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sanyu-thewitch05 · 1 year

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Yandere Vampire X f! reader pt. 1

The Woods PT. 2

Tw: noncon, dubcon,manipulation, mind control, isolation, sexual attraction to blood, blood.

A/N: This chapter is a slow burn kind. Mainly because the second chapter is just going to be smut due to certain circumstances which are revealed at the end of the story.

Kofi: Wanna buy me a coffee?

🍒🍒🍒🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓

Your quiet gothic-themed village was never afraid of many things. Not even the bubonic plague scared the villagers. But, something that did scare them was the woods. They called it The Forest of Blood or El Bosque de Sangre. A long time ago, during the medieval ages, a family of wealthy nobles from Transylvania moved to your village. With their luggage were a human-sized coffin and a blanket with engravings of DC on them. They stayed in their castle surrounded by woods until the villager's livestock began to die. Cows and pigs as pale as ghosts with markings on their necks. The only clue was a trail of blood leading into the dark forest.

The villagers took their weapons and marched to the noble's castle, only to find the family in such a horrific condition, not even the graveyard thieves wanted them. Though, others say the family are beings of another name. Some called them Nosferatus, Draculas, Creatures of the Night, Demons, Bloodsuckers, anything but a human being. But that never worried you. What worries you were the girls going missing at the start of every winter, about a couple weeks before the first snowfall. No one knew who would be next, but no one dared to lock their daughters inside. For the last time they did, your village of Verano had mysteriously lost numerous amounts of harvest and livestock. And so here you are, walking to your grandmother's house to keep her company.

It didn't bother you that it's dark as you walk the dirt roads to your grandmother's house. You were used to the dark. It felt like home in a weird way. Even the predators that snatch livestock from the pens respect you as if you are one of their own. Although, it would lead to the villagers thinking you are a witch of some sort. But that didn't bother you either, for you always thought about flying high in the sky and doing witchy things with your friends, especially your friend, Nos, who you knew since that fateful day all those years ago.

"What are you doing behind that bush?"

The boy with pale skin and raven black hair looked at you with shock, fear, and surprise in his eyes.

"Come on, don't you want to play with the other children?"

The boy nodded and took your hand as you ran into the field to play with the village children. You put a flower crown on his head and held both his hands as you began to spin around.

"Nosferatu! Dracula! Demon and Creature of the Night! Everything you'll scream when they bite! Pure as snow! A virgin wearing a white wedding dress! Dye it red and rest in the forest! Be their bride in unholy matrimony!"

Your grandma walked up to you and said to say goodbye to the now-happy boy. You hugged him goodbye and skipped back to her cottage. When you got to her house, your grandma whispered in your ear.

"Nunca hables de los Nosferatus y sus novias. O de lo contrario desaparecerás en el bosque también."

"Bien, abuela."

That was fifteen years ago, and he's been your best friend ever since, even if you could never have adventures in the woods because you feared disappearing from the village.

"Nos, why do you insist on creeping behind me so much?" You ask, turning around to face a six foot three Nos.

"You shouldn't be walking out here so late at night. There are dangerous things in these woods," Nos says, putting his coat on your shoulders. "You should come back to my place and get warm."

"Sorry, grandma needs me to help with the pre-Christmas party," You reply, trying to move through the mud. "Did you hear about it supposedly snowing today?"

"Yes, I did, love. Are you going to start up about those girls going missing again?" Nos asks, walking side by side with you.

"How could I not?! It's supposed to be the first snowfall today, and not a single girl from the village has disappeared!" You exclaim, turning around to face Nos.

"Darling, those girls probably ran away from home. They found someone better in the world and left to explore it," Nos responds, taking you into his arms and dancing you around.

Snow begins to fall, and soon the roads become milky white. You made it to your grandma's house only to find she wasn't there. She had left on an emergency trip to Venice to help one of your cousins give birth. Your grandma had left a centuries-old family cookbook for you if you wished to cook something for dinner.

"It's snowing pretty heavy, darling. How about you stay at my place until it stops," Nos suggests, buttoning up the coat he put over you.

"That sounds fine, but what about you? Won't you be cold?" You ask, starting to shiver.

"I'll be fine. The cold doesn't affect me that much," Nos replies, taking the cookbook and carrying it in his bag. "Come, we can cook dinner and get warm by the fireplace."

You nod and follow his lead until he tries to enter the forest. The dark, snow-covered forest seemed to be staring back at you. Nothing made a sound, and nothing moved. You weren't sure if it was because of the snow absorbing the sound or because this forest was so terrifying that nobody dared enter it.

"It's ok. It's a shortcut to my manor. It's only a couple feet away, I promise," Nos promises, gently holding your hand. "If you feel safer, I'll hold you in my arms the whole time."

"Fine, but don't let me go," You whimper as Nos carries you like a princess.

Nos was known as a lady killer or a charming noble, depending on who you ask. Even though he only came into the village to meet you, he garnered attention from other girls. He got proposal after proposal but kept declining them. The girls eventually got over him, but the female elders couldn't help but notice how no boy or gentleman in the village would ask for your hand in marriage. Their husbands told them to pay no mind to it, but they stopped paying attention to you when predators acted like domesticated animals around them. Though others theorized you were the next Novia de Nosferatu.

"We're here! I'll get you some overnight clothes and make a fire. You can pick out a recipe if you want to," Nos says, handing you your family cookbook.

"I'll choose something yummy," You say, scurrying to the kitchen.

After fifteen minutes, Nos returned downstairs and saw you preparing to cook your family's calzone recipe. He wrapped his arms around your waist and asked if he could help.

"I'm fine, Nos. Why don't you get us something to drink?" You reply, putting the rolling pin away.

"Of course, darling. I'll be right back," Nos says, going to the cellar.

Dinner was ready, and Nos poured two glasses of wine. You brought the food to the table and began to eat with your friend.

"Sorry if the wine tastes bad. I know you're more accustomed to fruity alcoholic drinks," Nos comments, eating a piece of the calzone. "You're still not afraid of these woods, are you? My room has a pretty good view of the trees. It gets wonderful sun and moonlight as well."

"Don't you have a guest bedroom?" You ask, trying not to earn the title of village whore just for innocently sleeping with a guy.

"I'm afraid all the guest bedrooms are-oh fuck it. You've been the light of my life all the way into adulthood. Would you-would you please be mine?" Nos proposes, pulling out a box with a ring with a dark red gem.

The ring was silver with black markings going around it. It was something that only the richest of the rich could afford.

"Nos...of course I'll marry you!" You exclaim, kissing your now fiance.

"Are you sure? Are you absolutely sure? It's not the alcohol talking, right?" Nos questions, pouring you another glass of wine.

"It's not the alcohol talking. Besides, based on things are for me in the village, it seems you're the only guy who would willingly marry me," You respond, drinking the second glass of wine until it's half full. "What type of wine did you give me? It tastes so metallic."

Nos moves closer to you, eventually capturing you in an embrace. You can feel his muscles twitch, and he kisses the crook of your neck. Nos slips the ring onto the middle finger on your right hand.

"I'm glad you wanted this as much as I did, my unholy bride," Nos whispers, his voice becoming raspy and hissing towards the words of unholy bride.

"Wha-"

You have no time to react before he bites you full force. Your ring extends a needle or blade into your skin and shoots something into you. You couldn't break out of his arms and felt nothing but pain. Your nerves felt like they were on fire, your body began to shiver, and your eyes felt like they were about to explode.

"Sh, sh, sh, it's ok. You'll get through the transformation soon. It’ll be nothing but pleasure from here on out, my love,” Nos comforts, gently stroking your head. “Once you drink my blood, the transformation will be complete, and we can be together forever.”

“Nos…Nosfer…Nosferatu!” You scream, rage and fear flowing through your blood.

“No! Call me Nos. I’m still your sweet, Nos. I’m your wonderful fiancé!” Panic is in his voice as he realizes he’s starting to lose you.

You yowl in pain, and with the newly formed claws, you swipe at Nos. He jumps away from you as you run toward the library. Everything was black and red. There was no other color present. You see a book on a desk and fiercely open it, only to find out some things are better left as secrets.

“The son of the chief of Verano made a deal with the blood devils. One maiden will be the sacrifice for us all and be the devil's future mother. A sacrifice made before the first snowfall, or else we will pay for it all,” You read the page making more anger surface. “This year’s Blood bride is Y/N. Please note that the heir has chosen to court her and then ask for her hand in marriage.”

“Darling, no! Don’t read that book! You’ll get confused!” Nos yells, grabbing your shoulder. “ Your body is tired from the transformation. You need to rest!"

"Don't touch me! I can't believe I was ever your friend! How long?! How long did you plan on doing this to me?!" You rage, tears falling down your cheeks.

"I only- thirteen. I knew you were my bride at thirteen and have courted you ever since. You wanted to stay friends, and I still wanted a relationship, so I abided by your wishes and drove suitors away from you. I didn't want you to find out who I was through force like the other brides of my family. I wanted it to be a nice experience for you." Nos holds you in his arms as your claws swipe at him drawing slow-moving blood. "We can still have a wedding with your family. I'll invite them, and they'll know you're ok."

"Do you know what you've done?! Everyone in the village thinks I'm cursed or a witch!" You scream, trying to get out of his arms. "I hate you! I hate you! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I FUCKING HATE YOU!"

"NO! You don't hate me! It's the vampire venom talking! You love me! You love me just like you did before!" He growls, slamming you onto the brick wall. "Clearly, we need a little couples therapy until that is gone from your system."

He bites your neck, and pleasure goes into your veins. Your legs wrap around his, and your hips unconsciously grind on his crotch. Nos is too strong from drinking your blood to try pushing him away. You can only try to keep your body still as he drinks from you. Your vision goes dark, and you let out a small moan.

When you wake up, your vision is dark, and your naked body feels cramped. You push open the padded ceiling, and something metal moves as light hits your face. Red liquid falls on you from above, making everything but your face smell metallic. You crawl out of the coffin, trying to head towards the backdoor facing the woods. Nos grabs you and licks your cheek, making you shiver.

"I think this will bring us closer together, don't you?" Nos asks, removing his red robes and putting his naked body against yours. "I won't take your virginity until the wedding night unless you want to lose your virginity before then."

"I will never marry you!" You scream, trying to break away but can't due to the wet blood.

"Oh, I love it that you're still stubborn. Let me treat and clean you up, my love," Nos kisses as his hands go straight to your crotch and breast.

He sticks his fingers in you and rubs your nipple as he makes out with you. Nos looks at you, and his brown eyes become bright red.

"Focus on the sensations. In and out," Nos whispers, kissing the previous bitemark he gave you.

You felt like you were losing your mind. You didn't want to follow his orders. Soon enough, you were begging for him to finish you off. He took out his fingers from inside you after you orgasmed. He sucked on his fingers covered in your juices and blood. Then, began to lick the blood on your body. You tried tugging at his pants from below, but he swatted your hands away. Nos licked and kissed his way down to your crotch, where he found that you were bleeding. His face lit up, and you were too euphoric and full of lust to care what would happen next.

"It seems your body has decided that we must have our wedding now," Nos says, taking you into his arms so he can put you in a bath. "We're going to have one bloody hell of a wedding, darling."

#yandere male #male yandere #yandere vampire #yandere x reader #vampire smut #smut #f! reader #slow burn #vampire #yandere noncon #yandere dubcon

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elbiotipo · 1 year

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I'm not kidding when I say worldbuilding is extremely easy and fun, you can make easily all sorts of new fantasy worlds on like half an hour, follow this guide:

take a rectangle, draw a line through the middle, that's your equator, draw another two lines south and north, those are your tropics, draw another two lines further north (you can see a real world map to guide yourself), those are your arctic/antarctic circles

Draw continents, any shape you want, it's better to combine large soft blobs (like Africa or South America) with coastlines full of peninsulas and islands (like Europe or South Asia). Draw some island chains in between where you feel it's appropiate. Some inland seas like the Mediterranean are good too.

Decide where you will place mountain ranges. In real life, they are where oceanic-continental plates (Andes) or continental-continental plates (Himalayas, Alps), collide. These are very important.

Place rivers, just the most important ones. The places where you place big river systems are gonna be big plains.

Now, the fun part. With your first step, you've already decided where arctic, temperate, and tropical climates are there. You can mark it as letters in your map. Mountain ranges, of course, are colder.

Here's the tricky part: vegetation: vegetation mostly follows precipitation, and precipitation is mostly decided by altitude and distance from the ocean. The interior of your continents should be dry with plains and deserts; the coasts should be rainy with forests and plains. But remember, if you have a mountain range, that's a rain shadow! Picture the wind coming from the ocean with rain, and it should get less rainy when it "clashes" with a mountain range, with the other side a desert.

Deserts are tricky to place, but as a quick cheat, you can place them in your tropic lines. They can even border oceans: see Australia and the Kalahari.

WHEN IN DOUBT, LOOK AT SIMILAR AREAS ON A REAL WORLD VEGETATION/CLIMATE MAP. THIS IS WHY DRAWING THE EQUATOR AND THE TROPICS IS SO IMPORTANT AND SHOULD BE YOUR FIRST STEP ALWAYS.

Now you already have a quick and dirty vegetation map, you're halfway there! Don't worry if there are some doubtful areas, real world geography can be weird.

Now for the REAL fun stuff (if you aren't having fun already, I sure am): making civilizations!

You have to decide center of origins for your domesticated crops and animals. Basically, every early civilization had its own "package" of staple crops and animals that are still used today.

With this, you can decide:

the primary civilizations of your world

roughly how different animals and vegetation are distributed, if you want an Earth-like world (for an quicker method, you can apply the biogeographical realms to your own continents as you wish)

A quick cheat sheet of centers of origin, what they have, and where you can place them:

(this is just a quick thing, do read the article it's so much better)

Middle Eastern: wheat, barley, cows, sheep, goats. Place them in a dry area with lots of rivers (the Fertile Crescent!)

East Asia: rice, soybean, oranges, pigs, horses. Place it in a rainy temperate area bordering the tropics.

Mesoamerica: Corn, beans, pumpkin, chilli, tomato. Place it in a dry area near the tropics.

Andes: Potato, quinoa, llamas. Place it in a mountain range.

Tropical South America: manioc, peanuts, pineapple. In the tropics.

Tropical Asia: Rice, banana, sugar cane, beans. In the tropics, again.

or, just straight up use this fucking map, it's so much better:

You can mix and match the crops, animals, and such as you wish, and you should definitively read the wiki page on center of origins and see some other less known crops.

If you have non-human civilizations, of course they'll have different packages. Carnivore or subterranean civilizations might be very different. But at this point, your imagination should be flying already and I don't have to hold your hand here.

Now, you have a rough map of your world at the dawn of agriculture! Congratulations! Depending on the historical period you're setting your world, you can start to draw countries and civilizations. This is where it gets complicated again. I might have to make a part two... But just with this, you already have a new world to use as you wish.

I'll make a worked example later to show you how easy it is if you don't believe me.

#worldbuilding #cosas mias

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a-case-of-attachment · 2 months

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So in Hell’s Greatest Dad, Lucifer tells Charlie that ‘with a punch of a pentagram’ and ‘usually I charge a sacrificial lamb’ when he’s offering to help her with the hotel and it got me thinking. Surely he must have had people sacrifice things in his honour or for favours before right? So….what if when something is sacrificed to him it ends up down in Hell?

