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turbulentscrawl · 6 months

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A Little Support

The boys just need a little love to ease the pain <3

Prisoner/Luca Balsa x reader | Prospector/Norton Campbell x reader

⭒ ⭑ ⭒ ⭑ ⭒ ⭑ ⭒

Norton Campbell

Yesterday he had a fight with Naib. A real fight, not their usual argumentative banter. It had almost come to blows too, you heard, until Norton suddenly turned on his heels and locked himself in his room. He’d been there ever since.

You were close enough with Norton to know the two sides of his proverbial flipping-coin. The face he showed yesterday wouldn’t have stayed locked away for long; it was too restless, too confrontational. Which meant the venom of the altercation had flipped him back to the safer, melancholy face you were so familiar with.

So here you were, struggling to carry a bulky, portable record player, a selection of records, and a small handbasket of food to his door. Frankly, managing to balance it all while you knocked was a feat worthy of recognition, but Norton just looked bemused when his face peered out from a cracked opening.

“Can I come in?” you ask, when he looked you over and still didn’t say anything. “I brought some stuff.” You nod down to the record player in your arms. Norton’s expression sours, but he instinctively reaches to take the pile of heavy items from you. You manage to shove just the food basket into his hands and slip into his bedroom.

It’s messier than usual inside, but you expected as much. The few spare articles of clothes he owns are strewn about. Books, paper, and a lone candle are sprayed out from his desk as if he’d swiped it clear in a rage. The space was convenient for the record player, at least.

When you turn around to look him over, Norton has already swiped a bread roll from the basket and shoved most of it in his mouth. His hair is mussed and he’s still wearing the same clothes from yesterday, sans gloves, shoes, and suspenders. The bags under his eyes are worse.

“What’s all this for?” he asks, setting the basket down and rifling through the rest of its contents.

“For us!” You announce.

“Us, huh?” He repeats, in his thinking-voice.

“Yes. I’m going to teach you some dance moves.”

“I already know how to dance,” he says matter-of-factly. You can’t suppress the goofy smile that comes with visions of his rare-but-passionate flailing.

“By yourself,” you corrected. “I’ve never seen you dance with a partner.” Something like embarrassment or shame pushes his eyes away from yours for a flicker. You know he’s never really done anything with a partner, romantic or otherwise. No dinner, no dances, very few hurried trysts. He’d always lacked both the time and the funds, and had few people he ever liked well enough to lock hands with.

Evidently he has the same line of thought, and it makes him a bit gruff as he says, “why would I want to?”

“Because I want to,” you say. “With you, anyway.” He scoffs, but an oh-so faint blush dusts his unscarred cheek. He’s putting on a brave face for this conversation, but you see the turmoil of yesterday’s events lingering just beneath his waning patience. He’s tired, raw, disappointed in himself. And probably thinks you should be too. His attention keeps drifting further away, so carefully, very carefully, you step forward and touch one of his calloused hands. “Just for a little bit? I promise it’s easy.”

Norton meets your eyes again…and lets out a sigh that seems he’s been holding for years. His other hand comes up to your waist, holding you carefully.

“Alright, yeah. Just for a little bit.”

⭒ ⭑ ⭒ ⭑ ⭒ ⭑ ⭒

Luca Balsa

At three in the morning, Luca had just managed to stumble his way through the manor and crawl his way into your bed.

His pained groans had woken you up from halfway down the hall, so you managed to open the door before he slammed right into it. He then hit your pillow like a rock, holding his head and sobbing that it was splitting open. Five hours of sleepless agony passed like a slug, filled with a long game of medical roulette where nothing ever helped twice. After the fifth hour, Luca finally passed out.

When he awoke again in the evening, his discomfort was gone. But, and perhaps more importantly, he looked lost.

“How are you feeling, Luca?” You ask. He jumps a bit at hearing his own name and stops scanning your bedroom in favor of curiously meeting your eyes.

“Oh! …Well, I think? Though, ah, I’m afraid I don’t quite know where I am,” he explains. Luckily, you’re practiced in hiding the hurt those words always induce. This is not your first experience with either his migraines or his amnesia, and it would surely not be your last.

“That’s alright,” you say. From the drawer in your desk, you produce a little notebook and pass it to him. Ever curious, he wastes no time in cracking it open. “You’re in my room. You had a really bad episode last night and came here instead of the infirmary. You had an accident several years ago that affected your memory. I’ve written about a lot of it in that notebook for you. Or, you keep some of your own that I can take you to. If you prefer.” He had never preferred that, though, always the trusting sort.

He spends several silent minutes flipping through the pages of the notebook, not bothering to hide his shifting expressions of shock, frustration, and intrigue. There’s a great deal of information in those pages, including the accident—or what you’ve heard of it anyway, the manor, his work, experiments you witness, and all the little ideas you hear him muttering to himself that he might forget otherwise.

“You keep this for me?” He finally asks, astonishment in his tone. “These seem impressively thorough.”

“I do, to make things a little easier for you,” you explain.

A grin splits his face and he turns to the notebook again. There’s no possible way he’s managing to take it all in with the speed he flies through it, but then he stops with purpose, marking a line with his finger and holding it with uncharacteristic force. The familiar determination in his eye is his attempt to bring a memory back through sheer willpower. And this time, it seems to work.

“Y…y—” he stutters. “Y/N! That’s it, you’re Y/N.” His shoulders relax as some great weight slides off them. Before you can react, he leaps to his feet and plants a kiss on your cheek that comes with a spark of static that feels like magic. “I love you too!”

“O-oh,” you squeak, still inches from his face and shocked at the speed he’s recovered. “Do you?”

“I do! Look, I wrote it here myself.” He points down to the page in the notebook. There, in your handwriting, is a reminder for him: ‘I love you, and will do anything to see your safe and happy.’ And in the small margins next to it, in his own quick scrawl, is ‘I love you too, never forget!’ You can’t begin to guess when he had added that note, but the glitter of mischief in his eye seems to indicate he knows with great fondness. “And it’s obvious to see why I would. It’s a remarkable gesture for you to keep this for me.”

Luca stands then, stretches, and tucks the notebook under his arm before offering you his gentlemanly hand, “Now! Let’s get some food, yeah? I’m starved. Oh! And let’s grab those other notebooks on the way, I have some catching up to do.”

“Alright,” you say. You feel lighter than you have in a while, reminiscing on how easily he accepts you back into his heart. With luck, he’ll remember everything else in a day or two. If he doesn’t, though, you’re at least not back to square one. “But in case you don’t remember, you don’t like sugar in your tea.”

Luca laughs boisterously, lays another electrifying kiss on your knuckles, and follows your lead out of the room.

#idv x reader #identity v x reader #luca balsa x reader #norton campbell x reader #idv prospector #idv prisoner #turbulentscrawl #identity v

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ataraxiaspainting · 2 months

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Russian Roulette.

Yan L x GN Reader.

Synopsis: You decide to test your luck while it still lasts, as small as it is.

Warnings: Yandere themes, past stalking, kidnapping, and manipulation.

Word Count: 1.1k.

*~*~*~*

“Hmm… why do you want me to do that, exactly?” The response is much longer than a simple okay or sure or no, but the question was what you expected to be in the realm of absolute possibility. You have given L too little credit in the past, when you first woke up here, thinking that he can shut himself up and go back to whatever he usually does, like eating cake or watching the same footage of you in your home for the tenth time that week.

You can work with this.

“It’s not like you have given me much else to do.” You say, not biting your tongue this time around, the bitterness in your voice coinciding with the box of sour fruit gummies on the other side of the table, with the artificial sweetness in L’s tone. “Plus if you want to treat me as well as you say you want to, you would oblige the simple request of playing a game with your favorite captive.”

His eyebrow raises at the last word that slipped out of your mouth, not out of guilt or shame or fear that your reality has punched him straight in the face, but out of just… curiosity.

“What if I don’t?” He smirks, looking up at you. “You did just rudely rush in here stomping and making demands… not exactly the behavior I would think of when I hear the word captive.”

“I’m going insane.” You say, glaring down at him, your fists curled so deeply into your pajama pants that you swore that they would break.

He chuckles, and it feels like the messy hair covering your angry face has just gotten even more disheveled.

“I jest, I jest… fine… I’ll play with my favorite captive.”

It feels like this weight has just been lifted off of your head, but the one in your heart remains.

“No need to be so… tangled up.” He says the pun naturally, popping in a few more pieces of the neon candy.

You start grumbling curses under your breath as if he did reject your proposal. He didn’t though. He didn’t, so you’ll play by his much longer game for a bit more before you struggle yet again.

“Not funny.”

There are only six pieces of candy left in the yellow box, each one a different color.

“What are you waiting for?” He asks, slouching forward instead of backward this time around and crossing his legs. “Go get your… game.”

You scoff and race off to L’s bedroom, putting your knees next to the mattress that is on the opposite side of L’s bed. Under your pillow are the six red plastic cups you stole from the cupboard last night, along with a chocolate egg still in its packaging, something you got from L after threatening to jump on your mattress until the few trinkets he got for you would fall on the floor and break. You won for once, in the end, but that condescending look he had while giving it to you makes you want to kick him in the groin again.

It is the same look he has when you return to him, tail tucked between your legs as you set up the cups and the chocolate egg on the table. The box of candy is empty now. How in the hell does he not get so many cavities?

“Alright then, explain the rules.” He raises his arms to the ceiling and yawns loudly, obnoxiously.

You sit down on the opposite side of the table. Your posture is much more restrained than his, he notes. Your hands are on your lap and your back is straight. You still don’t know how to relax. A symptom of being raised in high society.

“It’s a game I used to play with the younger servants when I was little.” You explain. Thinking of the past brings back unwanted feelings, but thinking of the present does the same. You have never experienced true freedom, but at least here you can speak your mind and your emotions. God, maybe you are going insane, being… thankful to him, your captor. “Someone guesses which cup has the object underneath. If they win, they get to ask a question to the person who scrambled the cups. If they lose, the person who scrambled the cups gets to ask the question.”

The image of a smaller you playing with porcelain cups and a ring, perhaps your mother’s, as the servants look confused makes L laugh softly. How cute.

“I’ll go first.” You insist, putting the chocolate egg under one of the cups and swiftly moving them around. “Okay. Go on. Don’t take your time.”

“Alright.”

L’s pointed finger moves slowly to the cup in the middle.

“If I remember correctly, it is this one, isn’t it?” He asks. “Right?”

That smile of yours makes choosing the wrong cup on purpose makes it worth it in L’s eyes.

“Nope.” You lift the one farthest to L’s left and your right. The chocolate egg is there, untouched.

He doesn’t pretend to be surprised, instead still smiling. You do the same, albeit unknowingly.

“Alright, my turn now.” You didn’t even get to ask him a question, but you are too deep in your pride to care about it right now. You won against L for once. You’re proud. It’s cute.

One by one, you slide the cups and the chocolate egg over. You’re confident, it would appear.

How cute.

He puts one cup over the chocolate egg and moves all of them around, much faster than you did your turn. Your eyebrows furrow as you try to concentrate.

He stops moving them, and it feels like the weight on your heart becomes even heavier.

Your pointer finger shakes as you move it to the cup in the center, silent.

L shakes his head.

“Nope.” He says, the word mocking yours.

His right elbow rests on the corner of the table, his palm cradling his chin as he looks on, to the shakingness of your breath, to the way your folded hands tremble.

The air feels thick, and you don’t even know why. Or do you?

“You already know what I am going to ask you, aren’t you?” The question is longer than anticipated.

“N-No.” You stutter.

“Oh?” The sound feels like a stab to the heart or a punch in the face. “That’s fine, I guess.”

He leans in. Closer and closer. You back away, but not enough to not smell how sugary his breath is.

“There is a knife missing from the knife drawer. Where is it?”

You didn’t win against L, you say to yourself. He won.

“...Underneath my pillow.”

#yandere l lawliet #l lawliet x reader #yandere death note #yandere death note x reader #yandere l lawliet x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #death note x reader #author aya

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builtbybrokenbells · 3 months

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LEX TALIONIS | ORSUS (teaser)

the first ever sneak peak at my first ever fic for beloved twin lane. I hope you’re just as excited for this as I am 🤍

Masterlist | Taglist

“What game are you trying to play, sweetheart?” He asked, looking down at you with a raised eyebrow.

“That depends… what’s your favorite?” You smirked up at him, giving a bat of your eyelashes to cement the flirtation in your tone. He gave a low chuckle, neglecting a response, instead raising his beer bottle to his lips and tilting his head back. As he drank down the liquid, your eyes drifted towards the exposed columns of his neck, his Adam's apple bobbing with each long gulp.

You couldn’t help but think about how foolish he was to expose his very lifeline to you, and although you were not a being of mythical nature and blood was not exactly your thing, you were certain that your lips, or better, your tongue settled gently atop the skin of his jugular would send him straight to his knees. You were tempted to test it out, just to see if your assumptions were correct. You could lean forward and try, but you knew it was best to wait; he would run himself in circles for a few moments before he inevitably landed himself in that exact position.

