the knowledge they gained about the realms #tell me what you think #this is 5 or 6 of my most solid hc fitted together