It works like some sort of inter dimensional postal service. Lucifer will just be doing whatever then a portal will open up above him full of weird oil slick coloured clouds and lightening cracking across the endless sky with the boom of thunder not far behind. Out of the portal flies a cherub sized faun wearing a shirt, waistcoat and bow tie brandishing a clipboard that’s got the contract attached to it. All the important things will be on there like who’s doing the sacrificing, what they are sacrificing and what they want in exchange for it. Lucifer can either accept the sacrifice and sign the document, giving the sinner what they want or just straight up refuse to sign, decline the sacrifice and instead have it sent off to purgatory.

The problem is that Lucifer is so jaded that he doesn’t even bother reading the contracts any more. Sinners all want the same thing anyway, fame, fortune, revenge, so what’s the point even bothering to look these days? It’s not like he gets that many sacrifices in his name anymore and when he does it’s mostly just lambs and goats, the occasional dog or guinea pig and a cat that one time. He often just gives them to people as pets, it’s how Charlie had gotten razzle and dazzle.

But you know, people are deranged and over the centuries there have been a handful of human souls that come his way. Lucifer never accepts those, often get angry that people actually think killing someone would make him happy. Shocker, it doesn’t. All it did was prove that humans really are just the worst, a race of violent psychopaths hellbent on causing as much pain and destruction as they can. Yes Lucifer felt bad that these people had died and for nothing but he wasn’t about to reward some lowlife scumbag for taking another’s life so unfortunately that meant the sacrificed soul was purgatory bound. It wasn’t ideal but it also wasn’t permanent. At least there they would get the chance to move onto heaven eventually and not be stuck in this infernal nightmare for all of eternity.

So no, Lucifer didn’t do human sacrifices. Except, well, maybe he did.

It was an accident! Lucifer had been distracted, him and Charlie having a slight disagreement about the hotel and her expectations when it came to heaven. He hadn’t meant to upset her but she needed to realise that very few angels would be as open to the idea of redemption as he or Emily had been. It had been just about the time Lucifer had been urging Charlie to proceed with caution when it came to Heaven that a portal opens above him, a little faun flying out, clipboard already in hand and looking down at Lucifer through the spectacles perched on its nose.

Lucifer had attempted to ignore the blasted thing but it just flys around his head, brandishing the clip board and tapping impatiently at its wristwatch until Lucifer finally had enough and snatches the board off him, quickly flipping to the back and signing it before shoving it back at the startled faun. It just huffs at him, jotting something down before tearing off a sheet and giving it back to Lucifer only to disappear back into the portal. Lucifer doesn’t look at the contract he just signed, not caring what shallow and self serving thing the mortal had asked for. He goes back to Charlie, continuing to urge to not trust heaven so easily, all the while holding his arms out expectantly to catch whatever animal is going to drop out of the portal.

Lucifers expecting a lamb or a goat, heavyish for a human but nothing for him, except he gets something much larger and heavier, the shock of it knocking Lucifer to the ground. His first thought is some wretched mortal had sacrificed a cow or horse, either to lazy to find the usual offering or thinking the bigger the sacrifice the better the reward. Either way Lucifer is already regretting his choice to grant their wish, no clue what he is supposed to do with a cow other than send it down to a farm on wrath. Grumbling Lucifer sits up slightly, tugging at his hat that had been pushed down over his eyes but when he mages to pull his hat off Lucifer realises it’s so much worse than a cow.

There’s a person on his lap. A very human person sprawled across his lap and legs, their weight pinning him to the floor. You are dressed all in a white, the fabric almost see through though the top part was stained red with blood. Lucifer can’t look past your chest, the demonic sigils carved there still oozing blood. When he does manage to look up it’s to fined wide fear filled eyes staring back at him. The two of you just stare at one another, Lucifer feeling more and more panicked as the seconds drag on whilst you look close to passing out.

The whole room is silent and Lucifer just knows that they are all staring at the two of you, just as shocked as him and waiting for one of you to do something. Charlie is the first one to make a move, slowly creeping across the room to lay a hand on your shoulder. She probably meant to be a reassuring gesture but it’s a mistake nonetheless. It startled you, causing you to fall from Lucifers lap and giving you the first real view of the room and the rest of its inhabitants. Things go about as well as you would think.

You start screaming, Charlie panics as she tries to calm you down but only makes it worse, Angel dust offers you a drink that gets knocked out his hand and ends up all over Husk and Alastor offers to silence you permanently. Needless to say that none of what they are doing helps calm you down or make you feel any less afraid and all Lucifer does is sit there, staring down at the smear of red on his white pants and struggling to wrap his head around what in the hell is happening because he couldn’t have just accepted a human soul as payment. He’s never done that before, never, and yet there you are, cowering in the corner like a frightened animal, eyes franticly darting around as you look for some form of escape.

It’s that look of pure terror that gets Lucifer up and moving, handing off his hat and cane to Charlie as he gets everyone to back up and give you some space. He approached you slowly, hands held up in front of him to show you he meant no harm and keeping his voice soft and calm as he tells you that no one’s going to hurt you, that your safe here with them. He makes sure to leave a little bit of space between you when he stops, sinking down into a crouch so he’s eye level though you won’t look at him for long, eyes darting around at even the slightest movement. You’re still bleeding, the sigil for his name looking the deepest. It makes Lucifer feel sick, that someone could do this to you and claim that it’s in his honour. He found no honour in an act like this, only hate and disgust, igniting a strong desire inside him to hunt down those responsible and show them the same kindness they had you.

It takes a good few minutes of Lucifer talking at you before he gets any form of response. He introduces himself, tells you once more that he isn’t going to hurt you and that he just wants to help and maybe even clean up those markings so they don’t get infected. It’s slow going but eventually you give him a slight nod, uncurling from where you had been trying to make yourself as small as possible so he can get a better look at the ugly mess of cuts on your chest. He startled you when he conjures water and a cloth, Lucifer apologising as you bang into the wall behind you in an attempt to get away from the sudden action. He does get you to calm down though, at least enough for him to clean away the blood and apply bandages.

These wounds will not disappear like the injuries the now resident of Hell would sustain, their origin in magic and acting as a physical sign of your binding to him. But Lucifer vows to look after them and you, after all this is all his fault and though he knows that Charlie would care for you if he was to up and leave he can’t bring himself to do so. It’s his responsibility to look after you, you are his after all and isn’t that just a horrific twisted little thought. Lucifer wants to cry, to beg your forgiveness because unless he was to gift your soul to another you were bound to him from now until eternity, forced to obey his every request regardless of what you wanted. He can’t cry though, not when you already are, silent tears rolling down your cheeks and dripping off your chin onto his hand and arm as he cleans away the blood. So he fights back the tears, completely focused on his task and trying to be as gentle as he possibly can be.

When he’s done and the now ruined rag and pink water are vanished away with the wave of his hand Lucifer doesn’t know what else to do other than offer you a safe space of your own and a comfortable bed to sleep in so he does exactly that. You look terrified when he asks if you would like to go to bed, eyes dropping down to just below his belt. Lucifer might actually be sick when he realises what you are scared is going to happen and he can’t get the words out quick enough to reassure you that he means to sleep and that you will be the only person in the room. His obvious horror at the implication seems to reassure you and you give him a small nod.

You use the wall to support you getting up but as soon as you go to take a step forward your legs buckle and Lucifer has to lurch forward to grab hold of you before you can hit the floor. Your to weak, wether that be from the shock or the blood loss Lucifer doesn’t know, possibly both, but what he does know is you are not going to make it up the several flights of stairs on your own.

He asks before picking you up, waiting for you to give him a nod of agreement before he slips one hand behind your back and the other behind your knees. It’s nothing for him to pick you up but it had you squeaking in surprise, flinging your arms around his neck and pulling yourself tighter against him. Lucifer can’t help laugh softly, assuring you that he was stronger than he looked and that he wouldn’t drop you. You don’t seem to buy it though, your hold around his neck tightening as you hide your head against his shoulder. He can’t blame you for being scared, Licifer looks like a strong breeze would send him stumbling but he supposes that’s one of the perks of being an angel, he’s stronger than he looks.

It’s only when he turns around that Lucifer realises the rooms completely empty except for the two of you. He doesn’t know when everyone else disappeared but he’s grateful for it, not sure how you would have reacted to a room full of weird looking people staring at you. He talks to you the whole time up to your room, telling you where he was taking you and a little about the hotel and it’s residents, though he mostly tell you about Charlie and Vaggie, the only other people he trusts to look after you correctly if he wasn’t around. Lucifer picks a room for you on the same floor as him though a couple of doors down in an attempt to keep you close and also give you some probably much needed distance. He sets you down on the bed, tells you where everything is including his room, just in case you need him before he comes back to check the bandages in a few hours. He does conjure you some sleep clothes though, making sure they were the softest and most comfortable thing you have ever worn. He wants you to be comfortable, to actually feel safe after what you have been through and though he knows the simple kindness he has showing you will not erase that it will hopefully show you that despite what you may have heard Lucifer isn’t all that bad.

Lucifer hates himself just a little bit more after what he does next, crouching down to look you in the eye and telling you that you can’t leave the hotel room unless he comes to get you or you are going to his room and nowhere else. Normally it would just be words but you are bound to Lucifer now and even you don’t want to you will have no choice but to obey him. You stiffen, nodding your head slightly but still you don’t say a word, not even when he bids you good night. He doesn’t even get the door half way closed before he hears you start to cry. He wants to go back, to take you in his arms and apologise for what has been done to you whilst reassuring you that life here will not be as bad as you think. He doesn’t though, wanting to give you time to greave and mourn the loss of your life.

He doesn’t even make it two steps down the corridor before it all really hits him and Lucifer crumbles, sinking to the floor and pressing his hand against his mouth in an attempt to muffle his own sobs. He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do, or how he’s even meant to care for you correctly. Animals were easy, simple to please, humans not so much. Plus Lucifer owned you, he would have to be extremely carful of what he said because even an offhanded comment would be taken as a command and you could end up getting seriously hurt.

It’s too much, Lucifer not equipped to deal with such responsibility but he has no choice, he has to. This is all his fault after all and he couldn’t abandon you in your hour of need. No he would figure this all out, tend to your wounds and help you adjust to life here in hell. He would help you find a place to call home, maybe at the hotel helping with the sinners or maybe something down in one of the other rings. Just somewhere you could feel truly safe and at ease. Whatever you wanted Lucifer would make it yours, giving you as much a slice of paradise as he can. How else would he atone for his mistake?

#hazbin hotel #hazbin lucifer #lucifer magne #lucifer morningstar #reader insert #gender neutral reader #gn reader

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the-monkey-ruler · 7 months

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Just a random ask, what are some weird JTTW adaptations you’ve seen or heard about?

I can’t even begin to call them all but… if you bear with me, I shall try.

Here are a few games that I always found funny additions!

Starting off strong we have Journey to the West: Undersea Adventure (2021)! I have never seen it but LOOK AT IT.... THEY FISH

Six-eared Monkey (2021) where Six Ears goes back in time, accidentally adopts Wukong not knowing he is his future enemy and gives his life to save Child-Wukong despite knowing who he grows up to be.

Wukong's Christmas Adventure (2019) is like... saving Ruphdolh or something and Wukong is going through a mid-life crisis and also kinda depressed but CHRISTMAS. Also the Erlang and Nezha models in this movies are TERRIFYING... and also they have Wukong rap so take a look.

youtube

Journey to the West: Conquering the Demons (2013) is weird but like in a GREAT way like... I love the monster designs they give Wukong, Bajie, and Wujing, it is such a different vibe then any other movie I have seen and Honestly LOVE It for that. Really sells just how HUMAN Sanzang is dealing with POWERFUL YAO that could kill him in a second.

Bling (2016) is strong that it didn't hAVE to be Xiyouji coded characters like the Monkey, Pig, and Frog are robot storage performers, wannabe heroes and they follow their creator who is trying to propose to his girlfriend but there really is not journey or ANY need to have the robot being Wukong, Bajie, and Wujing.

Spark: A Space Tail (2016) is also BARELY a Xiyouji film but like it does have a monkey with a staff and turns out he is the son of a king and a queen of monkey planet. Really more like Lion King with the evil uncle trying to take over but with space monkeys.... and also Bajie is there.

Mo mo King (2011) is something I'm not completely sure what's it about but just that it is like a whole monkey island that Wukong-like protag works at... and also Bajie is there.

Devil's Chip (2002) again NO idea what it is really about but there is space and time travel and for some ungodly reason no wukong from what I have seen but Sanzang and Bajie company the space/time travler

Flying Monkid (1996) I have no idea why this was ever MADE like there is barely a connection to Wukong and every other demon is new or some kind of version that is barely recognizable, not to mention the animation is barely any better than Pixal art.

Flying Superboard (1990) I always just found this one strange from the animation to the art style to the design choices. Like making Wukong some kind of skateboard, nunchuck, mouse-looking creature and giving Bajie a machine gun is.... something. I have no idea what they did to Wujing, made him like a bat, goblin thing.

Midnight Goku (1989) is like a sci-fi detective story where the protag has like computer eyes that can see through people and a bo-staff and honestly, I haven't seen but just the STRETCH they use to make this Wukong-related is so insane like would have never thought of it.

Little Wukong (1987) honestly not SURE what this story is even about but like... it is nearly lost media, this is so obscure and out of the way I have a feeling it was probs a children's education show or something but idk.

youtube

The Legend of Red Boy (1989) is something that looks like candy land spat out and while I have not seen it I am so sure that it is filled with nonsensical elements I cannot begin to describe.

King Kong's Adventures in the Heavenly Palace (1959) is... more of a crossover than anything else. Just imagine a movie where instead of Wukong destroys heaven... it is Kind Kong. Legit THE king Kong from the OTHER MOVIES YES.

Pink Journey to the West (2015) is honestly not that strong I would say besides that it is just Journey to the West but they are all girls... haven't seen it but who knows maybe it is good!

Tom and Jerry Chase with Tom as Erlang Sheng and Jerry as Wukong

Fortnite Wukong... that is it

Overwatch with Xiyouji skins just think it is adorable honestly. Love the Winston as Wukong

Plants versus Zombie: Journey to the West addition

Rabbits: Party of Legends

And while this isn't EVERY weird (there is a lot) one these are that I thought were at least interesting enough. Like a lot of Xiyouji movies have strange plotpoint but honestly, they are more boring and confusing than anything memorable. At least these were the ones I always thought were fun!

#anon ask #anonymous #anon #jttw #journey to the west #xiyouji #sun wukong #zhu bajie #ask

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darsynia · 6 months

Text

Shipping and Handling | Ch 3: Gravity

(Stucky x Reader slow burn, Steve x Reader fast burn, Friendship all around)

SERIES MASTERLIST | STORY MASTERLIST | PREV | NEXT

Summary: There’s a chance you and Steve aren’t the only people dealing with the strange chemical bond from Mistress, so you agree to submit to daily tests that should help Dr. Banner figure out what’s happening, and maybe how to stop it. The problem? Seeing each other every day brings a new set of side-effects that both of you hide from each other and Banner until things come to a head– not just for the two of you, but also for the man who has to deal with you: Bucky Barnes. Length/Warnings: 4,631 / sexual situations, 'dere's some TOUCHING

Tags: (please request!) @munstysmind @ronearoundblindly @chickensarentcheap @themaradaniels @tiny-anne @deepbatched @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @wolfstar-marvelsfan @icequeen1371 @chibijusstuff @nekoannie-chan @brooke0297 @caplanreblogsfics @hails270105 @venusfalling @zzz000eee @eralen @mrsevans90 @myinconnelly1 @thorinsmistress13 @cjand10 @wckedheart @samfreakingwinchester @blind-devil @sanniegirl1214 @karimac @dispatchvampire @beautifulchaos723 @weirdpeoplecoolpeople

Excerpt:

I could get out of here so quick it’d make the ‘weird news’ section, Bucky thinks to himself. He’s seated on the concrete up against the wall, knees up, glowering at the rest of the men in the same containment cell. The tight pressure of his pants is punishing against his erection, but the alternative doesn’t bear thinking about.