As he pulled the bottle away from his mouth, the glisten of alcohol making the plush skin of his lips glisten under the dim bar light, his eyes drifted back down towards your face before his head dropped into its earlier position. He was silent for a moment, as if he was trying to understand you better, and then he spoke softly, leaning down so you could hear him over the boom of the stereo system.

“I don’t like games at all, angel.” The sultry tone sent a shiver down your spine, but you did not let it phase you any further than that. Before he could pull away, you turned your head inwards, just enough so that your nose would brush against his. At the sudden touch, he did not shy away like you expected. If anything, he seemed to lean further into you without any hesitation. At that moment, you understood that you were not playing with an amateur; any lesser man would shy away from your strong nature. If you had to admit, him being open to the advance made your desire to play him grow even stronger. “I saw you talking to Josh. Do you think you’re being sly? Playing hard to get?” He asked, the sheer power behind his soft tone making your knees weak and your stomach twist in a knot. “Or are you trying to make me jealous?” If only he knew how extensive your evil truly was, he would never have spoken at all and instead turn away to run. His accusations were nowhere near the atrocities you were intending to commit. “What, you have nothing to say, now? Finally have you cornered?”

“Just don’t think you’d like what I have to say, is all.” You said, placing your empty cup down on the bar top without breaking the position. His eyes were boring into your own, as if he was trying to make you submit to him. In truth, you found his confidence comedic. Of course, you’d give him what he wanted, but he’d be doing you more of a favor than you were doing him. It wouldn’t take him very long to put down the dominant facade and comprehend that he was not the one with the power. “Some things are better left unsaid, Jacob.”

A flame was dancing dangerously behind his pupil, letting you know that there was much more to his character if you looked behind the mask he constantly had on. It intrigued you, making you wonder what would happen if you continued to nurse it with gasoline. Perhaps the explosion would be quite enjoyable, even for days after the disaster. Russian roulette was a game that often seemed tempting, and playing it with Jake made it all the more enticing.

The lights were low, making it incredibly difficult to place the emotion in his eye. Even then, it didn’t matter; all men were the same, and he was already caught on your hook. He was irritated, annoyed at your evasion and your intent to engage in what seemed to be a tiresome game of cat and mouse, but it was not enough for him to lack interest in you. The scent of whiskey on your breath, casted warmly over his lips was drawing him in further, making him wonder if he could still taste it on your tongue if he acted fast enough. He thought he had the upper hand, that he was the one who was charming you, but he could not seem to see that he was playing the game the exact way you wanted him to. He was blissfully unaware, and you were ready for the kill.

“If it means that much to you, Jacob, I’m sure the bathroom is free. Maybe a quick stop might convince you of where my loyalty lies.” The corners of your lips twitched upwards into a small, wicked smile. “Beloved Joshua was never offered an invitation like that, now was he?”

TAGLIST: @gretavangroupie @wetkleenex-gvf @edgingthedarkness @clairesjointshurt @jordie-gvf @lallisonl @writingcold @dannys-dream @ageofbajabule @GVFstuddedmajesty @mackalah @watchingover-hypegirl @earthgrlsreasy @blacksoul-27 @ur-m0ms-blog @Lyndz2names @gretavanomens @josh-iamyour-mama @gretavangirlie @cxffeecakez @stardustjake @highway-tuna @peaceloveunitygvf @dancingcarbon @kiszkas-canvas @thewritingbeforesunrise @myownparadise96 @just-ambam @jakeyt

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hookhausenschips · 2 months

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Masterpiece (Songfic Mini Series)

Word Count: 1,262

Summary: Tyler comes to terms with his mistakes. Can he be forgiven?

Warnings: very sad, groveling, illusion to cheating

Masterlist

song: Masterpiece by Motionless In White

Hook taglist: @shawtys-things, @gethooked, @hope4more, @redpool, @lovethathookhausen730, @dgcrimson-garcia, @brideofinfamy, @boneyjones7777, @saramusazzi99

Join my taglist here!

A/N: this is my interpretation of the song!

previous extra

Third Person POV

All the stupid lies and the stupid games

Left a vacancy in this picture frame

A prisoner by my own hands

'Cause if I can't have me, then no one can

The rain fell relentlessly outside, matching the tumultuous storm brewing within Tyler's heart. He sat alone in his dimly lit apartment, the weight of his mistakes bearing down on him like a suffocating blanket. Memories of his infidelity haunted him, tormenting him with the pain he had caused his partner, Y/N.

As he stared at the empty space beside him, Tyler's mind replayed the events that had led to this moment. He had succumbed to temptation, seeking solace in the arms of another woman when he should have been cherishing the love he shared with Y/N. The guilt gnawed at his soul, consuming him from the inside out.

I need to heal what I inflict

But I'll burn that bridge when I get to it

As I play roulette with a broken gun

I confess these sins with a sharp and spiteful tongue

But now, as he sat in the silence of his remorse, Tyler knew that he couldn't undo the damage he had done. He couldn't erase the hurt in Y/N's eyes, the betrayal etched into her every glance. All he could do was try to make amends, to beg for her forgiveness, and pray that she would find it in her heart to give him another chance.

With a heavy sigh, Tyler reached for his phone, his fingers trembling as he dialed Y/N's number. Each ring felt like a countdown to his own reckoning, a reminder of the consequences of his actions.

So how do I apologize

And put the tears back in your eyes

When every canvas that I paint

Is a masterpiece made of my mistakes?

"Hello?" Y/N's voice was distant, guarded.

"It's me," Tyler replied, his voice barely above a whisper. "I... I need to talk to you."

They sat in silence, the weight of their unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. Hook could feel Y/N’s energy, filled with a mixture of anger, hurt, and disappointment. He knew he had caused her pain, and had shattered the trust between them with his careless actions.

The long pause on the other end of the line continued for a few more seconds, as if Y/N were debating whether or not to hang up. But finally, she spoke again, her voice tinged with bitterness. "What could you possibly have to say that would make any difference now?"

Outlined in guilt, my portrait stares

In a gallery where the walls lie bare

Tyler closed his eyes, his heart breaking at the sound of Y/N's pain. "I know I've hurt you, Y/N. I'm sorry," Tyler whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "I know I've hurt you, and I don't expect you to forgive me. But I need you to know that I regret what I did more than anything."

Y/N remained silent, her gaze fixed on the floor. Tyler could sense the tears welling up in her eyes, threatening to spill over at any moment.

"I never meant to hurt you," Tyler continued, his voice trembling with sincerity. "I was selfish and foolish, and I let my own insecurities and fears drive me to do things I'm not proud of."

But he refused to give up hope. He refused to let his past mistakes define him, to let them destroy any chance he had of making things right with Y/N.

"I know I don't deserve your forgiveness," Tyler said, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I'm willing to do whatever it takes to earn it. I'll spend the rest of my life proving to you that I'm worthy of your love, that I'm capable of change."

As I modernize my antique ways

True colors can't escape the brush of fate

But his words felt hollow, meaningless in the face of the pain he had caused. Y/N had trusted him, had believed in their love, and he had betrayed her in the worst possible way.

The silence that followed was deafening, suffocating. Tyler held his breath, waiting for Y/N's response, praying for a glimmer of hope in the darkness of his own despair.

As the moments stretched into eternity, Tyler could feel the weight of his guilt crushing him, suffocating him with its intensity. He wanted nothing more than to turn back time, to undo the mistakes he had made and erase the pain he had caused.

But he knew that was impossible. All he could do now was try to make amends, to find a way to rebuild the trust he had so callously destroyed.

"I don't know if I can ever trust you again, Tyler," Y/N finally said, her voice trembling with emotion, "You've broken my heart, shattered it into a million pieces. I don't know if it's even possible to put it back together again."

So how do I apologize

And put the tears back in your eyes

On every canvas that I paint

Is a masterpiece made of my mistakes?

Tyler felt a pang of despair grip his heart, the realization of the depth of his betrayal hitting him like a tidal wave. He had destroyed the one thing that had meant everything to him and had pushed away the person he loved more than life itself.

The weight of her words are like a physical blow, each syllable driving home the magnitude of his betrayal. But he refused to give up hope, refused to let his own failures define him.

"I understand," Tyler replied, his voice steady despite the turmoil raging within him. "But please, Y/N... give me a chance to make things right. I'll do whatever it takes to earn back your trust."

Illustrate all my pain

And set it all ablaze

Burn

And set it all ablaze

There was a long pause, during which Tyler held his breath, his heart pounding in his chest. Then, finally, Y/N spoke again, her voice softening ever so slightly.

"I need time, Tyler," she said. "I need to figure out if I can ever forgive you."

"I want to believe you, Tyler," she said softly. "But I don't know if I can ever trust you again. You've hurt me in ways I never thought possible."

Tyler nodded, even though Y/N couldn't see him. "Take all the time you need," he said. "I'll be here, waiting for you."

So how do I apologize

And put the tears back in your eyes

When every canvas that I paint

Is a masterpiece of my mistakes?

As he hung up the phone, Tyler felt a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness of his own remorse. He knew that winning back Y/N's trust would be a long and arduous journey, filled with obstacles and setbacks. But he was willing to do whatever it took to make things right, to mend the bond he had broken with his own careless actions.

For in the end, Tyler knew that love was worth fighting for, even when the shadows of regret threatened to consume him whole. And as he stared out into the rain-soaked night, he vowed to himself that he would never again let his own weaknesses destroy the precious gift of Y/N's love.

And in the light of my demise

I see my failures in your eyes

Every canvas that I paint

Is a masterpiece made of my mistakes

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zaebeecee · 1 month

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Untitled CasinoBomb one-shot •

TW: ADDICTION, ALCOHOL

Husk was a gambler.

This was not new information to anyone who had known Husk for more than an hour. It wouldn’t surprise anyone, either, to learn that he’d played his first hand of poker before he was seven years old. Cards and dice had followed him his entire life, both to his benefit and to his detriment, as he followed the call of illicit games in the back rooms of speakeasies through the streets of Atlantic City to the shiny new casinos popping up all over the Las Vegas strip. He had won and lost more money, he thought, than Rockefeller had ever had in his accounts.

He wasn’t proud of his habit—he wouldn’t call it an addiction, not out loud, not to anyone else, not even to himself—but he wasn’t really ashamed, either. What was there to be ashamed of, really? It was a vice. He was in Hell. Everyone had at least one vice in Hell.

It’s funny, Alastor had once said, his eyes creased with mirth and his smile stretched near to the corners of his eyes, his usual malicious cruelty sharpened with intent as he stared at Husk without blinking.

Husk didn’t want to know, so he didn’t want to ask, but he knew the Radio Demon wouldn’t leave until he did. What is? he asked, putting every iota of how little he cared into those two words.

A gambling addict who works as a croupier, Alastor had answered with a laugh in his voice that was echoed by the distant ghosts of the live studio audience he carried with him everywhere. I have it on good authority that a drug dealer is expected not to rely so heavily on his own product.

Husk had snarled, which had done nothing, but he couldn’t have answered if he had wanted to. It was correct, after all, and Husk didn’t need Alastor to remind him of yet another way in which he was an idiot.

Because he knew. He had known when he was alive, and he had known after his death, too. It had been his entire existence, so much so that his body even took on attributes of the casino, and wasn’t that a reminder he didn’t need every time he looked in a mirror.

Everyone thought gambling was about winning. Whether it was Charlie trying to sus out if he was open to the group therapy sessions, or Angel Dust asking him why the hell he had kept playing after he lost, they all thought that winning was the point of gambling. You bet your money, you put it on red, the roulette favors you, and you walk away richer than you were when you sat down.

It wasn’t about winning. If it was, it wouldn’t have been so difficult to stop. It wasn’t about losing, either, though Husk had wondered if that was part of the problem in some of his lower and more pessimistic moments. No, gambling was about the moments that existed in between.

It lived in the way the dice rolled across the felt tabletop.

It lived in every tell of another player, every call and every raise, every new card dealt and every hand revealed.

It lived in the moments of the roulette wheel’s slowing momentum and the little ball searching for the pocket that would tell you if you won or if you lost.

Risk. That was what gambling was for: the thrill of the unknown, of taking a chance, of betting your rent or your food for the next week or even your fucking house on a game that could set you up for life and ruin you and you would never know which one it would be until you played. Husk had won, and he had lost, but every victory and every defeat was nothing but a little change in the long road that was the risk.

If Husk was honest with himself, he would have admitted that gambling was the only way he felt anything anymore.

Of course, Husk was never honest with himself.

The Hazbin Hotel was, for a multitude of reasons, somewhere safe for a sinner like him to set up shop. Vices were discouraged, and Charlie didn’t permit gambling for money, so the only gambling they ever did was to pawn their chores off on each other. It was almost like Alastor had done him a favor, dragging him through the ether by the throat and lashing him to the bar, even though Husk would chew his own wings off before admitting that. And the residents, too, were safe for one reason: they were predictable.