“Hey Colada, you gonna kill me with your eyes?” one of the gym rat assholes calls out from across the room.

“Depends. Your head hurt yet?” he asks, not bothering to raise his voice.

“Fuck, you ain’t kidding, man is scary as shit!” The man shoves his companion and turns his back, unintentionally showing off the greasy blonde mullet he’s sporting.

Not for the first time, Bucky thanks the combination of circumstances that’s kept him from needing a mindless fuck. The desperate want has been gnawing away at his insides for over an hour, but it’s at least manageable so far. His clothes reek of coconut, and the part of him that remembers going undercover in the past is cooked with laughter. His leather-clad punk rock piña colada smelling ass isn’t flying under any kind of radar, not even in a drunk tank full of genuine idiots.

Chapter Three: Gravity

Once inside the car (a limo, of all things), Steve guides you to the back into the curved corner seat before retreating as far away from you as he can get. He doesn’t have a fever, but his blood is on fire, both in desire and a strong need to protect you.

From himself, if necessary.

“Steve?”

Your objection to the distance between you is plaintive, but he looks down at his tightly clasped hands, not trusting himself until he can get his breathing under control. “We’ve got to get you to Bruce as soon as possible.”

“Oh yes, exactly the penetration I need: a needle in my arm!” you grumble. Steve can’t hold back his shocked reaction, which prompts you to wince and look away. After the driver eases the limo out into the heavy traffic, you add quietly, “How the heck did you resist this?”

“I didn’t.”

The tiny sound you let out on hearing that goes straight to his groin. Your next words help him regain his composure though.

“Steve, I’m scared. I don’t want to be a guinea pig for some kind of experimental treatment, but I don’t want to force you into anything either.” you whisper. “Maybe I could see if--”

“No.”

Steve barks out the word, caught in the grip of fierce possessiveness. His hands ache as he pours all his strength into keeping his fingers intertwined, instead of reaching out. The thought of someone else, someone not him…

“I didn’t even finish the sentence!”

He shakes his head, mind racing to find an explanation that doesn’t make him look like he is overstepping. “Secondary transfer is going strong. I pictured someone else touching you, and--” he breaks off, lifting his eyes to yours. Something you see in them has you unbuckling and coming over to rest your warm hand on his forehead. Muttering something about overheating, you start undoing the first few buttons of his dress shirt. “Dee,” Steve groans, unable to conceal the stress in his tone.

He catches your wrists as gently as possible, but that just reveals that the backs of his hands are lined with fingerprint bruises. You tut as the already-healing wounds catch your eye.

“It’s just like you to apologize for trying to keep your hands to yourself!” you say, but all other admonitions die on your lips as you watch the self-inflicted marks disappear. “That’s… that’s like magic,” you breathe. “Bruce really did pick the perfect person to try to figure this whole thing out. And then I had to go and screw things up!”

“Your being in the apartment was an accident, one I don’t blame you for.” He uses as firm a tone as he can, but your face crumples a little, sweat beading up along the furrows of your regretful expression.

“I shouldn’t have come over here. I only had about five minutes of coherent brain power left.” Your voice is barely a whisper, reaching your hand out and resting it gently over his heart.

“Spent most of that on reassuring me.”

You close your eyes tightly and nod, saying, “You deserve better than to deal with this whole ridiculous situation again.”

On hearing this, Steve makes a decision, reaching over to tap a message to the driver on the communication pad hidden on a panel nearby. Tony sometimes messes around with it when he ropes him into doing Avengers events, something Steve never thought he’d come to appreciate.

He rests his hand on yours and says, “When we met, I chose to trust you because Bucky trusts you. None of that has changed.” He pauses for a reaction, but you’ve got your teeth firmly embedded in your lip, your entire body tense with concern about what else he might say. He’d rather you didn’t have your eyes closed, but he remembers how hard it was to use logic and reason after being dosed with Mistress. “No matter what happens afterwards, Bruce has to know how direct exposure affects you, so I need to ask: do you trust me?”

You open your eyes to blink at him, and Steve notes how blown your pupils are. Knowing it’ll make things temporarily worse, but needing a response, he cups your face with his hand. Almost instinctively, you angle into him as you nod, showing both a conscious and unconscious sign of trust.

The limo pulls over to the curb and he lifts your hand from his chest to press a kiss onto the back of it. Bucky would probably complain he looks like some kind of knight errant. Shaking that thought off, Steve gets up and makes his way to the door, saying over his shoulder, “Try not to burn me in effigy till you get to the Tower, all right?”

The despairing tone you use to call out his name slices at his conscience, but there’s no time to do anything more than start running to the tower. Exertion should burn off some of the lust, at least. He hopes he can get through all the things he’s planning in the twenty minutes before the limo’s projected to get there.

Your body had screamed in relief when Steve touched your face, but seconds later, he’s gone. At first, you’re confused. The limo sits for a while at the curb like it’s waiting for Steve to come back-- but finally it eases back into traffic, to your utter disappointment. You know the lust that’s prompting you to clench your thighs together for friction could all too easily take over.

It’s incredibly difficult to try to focus, but you pour all your mental efforts into the task of trying to remember just what Steve said before he abandoned you. You push past the moments of pleasure that crowd your mind, seeking a touchstone, something to keep your sanity intact--

Bruce. Bruce will want to test you. That means there’s a purpose to this torture.

You throw yourself back so you’re lying prone on the warmed leather of the limo’s seat, bending your knees toward your chest. The cool air on your exposed skin is hardly a relief at all, but the pressure from the shaping garment you’re wearing is oddly welcome.

“Well, that’s a first,” you mutter aloud. The sound of your voice is low and rough, undeniably sexy, and you light on that as something you ought to mark down for Banner.

When the limo stops and turns off its engine countless minutes later, you’ve only managed to scrawl something barely-legible about that observation onto a scrap of paper. It kept you busy, focusing your thoughts away from the heat licking through your body, and that’s what counts.

The door opens, and somehow, Steve leans in. “Time to fly to another perch, Chickadee,” he says gently, holding out his hand.

“How--” you breathe, moving toward him. Only now does it occur to you that you’re basically a million desires held loosely together by the wax of willpower alone. You don’t want to make Steve deal with that-- but those concerns melt away as you step out onto the sidewalk in front of the building and collapse against him in relief. Steve sweeps you up into his arms, dipping his head to press his lips to yours.

The kiss is intense after your solo minutes in the limo miserably conflagrating. You clutch at him, loving the safety of his strong arms bearing you up. All that exists in the whole world is Steve, a good man, a trustworthy man, someone who knows exactly what you need. You bury your fingers in his hair to encourage him, eagerly anticipating the moment when he’ll lay you down and take you, the only thing that will heal the wounds caused by Mistress.

Except, for the second time in a half hour, that’s not what happens.

Steve pulls back from the kiss, apologizing right away when the bright light from the exam room he’s carried you into makes you recoil against his neck in surprise.

A cool, unwelcome hand catches your upper arm, turning you away from Steve just as he adjusts his grip to bring you to a stand.

“Just a little pinch!” a woman’s voice says. It’s not Dr. Lyonne, and Bruce is nowhere to be seen. Behind you, you can hear Steve’s unhappy voice demanding… something, but there’s a ringing in your ears, and everything goes wavy and indistinct after that.

You experience only flashes of the next minutes-- the solid chair under you as your blood is taken, the insistent voice asking questions about the evening, icewater through a straw held to your lips, but mostly you’re focused on keeping from reaching out and begging everyone around you to end the torment burning through your veins. Through the pervasive lust you’re wracked with, a single horrid thought keeps emerging.

Is this what Steve felt like that day?

It becomes louder than anything else, until you reach up and cover your ears with both hands, closing your eyes so tightly that the pressure flashes like fireworks.

“Dee?”

On any other day, Steve might touch your shoulder to get your attention, but he knows that you don’t have your eyes cinched shut and your arms crossed and your body tensed up for nothing. The desire simmering in his own veins is bad enough without more contact scrambling his senses. So, he stops your wheelchair in front of the elevator doors without hitting the button, and walks around so the sound of his voice will come from in front of you.

“I don’t pretend to know what you’re going through, because this stuff hits everyone differently. I’m just going to give you some options.”

You do a curt little head nod, pressing your lips together tightly.

“Option one is to head to a room to take care of things yourself, however long that might take. We’ve got an empty, furnished apartment set up if that’s your choice, with, ah,” his words fail him, but Steve pushes through. “--supplies.”

You make a choked noise in the back of your throat, and he rushes on to the next suggestion.

“Option two is to let you into our apartment, since you might feel safer there. Buck and I will use the other place in the meantime, till we get an all clear from you.” Bruce had suggested this, and Steve was doing his best not to picture it.

“Alone?” you whisper, sounding miserable.

Steve crouches down in front of the wheelchair, his heart clenched into as much of a fist as the hand he’s gripping the armrest with. His high-minded resolutions not to influence you have been shredded by the look on your face.

“Not alone, not if you don’t want to be. The third option is for me to stand by what I promised in the restaurant. To finish what we started, out in the car.”

Your breathing had been quick and distressed since he’d wheeled you out of Bruce’s lab, and as he watches, you struggle with your words, pulling in a breath only to let it out in furrowed-brow frustration twice. Finally, you let out a huff of a laugh and let your hands drop like you’ve given up trying to be diplomatic.

“Are we coworkers, thanks to all this? Do we need to get lawyers involved?”

“Oh, I’m sure Tony would love to get lawyers involved,” Steve groaned, “--but this is just between us. No surveillance and no pressure. The limo is parked in a private garage, it has tinted windows, and Stark’s AI guards all access. It’s the safest place I could think of without a chance of being interrupted or--”

“Yes.” Along with the fervent assent, you throw your head back, your whole body going through a kind of delighted shudder of relief that has Steve standing and walking a short distance away so he doesn’t do anything rash.

After a few deep breaths, he says, “I’m going to wheel you into the elevator, but if I’m honest, I’m not sure you’re in any condition to agree to this.”

“At least as much as you did, the day we met!” Your laugh sounds manic, but when Steve turns around, he catches you letting out a deep breath, your hands in fists on your lap. “If--” your voice falters, but you clear your throat and continue. “If you really think that, I can’t do this to you. I’ll… go up to the apartment.”

His own disappointment at that option slices through his inhibitions, and Steve hastens to refute the necessity of your offer. “Don’t do that to yourself. You won’t be able to fix this without me.”

“I know. But you should have the choice.”

He hits the elevator button and the doors open right away, offering a distraction from responding as he wheels you in-- but Steve Rogers isn’t much for avoiding tough things.

He ignores the part of his brain that points out that this isn’t tough at all.

“I do have the choice. Bruce said, and I quote, ‘I’ve never seen you walk away from someone in distress, and I don’t expect you to start now.’ He’s right.”

Steve forces himself to count to twenty as the elevator takes the two of you to the sub basement, but his veneer of control is shattered when the doors open and he looks down at you. You’ve leaned your head back to look up at him, desire etched across your features-- but equally present is an expression of utter trust.

It’s as much of an intoxicant to him as Mistress.

He walks around to block the door of the elevator, turning to hold a hand out for you. No way is he going to wheel you to the limo for what’s about to follow. Your immediate, confident grasp does a lot to assuage his concerns. The way you stumble into him right afterwards is just a symptom of the malady he knows just how to fix.

The empty wheelchair in the elevator will do nicely as an indicator to whom it may concern.

“God, I want you so much right now I’m basically a lit flame,” you whimper, twisting free of him and skip-stumbling over to the limo. Before he can stop you, you’ve opened the door and posed beside it in a wicked little gesture of sultry chivalry.

Multiple realizations hit Steve as he walks over.

He wants you, but he’s coming to realize he also wants you. As a person. You’re smart and compassionate, talented as all hell and beautiful inside and out. Steve’s never seen you act starstruck, yet you clearly respect Captain America as a facet of his personality. You’re joking about gallantry, but not to mock him. This… this is joyful, and he’d be willing to bet that if Bruce got ahold of a blood sample right now, he’d find that the minutes you’ve spent together have stabilized your desperate lust as much as his has been inflamed.

When he gets to the limo, you press yourself as close as you can, sliding your palms along his shoulders and his upper arms as you pull in a deep, steadying breath at his chest. A little whimper-sigh escapes your lips, reminding him of the urgency you’re caught up in, the need he’s forced you to delay satisfying for the greater good. Your whole body is trembling.

“I’ve got you,” Steve rasps into your ear-- and as if you’d both practiced the move, you hold onto his shoulders right as he lifts you up, your legs moving to bracket themselves around him. He bands a hand across your back to pull you into a desperate kiss, and the next coherent thought he has is to marvel that the inside of the limo has enough space for him to stretch out lengthways.

Everything is moving fast, and though he knows your body is willing, he needs to be sure your mind is on board. Even as he thinks this, you’ve already removed your top and are working on the rest of your clothes. The beauty of the lines of your body as you angle and arch sends his hips thrusting up against you.

Your hitched moan in response is almost enough for his compromised sense of what’s right, but not quite.

Steve catches your hands at your back as you struggle with your bra clasp. “Are you still in there? Can you consent?”

“They should do a study on how much your moral code makes me need you inside me,” you pant, rolling off of him to strip off everything from your lower half in record time. “That’s just wrong.”

He can’t resist.

“Are you saying you’re in distress, ma’am?” he asks as he rushes off his own clothes. Something rips, but that’s a problem for tomorrow.

You arch your back and throw your arm dramatically over your eyes. “Save me, Steve Rogers!”

He does.

Thoroughly.

“Hey Colada, you gonna kill me with your eyes?” one of the gym rat assholes calls out from across the room.

“Depends. Your head hurt yet?” he asks, not bothering to raise his voice.

“Fuck, you ain’t kidding, man is scary as shit!” The man shoves his companion and turns his back, unintentionally showing off the greasy blonde mullet he’s sporting.

His stomach lurches. The dousing of Mistress he’d gotten was more than the amount that fucker had splashed on Dee, but it was worth the exposure to knock the guy out. You’re probably going to be pissed at him, even though he’d used his flesh hand just for your sake.

Bucky allows himself a smile meant to unnerve the men watching him, but internally, he’s scrambling. Thinking about you had been a mistake, maybe a big one. He’d enjoyed your performance that night; you’d added subtle physical and vocal flourishes that showed your skill to captivate an audience, himself included. When he closes his eyes, he can see the sway of your hips, both as you sang and while you danced with Steve.

A surge of desire courses through him, and he has to rock his hips to stifle the effects with the seam of his trousers. The pain-pressure doesn’t help this time. The damned aphrodisiac is finally winning.

New subject. Now.

The sharp sound of a police baton knocking against metal bars rings out. “Barnes?”

Bucky lifts his head and sees two figures near the door to the large cell. Beside the policeman is a squirrely-looking lawyer type with a terrible toupee and obviously fake, non-matching facial hair. The man’s suit is oversized, enough to trigger a visual scan for weapons.

He gets up in one fluid motion, leaning his head down so his hair covers most of his face and deliberately hulks toward the door. Everyone between Bucky and the bars scurry out of the way, but he’s focused on the lawyer’s clear inconsistencies.

Thick-cut, ill fitting glasses Inability to stand still No eye contact Very high quality shoes

He chooses to lift his arms wide to grab the bars and lean forward, a dominant stance even in this caged madhouse.

“That ‘sposed to scare me?” the lawyer says-- and Bucky starts to cough instead of laughing. The lawyer is Tony Stark. He’s using an exaggerated New York voice, the kind you find on kids cartoons, but it’s him.

Bucky decides that ‘undercover’ for him right now is ‘over-cover.’ Drunk, horny, and indiscriminate.

“Do you like being scared?” He makes sure to slur his words just enough.

The policeman makes a terrible face and backs up. “Jesus how many did you drink?”

“I got a collection of umbrellas in my pants. Want one?” Bucky offers, reaching for his zipper.

“You can make me a bouquet of them in the car, buddy. Just keep those hands to yourself!” ‘sleazy lawyer Tony’ pronounces.

The officer’s eyes climb skyward. “I can keep ‘im in here for as long as you--”

“Sure, if you’ve got condoms.” Bucky smiles.

He’s never seen anyone unlock a cage so fast, not even when he was crushing someone’s windpipe as an inducement to hurry.

That thought’s enough to make him stumble through the now-open cell door. It’s funny how convenient inconvenient flashes of memory can be.

“C’mon Casanova, let’s get you into detox,” Stark drawls, adjusting his enormous fake glasses.

A shout of “It’s Colada!” follows them out of the hallway.

“Do I wanna know?” Stark leans over to ask, giving Bucky a strong whiff of the alcohol on his breath.

“I’m as sauced with that sex drug as you are with--”

“All right, all right,” his ‘lawyer’ interrupts loudly, shoving Bucky past the policeman guarding the door. Stark’s holding up an ID that could probably get him into the Pentagon, but for all that he appears sloppy, he’s remembered to bring the kind of ridiculous car his persona would drive. The two of them hop into the back seat and Stark rolls down the window to wave at the jailhouse. The momentum from his man Hogan stepping on the gas knocks the tipsy superhero on his ass and leaves his nasty toupee in Bucky’s lap.

He throws it out the window.

“That was rude!” Stark says, frowning.

“I don’t think your girl wants you to come home with any kind of Mistress.”

Stark wrinkles his nose as if finally recognizing the smell. “Right. Well, maybe don’t punch convicted felons and get on the scanner next time? That’s not the kind of heroism I was expecting from you, Colada.”

Fuck, that better not catch on. “Don’t.”

They’re pulling into the tower already, driving all the way down to Stark’s private garage. Bucky chews on the inside of his cheek, trying to stay inside until the car stops. The closer he gets to privacy and the ability to do something about the fire radiating from his groin, the more intense it burns.

Stark is busy looking affronted. “Hey, I’m the Stark itect of your escape out of jail, Barnes. You could say thank you.”

The car stops, and Bucky opens the door, saying as he gets out, “Thank you for keeping your bad puns until the end of the ride.”

There’s a limo parked near the elevator. It’s out of place, no driver visible, but the lights are on. It hadn’t occurred to him that Stark’s tower would have VIP guests. If he weren’t so fucking horny he’d investigate, but as it is, he can only rush past.

Bucky bursts into the apartment with almost no self control left. Inside, a part of him is screaming about loss of control, but he erases it with a hand on his cock. He’s standing in the fucking doorway with his pants at his ankles and he could not possibly care less. Everyone in the building should be grateful he shut the door at all.

He slams his head back against the wall behind him. The feeling of it giving way against his strength is as powerful as the liquid ecstasy coursing through his veins.

It’s been more than one lifetime since he’s felt the itch to be outrageous, but right now he almost wishes for Steve to walk in and see him, head practically buried in the wall, the rest of him on display. His body is bowed out in a taut arc centered on his cock, his movements electrified by the twice-damned aphrodisiac in his system. Bucky had kept his mind mercifully blank from picturing anything, but just as before he’s weakened the dam by thinking about Steve.

Steve had looked great in his suit, overdressed but classy, but that was Steve. He’d always been like that, even before he’d lucked into that body.

Fuck. Think about something else.

He’ll come in the doorway but he’ll be damned if he’ll come in the doorway thinking about his roommate. Society hasn’t ‘advanced’ that far.

Something ELSE, Buck.

His hand is gliding, the pleasure is unreal, and the entire slideshow in his head is Steve. Bucky dials back in time, even though he usually doesn’t invite the nightmares that can bestow unless he’s got a few days alone to deal with them. He skips past cone bras and miniskirts, bouffant hair and do-wop music, letting out a whine in the back of his throat as he’s almost, almost there, but not quite.

Just as he’s got the perfect image of a pin-up dame in his head with the right shade of lipstick, the thought that he might not get to come crashes in like a neon Times Square sign dropped by a helicopter.

Bucky’s eyes open wide and his hand stops, then drops to his side. He’s still a live wire of erotic voltage right now but the chance that might become a permanent state of being has him wrenching his head from the wall.

He thinks back. What had you told him about this, what had you done? Is this related? There's zero chance you won't feel responsible if it is.

His lust-addled mind mixes every thought he’s had in the past five minutes into a psy-op worthy of the absolute worst HYDRA’s ever managed: an image of you superimposed on that red-lipsticked siren of a minute ago. A jolt of need draws his hand back to try to finish with your sultry voice at the vintage microphone as the soundtrack.

In his mind, Bucky sees you throw your head back to croon something that sounds so much like lovemaking it’s enough to send him, and he falls to his knees shooting ropes of grateful release all over the floor in front of him.

It’s one of the best he’s ever had, almost worth the mess he’s made.

Fuck.

Your head’s thrown back, hips rocking at a pace you’d never be able to manage without Steve’s solid hand supporting your arched back as shards of honeyed pleasure start to strike from the oncoming storm of an orgasm. He’d promised to hold back, worried he’d hurt you, but with a groan you start begging.

“Steve let go, come with me, I can take it. I need you, I--”

He whimpers your name and complies, obliging but forceful, his powerful thrusts in perfect time with yours until seconds later, Steve slams his hand down beside you and comes. The very feel of it prompts your orgasm, pitching you forward onto his chest in a sobbing puddle of relief and ecstasy.

Neither of you moves, still connected, as both of you catch your breath.

“Is it me or was that even better than--” You stop, unwilling to say ‘usual’ or ‘before’ because you are not, not going to acknowledge aloud that you have an ongoing sexual, but not romantic relationship with Steve Rogers.

Just thinking that reveals that the hurricane of pleasure earlier came with some piercing debris you’d rather not try to heal right now.

“I’d say yes.”

To be continued...

95 notes · View notes

cup1dt3a · 1 year

Note

Hello, I saw that you were writing for Welcome home and was wondering (If you took requests for it) if you could possibly do a possessive/obsessive (if you want to do Yonder you can!) Wally Darling x reader where the reader has a bird, when weird things start to turn up and objects start to disappear- the comfort of their home grows sour- they end up questioning themselves on what is happening and that they may have a squatter or even a stalker/ intruder who enters the home when the are either away, at work or asleep till the bird starts screeching out "Darling" in the middle of the night and would freak the hell out when ever the reader has Wally or he gets anywhere close to the doll/ puppet?

(Browny points if Reader sees Wally as a comfort object/stuffy)

I thought it would be a cool lill thingy.

If not that is A OK! I only wish for you to be comfortable!

I LOVE THIE IDEA And birds <33 Tysm for the request! And don’t worry I am comfortable with this request tysm for asking either way. Also the bird is a parakeet but I just like the word budgie more! It sounds just sooo cute and fun to say! Hope you and everyone are having an amazing day/night

Warning ⚠️ angst, bad home life, panic attack description

( I might have gone a little overboard with this one so there are some warnings. I’m sorry but the angst gods told me to make ppl cry a river and I had to please them)

“ Aren’t you just sweet?” You cooed out to your little budgie Bean as they nuzzled your face.

“Sweet bird! Sweet bird!” She squawked in agreement.

She was a little green budgie you had recently gotten from the pet store after months of saving. Bean was your dream pet. As a child you would always beg your parents for a budgie and constantly tell them everything you knew about them. But finally after moving out you had finally gotten your dream bird. And they were most definitely worth the wait from how sweet they were. Just a little cuddle bug and sometimes a mischievous little thing. For they had made it a habit of stealing some of your things to make a nest. It was cute but you needed your things back for your work.

After a month of having bean things started to feel odd. Not odd as in pigs flying but as if you were being watched. You knew it wasn’t bean because you would leave her beside one of your windows to have some sunlight in your kitchen. You would move her little “ house” to your room during the day. But at night you would move it to the kitchen due to her squawking a lot. At first it confused you why she would constantly squawk at night, but you thought it was maybe because of some of your room decor scaring her. Once you moved her out of your room to the kitchen she had finally stopped. Poor baby scared of something in your room. You just wished you knew what it was.

You cuddled your Wally plush sighing as you stretched to go see what Bean was screeching about. Your budgie had been constantly almost every night yelling for you. It was concerning. At first you brushed it off as then just having separation anxiety but you were wrong. You needed sleep for work but your small bean came before that. As you went to the kitchen you hurriedly gently got them out of their cadge to comfort them. This wasn’t good. It’s a well known fact that birds could be scared to death. You might have to sadly get rid of Bean if this kept happening. You loved her but you didn’t want her to die because you couldn’t bear to part with her. You gently scratched the top of their head to soothe them.

You had brought them back in your room where Wally sat on top of your bed still. As soon as you got in there with Bean they started to freak out squawking “ Darling! Darling!”

Oh shit! They were scared of Wally. You placed them into their cadge before gently putting Wally away under your bed. They soon stopped calming down finally.

“ Poor baby. I’m sorry I didn’t notice.” You said to the bird.

You felt horrible for not noticing Beans distress over the puppet. How could you not have noticed for so long? Poor Bean.But you still wondered why they would freak out even when in the kitchen. Must be cats or something you thought as you cradled the tiny bird. Seeing them finally ok. Your tired brain had time to wonder what was bothering them in the kitchen later since it was late and you had a shift at 5 in the morning you needed the sleep. Yawning as you pet their fluffy green feathers for the last time before putting them to bed. You went to your own plopping face first onto the bed before snoring the night away. While a certain pair of eyes glared at the finally peaceful bird.

This isn’t going to well at all

“Yeah you know that Wally plush I have? Yeah turns out Bean was just very scared of it.” You told one of your friends as you gave in another order of food to the back.

“ I wouldn’t blame them! That thing is creepy and how long have you had it for again…oh yeah 12 years!” They announced while you rolled your eyes before walking off to your next table.

It’s only been 12 years plus Wally is in very good condition because you may or may not have studied a lot about how to keep plushes in good shape for years. But that doesn’t matter! Wally was just a toy you always had. It felt as if he was always there for you. Listening to your frustrations, rants, bottled up feelings, and even helped you go through the worst year of your life.

Wally was given to you when a friend of yours had noticed you’ve been on the brink of harming yourself for a while. Your home situation wasn’t that good. And they had become worried, so on they gave you Wally. And you just felt a bit of a connection with the doll. It could maybe be that his eyes always looked like they were at attention every time you needed just somebody and Wally turned into your somebody. Sure plushies didn’t work for everyone but Wally did for you so whatever.

As you brought another ticket to the kitchen you had noticed a familiar color of blue poking out of your bag. You rushed to it flipping the top over to see Wally still staring at you with his smile and wide eyes at full attention as always.

“ How did-“ you muttered before being caught off by your boss yelling “_____ keep it moving!”

You hurriedly nodded as put the plus as gently as you fastly could back into your bag. This was the second time you accidentally brought him to work with you. It might have been from habit of always carrying him around but you don’t know you your anxious brain would bring him. You were now scared of being him anywhere except around the comfort of your home. For the fear of losing him, getting him dirty, one of his stitches coming loose, or even one of the cute buttons on his blouse popping off.

You must have just been so rushed today from your lack of sleep and accidentally put him in your bag as you were moving it out from under your bed.

You failed to once again notice the hateful glare threatening your boss as they still had their little yellow head poked out the bag.

Finally after finishing your shift you were called to your bosses office. You dreaded being fired is he going to fire you? Is he sick of you bringing your plush to work by accident. You don’t get that distracted by Wally right? Right?

“ Do you know why I called you here?” She asked while her arms were crossed.

“ No ma’am…am I going to get fired?” You hesitantly asked.

“No _____ but. You need to stop bringing that thing to work! It’s been a distraction to you everytime! This is the second time I’ve had to give you a warning the next time I have to I’ll be letting you go. Do you understand?” She sneered clearly once again upset with your performance at work.

“Yes…Yes ma’am I promise next time to be sure they’re not in my bag before leaving for work.” You promised.

“Thank you _____. But don’t forget that I will fire you if you also continue to daze off during your shifts too.” She remarked as you nodded before turning your back to get out of there.

All the while this time the doll sent a silent threat to your boss. Mortifying her.

Finally home you started to feel as if something was off about it. As you went to see where Bean was they were fast asleep behind their little toy. Yu stared in awe at how cute they were before silently putting some food I. Their cadge when they wake up. Their water was still full and you cleaned it yesterday so they’ll be fine.

You headed off to your room know Bean will alert you when they awake. As you got to your room to try and find some of your pens you noticed they weren’t there anymore. It was odd because you hadn’t had a break to use them in a while so how are they suddenly gone? You then looked for your headphones nowhere to be seen. Even looking for just a hair brush no where to be seen. That’s odd very odd. You used your headphones and hairbrush this morning. How could they not be there. This was creepy. You then looked for one of your oversized shirts once again no where to be seen. All of them except your blue and rainbow one could be seen. You then headed to your bathroom. Toothbrush, perfume, and even retainers gone. What the fuck. What the actual fuck this doesn’t just happen no. Bean couldn’t have done this because they were in their bird house all day. And you knew how to unlock it so… Is there someone in your apartment?

No there can’t be the window is shut, every door still shut, your front door locked, and everything was still as neat as you left it. Do you have some kind of creepy stalker in your house? No no! This can’t be happening you might have just misplaced them? Right you are just forgetful! No one can be in here you live alone with Bean. What if that’s what’s been causing her to squeak out every night. Were they trying to alert you? No, if someone was in here they would have still be screaming out.

You felt too hesitant to go to bed. The lingering question if some stranger being in your house scare you to the bone. You cuddled your Wally plush close to you. Scared. Being full of all the dreadful thing someone could do while you slept. Or even the horrific idea of what they could do to you. Were you just paranoid? Is everything off and you misplaced them all. You didn’t know you were just scared. Tomorrow was your off day and you for once wished it wasn’t just not wanting to be in here right now but at the moment you had no where else to go. You couldn’t sell your house and clean it out because that would take months of work you didn’t have time for. You just wanted to sleep for one night with bean not disturbing you. Why must the world be so cruel with its ridiculous powerful anxiety prone ways of giving you a panic attack? Why does everything go wrong for you? You just wanted to live a good rest of whatever life you had once free from the old place you called home not worried about some stalker.

You held your breath trying to hear if anyone was there. Even as your eye’s watered you still tried to keep it in. But eventually after 5 hours of keeping your eyes open they eventually closed drained from work and too many all nighters.

You woke up with Wally’s head now onto oof yours in almost a hugging position. And a few loud squawks coming from the kitchen. It was 2 pm now. Geez you slept for that long. You hesitantly got up looking around to see anything misplaced. Thankfully nothing was gone or placed somewhere else. You went to the kitchen the atmosphere of your home still as sour as it was when you came in you had seen Bean happily fluttering around wanting you to hug him. Even going as far as to demand them.