Alastor was volatile, of course, but Husk had known him for years and was fairly sure of the things that would set him off. He liked his creature comforts, he liked his schedules, and he didn’t like people disturbing his routines. Predictable.

Niffty, too, liked her routines, though they more manifested in the form of a regular rotation of cleaning duties and a fairly strict mealtime schedule that only grew erratic when someone else wanted to use her kitchen. Aside from inappropriate comments that could come from nowhere, she didn’t shift much, and she could usually be found stabbing bugs or cooking. Predictable.

Charlie made schedules for everyone constantly, always wanting to try new group building exercises and never springing unexpected surprises on them. She took everything in stride as best she could, and her meltdowns were always private and controlled. Predictable.

Vaggie was measured, strict, and always adhered to her own moral code. If something happened and it involved Charlie, she would be by the princess’s side throughout. If it did not involve Charlie, Vaggie probably didn’t care. Predictable.

Angel Dust was also volatile, of course, but it was always in the same way. He would get angry at any insult to his profession or anyone removing his indulgences, and everything else would be met with either vulgarity, sarcasm, or some combination of the two. Predictable.

Sir Pentious was paranoid and enthusiastic, quick to anger and always taking it out on his Egg Bois. He cried at the drop of a hat and seemed, even now, to really want to be an overlord despite the fact that he didn’t have the stomach for it and would always opt for a less violent option unless he was trying to impress someone. Predictable.

But the hotel had more foot traffic than simply the staff and their two residents, though most didn’t come through very often and few stayed for any length of time. Of course, among those few was Angel Dust’s best friend and supposed partner in crime, who was stopping by the hotel with increased frequency to check up on the spider demon and get into whatever else she could find while she was there.

Cherri Bomb.

Cherri Bomb was not predictable. Or, rather, she could be relied on to be unpredictable, if that made any kind of sense at all. No one, not even Angel Dust, seemed to have any sort of idea how her mood would hold up from minute to minute and what sort of erratic change might follow. She might stab someone over an insult one day and shrug the same words off the next. She might agree with you one minute and shout at you the next, even if you hadn’t changed what you said. If she stared at you with a stony gaze and invited you to keep making your point—always a threat, in Husk’s experience—you had no idea if she was furious, or if she would start laughing and inform you she was just fucking with you.

Husk had learned more about how they cussed in New Zealand in the past month than he had in the century he had existed, all of it from sarcastically calling Cherri Australian.

At first, he hadn’t known what to expect from her. She was hardly the first one to introduce herself to the hotel’s residents by blowing up a wall, so that wasn’t even notable, but everything else made her complicated in a way that Husk hadn’t let himself contemplate in a long time. For a while he was convinced that the issue, where she was concerned, was ensuring that no one did anything to set her off and create a chain reaction that would inevitably lead to more damage to the hotel. It wasn’t long before he realized the problem was that they couldn’t make that assurance.

Cherri’s presence in the hotel was unpredictable. It was a risk. And that made it exciting. The first time Husk had that realization, he had drunk an entire bottle of Alastor’s rye to drown the thought without care for the inevitable consequences.

It hadn’t worked, because the next morning, he had a headache that rivaled those from his youth and he was still just as confused and frustrated as he had been before.

Even though Cherri had declared that she was not, in any way, interested in redemption, that didn’t stop her from coming to the hotel with increased frequency. She would often leave to Angel Dust’s room and spend hours up there with the spider demon, but sometimes, the two of them would hang out at the bar. Husk served them drinks—Angel Dust his martinis according to the extremely strict regimen Charlie had set, Cherri vodka blushes and dishes of lime that she ate down to the rind—and listened to them as they talked about their nights out and Angel bitched about his job and Cherri occasionally mentioned someone named Izzi that she never dwelled on and neither of them seemed to like. Sometimes, Sir Pentious would discover that Cherri was in the hotel, and would proceed to make an ass out of himself before retreating into his basement to hide until she was gone.

Husk wondered if he should talk Pentious through a method of actually seducing Cherri, if he was that set on it. Maybe then Husk could stop thinking about… well. Anything else. Of course, Husk barely knew anything about actual seduction himself. He hadn’t been with anyone in decades, and before that, there had been less courting and more blunt sentences that led to one night stands with people whose names he didn’t remember because he hadn’t known them in the first place. Pentious was probably better off with his fumbling on his own than taking advice from Husk, because he was likely to get the snake slapped or worse.

The air was heavy with acid rain one evening as Husk took inventory at the bar. Even with so few residents, he found himself needing to take stock and submit orders to Charlie almost as much as he would have at an actual club; these sinners were clearly taking advantage of the fact that their livers couldn’t give out, and the princess wasn’t any better with her straight Mephistophelian absinthe shots. He was almost done when he heard someone pull out a bar stool, his left ear twitching when that someone sat and began patting their hands on the bar top. “Hold your horses,” he grumbled, doing math in his head as he wrote out the whisky order.

“Look at you, so responsible,” a familiar Kiwi-accented voice said, and Husk’s ears twitched again, but he didn’t turn around. Instead, he simply tried to gauge Cherri’s mood without looking at her face. “You’re not closed?”

Husk shook his head. “Nah. I just do inventory while these assholes are otherwise engaged before Angel Dust can come along and start saying numbers at random. That wasn’t a suggestion,” he added firmly.

Cherri laughed, just a little. “Wouldn’t dream of throwin’ you off,” she said, so innocently that she wasn’t even trying to hide the fact that she was full of shit. After that, she went quiet, tapping away on her phone while waiting for Husk to finish his work.

The cat demon signed off on the order and ripped the page from the notepad, pinning it up for Vaggie to grab the next time she passed by. Husk then turned to Cherri, taking up a glass, some vodka, and a bottle of grenadine. “Angel snubbing you? I was pretty sure he came back from work.”

“Oh, he’s in his room,” Cherri said. “But he’s busy. Said I could either wait down here for him or go home.”

“Busy?” Husk echoed, frowning at her, before the light went off in his head. It didn’t help his frown. “Oh. Alastor.”

“Do you have any idea what they’re doing in there?”

“No idea,” Husk confessed, slicing up a large lime and making sure it hadn’t dried out. “Angel told me to mind my business, but I think they’re plotting something. At least, I hope they are, because anything else isn’t worth considering.”

“I don’t like him,” Cherri grumbled.

Husk smirked. “Get in line. Nobody does.” He pushed the drink and a plate of lime slices towards her. “I’m guessing you decided to wait.”

“Have you seen the weather?” Cherri snapped, gesturing sharply towards the nearest window. “You think I wanna melt my skin off?”

Husk felt the fur along his neck and the backs of his arms standing up a little. He didn’t know if that was a reflex on his part, or a response to the way the air began to smell like nitrate when Cherri got worked up. “I think you do whatever you feel like doing no matter what the weather is like.”

She stared at him for a moment before she smirked and picked up a lime slice. “Thanks,” she said, before biting into it and stripping the fruit cleanly from the rind. Her wince looked satisfied. “What do you do when the weather’s shit?”

“What I always do,” Husk said, returning to cleaning the outsides of all the liquor bottles, just in case of any alcohol on the necks. “Fuck all.”

“Do you ever leave?”

“Only under extreme duress.”

“That’s not healthy, Captain Buzzkill.” Cherri leaned on one elbow and twirled a bare lime rind between her fingers, her x-shaped pupil watching Husk contemplatively. He didn’t rise to the bait, just continuing his work and waiting her out. Finally, she said, “You should come out with me sometime.”

Husk snorted in mild amusement. “What would you want to hang out with an old curmudgeon for?”

Cherri shrugged one shoulder. “I dunno, because you could stand to loosen up and I have to deal with you every time I come here, so you might as well remember how to have some fun.”

“I don’t do fun.”

“You’re gonna.”

Husk raised an eyebrow at her and leaned one hand on the bar. “You plan to make me?”

Cherri grinned, all sharp teeth, but Husk wouldn’t have defined it as a smile. “If I have to.”

It was a surprise to both of them when Husk actually chuckled, the sound as low and rusty and unused as it was on every occasion he laughed, rare as they were. “I’d love to see that.”

Suddenly, Cherri’s expression turned serious. Suspicious, almost. “Are you hitting on me, Husk?”

Once again, the air immediately felt dangerous, and once again, Husk felt the fur on his neck standing up. Cherri wasn’t blinking, and she wasn’t speaking. Any answer he could give had the potential to offend her. Husk felt oddly exhilarated, hesitating long enough to savor the feeling that he was gambling something more vital than money. Finally, he admitted, “…frankly, I got no idea.”

Cherri’s brow furrowed over her eye, her lips pursing, before she burst into laughter that instantly destroyed the tension and told him he had won that hand. “Fuck, you’re funny,” she said in a voice that was almost fond. “Come on. Come out with me some night.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Come on,” she wheedled.

“It’s the best you’re gonna get,” Husk warned, and she rolled her eye dramatically but seemed to drop it as she took up her drink. “You gonna drag me to some of those seedy dives you and Angel haunt?”

“Maybe,” Cherri said. If Husk was being generous to himself, he would call her tone flirtatious. “You’ll just have to take a chance.”

Husk found himself smiling, though why, he had no idea. “…well. That happens to be my specialty.”

-fin-

#hazbin hotel #hazbin husk #hazbin cherri bomb #hazbin fanfic #cherri bomb #husk #casinobomb #my writing #fanfic

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impishjesters · 6 months

Text

Denture Daddy

CW// implied unspecific sexual relationships, dom/sub talk, use of the word "daddy" and "mommy" in a non-parental form, mentioned hate sex note(s): basically the reader and Jibba (my TADC oc) playing a dumb game of who seems like a dom or sub to pass the time. Jibba can be seen as a bit of a "whore" but he wears it proudly. Rhett (who's mentioned) is another of my TADC ocs. A/N: This whole thing happened all because I wanted to say "denture daddy". I don't expect anyone to give a shit about this. But at the end of the day as long as my friend and I enjoy it, that's all that matters.

Conversations with Jibba was like a game of Russian roulette. You never knew what direction or topic would come up.

Sometimes the conversations were casual, asking how you were doing or if anything fun had happened. But then you’d get conversations about a tiered ranking of who was considered good in bed, only to get whiplash by a simple conversation on whether you were a dog or cat person.

It was a wild ride, to say the least, which is how you got roped into a conversation about your fellow circus captives and whether they fell into dom or sub-category—for shits and giggles that is.

“‘m just sayin’, ya look at Jax ‘n think he’s got this whole sadistic face to ‘im and it turns out he’s just as touch starved as he looks,” Jibba stated.

Right, they were sleeping together—something about hate fucking because of their prank war or some shit. Neither of them was very subtle about their pranks or their “hate sex” because if that was hate sex you hated to see what tamed sex was like.

Bunch of emotionally constipated idiots.

Jibba jabbed you with his elbow playfully, getting your attention back on him. “Thoughts on Kinger?”

“Definitely not a dom, in fact, it feels wrong to think about him even having sex.” You shuddered. Kinger felt too much like your dad, and thinking of your parent’s boinking was enough to make you wanna bleach your eyes.

He shrugged and crossed his arms before leaning his chest against your back. “Yea’ it’s like watchin’ ya gramparents be romantic an mushy.”

“Ugh,” you gagged, “why’d you have to make it worse? I was thinking of my dad at least.”

“Oo, you thinkin’ bout ya dad playing twista? Naughty, naughty.” he teased, shooting you a playful smirk.

You elbowed him hard, basking in the pained noise that left him. “You know damn well what I meant.”

Jibba groaned and rubbed his side, you had a mean right elbow. “Yea’ yeah, alright so what ‘bout Rhett?”

“Eye Daddy? Oh, yeah. Total dom, but like not like in that rough way—”

“—but in like a total control way? Oh yeah, ya don’t know how hard I’ve been tryin’ to crack that nut—metaphorically and literally.” Jibba scoffed and used your head as an armrest, staring out at the others doing one of Caine’s dumb lil games.

“Are you just making rounds to everyone?” You didn’t shame Jibba for his sex escapades, if anything good on him for finding some way to tame Jax’s awful behaviour.

“Only the hot ones.” You looked up at him despite his arm on your head and he sent you a wink. “I’ll get to ya in no time, less ya wanna jump the list then we can go find somewhere right now.”

“Yeah, not right now.” As entertaining as the thought was, you were quite relaxed just hanging out with the ridiculous man. Though it would be a tempting endeavor at a later time. “So, Ragatha?”

“Mm,” Jibba leaned back, taking most of his weight off of you but kept his arm in place. “She gives like, soft mommy vibes.” he waved his hand in a so-so gesture. “Though I feel like she has a lot of parental experiences if she’s been havin’ ta live with Jax for god knows how long.” He paused, eyes squinting in Ragatha’s direction. “I’d let her give me a good stern talk’ ta.”

“I’ll give you a stern talkin’ ta, if you don’t calm yourself.”

“Babe, this whole conversation is about who’s a dom and who’s not, how do ya expect me to keep calm?” he joked. You raised your arm again with a silent threat to elbow him and he swallowed. “Yeah, okay, calming down.”

“Pomni?”

The two of you fell silent, staring over at the anxious woman who was struggling to get out of Jax’s reach.

“Anxious chihuahua.” Both of you stated at the same time.

Jibba laughed that awful eerie death rattle of his. Did a toy like him really exist? God that was horrifying, who buys that for children? You knew he could control it but why did he have to do it now of all times?

He caught you staring and grinned. “Somethin’ wrong?”

Right, this is Jibba we’re talking about, he knows it’s creepy and did it intentionally. Bastard.

“No,” you rolled your eyes and looked back to Pomni. “She’s too anxious, poor woman probably has a hard time holding someone’s hand let alone sex. Though I’d rather not think about her sex life… feels wrong.”

“Oh, and thinkin’ ‘bout mine ain’t?”

You gave him a deadpan stare as to say ‘Really, that’s what you wanna ask?’. He cleared his throat and mumbled a little ‘touche’ before looking back at the others.

“Oo, I know a good one,” he snickered. “Caine.”

“Caine?” Well, at least he wasn’t asking you about Bubble.

For whatever unknown reason, at the mention of his name Caine appeared a few feet from the two of you with a loud pop. “Diiiid somebody say Caine?”

Jibba shook his head, seemed even with a lack of ears the loud pop affected him. You shook your own head, rubbing an ear. “Uh, not directly.”

Caine cocked his head in confusion, clearly not understanding you were simply talking about him—not trying to summon him. “I see. Well, while I’m here. Why aren’t you two participating?” he asked, waggling his fingers in the direction of the others.

“We’re playin’ our own game,” Jibba answered, giving you a playful nudge.

“Oh?” Caine floated closer, eyeing the lanky doll.

“Yea’, the game of dom or sub.”

Caine cocked his head again. “I don’t understand.”

Jibba snickered and you couldn’t help but cover up your own laugh with a grunt. “What he mean’s is—”

“Oh no, he’s like one of those tops with golden retriever vibes that when ya call ‘em daddy like yer sayin’ ‘good boy’ they get excited.” He covers his face, a genuine laugh instead of that death rattle laugh.

The look of confusion never leaves Caine’s face but you can’t help but join Jibba in his laughter, because he’s not wrong. You could say a lot of insulting or weird things to Caine, but if you use that dog tone with him he’ll take just about anything as a compliment or praise.

“Oh no,” you mumbled, he’d be so fun to fuck with. “He’s not a dom…” you snicker, “but I’d still call him daddy.”

“Denture Daddy!” Jibba bursts out, nearly knocking himself and you off your perch.

The two of you laugh so loud it catches the attention of the others across the way. You wave your hand at Ragatha’s confused expression and further try to prevent the two of you from falling.

“I hate to intrude on this moment of merriment but,” Caine clears his throat, looking between the two of you with confused concern. “You two do know I’m not your father, yes?”

Jibba lets out a scream that turns everyone’s attention back onto you two, only to follow with nearly scream-level laughter from the man. You can’t really blame him though because you haven’t stopped laughing either, especially not long enough to try and explain to Caine that the two of you weren’t calling him father.

You give Caine what one could only describe as some form of yes as an answer before telling him he can go between cries and Caine leaves hesitantly. Your sides are starting to ache from so much laughing, meanwhile, Jibba has his face buried into his hands and is leaning into your shoulder like you’d be able to stop his laughter and tears.

He’s taking this a lot funnier than you but man, “denture daddy” is gonna always be in the back of your mind when you look at Caine from now on.

#tadc #the amazing digital circus #the amazing digital circus x reader #the amazing digital circus oc #tadc oc #tadc original character #original character x reader #tadc rhett (oc)#tadc jibba (oc)

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solomonssock · 1 year

Text

The Art of Reassurance and Reframing

My "agenda"? My "aim", you ask? Well, Asmodeus. It's always Asmodeus.

Pairing: gn!reader x Asmodeus (every brother’s closeness with you is expressed, but it’s princess Mo’s golden hour <3; no established relationship, yet, but confessions take place)

TW: some theatrics, slight suggestive content, some clinginess, toe shoe slander, snippet of Asmodeus baby talk (I cry from laughter when he does this to Belphegor in game), some possessiveness and jealously, some hurt/comfort, mentions of violence, brief use of pact, uhh I think that’s it! If anything is missing, let me know. Ty!

Word count: ~4,800

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It was nice meeting you. I had a really good time! Be safe heading home :-)

You send the text before setting your phone onto the counter, careful to avoid the small puddle forming as water droplets drip down your jacket sleeve. As much fun as your date had been tonight, the downpour had cut your plans short. You're home much earlier than you anticipated and admittedly, a little bummed out. You had been pretty excited to scope out the pastry shop they swore was one of, if not the best, in your area.

It's too bad, you think, as you shrug off your jacket.

You hang it onto the back of a nearby chair to dry, pointedly ignoring any mess that might be accumulating on the floor in favor of changing into drier clothes.

You grab your phone before heading into your room. As you plug it in to charge, a notification pops up that causes you to smile and shake your head softly.

Home safe! Thanks for coming out with me, I really had a good time. And if it's not weird or anything, I would like to hang out again! We can go to the cafe I mentioned, and maybe you can show me a place you like?

Ah! Sorry to text you if you never planned on seeing me again, that's totally fine! You were just...a lot cooler than I expected

Your friend gave you a head's up about your date's social anxiety, but that didn't trouble you at all. In fact, they were quite charming once they stepped out of their shell. Never had you met someone so devoted to the art of restoring furniture that they upholstered nearly every piece in their home. Even going so far as to woodwork new legs for the pieces they had collected when dumpster diving. It was cute how passionate they got about their interests, and how intently they had listened to yours. You haven't had a conversation like that in some time, not since...

You snort to yourself, lips curling upwards as Leviathan comes to mind.

Sounds like a plan, I'm already thinking of a place or two I'd love to show you. I'll let you know when I'm free next week!

You send the text back in record time, not giving them a chance to spiral into a bout of overthinking. You'd mastered the art of reassurance and reframing during your time in the Devildom.

Your eyes flicker over to the clock and you sigh through your nose. You still have about another two hours before one of the brothers will check in with you. You suppose while you wait in the meantime, you could watch a movie or mess around with the games still downloaded on your D.D.D.

You walk over to your dresser, pulling out a pair of pajamas to change into. Once you're finished, you throw your damp clothes into the hamper and move to open your sock drawer. Although it serves little use here, your D.D.D. can still send and receive calls and texts. This little blessing, however, soon became a point of contention during your first week back.

You rub at your temples as you recall how your D.D.D. began to ring at odd hours with creative excuses as to why it was absolutely necessary for you to pick up the phone at four in the morning.

"Wait, wait, don't hang up! C'mon human, you're my lucky charm. Ya gotta tell me what I should call, red or black? I got 10,000 grimm riding on roulette, but no pressure! Go with yer gut."

"What?! No! You can't go yet! I haven't even told you about what happened to Mammon when Solomon and I caught him trying to pawn off one of his tools! Oh, won't you stay on a bit longer with me? You don't have Devilgram out there, so how else am I supposed to keep you updated on all things Mo?"

"H-hey, you can't go to sleep now! I've been trying to plan out my panel attendance order for the convention, but no one gets how important the sequence is like you do! S-speaking of events I need your opinion because there’s a TSL group meeting on Saturday, but the Dreaddit House of Sorrow Fanclub Meetup is scheduled at the same time. So now I don’t know if -"

"I was eating a burger and thought of you...are you making sure to eat over there? Ah, good I'm glad. Oh, that sound? No, it's just my stomach. I got hungry thinking of the human realm food you've been sending pictures of. Could you send a recipe or two? Satan promised to recreate some if I stay away from the cat food he hides in his room. Yeah, I tried it. Hmm, it was actually pretty tasty."

"If you fall asleep on me now, I'll just have to visit you in your dreams. Who cares if I'm yawning? I'm always yawning. I want to talk to you, so tell me about your day. A botanical garden at night? Was it as nice as ours? Just different...hm, I guess it wouldn't be too bad if I got to see it with you. Human world fireflies don't suck up light, right? Then what do they eat?"

"Don't worry, I took care of Mammon; he won't be calling you anymore tonight. Oh, I didn't harm him, we just had a talk. No, no, I'm not upset anymore. Speaking with you calms me down. Are you enjoying the book I sent you? I'm relieved to hear it. What do I think? Well...I find myself thinking of the lead often. They sit by the ocean every day, at the same time, waiting for their lover to return. After 5 years, it seems illogical to believe they'll just appear one day. Yet, I think I've come to understand that sort of irrational thinking. Ah, what am I doing? I'm just as bad as Mammon. You're tired; I'll take my leave."

"I've handled the matter, so please get some rest. How did they take it? Hmph, surprisingly well when they realized how they've exhausted your patience. I sound tired? Your patience is not the only one which has been exhausted this week. Yes, things have been going well. Diavolo remarked earlier this evening that the Devildom has dimmed in your absence; I am inclined to agree with him."

To preserve peace within Lamentation and give you breathing room, Lucifer forbade his brothers from contacting you at unreasonable hours or at unreasonable rates. With your input, he established a strict calling schedule: three nights a week set aside for a private call with one of the seven brothers.

But not a day has gone by without someone messaging you. Even Solomon continues to contact you through your D.D.D. despite having your human world number.

He had caught you by surprise earlier, calling you while you and your date were halfway through dinner. Although the timing wasn't ideal, you should have expected it. You haven't checked your D.D.D. all day and someone was bound to over speculate the reason why.

You pull the device out from under the socks you've tucked it between for safe keeping and raise a brow in concern as the screen turns on.

A stack of messages from the group chats is nothing out of the ordinary. But 16 texts from Asmodeus alone is a bit excessive.

Heeey!!

C'mon cutie, don't ignore me

Ugh, you don't have your D.D.D. on you, do you?

I can't stand it! Answer me as soon as you get back!

I hate that you're so far!! I'm so worked up that I walked all the way up to your bedroom door before I remembered you're not here...

I was so gonna scold you!

You know more than anyone I hate being neglected like this, especially by you <3

It's no fair! If you don't answer me, I'm gonna barge into the castle and demand they let me go check on you.

Ok, I'm totally bluffing. There's no way Lucifer would let me reach the castle to ask Diavolo anyway!

But, it's my job to protect you...

I mean a little punishment wouldn't be too bad, right? It sounds kind of exciting!

Aren't you honored a beauty like me would risk it all for you?

We finished dinner and now I'm tucked into bed, but I'm freezing under the covers without you beside me to keep me warm.

What am I supposed to do, MC? My most precious person won't acknowledge me, I'm heartbroken...

You have to take responsibility for this!

I miss your voice.

You roll your eyes at his theatrics but can't stop the smile that tugs at your lips. Asmodeus could be frustrating at times, but you miss him.

You chuckle as you recall countless memories of him barging into your room, insistent on spending his allotted quality time with you. How if you couldn't indulge him right away, he'd lounge on your bed, scrolling through his D.D.D. until you were done studying.

He could be even worse than Mammon when the mood struck, but you can't deny the pride that puffs up in your chest as you acknowledge how content he is just to be in your company. It feeds your insatiable heart, gluttonous for the selfish satisfaction that thrums in your veins whenever you hold his attention.

You feel it coursing through you now as you reminisce about late-night cuddles shared beneath his room's rosy canopy, face mask slipping off as you laugh uncontrollably at his nightly facial exercise routine. You reminisce about the way he'd cling to you as you walked to and from school and how he would hang off your arm, fingers pressed against plush lips, when he couldn't hold back his laughter.

If you picture it for long enough, you can still feel the phantom touch of his hugs. Lithe arms embracing you, pressing your body against his as his head comes to rest into the crook of your shoulder...

You sigh, dragging a hand down your face.

Ok. You really miss him.

Warmth blossoms in your chest as your eyes scan over the texts again. Even realms apart, he still makes you feel adored.

I'm not ignoring you, Mo. I was just busy today. Are you doing alright?

No sooner than you send the text, a call comes in. You click to accept it before holding the receiver up to your ear.

"Hey Mo, wha-"

"You love me, don't you?!"

You pause for a moment, trying not to laugh as his petulant tone crackles through.

"Course I do."

"Then, where were you all day? No one could get a hold of you, and you wouldn't answer anyone's texts. I mean I get it when it comes to the others, but to not answer my texts! How could you?" You can hear him shuffling around, a slight splash of water following the movement.

"Asmodeus, are you taking this call from your bath?" You feel his sigh roll through the receiver, puffing up against your skin.

"Don't try to change the subject. You're the reason I'm in here, you know? Stress damages the skin! I had to calm down somehow." Continuous splashing only accentuates the image of him building in your mind, frantically gesturing at you before crossing his arms with a pout.

"I'm sorry I got you all worked up. How can I make it up to the lovely princess Mo?" You bite your lip as his infectious giggle tinkles in your ear.

"Well," his tone turns coquettish, "you could start by telling me what you're wearing?" The question drags an exaggerated groan out of you, but it's all in good humor.