“ Hug and Kiss! Pretty bird! Hug and kiss pretty bird!” They chanted making you chuckle.

This is what you needed just this little distraction. Maybe you were just paranoid now seeing your two shirts on the laundry machine. As you turned around with Bean placed o toy our finger to get some food your hopes once again came crashing down. After they seemed to look up a heart gaped apple now laid on your counter white a yellow note beside the now sticky knife.

“ A sweet for my sweet <3”

No no no no no! No! This isn’t happening! No this wasn’t! Why does everything just go wrong for you? You needed to get out of here now. As you hurriedly for yours and beans things you tried to open the door only for it to not budge. How could it lock from the outside the only way to unlock it was in here. You set Bean aside as they tilted their head in confusion. You then started to aggressively try to pry the door open. Even going as far as to beat on it. After an hour of doing this till your throat was sore you stopped.

You were now trapped with some sociopath. You started to hyperventilate sinking down to the floor crying. You didn’t know what to do! Your phone is gone. Because as you hurriedly got everything you noticed it wasn’t on your nightstand.

You felt helpless and trapped. Bean was event running low on food. You don’t want to be here. You just wanted some peace. You’re scared and overly anxious. You’re pretty sure you might have a panic strake from the rapid beating of your heart, the ache in your chest making it too tight to breathe and the endless flow of tears. As you shake out Bean worriedly plops on top of your head while you shaking figure tries to calm down.

“ Pretty bird! Wanna kiss? Mwah!” They squawked placing a gentle constant mwah with every kissing peck of theirs.

“ Oh pretty birds so sweet.” You cooed slightly calming down as the ache in your chest still left you gasping for air.

Just as you were starting to calm down a loud potter patter started to be heard across the floor.

“ Darling! Darling!” They panicked.

You went pale now knowing who your captor was as the familiar wide eyes and wide smile peered down onto you.

Tysm for reading! Hope you enjoyed! I’m almost done with some of my requests so hope you enjoyed this one. And whoever requested this hope it lived up to your standards! Anyways hope you all have a good day or it gets better!

Sincerely -Cup1dT3a 💌

#welcome home wally #wally darling #welcome home #welcome home x reader #wally darling x reader

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chickinscratch · 2 years

Text

The second hermit affected was, shockingly, not Jevin.

The small group arrived below the large slimy pig, at the home of the not-as-large slimy slime, and cautiously knocked. Within a few moments, Jevin arrived at the door, eyeing the four that stood before him.

“Hey guys,” he greeted. “What’s up?”

“Oh good, you’re not more of a pile of goo than usual.” Cleo noted.

“...Was that a concern that we were having?”

“Surprisingly, yes.”

Zedaph recounted the situation thus-far, pausing for Jevin to react appropriately with a variety of “hmms,” “mhms,” and “That explains the death messages”s. “-So that leaves the question, why aren’t you more, erm, slimy than usual?”

Jevin shrugged. “Mimicking other mobs is pretty standard slime behavior. I guess if I am affected by whatever this is, I already act enough like any other slime that it doesn’t matter? Though if any of you get too close I will probably absorb you for nutrients, and that won’t be too pleasant.”

“Noted. Keep us posted if you notice yourself becoming concerningly more viscous or anything of the like. We should probably go check on some more of the others to make sure no one else is exploding or absorbing other Hermits for nutrients.”

“Good luck with that - who were you going to check on next?”

“We were thinking Grian,” Cleo produced the list they had compiled from her inventory. “Then probably Gem, since we already have Doc and Zed accounted for. Have you seen either of them?”

Jevin tapped his chin thoughtfully, which was only moderately successful given his consistency. “I haven’t seen Gem - She’d probably be working on her megabase with Impulse and Pearl. I did see Grian flying around here earlier - I think he was pecking at Scar and pushed him into a hole? But that’s pretty average for them so I dunno if it was related to whatever’s going on. Pretty sure he flew off back towards his rift thing though.”

“We should definitely check there first, then, I think.” Cleo returned the list to their inventory. “In the nicest way possible, I don’t trust Grian messing with weird eldritch whatever on a good day, let alone potentially in some kind of full bird-brain mode.”

“I do believe eldritch interference under the influence of avian is illegal in several states.” Joe added.

“Then you should probably all get to dealing with that.” Jevin waved. “Good luck!”

The band of Hermits arrived at the tor that Grian had claimed for his megabase, scouting for any signs of him. Instead, they found Mumbo. “Hello,” Mumbo greeted as the group landed atop one of the giant rocks that formed the landscape.

“Mumbo,” Cleo greeted in return. “Why are you laying on top of a boulder?”

“Grian has decided I’m actually a stick, and also part of his nest.”

“What?”

“I guess I look kind of twiggish?” Mumbo sighed, awkwardly shuffling from the large pile of miscellaneous sticks and branches he was stuck within. “I knew I was spindly and all, but I didn’t think Grian would literally use me as a stick. He was very insistent on it, too.”

“Why is Grian building a nest?” Zedaph eyed the construction eagerly.

“I think he’s trying to hatch his base.”

“What?!” Cleo repeated.

“And also those easter egg things.” Mumbo added. “Those are definitely in this pile somewhere.”

“Why is he trying to hatch his base?” Cleo’s voice pitched. “Isn’t he messing with interdimensional junk this season? Should we be concerned?”

“I think he just thinks the boulder is an egg, honestly.” Mumbo shrugged, which was quite awkward to accomplish from his position betwixt the twigs. “It is kind of egg-shaped. Also he keeps giving boulders heartbeats, which probably doesn’t help. Not that I’m opposed to bases with heartbeats; I’m quite familiar with those.”

“Y’know,” Zedaph mused, “That does explain how he talked about The Entity like it was alive. Maybe he thought that was an egg too.” “It is another decently egg-shaped boulder.” Mumbo agreed.

Joe peered at the pile of sticks composing Grian’s ‘nest’. As Mumbo had described, the easter eggs were indeed nestled inside the Grian-sized entrance. “I would have expected Grian to nest in a tree, given parrots are arboreal. In fact, especially because they usually nest in pre-existing spaces. I wonder why he didn’t just move into Scar’s base or something?”

“I guess he just decided it was easier to build a nest here rather than try to move a boulder.” Mumbo craned his neck to face Joe with limited success.

“That is perfectly logical.”

“So we can safely say Grian also caught whatever bug Doc has, right?” Cleo said.

Ren shrugged. “Honestly, I could see Grian doing this normally.”

“There’s a bug going around?” Mumbo strained to look above shoe-level.

“Cleo, snakes eat eggs, right?” Joe asked.

“There are very much no eggs here, but yes.” Cleo huffed.

“Are you noticing any of those instinct things Zedaph had mentioned?”

“Again, there are no eggs, so no, I am not. In fact, I’m pretty sure those easter eggs are just more rocks painted to look like Grian. I like to consider myself a pretty reliable expert on rocks.”

“Can your expertise determine how egg-like a rock is?” Mumbo asked from the ground.

A few of Cleo’s hair-snakes hissed exasperatedly. “Shape-wise, that’s more of an opinion, though yes, these rocks are approximately egg-shaped. Physically, the most egg-like rock would probably be limestone or something, since it’s calcium carbonate.”

“Is this limestone?”

“No, it’s not.”

“Not a very eggy egg-shaped boulder then.” Mumbo huffed.

“Has Grian been here recently?” Zedaph interjected again.

“He comes and goes from here every few minutes. He’s mostly just been collecting sticks.”

“Out of curiosity, would you say he’s been acting at all any more, perhaps, parrotish?”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but he’s built me into a nest.”

“Honestly, that could also just as easily be perfectly normal Grian behavior.” Joe noted.

“I am actively being used as building material!”

“Again, not necessarily out of the ordinary. Maybe he mistook you for a redstone block or torch, given how much redstone you usually consume?”

“Honestly, fair enough. I wouldn’t be surprised if I actually emitted a signal at this point-”

Zedaphs ears perked up. “Can we test that?”

“-But I think there are bigger concerns to focus on right now.”

A shrill squawk interrupted their slightly derailed conversation as a very puffed-up Grian landed on top of his nest. And by extension, Mumbo. “Ow.” Mumbo mumbled. Grian ignored him, flaring his wings and tail feathers at the collected group and hissing. Cleo’s snakes helpfully hissed back.

“Huh, I forgot that parrots hiss.” Zedaph said.

“Leave.”

“Oh, fantastic! You’re still verbal. We were having issues communicating with Doc-”

“LEAVE.” Grian fluttered to atop Mumbo’s head, which prompted a new bout of complaints from the designated-stick-and-now-perch. Grian pecked at him a few times until he quieted.

“Mumbo,” Joe sidestepped to stand between the nest and other Hermits. “Since Grian has apparently accepted you as part of his nest, perhaps you could help explain the situation to him?”

“I can try my best,” Mumbo grumbled, Grian’s talons tapping at his head each time he made a noise. “But I make no promises.”

“We appreciate any effort you can provide.”

“Grian-” Mumbo winced at another round of pecks. “Grian. Hey, buddy-” he whistled, which Grian rightened and quirked his head at, giving some reprieve to the pecking. “It’s okay. They’re not here to mess with your definitely, totally real eggs that are not rocks. They’re just here to talk to you.”

Grian squinted suspiciously at the collected group, but seemed to at least calm down enough to listen. He ducked inside the nest, settling delicately atop the easter eggs of himself as if it were a throne, and glared out at the group. “Fine. Continue.”

“They mentioned some kind of bug, or something…? What was the bug thing?”

“Ah, yes,” Zedaph clapped. “You see, earlier Ren found Doc behaving strangely, which resulted in both of them exploding a few times. I had also been feeling a bit strangely this morning, and Jevin and Cleo mentioned potential behavioral changes as well, so I propose a theory that whatever cause Doc’s current condition may be impacting some of the other less humanoid members of the server.”

“Well I feel perfectly fine.”

Cleo’s hair-snakes bristled. “Grian. You are using Mumbo as a stick.”

“He is a stick.”

“You’re nesting on top of painted rocks.”

“Eggs.”

“Those are very much rocks.”

“Your snake tricks won’t work on me. I won’t let you eat them.”

“I am literally a geologist, Grian.”

“And these are eggs.”

“Can we go back to Doc?” Cleo sighed. “He was much easier to reason with.”

“I kind of prefer not blowing up. Again.” Ren added.

“I can still blow you up if you want.” Grian offered.

“No thank you.”

“Probably for the best.” Grian preened at his feathers. “Wouldn’t want the nest to get damaged.”

“As the nest, I appreciate that.” Mumbo said.

“Quiet, stick.”

“Grian,” Cleo took a deep breath, “Maybe you could let Mumbo stop being a stick for a little bit?”

Grian gasped. “Mumbo is an integral stick to the nest! The entire thing would be destroyed if he left! I smell your snakey tricks! You can’t fool me!”

“I am not trying to eat your dumb- rrrgh!”

“This is rather uncomfortable, Grian.” Mumbo whined. “I have splinters.”

“Well of course you do. That’s how sticks work.”

“Griaaan-”

“Don’t tell me you’ve sided with them!”

“Listen, Grian, I will accept being classified as a redstone component, but I think I’ve decided being a stick is a bit much for me! It’s a lot of commitment!”

“Well you’ve got to at least wait until they’ve hatched.”

Cleo made a strangled noise. “They’re ROCKS-!”

“Hey!” Grian squawked. “I’m the egg expert here.”

“SNAKES LAY EGGS TOO!”

“Yeah, but snake eggs are all squishy and gross. My eggs are strong and beautiful. It’s no wonder you think they’re stone. I forgive you for your confusion; it’s a very easy mistake to make.”

Cleo shouted indistinctly, though not indecipherably. Joe found it very decipherable. After all, he was very familiar with Cleo’s miscellaneous grumbles of exasperation and frustration. Many of them were often directed towards him. “What if we came to a compromise?’ Joe offered. “I notice the top of this here boulder-”

“Egg.”

“-Egg, yes, is quite barren and cold.”

Grian nodded. “That’s why Mumbo is such an important stick. He helps keep the nest warm.”

“I’m cold.” Mumbo grumbled.

“What if we helped you relocate your eggs somewhere nice and warm, and perhaps more enclosed? They’d be much safer than up here, and Mumbo could take a break for a little bit.”

Grian shuffled thoughtfully. “...And Cleo wouldn’t eat them?”

“I know just the place where Cleo will absolutely never go.”

"I’m gonna need more convincing.”

“Joe, Mumbo, and I can help carry your eggs, so you don’t have to worry about Cleo or Ren eating them.” Zedaph added. “And I’ll even throw in some of my wool.”

“What about the big egg? I can’t move that one.”

“We could shrink it.”

“You can shrink it?” Grian tilted his head curiously.

“You can shrink it?” Cleo repeated.

“I am a scientist and procurer of extravagant devices; Of course I can shrink it- though we will need to remove your nest and the other eggs from it first.”

“Deal. But if you’re tricking me I’ll kill you.”

“No tricks, my feathered friend.” Zedaph placed a solemn hoof-hand to his heart. “I am entirely invested in the safety of your eggs. Now, you, Mumbo, and Joe take your eggs to ground-level while I prepare for The Shrinkening.”

“And Ren and I will just… stand a reasonable distance away, I suppose.” Cleo muttered, already launching off. Ren and Zedaph took off following her, leaving Joe to help untangle Mumbo from his stick prison.

Grian watched the process like a hawk (or, like a parrot?), cradling his eggs and intensely micromanaging the careful dissection of his nest around Mumbo as to preserve as much as possible (rather than allow Mumbo to simply sit upright). Once Mumbo was free, Grian gingerly distributed the “eggs” as though they were the most precious cargo in the world. Upon close inspection, Joe could confirm they were in fact just some painted rocks Jevin had used in the egg hunt. One at least seemed to be potentially made of limestone, so it probably scored closer to being a real egg than any of the rest.

The trio landed in the forest a little ways from the foot of the main tor. Mumbo stretched liberally, making an assortment of cracking noises that made Joe consider some truth to Grian’s observations of Mumbo being a stick. “I was laying there for hours.” Mumbo sighed. “This is so much better.”

“How would you rate your experience on a scale of ‘minorly’ to ‘quite pants?’” Joe asked.

“I can kill this season, you know.”

“Okay, but how would you rate it?” Ren asked, trotting up to join them. Cleo followed closely behind.

“... It was at least decently pants.”

“Hah, you said the thing.” Cleo smirked.

“This is just not my day, is it?”

Zedaph emerged from the trees, hurrying to join the gaggle of Hermits. “Alright, everyone! Who’s ready for The Shrinkening?”

“You’re certain this is entirely safe, right?” Grian drew his eggs closer to his chest.

“Of course. I would never put your absolutely gargantuan egg in any danger. Now, the process will be a bit strange, but you must trust me, alright?”

“Alright…” Grian cradled his eggs with blatant uncertainty.

“Now, you’ll all have to face away, because witnessing The Shrinkening would be very bad for your retinas, but when I count to three the egg will be shrunk! And also, conveniently replaced with an identical boulder of equivalent size and mass, so as to not disrupt the environment.” Cleo stifled a snicker.

“...This sounds like a trick.” Grian squinted at Zedaph.

“No, no, no! You must trust The Shrinkening. Now, everybody turn around.” The collected Hermits obliged.

“One,” Zedaph counted. “Two… THREE!”