"Are you aware of how insufferable you can be?"

"Yes," he gloats, "but that's when you admire me most!" A stupid grin plasters itself to your face, one you picture him to be wearing too.

He's right.

Over the time you've spent with him, you've come to find his forwardness more silly and endearing if anything. He's made it too easy for you to be carefree around him, and if he asked it of you, you'd bare to him the darkness locked within your heart without batting an eye.

"I'm in pajamas." You offer him a bite.

"Aw, cute! I'm wearing nothing." He takes it and swallows it whole.

"Yes, I think we've already established that." You snicker at the huff he lets out.

"It would be way more interesting if you had worn something into the bath with you." You laugh into the transmitter.

"Like that one time you came back from partying with succubi after finals! You were so drunk I thought you were going to strut straight into the shower with your pretty high heels on." A slight squeal has you pulling the receiver away slightly.

"Aaah, so you do remember the red bottoms! Oh, oh! Darling, can I confess something about that night?" The water sloshes back and forth in the background with his excitement.

"Mhm, what is it?" You hum.

"I actually changed into those before I came home. The pair I left with got stomped on at the club and looked so gross!" He lets out an exasperated sigh.

"It's a pity that some demons have no rhythm, but it's unforgivable that they have no shame ruining the dance floor for everybody. I mean, so many people came out to celebrate me and I had to greet them like that! Can you believe it?!"

Some more sloshing spills through the receiver, but it sounds more like he's wading through the water than disturbing it.

"What an embarrassment! There wasn't a hope in hell I'd let you see me like that." You hear him shudder.

"So, I stopped at a late night boutique and when I saw the red bottoms I just knew I had to buy them. After all, you're the one who said they would look gorgeous on me!" He pauses for a moment, a loud splash sounding, before he speaks again.

"I've only ever worn them that night," the lilt of his voice makes warmth rush to your cheeks.

"Just. For. You," he teases. "Did I look good?"

"You looked like you always do, " you mumble. But he catches on quick.

You've caught him alone in his room once, and only once, with tears prickling his glassy eyes, shaken and unsure of himself. You didn't know where you stood with the demon you had only recently formed a pact with at the time, but you pushed down your apprehension, refusing to leave his side unless he pushed you away.

But, he never did.

So, you stayed. Bracingly conveying to him all the ways you found him to be breathtaking inside and out. You can recall the alarming rate at which your heart palpitated as he curled up into you under the covers, his tears dampening the shirt beneath your RAD uniform as he sobbed into your chest. It was daunting to toe the line of a confession you weren't ready to deliver, especially to a demon just beginning to respect you. But your desire to soothe his self-doubt had won out.

You regret nothing. You two have been inseparable since.

"Then what a sight I must have been." He sighs, dreamily, tearing you away from your thoughts. "Lucky you!”

A wicked little idea comes to mind.

"I have something to confess too." You suppose you'll play along some since he wants to be such a tease tonight. Tired of standing in front of your dresser, you go lay down on your bed.

"And that would be?" You hear a door open and shut, confirming that bath time is indeed over.

You fake a deep sigh. He seems to be ruffling through something that you suspect to be his wardrobe.

"Today, I tried on something new. Agh, it's a bit embarrassing, Mo. I've...never felt this bold." The sound stops for just a moment.

"Oh." What sounds like hangers clatter in the background.

"There's no need to be shy! You know you don't have to hide anything from me. No matter how depraved you might seem to others, everything, well - you - will always be endearing to me."

You almost feel bad for starting this anticlimactic buildup...almost.

"You swear you won't think differently of me?" Immediately, he lets out a cry of indignation.

"Oh, never! If anything, I'll only fall for you more."

"Ok..," you pause for dramatic effect, "Today...I wore toe shoes. It took some time to get used to each toe pocket, but my feet have never felt so free!"

"Very funny, dear," Asmodeus mocks. "But seriously don't even joke about those things, just ew! Your feet deserve so much better, you shouldn't disrespect them like that. What would you even wear with those abominations?!"

He cuts you off before you can reply with something stupid.

"Don't you dare say cargo shorts and a t-shirt! I forbid you from ever wearing such a fashion disaster!" Yeah, there's no stopping the laughter that peels out of you.

"Forbid me?! They can't be that bad." Again, he sighs.

"Darling. If you truly love me, promise you won't wear something so treacherous." You finally begin to calm down, taking in shallow breaths.

"I promise, cross my heart!"

"Good."

You hear what you think is the phone being plopped onto the bed before there’s more shuffling, albeit further away this time. It lasts more than a moment or two, so you figure he's changing. Surprising, since he sleeps in the nude whenever you're not with him.

"I can't say I'm not disappointed. Here I was thinking I would get to hear about you trying on something more," he hums a coy little tune, "fun."

"You know I'd adore you in anything that makes you feel confident," he purrs. "But something cute and risqué like that should only be seen by me."

You can't place it, but something about his tone doesn't sit right with you. Shifting up on your bed, you recline back onto the pillows holding you up against the headboard.

"And who else would have seen it?" You scoff.

"Hmm, I wonder. Oh, what about that human you went on a date with today?" Your mouth parts in shock.

Oh, indeed. You feel your heart drop as his tone twists into something sour.

"How did you...?" It hits you, your call with Solomon. You sigh, for real this time, running a hand up and down your thigh as you try to process how to best explain this to the impassioned demon.

"How much did Solomon tell you?"

"Enough." You can hear the slight waver in his voice.

"Is that why you sent me all those texts today?" He's silent, but you hear a slight sniffle.

"Have you mentioned this to the others?" Your chest freezes at the thought. You don't want this to get out of hand. The last thing you need is a livid horde of demons, or worse, crows, appearing at your doorstep.

"No." You breathe a sigh of relief. Ok, you can fix this.

"Not yet. Can you imagine how it's going to break their hearts?" He laments.

"Leviathan nearly summoned Lotan on me this afternoon when I asked him to switch days with me this week. He'll set him on that human the minute he finds out, you know?"

A snarl rips through the speaker, sending sparks down your spine. You try to say anything to calm him down so you can explain, but you can't get a word in.

"It's not like me to get so angry, but I can't stand the thought of some filthy human putting their hands on you and dirtying your beautiful skin. Hah, I could just-" Your heart speeds up when you hear what sounds like the rapid flapping of wings.

"You belong with us." He hisses. "We never should have let you go back there! Ugh, I won't let anyone take you away from me!" Petulance dips down into a deep, dark growl. A low rumble drones in your skull and buzzes beneath your skin; the work of Asmodeus's infernal curses that no human ear can decipher.

"You are the only being in all three realms I love more than myself." It's not the first time he's said this, but this time it feels different.

"I won't share you with some stranger who has the gall to approach you! You're mine." You feel your brows jump up as the word leaves him with a snarl. You've never heard Asmodeus so wound up.

"I'm...yours?" The words tumble out before you can stop them.

"Yes, my precious little human," he croons at you and your heart leaps in your chest from an emotion you can't place just yet. Somewhere between hope and concern, you think.

"And I'm yours." Your mindless repeat seems to abate some of his hostility. As his admission sinks in, your skin begins to flush everywhere.

"Mo-"

"Mm, maybe I should request to go to the human realm after all so I can bring you home," his cold clipped tone makes your body shudder from the conflicting sensations he plucks from you, unable to keep up with his favor and fury.

"I don't blame you, dear. Of course someone would come to adore you during your time there. Who wouldn't? You even managed to woo me!" The flapping doesn't stop, but it slows down considerably.

He sucks in a shaky breath before he robs you of yours.

"What do they offer you that I haven't, that I can't?" He spits the question out, voice warbling.

"You told me that I was enough for you as I am. Did that mean nothing?" You need to stop this before it escalates further.

"Asmodeus, listen to me. I need you to calm down."

Even through the phone, your authority carries over and activates your pact. You place a hand on your chest, taking deep breaths yourself as Asmodeus's panicked breaths finally mellow out. He'd only ever sounded that shaken up that one night, long ago.

"Yes, I did go on a date with a human today." Another frustrated snarl rips through the speaker, but you push forward despite how your body screams at you to flee.

"But, I have no romantic feelings towards this person. I went on a blind date with a friend's coworker. They've only been on one or two dates before and were nervous to re-enter the dating scene - that's it. We are only acquaintances, maybe we'll become friends, but I promise you that's it."

You can't help but fiddle with your pajama shirt as he stays silent, your head racing with the revelation that the flirtatious demon's teasings have meant more than you let yourself believe.

It excites you, makes your heart thud against your ribcage, and your chest feels as light as a feather. But, it also terrifies you. The weight of the words wears you down, tipping you over the line you've toed for so long, completely unprepared for the fall.

He can try to suppress them, but Asmodeus's muffled sniffles resonate through the receiver and claw at your heart.

"You're someone, I mean you, I love you more than anyone in the three realms, worlds, too." You start, cursing at how you fumble your words.

You grip your shirt tighter as his breath hitches.

"I meant everything I said then, that night, and now - I mean I still mean it now. You were right, I admire you, adore you, even. My life here in the human realm, world, whatever, it's fine. But even with the sun shining on everything, it feels dimmer here than it was when I was in the Devildom with you."

You're starting to put all the pieces together as the words fall out of your mouth.

"I hate that I made you feel this way. I didn't mention it because I didn't think it was important, that it was something that would matter to you. Demons are vying for your attention all the time; humans aren't for mine."

"Those demons don't matter." He finally speaks, voice soft. "The only being whose attention I want is yours. My heart can't take the thought of someone taking your eyes off me. I need you to see me."

You take a deep breath.

"I do see you, Mo. You have always been enough, and I'm sorry that my actions caused you to think differently. I've missed your voice too, you know?" You feel pressure building up behind your eyes as tears start to form. He really wants you. You want him to know you've wanted him too.

"I-," your voice cracks some.

"I think about you guys all the time. I think about you all the time. Whenever I have a cupcake at a party, I wish I could share it with you. Whenever I go shopping, I think of what you might like best. When I watch movies, I wish that you could be there on the couch sitting next to me. When I crawl into bed, I wish I could curl up with you. I just wish that I was with you. Even right now, I wish I could hug you and tell you this face-to-face." You wipe at your eyes, unable to hold back the pure love you have for this utterly ridiculous demon.

"I-I love you too, Mo. Seriously, I see you." The feelings hidden behind sweet little jabs or subtle teases aren't enough for you two anymore.

"Why can't you be here right now?! It's not fair!" Asmodeus whines into the phone.

"Solomon said you sounded like you were having such a good time. I love hearing you're happy, but it hurts when you're not happy because of me."

You sniffle, chuckling into the phone.

"Silly, I'm always happy cause of you. Even right now, I mean yeah I'm crying, but I'm really happy."

"Oh, that's it! I really need to come see you as soon as possible. I'll beg Lucifer if I have to! I can't let all those tears dry out your skin. Make sure you drink water - I'll be furious with you if you let yourself wake up with a headache tomorrow."

"Can you show me how you do that face thing again, when you come?" Tension begins to fade from your tired muscles. Finally, things feel fine again.

"You shouldn't underestimate the wonders of facial reflexology and its endless benefits! Wait - are you seriously laughing? You stop that! Ugh, oh I'll show you when I get there alright!"

Actually, things are way better than fine.

You glance over to the clock as you feel your eyelids begin to droop and wonder how three hours passed by so fast.

You’re still on the call with Asmodeus, catching up on what’s happened in the house and what the rest of his plans are for this week. Planning his trip to the human world has now moved to the top of his agenda.

"Hm, darling? Are you alright? You're too quiet."

"Yeah, Mo. Jus'shleepy." You can feel yourself fading out, head drooping back onto the headboard.

"I guess it's time to say goodnight."

Tired as you are, you can't fight the blush that rises as Asmodeus begins to make obnoxious kissy noises into the phone.

"Aah, I mwiss you so much my pwetty wittle huwman. So sweepy."

"Asmodeus, please. Anything but the baby talk!" You groan in embarrassment.

"Sorry, darling, I couldn't help myself. You sound so precious. Mwah, I love you and I promise you'll see me soon."

"Yes, see you soon. G'night, love you." You end the call, getting up to go put your D.D.D. to charge. A notification startles you as you drift along in your sleepy stupor.

You crack a small smile as you click on it, opening your chat with Asmodeus. He's sent you links about facial reflexology and the importance of doing skin tightening exercises.

Brush up on it, beautiful. You will have a set routine by the time I'm done with you!