They collectively turned back, Grian practically whipping around to face whatever Zedaph had done. Nothing looked different, save for Zedaph holding aloft… a small, ovoid rock, the same colors as the boulder behind him. Cleo doubled over, wheezing quietly in an effort not to cackle aloud. Grian simply inched cautiously towards Zed, reaching out for the “egg.” Zedaph ceremoniously placed it into his awaiting palm. “One shrunken egg, perfectly transportable and safe.”

Grian stared at the “egg.” Joe could practically see avian and player halves of his brain at war, trying to decide if they had been fooled or not. Finally, Grian gave the rock a gentle kiss and nestled it with the rest of the clutch. Cleo wheezed loudly off to the side.

“Alright,” Grian huffed, turning to Joe. “You promised me a better nest spot. Where is it.”

“Of course, right this way.”

#hermitcraft #grian #mumbo jumbo #mumbojumbo #zombiecleo #zedaph #hermitcraft ensemble #would tag Joe since he's the POV but he doesnt talk much in this one #i didnt expect to default to Joe POV so often but here i am i guess #fanfic #chicken scratch #long post //#Mob Mentality #THE SERIES HAS A NAME NOW YAY #VERY dialogue-heavy this one. i tend to do that a lot.#this is already a very self-indulgent fic cause i like worldbuilding exploration #particularly with player-mob/hybrid behaviors cause like. if theyre gonna be hybrids why *not*#but this chapter in particular is probably my favorite so far just out of Excuse To Write Silly Bird People. aka my favorite.#also this group's dialogue habits are very fun for me to write

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arachnoia · 10 months

Text

26 letters i'll never send | miguel o'hara

in which you write some letters that you'll never send, to your favorite ex-lover...

Things were weird.

Not in a weird you’d compare to pigs growing wings and flying in the sky.

But a weird that feels like only you noticed. Like you thinking you’re being watched or noticing some things were missing. They weren't but you felt a heavy weight on your shoulders.

You're not crazy. You swear.

You decided to write, so your unhinged paranoia could lessen a bit at the moment.

If you were to direct a point in time when this current feeling started, it would be when you broke up with your lover.

Or dare you say, ex-lover.

It's also the time you started to write these letters where you can let out all the suffocating feelings you've had since you broke up.

Actually you didn’t break up with him.

Things were great until your past lover ripped everything apart.

His name was Miguel O’Hara.

That name was nice to say, it slid satisfyingly on your tongue. It was smooth like butter.

Small phrases made your heart burn as you said them with his name.

“Oh yes! I’m Miguel O’Hara’s lover!”

“Miguel O’Hara? He loves me!”

or even

“Miguel O’Hara? Yeah, he cheated on me.”

You couldn’t deny that now, you feel a pang in your heart as you remember even the way he smells, which is still on a certain sweater you can’t bring yourself to throw away and burn.

It’s comfortable and reminds you of how it feels like to be in love.

The way he’d smell, the way he spoke, hell even the way he walked, gave you butterflies in your stomach.

Actually, it felt more like dragons but butterflies sound more whimsical and dreamy.

Even the way he’d make love to you. He wouldn’t fuck you.

No, you would never say he “fucked” you. Because every time it happened, he would make sure pleasure came to you first, that your high was reached steadily and smoothly.

Then why? Why would he do this?

Why did he let your love crumble as his love for another woman was building?

If you were to ask him, which you never did, he would probably give a bullshit answer to make you feel better. To build your ego when him cheating on you wreaked it and tore it down to pieces.

As much as your heart felt shattered, you couldn’t help but think if he thought it was worth it.

22 years of friendship thrown to the drain.

You’ve known the man since he was 5 years old and stuck through him in primary, high school, and university, and even was his co-worker at Alchemax.

So why?

All these thoughts blurred in your mind like a whirlwind, making you grip your pen in anger and despair.

You were shot back to reality when you felt a thin, wet substance, and that's when it occurred to you.

You stabbed your desk with the pen, ink bleeding through the tip and black splatters on your hand as your hand shook.

Why does it matter? It was just a stupid pen. You can buy another one and it's probably going to be better than this pen.

It broke immediately when it was under pressure...

You bit your lip and sighed.

It's just like me.

He wanted kids and you felt pressured and terrified because you were just 27.

You haven't even reached mid-age and didn't want to be held back with the responsibility of caring for someone else who hasn't even experienced the world and life's cruel realities.

You sure as hell weren't ready to introduce someone to them.

That was two days before you found him, naked and on top of some random woman.

You assumed she was from Alchemax as well because she left her I.D. card on your nightstand.

She was sleeping on your side of the bed.

You peered to your left where you leave your compiled tower of letters.

Around 25, for each day that he left you for her.

More like 26 including the letter you had right now.

The apartment felt lonely. It felt cold.

Even though he was a grumpy, mean, cold bitch, it didn't mean he didn't have a heart.

That's what you thought but backtracked.

If he had a heart, he wouldn't abruptly leave you.

You stared at the ink-stained paper, folded it, and placed it inside an envelope where you wrote his name in cursive.

You started to grab your letters and your lighter and headed to the top of your apartment complex.

You felt empty. In a good way, you think.

This is the moment where all those feelings, all those letters, all that time, turn into ashes and burn away, leaving some time to finally rebuild.

As for that pen? You planned to fix it later.

4am drabbles type beat !!

#miguel o'hara #spiderman #miguel ohara x reader #into the spider verse #spiderman 2099 #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel x reader #miguel o’hara imagine #spiderman across the spiderverse

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starsfic · 9 months

Note

Had

Had a

Had A Thougt

Someone, (Probs Red Son) asks how long have Tang and Pigsy have been dating, to which Mk says "They aren't dating just very good super Best Friends™" and Tang and/or Pigsy who was sitting nearby says "Mk, we have literally been married since before you were born"

13!

Red Son liked timelines and planning. Long Xiaojiao could confirm that with his thousand page teaching manual (“It is not a thousand pages.”

“It looked like a thousand pages.”

“I’m pretty sure you mistook five hundred pages for a thousand because you’ve never read.”)

In any case, Red Son wanted a timeline for his courtship of Qi Xiaotian. It would be mostly theoretical, considering how both might wanted different speeds. More important, however, was that they had both admitted interest, wanted to get married, and wanted to have at least two children. Red just liked to be on top of things.

The issue was that you couldn’t just…map something like that out. You could only compare other couples against other couples and see if you could figure something out. (At least in his opinion.) Red had asked his parents, and the fact that they had gotten married after their third meeting baffled him. Now he sat next to his hopeful groom-to-be. The pig was cooking and the scholar was reading a book. Both were distracted. So that left Qi Xiaotian.

“So, how long have the pig and scholar been dating?”

“What?” Xiaotian looked up, eyes wide and confused. Red raised a brow back. What was the weird look for? Everyone could tell that they were at least dating.

“I was doing…a study,” Long Xiaojiao had called his attempted timeline “controlling.” He didn’t want to freak Xiaotian out. “And I was curious about the amount of time between beginning to date and marriage.”

“Oh!” Xiaotian chuckled. "They aren't dating.”

“...uh, what?”

“Yeah, they’re just very good super Best Friends™.” Xiaotian turned to his drawing. Tang looked up from his book as Pigsy poked his head out. “They’ve been like that for years!”

Tang blinked. “Xiaotian, we have literally been married since before you were born.”

Xiaotian blinked. Red blinked. He could practically see the gears turning.

“WHAT?!” Crayons went flying as Xiaotian slammed his hands down. “But…but…I’ve never seen your guys’ wedding pictures! You guys never celebrate your anniversary!”

“Because there wasn’t a wedding!” Pigsy snorted, pulling out a necklace. On it, a pretty gold ring gleamed. “Tang got impatient and decided to submit a marriage certificate and proposed to me when the confirmation of it came in the mail!”

“And we’ve never agreed on the anniversary date.” Tang sighed.

“Because you were too impatient to wait until summer! Zumu was pissed you ruined the engagement party!”

“How was I supposed to know there was gonna be a party?! We were together for a decade at that point!”

As the argument brewed, Red sighed.

Maybe Xiaojiao had a point about the timeline.

#Freenoodles #Freenoodleshipping #Spicynoodles #Spicynoodleshipping #LMK #Monkie Kid #LEGO Monkie Kid #Red Son #Tang #Pigsy #Qi Xiaotian #my writing #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #prompt fill #prompt fic

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bisayawa · 1 year

Text

mama & the stranger ; alejandro vargas/fem! reader

― fluff, meet cute drabble, reader is regarded as mama (by dog) & once, as a pretty girl

desc: ever wanted to see a meet cute through the eyes of a dog?

i love mama. i love mama so much.

mama loves me, too.

mama gives me food, the yummy, little rocks in the bowl. sometimes, what she eats, she gives me, too. chicken, cow & pig ― sometimes green stuff. she makes sure i'm healthy.

mama gives me water, gives me baths, make sure i am clean. mama brushes my hair, and... puts her mouth on my head? i do not understand mama sometimes but i understand that we love each other.

mama plays with me, too. we run around the house, the grass, go to the outside and see friends! i like the food game. it is the best game. she gives me a toy & i bite it & chew it & put it in my mouth, like food.

she laughs so hard, and it is a weird sound, but i like it. it sounds like mama, and not like any other person in the world.

―

i love the days when mama let's us go to the outside. mama had sit down days & run days when we go to the outside. today was a sit down day.

sit down days means i can run around the trees and chew on sticks and jump into dirt and mama sits down in the grass.

but no matter what day it is, i should always come back to mama. always.

today's sit down day, mama had paper in her hands. she looked at the paper so much. it was weird, like the many things she did, but it was mama. weird mama. she sits down near a tree like she did before.

there was a stick near her leg. big stick. rough stick. perfect stick! perfect to run around with! perfect to chew to bits! perfect for play! perfect stick perfect stick!

ooh! the wind is so nice today. not so hot, not so cold. when it is too hot or cold, my feet start hurting, and when feet start hurting, i cannot run proper. i cannot chase birds or make the leaves fly up into the air.

hm, stick or birds? there are birds near the bottom of the tree... but there is a stick in my mouth...

wait...

oh!

i was so busy running and chewing with the stick that i almost forgot! mama! she is alone at the tree! her tree!

i need to go back i need to go back!

mama! i'm coming back, mamaaa!

mama?

...hey, who is this?

there is a person standing in front of her? tall, big, he can hurt mama if he wanted to. he's... looking at her too much. that's bad.

hey! stop tha ―

―

bark bark!

"oy, bruno, hey."

the dog skitters to your side, eyes staring down the newcomer. he sits by, like a sentinel, back straight, shoulders stiff, distrustful.

"bruno, hey," you smile. sunlight shines down & haloes your hair. "this is alejandro. a new friend, no?"

your eyes are alight when you look up at him. alejandro's chest feels like it's constricting.

you wave your hand urging him to come closer, sit down, to meet bruno properly.

and alejandro does.

he sits with you in the grass, nervous as he is, and leans closer.

you take his hand (he could have fainted right there) and lead it to bruno's nose.

―

grrr mama!

mama's hand is holding the stranger. if i bite him, i bite her, too...

hng, he smells... like dirt... a little like fireworks... hm, lemonsito?

he must have been eating. gah, who cares, why is mama still talking to him?

―

bruno looks away, indifferent to the new friend in front of him.

"hm." the fine line of your lips quirk down. your brows squinch. "he's not normally this shy."

"ah, well, that's alright," says alejandro, still staring at the pretty girl. "big bruno doesn't like strangers with his owner."

―

that's right!

―

"i gotta go, but ey, maybe next time he'll warm up to me."

he leans back & rises to his feet.

"well, next time, then." you say.

alejandro smiles, waves & walks away.

you feel like your heart just tripled in size.

―

mama? mama! why is your heart so fast!

it is like a car inside her, pushing away, so loud. mama, is something wrong? mama, is it because of stranger?

―

"bruno, i'm okay."

he's pressing his head into your chest, looking up with his ears down, asking what is wrong.

"i'm fine, baby," is what you say. to assuage his uncertainty, you kiss his forehead.

"puweh! you're dirty!"

―

mama put her mouth on my head again, and then she said i was dirty.

i did not know it was wash day today but mama always remembers.

i guess we are going home now! no more stinky strangers going near mama!

― - -

the stranger finds us again, at the same tree. he smells different this time. still a little fireworks but there is a more... big bleh smell, like the smell of the little blue bottle mama likes. i think it is too big for my nose.

they are looking at each other again. too much. mama knows a lot but i do not think she knows that looking into eyes is bad. looking into eyes mean you want to start a fight.

see! look! the stranger is showing his teeth! so aggressive!

he is not moving! this stranger wants to fight!

―

bruno is stiff beside you, rigid in the way he stands. he's almost pulling away from the leash, eager to run.

"bruno, baby, wait a minute," you console, voice sweet as honey on a pastry.

alejandro's ears perk at the amorous way your lips say the pet name, feeling his cheeks heat up.

―

they are still talking. stranger looks... grey ― he is going grey. we should go. we should go.

mama, please, listen, please please.

―

bruno is whining now, near the precipice of tears.

"bruno, baby, please, few seconds."

you finish typing in his number, waiting for the text to get sent.

it sends & bruno piques at the ping of a notification.

―

they're still talk ― we're going! we're going! we're going home!

car! ah, we go to car! we go home!

―

you slam the door in, securing bruno's seatbelt before your own.

"you almost lost mama a date, you know?"

the engine roars to life. bruno tilts his head just slightly.

you look to him, chuckling.

―

mama? huh, date?

note: so,, this was a thing. idk might make a part 2.

note ii: there is now a second part.

#alejandro vargas #alejandro vargas x reader #alejandro vargas x you #colonel vargas x reader #colonel vargas x you #call of duty x reader #cod mw2 #call of duty #mwii #my fic.

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multifandom-nerds-blog · 7 months

Text

Thinking about Ducktales again. More theoratical analyzing. More ranting. More precisely about Ducktales humanity. (Less a biological take, more societal and historical)

I don't remember if there were any monkey or ape characters, but nevertheless evolution in the Ducktales world decided that, nope I don't like apes, it's gonna be primarily birds, ducks specifically who turn human

But it's not only birds, there also mammals, both carnivores (I think more of those?) and herbivores, yet again, birds are still the majority.

So whatever it was that caused the evolution, my take is that it's more birds simply cause "birds" were just already far more wide-spread around the globe due to their natural flying abilities pre evolution. And Ducks, cause, Idk, ducks are everywhere.

Anyways, the "animals" were probably evenly hit by evolution in general, but a lot of other species (lions, tigers, subspecies like pandas) in the wild were bound by territory. Ergo, due to more birds existing all over the globe, more humans in the modern age ended up being part of bird species cause they were more wide-spread in the beginning due to pre-evolution times. Also certain areas having more dangers (stone age, bronce age, I'm not sure how the early ages are called) for humans then others being a reason why some species exist more than others. (Again, human lions or tigers might have not been able to build bigger civilizations in early history due to having animal lions or tigers as dangers) (I know lions and tigers do not live in the same are btw, even if it might sound like that)

Now... Birds are basically the top of society in the Ducktales universe. They are more. They are everywhere. They are much more dominant. And I have thoughts about discrimination and the irony of birds that are "prey" being the majority of Ducktales humanity, but I should not only make a separate post for this, but also really sort my words so this doesn't end up sounding to weird.

Going back to the society: It somehow happened that human animals and animal animals live together. And in a way mostly similar to us. Pets exist. Feeding ducks with bred crumbs is a thing (that scene is why I'm writing this post). And people eat cheese, milk, eggs and meat.