#Asmodeus is only second to Diavolo is my endless brain rot #Asmodeus lovers we ride at devildom’s dim dawn #Forgive the amount of italics they were necessary #That night you confessed all these things to Asmodeus amounted to the onset of a courtship in his mind that’s why he’s absolutely destroyed #Given my personality and humor Asmodeus is someone I would be very comfortable with #I want everyone to be able to enjoy him as much as I do #n the most recent event I lost it when he said “There’s not a hope in hell [heart emoji]”#Third funniest brother on my list #I also never mention this but I leave the relationships semi-ambiguous so whether you’re poly or not enjoy to your heart’s content #Asmodeus x reader #Reader x Asmodeus #Obey me x reader #obey me reader #obey me reader insert #Obey me asmodeus #Obey me mammon #Obey me beelzebub #Obey me leviathan #Obey me satan #Obey me lucifer #Obey me solomon #Obey me thirteen #Obey me diavolo #text fic #obey me #obey me one master to rule them all #gn reader #omomtrta #asmodeus x y/n #secret note: not sure how I feel about this fic but its the only one that i've ever teared up writing

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vergess · 11 months

Text

So a friend reblogging this interview tips post, which is a perfectly fine post with advice that is useful or whatever.

But I desperately need hiring managers to stop acting like the livelihood and continued survival of their interviewees is "playing the game." It's not a game; it has never been a game. It's people's survival. Our lives.

I understand that to management it's about showing team spirit. But to everyone else, management just said that I need to buy new clothes if I even want to be considered a meritorious applicant, regardless of my skills, experience and attitude.

Because every single thing I own is "ratty." That is to say, it is worn out, thread bared, and has stains/rips embroidered over. That's what being a poor person looks like.

"Oh just spend $20 on a shirt and pants."

I'm also fat. Button down shirts that won't be an Obscenity charge are $40. Pants are $60. I have 37 dollars to my name and I still have to buy medicine and shelter.

And remember: this expense is for the lottery chance that I may get hired. It is NOT an expectation presented AFTER an offer.

I get to pay for new clothes for russian roulette.

I should spend everything I have and more to buy one outfit for interviews and really, really hope that this time I get the job. Even though interviews are notoriously biased against fat people, POC, queer people, and women.

Management also just said I need to prove that I know about the company atmosphere from personal, unpaid, off the clock research above and beyond the application and interview process.

That I should self teach, BEFORE so much as an offer is made.

Meanwhile literally hundreds of my applications are thrown away on a weekly basis (I do about 15 applications a day most week days, and have been for multiple years now). The reasons for this are varied. Sometimes its because my name sounds too ethnic (I've had so many interviewers compliment me for not being Black which they thought based on my name). Sometimes they think I'm over qualified for every single job within 55 miles of me, as though having a college degree means I can photosynthesize instead of needing a home.

Often it's simply because companies lie all the time about whether they are actually hiring, posting dozens of fake job listings. That way they can tell their overworked and underpaid staff, "Oh, the reason you have 3 doubles a week is because of all those lazy unemployed assholes that don't want to work."

The fact that there is a "game" where the loser may become homeless or dead at all is deranged. The fact that the losing players all have to smile, and cheer, and cooingly tell the winners what a Good, Good Job they did is significantly more disgusting.

And let me be clear: the OP of that post is a hiring manager. That shit about "ratty clothes" is entirely under the hiring manager's opinion. There's no way to know what a given hiring manager thinks of your clothes, though if you're visibly poor, fat, or nonwhite chances are they would think you look unkempt in a full 3 piece suit with garters.

That shit about "show me you did independent unpaid labour to prove your loyalty to a company that isn't even hiring you yet" is ALSO under the manager's absolute judgment. You have NO way of knowing what stupid tidbits of information are the "right" ones to recite. You could memorize every piece of information that company has ever published and you STILL would not know which trivia is the Right Answer.

Same with the "ask me a question" shit.

There is no right answer. Interviews don't check for skills, abilities, experience, or even team cohesion.

They are vibe checks. They exist to give hiring managers a way to disqualify IMMENSELY qualified candidates over their own unexamined bigotries.

And btw? We have the science to prove it. It's called "implicit bias."

If you have an accent, are fat, aren't white, are visibly disabled or queer in any way, etc? Your inability to get a job is not because you "didn't play the game."

It's because the "game" was rigged to fuck you over from the start.

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rozcdust · 2 years

Text

Addicted

Pairing: Ran Haitani x f!reader x Kakucho Hitto

Genre: Crack, SMAU

Word count: 1.7K

Warnings: Canon divergent, ooc, profanity, substance abuse, gambling, Inui and the reader are a problem both

pt. 1 | previous | playlist

Some were dancing, some were chatting at their tables, and some were outside, smoking.

And some were stuck with you.

You saw the way men at the poker table were getting flushed, nervous, wiping the sweat off their foreheads with handkerchiefs and pulling their ties loose, as if that will help.

You shifted your legs, crossing them with a smirk, keeping your cards close to your chest.

They’ve already tried games numerous times, poker, blackjack, baccarat, roulette, but it didn’t matter to you.

It never mattered at all.

Games of chance were always your thing, the one thing you excelled at since an early age, and no matter how many games they switch, you knew you’ll win, a deck of cards and a pair of dice as familiar to you as your own name, and yet these pathetic old men still tried to pretend they weren’t gambling half their bank account away.

You would have felt bad if you were any dumber, of course, but you knew better.

These men had far more than money to throw, and if they wanted your help, who were you to reject them?

A deck of cards and a pair of dice was your element, and even if you did lose the first couple of games, you’ve already made the money lost multiple times over.

After all, this is why Mikey called you here.

Takada was a pathetic little thing, with greying hair and a bald spot he tried and failed to hide, his suit a touch too tight and signs of infidelity tattooed all over the circle of pale skin where he’d taken his wedding ring off.

He made the mistake of making an off-handed comment about Mikey, and Mikey thought of smarter ways to make him pay.

Not a problem for you.

You’ve always had more than your fair share of a little bit of luck.

“Full house.” Grinning, Takada threw his cards on the table, looking up at you, as if expecting to win.

“Goddamit!” Yelling hard enough for half of the large room to turn and stare at him as you revealed your cards, a straight flush, and you smirked, allowing him a couple of seconds to write another cheque with too many zeros.

“Well, it was lovely playing with you gentlemen, but I believe my friend might be getting a little antsy,” Standing up as you picked up the concerning stack of cheques with too many zeros, you smile politely at Takada, his eyes piercing into his, “You know how Manjiro gets.”

You saw the way his eyes followed you back to Mikey, the way realisation hit him, and you couldn’t help but smirk.

But before you could get to the table and sit down, Kokonoi stopped you, taking the cheques out of your hands and throwing them on the table, looking you in the eye seriously.

“We need to talk.” You heard what he said through gritted teeth perfectly, but you saw a chance, and it’d be awful if you didn’t take it.

“Oh, you wanna dance Haji? Let’s go!” Turning on your heel as you took hold of his wrist, dragging him before he could try and stop you.

He turned to the table Bonten was seated at for assistance, but only Mikey was still there, playing on a GameBoy he stashed in your purse.

“Boss! Boss?! Mikey?! MANJIRO, HELP ME!”

Mikey merely looked up, throwing a thumbs up before his gaze drifted back to the screen, and Kokonoi offered him a middle finger he didn’t see, annoyed and utterly desperate.

Spinning him as your hands sneaked around his neck, he glared at you hard, hesitantly placing his hand around your waist to not cause a scene.

“You wanted to talk, Hajime?” Smirking, you leaned your head on his shoulder, sighing in contentment, gently swaying to the music.

“Stay the fuck away from Kakucho.”

“Oh? Why, want him for yourself?.”

He forced you to look at him, a grave expression on his face as his eyes narrowed, glaring at you.

“Stop fucking around. He’s a friend. I’m serious, stay the hell away. I've known you long enough to remember how most of your partners end up and he of all people doesn’t deserve that shit. He’s been through enough.”

Tilting your head, feigning ignorance, you couldn’t hide the smugness from your voice.

“And how do most of my partners end up, exactly?”

Sighing as he ran his fingers through his hair, Kokonoi avoided your eye, instead looking past you.

“Fucked up and miserable, that’s how. You act so sweet and like you care but let’s be real, you run at the first sign of commitment. He’s a good man, okay? And he’s had a life you don’t have any reason to make more miserable.”

The lazy smile you shot him made him want to punch you.

“I don’t think I will stay away, Koko, but thank you for your input.” Quickly letting go of him, you bowed slightly in mocking politeness, leaving him to shout his warnings alone.

“What did Koko want?” Mikey looked at you for just a moment, eyes narrowing as he finally noticed the stack of cheques on the table.

You smirked, leaning back in your chair as you took a sip of your drink.

“Nothing.”

“Are you waiting alone?” A raspy, tired voice made you look up from your attempt at lighting a cigarette, recently made familiar eyes staring back at you with exhaustion written all over them.

Finally getting a light, you nod slightly, sighing in contentment as the poisoned smoke filled your lungs.

“Yeah, a friend will come to pick me up, Mikey was sleepy, I’d have hated to make Sanzu drive me too.”

Kakucho nodded, leaning on the wall next to you as he accepted the cigarette you offered him, allowing you to light it for him.

“Would you mind me waiting with you?”

“Not at all,” Smiling, you took a drag, watching as the cold air mixed with the smoke, “That is actually very sweet.“

“Mikey seems to care about you a fair bit, just doing my job.” Shrugging his jacket off, he offered it to you, noticing the way you shivered in your thin dress.

You gladly accepted it, enjoying the warmth and the smell of Kakucho’s cologne, heavy and pleasant against your hazed, tired mind.

You were tipsy, bordering on drunk, but you’ve never been particularly lively while intoxicated.

Unless, of course, in a few very select circumstances.

“Let’s write this down as doing Koko a favour by keeping him nice and miserable.” Smirking, you let out a small sound of surprise when he snorted, shaking his head.

“Koko is dramatic, that’s all.”

“Don’t I know it,” Rolling your eyes, you stomped the cigarette out, immediately lighting up another one, “You look nice, by the way. The blue really suits you, brings out your eyes.”

“Thank you,” Kakucho’s stoic face remained, but his face betrayed the slightest hint of surprise, “Doubt there’s much to bring out, but thanks non the less.”

Certain circumstances have been reached.

You shook your head, your Drunk Girl Peptalk™ support system kicking in as you backed off the wall, now standing in front of him so you could look him in the eye.

“Nuh-uh! No shit-talking here tonight, no sir! Have you seen yourself?” Gesticulating wildly, pointing at him, his mouth opened to say something, but you quickly pressed a finger to his lips, shushing him.

“Your eyes are fucking mesmerising, like, my dude, do you own a fucking mirror? Should I buy you one?! Because, my good sir-“ You stumbled a little, but his arm quickly shot out to grab yours, helping you regain your balance, “You are a three-meal coarse and a snack afterwards. Hell, maybe even a bottle of wine afterwards! You’re like, so fucking pretty? How dare you? ‘Not much to bring out’ my ass! You’re like, the hottest person I met and oh my God I’m rambling aren’t I?”

“A bit, yeah.” A spark of amusement twinkled in Kakucho’s eyes as he cracked a smile, letting go of your forearm.

“Sorry,” Shaking your head with a small smile, you leaned back on the wall, the loud sound making Kakucho cringe, “Happens when I’m drunk. I’ll be quiet.”

“No need. You seem fun.”

“Why thank you! I am.”

Kakucho laughed, finally, a snort and abrupt noise but it made your stomach flutter nonetheless.

Looking over your shoulder, Kakucho got off the wall, throwing his long burned-out cigarette to the ground.

“I think your ride is here.”

Turning to take a glance, he was right as Draken pulled up next to you, turning off the engine of his motorbike.

“Hey, y/n!” Getting off his motorbike, he quickly grabbed a bag he had already packed, making his way towards you, “I brought you a change of clothes, it’s November and you’ll freeze in that.”

You nodded, softly accepting the bag with a quiet thank you as you took Kakucho’s jacket off, returning it.

Draken threw his coat over your shoulders to grant you privacy, holding it in place as you quickly pulled on the pants and hoodie he brought, both oversized and probably belonging to Inupi, carefully folding the dress as you put it inside the bag, your jewellery clinking.

Draken gave Kakucho a short nod before turning back to you.

“Ready to go?”

You nodded, taking a step towards him before you remembered something, quickly finding a small piece of paper in your bag and handing it to Kakucho.

“See you around!” Smiling, you waved at him as you followed Draken to the motorbike, disappearing as Kakucho’s keen gaze followed it all.

Glancing down at the paper in his hands, he found it to be your business card, name and number listed in an elegant, black font.

He chuckled, mulling over the memory of the girl he just met, her perfume lingering on his jacket, mixing with his own cologne.

Crumbling the business card up, he allowed it to drop to the ground.

Didn’t see a point in taking her number, he just didn’t think he’d call her.

But after only a couple of steps, he turned back, picking up the paper and straightening it out, glancing at her name.

Fuck it.