Now, I don't know which is weirder. A human dog having another animal dog as a pet (hello Goofy) or a chicken eating chicken soup? (Huey wanted to give Scrooge chicken soup while Gyro was sitting on his computer and he didn't react. I guess cocked/baked duck/geese/turkey is also being eaten) Does it not count as cannibalism if it's not a conscious human, or do chickens just not eat chicken, pigs no ham and so on?

I am very much aware that this is just a disney show, targeted to kids mostly, and that those characters are all animals because they've always been animals. But I'm going between things like Zoomania and Beastars where the whole humanised animals topic is actually being discussed and also used to cover racsim as a topic, to things like Sing and Kung Fu panda where everyone just simply is an animal cause it's animation marketed to kids. Then we have Ducktales. And well, Bigotry, discrimination and racism isn't the topic of this show, obviously. It's about adventures and familiar relationships and drama. WHICH IS GREAT. No question. But then you have Penumbra being weirded out at conscious ducks feeding non-conscious ducks, and the whole 4th wall break episode in season 3 showing us that at least some people were very much aware of the undiscussed implications a show with only animal people has. Even if it's supposed to be a silly kids show.

Feel free to comment under this and reblog, cause I would really wanna know what others people thoughts about this are and maybe discuss it a little bit.

#disney ducktales #ducktales 2017 #ducktales #analyzes #More or less at least #tv shows #tv show analysis #I might also do one of my rantings about the biological aspect of different species becoming human #But that was also probably been done like a hundred times

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dear-departed · 2 years

Note

hello been reading some of your stuff and will probably continue to read it after i get this out of my mind but i was playing obey me and thinking:

i could not deal with living in the HOL. i have plenty of patience, but the constant fighting of the brothers, lucifers pride stopping him from admitting he is wrong, mammon selling things that dont belong to him for grimm, levi holing himself up and being lowkey manipulative with his self degradation causing you to spend time with him, satans short temper and occasional threats that terrify me, beel constantly eating everything in the house (i have a high metabolism and am very protective of my food for reasons unknown), and belphie sleeping constantly (plus the fact im still kinda salty about being killed in chapter 16 and then him just, acting like it necer happened) and them taking up all my time

basically id go insane, and want to know if you could write a story (long or short) about me sneaking over to purgatory hall, leaving a note saying ill see them at RAD. what id do with the residents (baking with luke, potions and magic with solomon, reading and maybe writing with simeon) and the brothers reactions to me leaving without telling them in advance and being gone so long (a night to a whole weekend)

thank you!!

Hello, Love!

I like this idea, and I totally get what you mean, I don't think I could handle not getting my proper alone time.

I tried my best with this, it got kinda rushed near the end because it was 4 in the morning and I just wanted this baby finished and over with. I loved writing it!

Some of this stuff is very much based off my childhood memories (wet, damp, grass smell is a big thing) and my interests (writing and baking with Simeon and Luke, but MC already knows a little about each) but I hope you enjoy regardless!

MC is gender neutral, and as a prefix, Mx. is used

Warnings: Mild angst, some deep conversations with Solomon, but not much, also Solomon just being a little shit for funsies, mild angst, crying Mammon

Word count: 7k

‘Please, dammit, just let me get through this chapter without another distraction.’

The ruckus downstairs was enough to let you know that this peace and quiet you’ve been enjoying for the past 10 minutes wouldn’t last long.

The noise, that damned noise downstairs. You’d only gotten through a few pages of the book you were reading. Each sentence needed to be read a few times to actually soak into your mind, every grueling detail difficult to take in.

Upon hearing a hasty knock, then the door being burst open, you knew it was over. With a defeated sigh, you slowly shut the book, not bothering to save the page. It’s not like you’d gotten that far anyway, so what was the point?

Mammon and Levi were both quick to storm into the room, Mammon holding up a Ruri-Chan figurine, which was about the size of a beer bottle.

“You greedy ass, give it here!” Levi desperately held out his hand, looking wound up and about ready to headbutt his older brother.

“No way in hell would I give this to you! Do you know how much it’s worth! And besides, I found it, it’s mine! Unless you can cough up 8 thousand grimm, I’m gonna sell it online!” The second born sat himself next to you, far too close than you were comfortable with at the moment.

“I would say until pigs fly, but you’ve got wings, jackass!” Levi directed his eyes toward you, then back to Mammon. “And plus, it’s not fair to barge into MC’s room and push this onto them! I seriously doubt they want to deal with one of my weird hermit problems!”

You let out a deep sigh, a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding in ever since you heard that knock. “Mammon... just, give him his action figure back.”

“No! Do you get how much this is worth?!”

“Mammon, Avatar of Greed, I command you to give Leviathan, Avatar of Envy, his figurine back!”

It wasn’t worth it to try and reason with him, especially not today, you reasoned. You watched as Mammon’s breath hitched, his mouth falling agape as protest as he groaned, his arms shooting out to hand Levi the action figure back.

Leviathan’s eyes damn near sparkled when you said that. He hands hastily snatching the figurine to his chest, grinning as he blushed, “oh, MC! I really didn’t expect you to actually stick up for me, you’re the best!”

Mammon’s arms dropped back down to his sides, his chest heaving as he sucked in a few quick breaths. “Are you serious, MC?!”

“Don’t look at me like that, you shouldn’t have taken it in the first place.” You hummed. After a while at The House of Lamentation, you learned that Mammon being angry wasn’t really anger. You learned that he almost didn’t have the capacity to truly be mad at you, especially when he knew you were in the right.

He stayed seated, trying to formulate his next smart comeback. He ignored the yelling that erupted from the kitchen. You, however, couldn’t seem to get it out of your head. His next words were a blur to you. Between your rare alone time being interrupted, you just being overall tired, and the dull, aching, pain in your head, everything just came back a little fuzzy.

“MC? Hello? Earth to MC?” Leviathan asked as Mammon waved a hand in front of your face. “Ya okay? Ya seem kinda... out of it.”

“Yes! Yes, I’m fine, I’m perfectly fine, just need a second, so just...” You set your book aside, scooting back on the bed, away from Mammon. The muted warmth radiating off the demon was beginning to get rather uncomfortable, on top of everything. “I’m just... I need a second.” You repeated, hoping, praying, to something out there that they would get the memo and just leave.

“Okay, okay!” Mammon stood up, taking a few steps back. But alas, he didn’t make his way toward the door.

“I mean I need a moment alone. And by a moment, I don’t mean just go out of the room and come back in a minute, I mean please leave me alone unless there’s an issue that you can’t just solve yourselves.” You rubbed your temples, your headache increasing until it felt like the veins in your neck would pop.

“I knew they didn’t want us around, who would?” Leviathan grabbed Mammon, dragging him by the back of the shirt out of the room. Thankfully, Levi is an introvert, and knows the importance of completely shutting someone’s door before leaving. At least that’s one thing.

The yelling from the kitchen was obviously Satan, nobody could mistake it. That strained screaming, where his voice cracked and his voice got deeper, less refined than normal. You could almost see him now, threatening Lucifer, who wouldn’t dare take any part in admitting that he did something to piss Satan off.

When this whole shitshow started, you might’ve gone down to check on it, but it always ended up the same. Someone would get to you first, complaining about someone or something. Christ, it was like you were their only relief in this household.

A thought suddenly crossed your mind, one not too unfamiliar to you. What would happen if you just packed up and went to purgatory hall for a day? Or a few nights? Maybe it would give the brothers some time to get themselves in line, and it would give you time to cool down before you snapped, got your neck snapped. Again.

No, no, you couldn’t. Leaving them would be cruel, especially without any warning? What if Lucifer got pissed off and told Lord Diavolo? And what if Lord Diavolo got upset in turn?

Or what if you just asked Lord Diavolo? He always seemed to be decently understanding. After all, he’s been near the demon brothers for hundreds of years now, he knows how tiring they can get.

So without any further considerations, before you decided to chicken out, you pulled out your D.D.D, opening up Diavolo’s contact.

MC: Lord Diavolo? Can I have your opinion, or blessing on something?

Diavolo: Of course, what is it, MC?

You hesitated for a moment, typing and retyping the words you were about to say next. Should you ask to call him instead? No, someone might hear, and lord knows they’d go feral.

MC: How would you feel about me staying at Purgatory Hall for a few days? Just to cool off? All of the brothers are getting to be a bit much. I hope you understand, and it’s alright if you refuse.

Diavolo: Haha! Of course, you may, those brothers are always so rowdy, I understand! I’ll send over someone to escort you tonight.

Diavolo: And don’t worry, I won’t tell Lucifer, it’ll be our little secret for now

MC: Thank you, Lord Diavolo

He sent an emoji, that one of the Red Devil winking, with its hip jutted out to the side. At least he’s understanding.

The title of a ‘Demon Prince’ was always super intimidating, every portrayal of one like Diavolo was always tyrannical, sadistic, and an overall ass, and there was always this part of you that expected him to respond to you like that.

Great. So now all you had to do is pack a bag without any of them knowing. Which is, arguably, the hardest part of this whole thing.

♥

Just as you thought, packing your bag was hell, all puns intended.

You pretended to take a shower, or in other words, you grabbed a bunch of clothes and a duffle bag and shoved everything you’d need for the weekend into it. A few different outfits, a comb, toothpaste, toothbrush, a stick of deodorant, that sort of stuff.

It felt alien to you. You’d only ever packed to leave the house after the exchange program had first ended, or whenever you went on trips with the brothers.

But as you got a text from Barbatos after some of the brothers had gone to bed, the remaining ones too busy to be out of their rooms at this time of the night, you felt kind of bad. Frustrated, yes, but something in your heart tugged you toward this chaotic bunch. It’s not like you were leaving forever, but still.

Alas, you neatly placed your note on your bed, doing a double-take around the room before hauling your bag up onto your shoulder, your shoes hanging by their laces on the strap of the bag, and stepped out of the door, swinging it shut, then carefully turning the knob and shutting it, making as little noise as possible. You were fully aware Lucifer knew you were out of your room, but that didn’t matter.

As you passed the kitchen, the distant noise of soft grumbling radiated from the dim glow that radiated from the fridge. Satan was going to be pissed about that in the morning, you noted.

You crept further down the hall on soft footfalls, the silver moon bouncing off the walls, the pictures on the walls basking in the familiar sunless Devildom sky.

You felt eyes upon you, but something kept you from turning around. If they were going to stop you, or say something, they would have by now. Your hand lurched for the doorknob, slowly starting to turn the cool metal beneath your warm fingertips. It moved no further. Of course, it would be locked.

You carefully set down your bag, holding the handle with one hand and carefully turning the lock with your other. A soft click sounded from the inner mechanisms of the old lock, proving you successful. You pulled the door open, picking up your bag again and shutting it behind you. You locked it, then took a moment to slide on your shoes finally.

The headlights of the chauffer's car shone in the dull, cold, night. All according to plan.

As that thought passed your mind, you felt the stare burning into the back of your skull dissipate, like a shadow sliding back into its corner, as if it’d been washed away by a cool bucket of water. Yet it left no release.

You walked toward the car, watching as the driver got out and walked to the back of the car. They stood strong, with their hands folded neatly in front of themselves. “Mx. (Last name), welcome.” They greeted, their gloved hand delicately opening the back door, nodding their head toward the seat. Lord Diavolo certainly hadn’t left any room for error, had he? Despite Purgatory Hall being a short walk away. To be fair, though, the Devildom isn’t the safest place for a human to roam at night.

You scooted in the seat, setting your bag to the side. “Thank you, really.”

“No worries, Mx. (Last name), it’s nothing short of my duty.” They offered a polite smile as they shut the door, moving back into the driver’s seat. They glanced at you through the mirror, “Purgatory Hall, correct?”

“Yes.” You traced your finger over the perfect stitching on the leather seats of the car, which smelled faintly of Lucifer’s unmistakable cologne.

As the car pulled away from the House of Lamentation, you slumped further into the seat, letting out a quiet sigh as your muscles relaxed, the anxiety that burned deep in your marrow slowly letting itself loose.

The gentle humming of the car was like a lullaby to your racing thoughts, the way it buzzed as it cruised down the road, it brought you back to different memories in your life. Long car rides at night, riding the bus, the way you used to squint when you were at stoplights to see how blurry you could get the lights to seem, the dank and musty smell of freshly mowed grass after a long day.

It didn’t take long before the car eased to a stop outside Purgatory Hall, the chauffer locking eyes with you through the mirror, that same, sterile, smile catching your attention as they looked at you. “We’ve arrived, I will stay here until you get inside.”

“Alright.” You unlocked and opened the door, slithering out of the seat and tugging the bag along with you. “Thank you, again, I know it really can’t be convenient picking random people up, especially at this hour.”

“Again, it’s no worries. And after all, Mx. (last name), you are no stranger. You’re a friend of both Lucifer and Lord Diavolo.” The driver assured.

You shut the door, walking around the back of the car and making your way up the short path to the front door. You knocked four times before stopping and listening closely for anyone inside the house. After a minute or two of crashing, groaning, and somebody from inside very obviously falling straight on their ass, a light turned on.

A tired-looking Simeon opened the door. “I... what are you...” He squinted, then blinked, seeming quite dazed. You could see the gears turning in his head, before his mouth went slightly agape, his crackly voice going “ohh... I remember now! Come in, come in.” He stepped aside, a loving grin tugging at the edge of his lips, which had a little bit of wet drool leaking off one side of his mouth.

You stepped into the house, the scent of vanilla hitting you square in the face.

Luke veered the corner, Solomon sluggishly following behind him, rubbing one side of his butt, a pained look wrinkling his features. Luke looked tired, but undoubtedly gleeful to see you. “You’re actually staying with us for a few days?!” He grabbed at your wrist, grinning a bit.

The small angel quickly caught himself, “it’s not that I’m happy about that or anything, I mean, I see you all the time! But... I’m happy you’re here!” He put a hand on his hip.

“I’m glad I’m here too, Luke.” You gave the top of his head a gentle pat, returning his tired smile. “I’m sorry to wake you all, and to kind of like, invade your home, even if I did let you know beforehand. I’m just...”

“We get it.” Solomon attempted to tame his hair, only paying attention to you half way. “Those brothers can get really tiring. It’s like, I love them, but even things you love can make you upset sometimes. It’s like listening to the same song on repeat for three hours, but it’s a song you love. You need to take a break from that song for a while before you can enjoy listening to it again.”

“That’s a good analogy, Solomon.” Simeon nodded, giving you a comforting smile. “Do you want a hug? I know times like these can be stressful, and sometimes it can feel like everything around you is just all happening at once, and you want some space from them, I suppose?”

“Yes, please.” You shuffled closer to Simeon, Luke’s soft hand falling from your wrist as you wrapped your arms around the older angel, burying your head into his chest. Jasmin, chamomile, flowers... ugh. You allowed yourself to slip further into his embrace, noting the sudden warmth now connected to your side, Luke. They were warmer than the demon brothers, who were slightly cool to the touch.

Solomon watched from a couple feet away, his eyes filled with want as he stared into the empty spot at your other side. Eventually, he gave in, sinking into your familiar warmth.

Despite not spending nearly as much time here as you did the House of Lamentation, this place felt just as much like home as the other.

After a moment of comfortable, admittedly warm silence, Simeon pulled away, his delicate hands resting upon your shoulders, a smile gracing his angelic features. “I have no doubts you’re exhausted. We already have a place for you to sleep, how about we get you set up so you can get some good, undisturbed, rest?”

“That sounds heavenly.” You sighed, finally realizing how heavy your eyelids were.