. . . next

🔖Taglist (open):

@1818cigarettes @nana-phobia @dilf-city @wakasa-wifey @rinsie @kisekihany @missarabellla @bajifairyy @cryszus @r-xochitl @levistiddies @sanzucide @7rkx @graythecoffeebean @yukihime-mikeys-girl @mukounisuru-gashadokuro @sunahyejin @yamaguccitadashi @minoozi @trashmemebitch @frogtits1 @sup-zfam @whydohumansss @shiyuumisaki @xashiui @bontens-whore @chronic-claire-universe @nqctre @crybabylisa @adeptiixiao @denkis-sluttyboy @yukimaniac @toobsessedsstuff @yuushs @sanzufobic @sh4nn @lumi-does-some-stuff @hana-patata @hxked @erza-uzumaki @syddisheep @satsuri3su @soushswag @wisteria-aa @bontensbabygirl @qualitygiantshoepsychic @levii-s @astropheia @galactict3a @a-toxic-person

a/n: almost put this in docs on the shared account of my uni year 🤡🤡 aight it’s too late i’ll go sleep buh bye guys, and thank you for all the support, it means the world 💖

#tokyorev #tokyo revengers #kakucho hitto x reader #kakucho hitto x you #bonten #bonten x reader #bonten x y/n #kakucho hitto #ran haitani #kokonoi hajime #rindou haitani #manjiro sano #haruchiyo sanzu #draken #inui seishu #inui x draken #ran haitani x reader #ran haitani x you

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archivistofmusic · 23 days

Note

Jhariah is releasing an album tomorrow (4/19) and now I cannot stop thinking about his music. In particular, Bad Luck!

Thank you, Dear Audience Member, for feeding The Beholding and Our Archive with Your request. We highly appreciate it.

This song is of The End.

You were definitely about to die. You know that. You didn't expect a game of roulette deciding whether what You knew was going to happen to You would happen or not. It's terrifying, one bit of bad luck deciding Your fate, but You've never lost a game before. It's odd to be playing a game of roulette against the bony figure in front of You, Your blood dripping on to the ground, but You aren't losing. In fact, You win. "Bad luck", the figure says, chuckling as it turns from the hooded omen of death to a rather normal looking woman. You then realize what's happening as Your skin begins to fall away. She's right. That was bad luck.

#the archive of music #the magnus archives #tma #tma podcast #the end #based on mag 29

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saltygilmores · 8 months

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Thoughts While Watching Gilmore Girls- Season 2, Episode 22 (Last Episode of the Season). "I Can't Get Started" Part 1

This episode may just be the ultimate game of memory roulette, because I remember nothing. Zero. Nada. Zilch. Zippo. except these two things:

I am told this episode involves a Lorelai-Crusty hookup and I have no recollection of that whatsoever. The mind has a way of bleaching itself sometimes. Can't wait to be retraumatized! The episode begins with Sookie playing wedding music choices for her coworkers and everyone falls asleep listening to the depressing songs she picked. Leave my girl Sookie and her emo music alone. She lives in Stars Hollow, of course she can relate to songs about pain, depression and misery.

Emily the Strange, seen on Rory's cast.

My conflicting emotions as I think about how Season 3 brings Jess to the forefront (that's good) but he rarely knows a moment's peace (that's bad) and in the blink of an eye we lose him to the California Wormhole (that's bad) but it also temporarily sidelines Dean (that's good) but it brings Crusty back (that's bad) but there's the debut of Dave Rygalski (that's good) but in the blink of an eye we also lose Dave Rygalski to the California Wormhole (that's bad) then we meet Alex who is cool and also hot (that's good) but then he disappears forever (wormhole?) and Max briefly returns from the California Wormhole (meh?) When Michel complains about the drudgery of wedding preparations, Lorelai reminds him she's in Sookie's wedding party so he has to oversee the entire wedding by himself, which is something he's never done before. Excuse me? Why don't you hire some more staff Lorelai, you fucking cheapskate. (We also learn later on that Sookie's catering her own wedding. WHAT? I know Sookie is a perfectionist when it comes to food but that's fucking bonkers). Rory offers to brainstorm with Lane to come up with wedding songs for Sookie and she agrees to let them do it because letting teenagers pick the music for the most important day of your life is a smart idea. This is where I realized I have no idea what kind of music Rory is actually into except that she has expressed she doesn't like the pop music/boybands of the day, which is fine. I just hope Rory wasn't one of those super annoying kids in school who were always coming up to me saying things like "You know, the Backstreet Boys don't play their own instruments." I was well aware. Anyway, Lane was definitely one of those types, as we see it happen on the show frequently, but as for Rory, that one is maybe up for debate.

Sookie asks Lorelai if she wants to invite Emily and Richard to the wedding. Uhh, may I ask why? Just 5 episodes ago, Emily was meddling in the wedding planning and blew up Sookie's budget and Lorelai had to intervene so she wouldn't go bankrupt. That's about the extent of any significant interaction between the Gilmore Grands and Sookie. After that mess, why would Sookie want her there? Sookie's all "Ah, that ol "almost bankrupted me" thing. She was so thoughtful to help me with the planning! Even though it was nothing more than a passive aggressive scheme to stick it to you for never getting married. She made me realize I love the color pink!" And then she giggles away the deep seated pain that anyone so relentlessly cheerful and forgiving has to be holding deep inside. Something historic just happened: I watched the Intro, instead of skipping it, which is something I haven't done in years. Let it be known I have nothing against the intro nor the song, and they're very nice and heartwarming, but I'm just not an intro girl. But I've been pretty down in the dumps and the theme song is like a warm cup of cocoa. It might behoove me to watch the opening credits once in a while so I know when to expect Dean, Crusty and other creatures from the deep.

More fine work from the Gilmore Girls fake food designer. Looks delish. She's still wearing that fucking quarter on a string, god damn. Rory is pestering Butthead to trade his pancakes for her fruit and egg platter.

You know, sometimes I start writing a joke, then realize it was funny, but it didn't make any sense and I have to scrap it, which makes me sad. Sometimes I don't even notice it after I've already posted and have to do a quick deletion (it just happened with LGD, in fact). Today, you're in for a treat because I'm going to give you one of my bloopers. Rory is incessantly asking Dean for his opinion on the pancakes. I decided she had poisoned them and she was monitoring his reactions, like when his breathing would start to become labored, or if he started to foam at the mouth, or if he would say something like that "huh, these pancakes taste kinda metallic." and then he would keel over. But then I remember they are at Luke's and she didn't cook the pancakes. But she could have sprinkled some rat poison on top of it when he had his back turned. I'm 100% convinced Lindsay had tried unsuccessfully to poison his meatloaf.

Oh no, they traded breakfasts. Eat AROUND the poison sprinkles, Rory. Rory and Buttzilla are observing someone who is repeatedly walking back and forth in front of the diner without coming in. *Sniffs the air* I smell unhealthy boundaries. It must be Lorelai.

I actually forgot that Luke and Lorelai were still "fighting". In fact, I just realized there was no Luke whatsoever in the previous episode. Okay, okay! I plum forgot about Luke completely! Anyway, can we please resolve this nonsense before season 3? How is Lorelai hooking up with Crusty going to end this stalemate?

Ya'll, she really blurted out "Dean don't leave me", not "Don't leave me, guys" or "Rory don't leave me." I CAN’T! I'm dying! Poor Rory, shows where she really ranks on the list of her mother's priorities. Anyways, sucks to suck Lorelai, good luck with solving this fucking mess completely of your own making.

lolbye

That's a wild under-exaggeration for how you acted after that car crash. Just wild.

There is no quicker way to get Lorelai’s goat than to act Pleasant Neutral towards her and not entertain her quirkiness! it is aggravating her to no end that Luke isn’t entertaining her stupid doughnut jokes! Hahahahaha! He isn’t groveling at her feet over her half baked fake bullshit apologies either. Sucks to suck Lore! Luke being so indifferent to Lorelai's bullshit is glorious, no one has ever deserved it more.

Meanwhile, Paris is running for student council president. Her campaign promises include mandatory recycling, clearly gendered bathrooms and gluten free options in the cafeteria (hey, as long as Rory can still order her favorite Chilton lunch, The Prison Special, two slices of white bread with nothing in the middle). After Madeline and Louise poll 150 students in the span of about 1 minute, the results are in: While the People think she would make a competent politican, nobody actually likes her. So she strong arms a very reluctant Rory into becoming her running mate. Paris feels Rory's nice girl image will soften her own. She puts the fear of God into Rory that she will end up going to Connecticut State instead of Harvard if she doesn't take this opportunity to pad her college resume with school politics. I mean, she's not wrong. Rory is still pitifully lacking in extra cirricular activities. Until they showed Rory writing in the audience, I had completely forgotten she was already on the school newspaper because it hasn't been mentioned in ages. And now I just remembered that horrid school newspaper storyline in s3 is approaching. The one with the redheaded mean girl, Francie. Ugh! S3 is going to be such a rollercoaster. Wait, isn't Connecticut State where Dean was considering going to school? Heheh.

Out of context Gilmore Girls.

Hmmm.

You know who else AmyShermanPalladino said this about?

AmyShermanPalladino wrote Paris to adore Rory as much she adores Milo, I'm just saying. Rory is getting her cast off.

Emily Strange again...

SECURITY!!!! No, but what kind of medical office is this where anyone can just barge in to a child’s appointment and be like "it's okay I'm the Dad" and the Dr is like “sure I believe you have a seat”. Not like Crusty is ever around that the doctor would recognize him. He drove down all the way from Boston to watch Rory have her cast cut off but can't be present for anything important? Alright. Anything to get into Lore’s pants I guess.

Yeah. Love is in the air at their child’s medical appointment.

Their nauseating attraction clouded their minds enough that they both resisted the urge to get in one last jab about Jess being the cause of Rory's injury. Miraculous.

Hur hur hur! You're so funny! Drink drain cleaner.

Honestly? They deserve each other. R: “If I become vice president, I'll have to spend my summer at some junior leadership program in Washington."

Oh, you would HATE That.

#gilmore girls #gilmore girls season 2 #season 2 finish line #thank fuck #rory gilmore #crusty #buttzilla #paris geller #geller + gilmore #PariMore #luke danes #I Cant Get Started #Denise Rewatches Gilmore Girls

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tenebrisdivina · 18 days

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Misconceptions about Godspousery and intimate relationships with the divine Part 2

Disclaimer; This post is written from my perspective and experiences as a godspouse ( being married to two demonic divine dark lords for 6 years and having almost 16 years of experience connecting and working with deities, demonic divine beings and spirits), in connecting with others who are genuine godspouses and also has input, information and insight gained from various conversations with Demonic Divine beings- DL’s, other gods and spirits around these topics. I obviously do not speak for all Godspouses, however these are some similarities and trends I have noticed amongst those genuinely in these relationships.

follow on from here

On discernment:

Most if not all of the human spouses have been or are devotees to the god before they become a spouse and may even be clergy already. Some people have stated that a “god” supposedly asked for their hand when they hadn’t even worked with the god. This is not something that happens. Even if the person did not know the deity to begin with, the deities usually guide the person to a working relationship with Themselves and a deeper relationship before they would consider asking, if that had been something the deity was even interested in to begin with. The human can also recognise throughout their life signs of the deity being present and feeling very intensely drawn to areas that the deity works within, as though it is natural to the person, it can feel like coming home in a sense ( though this can go for any deep connection to a deity as well). And it also plays into the future human spouse’s choice in the matter as well. To see if they truly resonate and want to engage that way with the god. You can still have wonderfully loving and beautifully profound, close relationships with deities without being espoused to Them. So it is not something that should be overly sought after in my view.

Something that has come up fairly recently it seems is the notion of “dating” a deity. I honestly find this exceptionally problematic, even more so when one has never worked with the deity before, or the deity has never indicated They are interested in such a relationship with the person. How can one possibly discern its actually the deity connecting- if they have never worked with said deity?, how would they even be attuned to their energies enough to get clear communication with them? The deity is the one who chooses this, Its not as much “up to the human” as people/ the egoic human mind, would like to believe it is. This attitude of actively seeking to date a deity seems to carry with it the assumption that a deity is automatically interested just because the person is and the expectation that They would want to marry the person just because the person is interested. All divine beings I know do take marriage seriously- it is not a game, pokemon-collect them all or a roulette wheel of options for the human to pick who they like best. Desiring this, does not make it so. To my eyes this practice and attitude that it is simply the humans choice, diminishes what godspousery actually is.

Some others have stated they have past life connections and so the “deity” is demanding they resume that or state that they have some claim on the person. Any “deity” or spirit doing this should be treated with a lot of caution and it most likely is not a deity if they are demanding you reunite with them. Each life is individual and it is helpful to remember that this is your life not what you were in the past. Past lives only have such importance if we choose to assign this. Past life connections and deeper soul level can hold weight in this- though it is usually something that is discovered along the journey and should not be a sole reason for marrying.

Another important thing to note is Respect and Consent. You cannot force a deity, spirit or being to marry you if they haven’t consented to it, nor should they force you either. Some divine beings may not even be interested in engaging this way either, it can even be hubris and offensive to Them to ask or attempt to connect with Them in this way, not all are open to this. Usually if not always it is the deity that asks in godspousery not the human.

Another thing to note also is on interpretation of energies and how humans interpret these feelings. Love in and of itself is not a very well elucidated energy among the human realm. It is common parlance from a human perspective to feel loving energy from another being and assume that it means the same thing as it does when you feel it from another human or even that the intentions of the being and their response to love will be the same. This is often not the case with otherworldly beings. There are many forms of love as well, not all of them lead to romance, or even have the same end result. While Love is often stated as part of Godspousery relationships it can take on different forms then what humans may conceive of love to be. Often while it is part of the relationship and allows us to interact with the god or god level being in a way many do not( which is a very sacred and humbling experience to be granted such insight and interactions with them), it is not the only or even in some cases the main part of the relationship.

The same concept goes with sexual energy; just because a person feels what they may interpret as sexual energy from a being, does not mean that the being wants to engage sexually with them or even needs to. It should also be noted that not all godspousery relationships have a sexual component either. Godspousery can be a truly amazing and profound experience opening you up in ways you never thought possible, but it can equally be more challenging and more devastating in its ability to transform you and in some of the things you undergo, then any human relationship ever would be. There are two sides to it. And it “expects” a lot from us. Most of those who are godspouses also have open senses, as an accurate and reliable way of communicating with the deity by yourself is necessary.

If someone feels that a god or any spirit is suggesting marriage to them it is important to do divination once you have determined it is actually the deity and not a thoughtform, fantasy or someone using the name as a mask. One should be questioning themselves a lot, to see whether this is just an egoic desire on their part, self examination is also key here to determine why you might be considering it, it is not something to be rushed into out of infatuation or from an egoic perspective, nor “status”. Listen to your deeper soul self too, but divine for yourself, then have trusted other divine for you and then another who does not know you personally or the situation. As this is quite a lifechanging experience as well, if there are clergy for the god or those who work closely with the god then seeing what they have to say about it and learning about if this has been practiced with the god in the past can also be helpful. Usually there is some kind of contract for the actual marriage and it can be really helpful to have one that is agreed upon, so you know what to expect around this, if there are taboos of things etc.

Also in terms of “status.” It doesn’t necessarily lend you any status at all, actually being married to a deity. Usually if they have other spouses and it is hierarchical you tend to be lower down on the rungs, you could also end up being part of a harem, or a concubine in a way. So something very important to ask yourself is if you would be okay with that. Also would you be okay being celibate from humans if the deity asked this, even though the deity was polygamous? In my experiences most deities and demonic divine - if not all, are polygamous, you will not be their “only” spouse. Also if you do otherworldly work, it is important to get to know and understand the culture you are going to be marrying into as well as if the deity or divine being has a certain rank, then the politics around that. Mostly the human partners are not so involved in the politics but it does still have some effect. It is also important to note that marriage may not look anything like the human idea of marriage especially with otherworldly beings- the more otherworldly the less likely this is. That is why it is important to drop preconceived notions around this and have clear communication with the beings to establish what the marriage will actually look like. These are just some of the questions one should be asking before even considering this.

It is also important to note that genuine godspousery is not just “taking an oath” either. Genuine godspousery is a lifelong commitment. While the marriage can involve such things and often will, it is not all it is. And oaths are not just for godspousery, oaths are used in many situations. It is not so particular.

One other key area I feel should be addressed, wishing, desiring and hoping from the humans behalf and even acting on that wish, does not make it so. There are two (or more) beings to any relationship especially with deities and spirits and they have a say in this as well. and all parties can say no. To my eyes claiming you are something you are not or in a certain type of relationship with a being when you are not- is deeply disrespectful to the being and one would be lucky if the being actually chose to interact with them again. Even though ultimately god level beings and demonic divine can definitely take care of themselves (as can most other spirits) and are quite unaffected by what people claim about them. It is still inherently disrespectful thing to do.

So some areas to look out for in determining if the being is more legitimate or not; One of red flag to watch out for is people claiming DL’s or deities are “thirsty” for them, DL’s and deities do not lust after us, they have no need to and are perfectly able of finding their own satisfaction with their own spouses, consorts etc. of their own kind.

Another red flag to watch out for is the supposed god, DL or spirit “claiming” that the person is their one and only and is oh so special and how important the person is, always telling them to best things about themselves and never criticising them nor pushing and aiding in for their growth. Also isolation tactics and claiming to “own” them without a prior arrangement or agreement in that manner. It is most likely a parasite wanting to feed or something trying to trick you into giving them you power and energy. These are just a few among many other issues that can arise in this which is why discernment is so important in this. One of the key ways to differentiate just in general also; is to be able to read the beings core energy. It is also useful to note that those who are genuinely married to divine beings, very often keep it private due to the nature of it being an intensely personal relationship. How private they keep it varies and is of course up to the individual and their Spouse. It is not something that is talked about very often. And they are not likely and don’t tend to use it as a status symbol to lord over other people or boost their egos either.

A final aspect I wanted to address is when people are claiming they have many godspouses. Anyone saying they have more then 1-3 godspouses is suspicious and most likely into delusional territory or interacting with sock puppets. Deities and divine beings understand humans well and that we are while here living a human life and are in “linear time”. The divine are not that “irresponsible” that many of Them would dogpile all on one person for marriage. They have plenty of devotees to choose from, if They were even interested in such a thing anyway. Also one or two deity spouses are rare enough let alone 8 or 14 to one human. In genuine godspousery because of the depth of connection and time commitment these marriages and path requires from a person, a single human does not have enough time to build such a deep connection with so many entities ( I have heard people mention they have like 5,7 or 14 deity spouses- to my eyes honestly if there even is anything there in these cases it is sockpuppeting or thoughtforms- genuine deities/divine beings/DL’s do not do this.) Especially since the human has a life here to attend to. Not only that; but the depth of connection also carries the majesty and gravity of energy of the divine being, so much energy from so many separate beings at the level and depth of connection- would wreck a humans energy system. As such I would be wary of those who claim so to have many spouses.

art by NanFe on deviantart

#demonic divine #spirit work #paganblr #godspousery #godspouse #spirit spouse #occult #demonolatry

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mdzs-owns-my-ass-i-guess · 1 year

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Gambling man

When Nie Huaisang all but dragged him out of his bed and away from his sappy, romantic K-drama marathon, Wei Wuxian had expected to be taken to some cafe, bar, night club or something down-to-earth like that - not the highest end casino in town in a limo that Nie Huaisang definitely shouldn't have been able to afford. Not after his older brother cut off his allowance due to his abysmal grades, that is.

"A-Sang, how did you even pay for this? Did you start selling drugs or something?"

Huaisang opened his fan in offense. He had dressed in his fanciest clothes and looked every bit as elegant as he did androgynous. "I'd never step on Xue Yang's turf like that, and he's my best dealer anyway, it would be a breach of trust."

Before Wei Wuxian could say anything (since when was Huaisang buying drugs, let alone from Xue Yang of all people? There was no way he didn't know of the massive scandal that broke out at their university over him), Huaisang continued, "And anyway, I only spent half of my allowance on this, it was a bargain!"

"A-Sang, half of your allowance is like 400$."

"Exactly! So cheap! Plus, we can't just show up to the Cloud Recesses in a taxi or something, it's bad taste and we're not poor!"

Wei Wuxian sent him a pointed look. "We are, though. I mean, I am."

A shrug. "Yeah but at least you're finally no contact with that terrible woman! And you have me! I'm also poor but not as poor as you - no offense."

"None taken, it's the truth. But since we're both basically broke, why are we going to a casino?"

Huaisang waved his fan closed. "To get rich, of course! Like hell am I going to live off 800$ every month! That's not even enough for makeup, do you know how much some good foundation costs nowadays?!"

"Uhh, no, not really..."

The fan was pointed so close in his face that Wei Wuxian felt Nie Huaisang might poke his eyes out with it. "Of course not, you people with good skin just don't get it! Da-Ge didn't even want to hear it! And all because old teacher Lan has it out for me!"

"He doesn't, A-Sang, you just only showed up to his class once and slept through it... never turned in an assignment, never showed up for the exam-"

"Who wakes up at 6 am to attend his lectures?"

"Me, Lan Zhan-"

"Okay, let me rephrase that: who in their right mind wakes up at 6 am to attend his lectures?"

The limo stopped in front of the large, lit up establishment. It looked every bit as luxurious and grandiose at night as it did during the day, white marble and light blue accents, the family crest serving as the logo on its large glass doors.

"What if we lose the money we do have?"

"Ridiculous! I never lose! Especially not when I'm wearing my tightest pair of pants. Have a little faith in me, A-Ying, I've been doing this for a long time! Come on in, and try to look as if you belong here!"

Wei Wuxian ran a hand through his hair, trying to tame it. "And how do I even do that?"

Huaisang opened his fan and undid the front two buttons of his silk shirt. "I don't know, just be self-centered and entitled I guess."

"So like Jin Zixuan."

"Exactly like Jin Zixuan!"

---

Nie Huaisang hadn't been kidding, he really was a pro - of course, he was surprisingly skilled playing all sorts of games, from the roulette to blackjack and poker, but if he just so happened to have a losing hand, he knew how to bat his eyelashes or wiggle his assets enough to still win something in the end.

"Men are easiest to distract." Huaisang instructed as he pocketed yet another win to claim at the exit. "Women are a bit more... subtle, and we're not in a position to play the long game right now. Anyway, you try it too, your ass is fatter than mine."

"Let's get a drink first, I'm too sober for this."

But just as they're about to order, Wei Wuxian noticed Nie Huaisang paling, as if he'd just seen a ghost (or their monthly expenses).

"What is- Lan Zhan?!"

Stone-faced, academic extraordinaire, rule-enthusiast Lan Wangji was just... standing there, glaring Nie Huaisang down. And he looked so good doing it, in a white suit so perfectly tailored on his body, and a loose side ponytail styled in such an elegant, subtle manner, a white ribbon woven through the-

"A-Ying, you're staring." Huaisang whispered in his ear as he hid behind him. "But he's staring too. I told you the tight shirt was a good idea."

Snapping out of it, Wei Wuxian let out an awkward laugh. "Uh, what a surprise to meet you here, Lan Zhan, I never took you as a gambling guy."

Nie Huaisang sighed in Wei Wuxian's ear. "His family literally owns the place, how do you not know?"

With a half mouth, Wei Wuxian replied, "I don't frequent the casino world like you rich people, I have a retail job!"

"Wei Ying. What brings you here?"

"Oh just..." he felt Huaisang glare at him subtly, "...just curious, I guess? I've always been good at poker and stuff and I was bored on this Saturday night so I decided to just... drop by!"

"Mn. Have you been successful?"

"Oh, I haven't really played yet... I'm, uh, trying to get used to the... atmosphere..."

"I could accompany you if you wish."

"I-"

"HE DOES!" Nie Huaisang all but shouted, emerging from Wei Wuxian's back and pushing him ever so slightly towards Lan Wangji. "He does want your company. More than you know. But, say, Wangji-xiong, is-is your brother here tonight?"

Lan Wangji gave Huaisang a long, judgemental stare. "Yes."

"Is my brother also with him?"

"Obviously."

You could see the cold sweat form on Nie Huaisang's temples, a wide, pleading smile on his lips. "Say, why don't you go ahead and spend some quality time with A-Ying and you pretend you never saw me?"

Wei Wuxian turned slightly towards Nie Huaisang, and whispered. "Why do I feel like I'm being traded right now?"

"You are." Huaisang whispered back. "Now be a good war prize so Da-Ge doesn't behead me and I'll give you half my winnings, alright?"

Lan Wangji didn't seem to react, but he did place a very respectful hand on Wei Wuxian's lower back, pointedly refusing to look at Nie Huaisang. "Follow me."

"Where are we going?"

"The VIP."

"The VIP?!"

"Mn. I do not like playing with an audience."

"Playing cards, right?"

"..."

"Lan Zhan, that's what we'll play, right?"

"Mn."

Nie Huaisang sighed, relieved, and downed both his and Wei Wuxian's drink in one go. Then, he reapplied his Chanel lipstick and sashayed towards one of the poker tables, where he had already seen someone checking him out from afar.

He had severely miscalculated when he saw who else was among the players.

"Ah, Wen-guniang... fancy meeting you here... haha..."

Wen Qing shot him a bored look. "Drop the act, Nie Huaisang, it's embarrassing."

He clicked his fan closed and sighed. "You're really going to leave me penniless, aren't you?"

"I've already shaken Jin Zixun off half his fortune, I'll go easy on you."

"Delightful."

---

(By the end of the night, Nie Huaisang managed to win some 5K back after a debilitating loss to Wen Qing, but at least Da-Ge never found out he'd been gambling a few rooms away from him. As the saying goes, a win is a win.

Anyway, Wei Wuxian didn't come home that night, but Nie Huaisang had expected that. After all, it was high time he and Lan Wangji confessed their feelings and fucked about it - it was getting insufferable to see them both pine like some cliche romcom.

Nie Huaisang would be more than happy to take the credit for finally pushing them in the right direction (AKA towards each other and a private room), and if it just so happened to have saved his ass in the process - well, that was just his quick wit at work.

Serves you right, old teacher Lan, I'm not as much of an idiot as you think I am!)

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #writing attempts #wangxian #nhs #this was so fun to write

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