He let out a soft laugh, brushing his hand against your cheek. “Well, we try. Solomon, if you don’t mind, can you take them over to their bed area? Luke and I will get them a cup of tea ready.” He and Luke pulled away from you, as did Solomon, who slowly nodded. “Sorry, almost fell asleep on you there.” he giggled, squinting at you. “I can’t stay up as late as I did before, being immortal takes its toll. Come on.” He nodded toward down the hall, making his way through the house with you hot on his tail.

“Luke and Simeon were overjoyed when they heard you were coming.” He said, his slippers making soft patting noises on the hard flooring. “So am I. I feel like we never hang out outside of studying. Maybe I can steal you away for a while, who knows?” He trailed his index finger along the wall, eventually stopping at a series of doors. “They decided to set up your sleeping arrangement in my room. Feel free to freshen up in the bathroom, you can sleep on the bed, I’ll sleep on the couch, unless you’re open to the idea of sharing a bed.” He paused, appraising your reaction.

You felt your face heat up, the tips of your ears becoming hot as you laughed, shaking your head as you stared at the floor. “You’ve been spending too much time with Asmo, I swear.” You set your bag by the sofa.

“Well, I’ve only known him for a few centuries, I wouldn’t say too long. So... was that a yes?”

“Solomon, I’m not taking your bed, I’m the guest, I’m sleeping on the sofa.” You shook your head, sitting down on the sofa, taking one of the throw pillows and placing it beneath your head.

“Well then, I guess we’re sharing the couch. I’m not sleeping on the bed either. As you said, you’re the guest, and you came here to feel comfortable.” He clambered onto the couch as well, humming triumphantly at you as Luke and Simeon both entered the room, a few cups of warm “sleepy time” tea in hand.

“This should get you nice and sleepy if you weren’t already, or at least calm you down.” Simeon placed two of the steaming cups onto the coffee table, placing coasters beneath them. “Be careful, it’s really hot.”

You made a mental note of now Luke’s cup wasn’t steaming, and he in fact had his other hand wrapped around the cup. Simeon definitely cooled it down for him, how sweet.

“Thank you, again. I know it’s a pain, but like you said, they get overwhelming sometimes.” You stared into your cup, the honey-colored liquid reflecting back yourself, someone who had gone through many big events and changes since you arrived in the Devildom. Someone who had died, come back to life, went through many death threats from various demons, including those closest to you.

And yet, a lot of the time, you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. Despite how unforgiving it is for humans, it’s oddly comforting.

“Really, MC, it’s no problem. Even in the celestial realm they were a bit much at times.” Simeon leaned down, planting a goodnight kiss on your forehead. “Now, you should get some rest. Don’t let Solomon be too mean to you.” he teased, giving your cheek a gentle pat before both he and Luke left the room, shutting the door behind them.

Solomon dipped his finger into his tea, muttering a quiet spell into the liquid, in a tongue you didn’t recognize. It must have been a spell he hadn’t taught you yet. “What’d you do to it?” You quirked a brow, watching as he chugged the cup down.

“I turned it into gin.” He smirked, looking up at you through his frosted lashes.

“Solomon!”

“Just kidding, I cooled it down. Want me to do the same for you.?” he wiped his mouth on his sleeve, clearing his throat a little.

“Sure, if you don’t mind.” You scooted your cup of tea out to him. He dipped the very tip of his finger into the piping hot contents of the cup, muttering the same, soft, incantation before pulling his hand away. “Alright, should be fine, test it.”

You carefully picked up the cup, tipping it up just enough to touch the liquid to your lips. “It’s perfect.” Somehow, he’d gotten it to the perfect temperature. You took a long sip, savoring the lightly sweet, floral, drink. It slid down your throat smoothly, warming your body just enough to be oh so satisfying.

“I’m glad.” He idly watched you drink your tea, playing with a piece of loose thread in one of the cushions of the sofa, thinking of his next words. “I’m not supposed to say this, but Simeon’s making pancakes tomorrow morning because you decided to stay over. Don’t say anything to like, though. He’ll go feral; you know how much he loves Simeon’s pancakes.” He let his eyes stray, slowly beginning to stare straight through you.

He was knocked out from his daze when you set your cup down. He shook it off, grabbing both of the cups. “I’ll take these to the kitchen; you get comfy on the bed.” He smiled, the little dark circles underneath his blueish brown eyes, which showed up very prominently on his pale skin.

‘nice try, old man.’

He made a graceful exit from the room, but you couldn’t help but notice how he hobbled slightly. Damn, how had had he fallen on his ass?

You pulled your D.D.D from your pocket, half-expecting a flurry of texts and calls from the brothers. All you were met with, however, was a few stray texts from Diavolo and Barbatos, briefly letting you know that the driver was there, or asking if you’d gotten there safely. You assured them you had, setting your phone in your bag.

Solomon returned a minute later, quirking an icy brow.

“...Damn you, Solomon.” You feigned annoyance as you climbed onto the bed, slipping beneath the covers. “I’m not having you sleeping on the couch, either. Come here.”

“Roger.”

♥

You awoke to the sweet scent of pancakes wafting through the air, and the weight of Solomon sliding off the bed. You let out a soft groan, rolling over onto your back and staring at the ceiling. It was so relaxing to not be woken up by Mammon bursting through your door, so nice to not hear someone screaming downstairs.

“Good morning, sleepy head. You slept like a rock last night.” The sorcerer chuckled, turning his back to you as he took off his shirt, swapping it out for a fresh one. Right, today was a weekend, nobody had school.

“H... wha?...” You moaned, the feeling of sleep slipping through your fingers as you slowly sat up, still not entirely able to tell if this was a dream or not.

“I got up a few times, and let me tell you, you didn’t move at all. You must’ve been really tired.” He grabbed a pair of pants and some boxers and whisked himself off to the bathroom, leaving you in a blurry daze.

You rubbed your eyes, trying to shake off the fog clouding your mind. Oh right, you snuck out without telling the brothers anything.

You groggily got out of bed, feeling both the most well-rested yet the most tired you’d ever been in your life. You quickly changed, trying to finish up before Solomon came out of the bathroom.

Hesitantly, you picked up your phone. Surprisingly, though, you only had 13 texts. Which may seem like a lot, but... all of the brothers texted once or twice, Lucifer told them to give you some space in the group chat, messaged you that he was sorry for any discomfort they may have caused, and that seemed to be that. Sure, they moped, but you didn’t get any calls, no texts, after that.

With that off your chest there wasn’t a lot to worry about anymore. No upset brothers, just mildly tickled demon men, which you could live with.

“I’m back, let’s get to the dining room.” Solomon stood by the doorway, bowing his head lightly, motioning you into the hallway. You followed along, with all the lights on, you were fully able to take in the vivid and rich paintings lining the walls.

Upon entering the dining room, you see Simeon being the perfect malewife, I mean being very helpful.

He’s setting the table, a large plate of pancakes in the center, with plates for everyone in their respective places, your plate was placed between him and Luke.

Luke was also being helpful, bringing out a carton of milk and juice, setting cups and silverware next to everyone’s plates. It was obvious he was trying to contain his excitement, his lips were pursed, barely suppressing the grin that lay beneath his attempt at a calm façade.

“Breakfast is served!” Simeon said in his melodic voice, his tone wafting through the air the same as the smell of the pancakes. A gentle smile graced his features as he eyed you up and down, tilting his head. “I heard you slept well?”

“I slept great, I hope you did, too... even though I did wake you up to stay over.” You smiled in return, earning a blush from the angel.

“MC! You have to come over more often! I mean, please come over more often!” Luke took his place at the table, looking absolutely thrilled.

His favorite people all in the same room, with his favorite food, all in a good mood. Nothing could beat this moment, right here.

You, Solomon, and Simeon all sat in your respective places, chatting while peacefully chowing down on the awesome breakfast that Simeon had made. You let them all know about the texts you’d seen, and they were happy to hear that the brothers at least agreed to give you some space for the time being.

“It’s really peaceful here” you remarked, shoveling a forkful of pancake into your mouth.

“Yes, I do think it’s peaceful here, for the most part. After all, including you, the house does have eight people. That’s a lot of people all at once, and including you, we only have four, so really, we’re just less crowded. And I do admit, some of the brothers are crazy in the mornings.” Simeon laughed, covering his mouth.

“This is really good, Simeon.” Solomon leaned an elbow on the table, sending you all a little grin. “I think I should make breakfast tomorrow morning. It’s only fair, you and Luke already cooked, so I think I should take over tomorrow. After all, I’ve been looking at this new recipe for w-”

“NO! NO CHANCE IN... I mean...” Simeon cleared his throat, nearly choking on his bite of pancake. “Luke and I are more than happy to cook, it's our hobby, after all” He smiled. “There’s really no need to overwork yourself, Solomon.”

“Oh no, I insist. You really should look at this recipe, Simeon. I think adding my own twist would make it taste better, though.” Solomon took a swig of juice.

“Your food is really, really... special. I just don’t think our stomachs are used to how good it is, so-” Simeon started, only to be cut off by Luke.

“You suck at cooking-”

“Luke!-”

“Sorry! It just slipped out! Not even Beel can eat It, though!”

You couldn’t help but put your head in your hands and laugh, tears forming at the corners of your eyes. And the worst part? You knew Solomon was aware how awful his cooking was. He just didn’t care.

“I’m sorry, Solomon, but he’s right. I think there’s a 50/50 chance that you either die or become immortal when someone eats your cooking” You gave the sorcerer a playful glance, who winked in return.

♥

Apparently Simeon gets the most motivation in the mornings.

He invited you to shoot some ideas back and forth for one of his up-and-coming books. This mostly consisted of you attempting to teach him how the hell to run the “word” program on his computer, which he so kindly got from one of Leviathan’s suggestions.

He’s still amazed that it turns on.

But imagine his fucking shock when you boot up Microsoft word. His eyes go wide and he started exploring all of the options.

Every single one of them.

He knew what a lot of them were, the font options, alignment, things like that, but what the hell are ‘wingdings?

“Simeon, those are pretty much colorless emojis but for a Microsoft word document, you don’t need those to write. Those are for like, flyers, and pamphlets, y’know?” You pointed back to the ‘home’ tab, but he stayed on the ‘insert’ tab.

“How do I get these on my D.D.D? I haven’t seen these emojis on my phone.” He began to browse through them, littering his document with hearts, cartoon spider webs, smiley faces, everything under the sun.

“You can’t, Simeon, I’ll show you those later, let’s just start with the ideas.” You put your hand over his, directing him back to the ‘home’ tab. His shoulders slumped a little, yet he nodded. “You’re right, I need to actually start.”

For a while, the two of you just snacked and had drinks while he bounced different novel ideas off you, listening to your opinions on different plot ideas.

Eventually, he pulled out a notebook and laid his head in your lap, tapping a pen against his lips. “Now, what are some good side character names? I’m running low on names I haven’t used before.” He clicked the pen against his temple, scribbling on the corner of the page to make sure it worked.

“How about... Elyssa?”

“Oh, that’s a good one! Like... a high elven princess, I can see her being this regal figure, morally grey.” He kicked one leg onto the other, humming softly as he jotted the name down.

“Harris.”

“I’ve used that one before.”

“Uh... Astrophel!”

“That one, too.”

“Vivian”

“Okay, okay, that’s good, I don’t have any ideas for her, but I’m sure some will come eventually.”

“Ezra.”

“I like that!”

This went on for who knows how long. Sometimes he would just set his notebook down while you idly raked your hands through his hair, trying to think of more names after you ran out.

♥

Next was baking with Luke, apparently, Barbatos had “assigned” him lemon meringue cookies, and Luke would be damned if he failed an assignment from one of his mentors.

He pulled out four eggs, turning to glance at you. “Do you know how to separate the whites from the yolks?”

“yeah-”

“Do NOT separate them with your fingers! Because if you do, the oils from your fingers-” he wiggled his fingers in the air “-will keep the proteins from whipping up in the egg whites! Because fat keeps things from whipping up unless it is fat based. That’s why we wiped the mixing bowl with lemon, because it’s acidic, and cuts away any remaining fat in the bowl!”

You were vaguely aware of this, but hey, why not let the kid have his fun being smarter than you?

“Yes, Sir Luke!” You saluted, taking the eggs delicately in your hands. “And I’ll make sure to crack them in a separate bowl so I don’t get any shells in them, either.” You assured, pulling out another, smaller, bowl. You cracked them over the sink, saving the yolk for later and putting the egg white into the other bowl.

“I’ll get started on the syrup.” You heard Luke working on the stove behind you, humming a soft little tune to himself as he focused. You appraised the egg whites, carefully placing them into the mixing bowl after you picked out any shells remaining. “What now?”

“Start the mixer on medium, and add in this when it gets foamy, catch!” he tossed you a small plastic container of a white, powdery, substance. ‘Cream of tartar’, the label read.

“How much do I put in?”

“Only a teeny tiny bit, ¼th of a teaspoon, there should be a spoon for it inside the 1/2th.”

“Roger that.” You did as told, deciding to muse the kid “so, what’s this for?”

“Oh, cream of tartar is to stabilize the egg whites! After a certain point, egg whites can get too whipped and deflate! So, when you add...” you tuned him out as you eyed the egg whites, watching them get foamy, then as they grew in volume.

“It’s awesome you know all of this, Luke, it’s really impressive.” You turned back to glance at him, to see his face bright red.

“You think so, MC?... I don’t know what to say...” He stared at his shows. “Thank you, it means a lot that you think I’m smart, and not just some dumb little kid.”

“Of course, I don’t think you’re just some dumb kid, Luke. You’re in direct contact with Michael, after all. I know he’d only ever choose the best angels to help him.” You ruffled his hair. “I like how you appreciate the little things, like how you really like Simeon’s pancakes, and how you won’t say it, but you actually don’t mind demons. They’re nicer than you thought, huh?”

“...Yeah. They are. I like Beel. He's scary sometimes, but I know he cares about his family, kind of like how I care about you and Simeon. I think of you all as family.” He sniveled, looking up at you and wiping a tear from the corner of his eye, quivering smile tugging at his lips. “You’re the best family I could ask for.”

Who knew an angel with such a sweet tooth could be sweeter than what he bakes?

After calming Luke back down, which apparently, he’s a happy crier sometimes, the two of you got back to work.

He picked up the boiling pot of sugar syrup and you helped slowly pour it in while the egg whites were still mixing. “It won’t scramble, don’t worry!” he stated proudly as he drizzled in more of the syrup.

Slowly, the egg whites in the bowl became stiffer and glossier until the entirety of the syrup was in the mixer. Then, you both added yellow food coloring and lemon extract.

The oven, preheated to 225 degrees Fahrenheit, or 80 degrees Celsius, was then ready for the freshly piped meringue, in perfect, crimped peaks.

They turned out amazing after a few hours, the lemon flavor bursting through the foamy sugar like a delightfully sour surprise.

♥

Lastly, you decided to join Solomon in his room to study, which was fun, to say the least.

He knows how to have fun while also keeping you engaged, playfully casting harmless spells on you, having you taste-test potions with short-term effects.

“Now, add the chopped bits of the poison fire coral to the cauldron. That’s right, good.” He guided your hand with the scoop toward the cauldron, directing you carefully.

“Is it supposed to do that?” The liquid inside the pot began to spurt and sparkle, sending little bits of flame flying toward you both. He didn’t flinch as they landed on his bare skin, dissipating instantly.

“Perfectly normal, just stay calm.” he checked his watch, seemingly counting the seconds.

“and... twelve! See, it stopped!” He gestured to the cauldron, which did indeed, cease with the whole ‘spewing fire’ thing.

“Now, try it.” He dipped a glass spoon into the shiny, bright red, liquid, holding it close to your lips. It burned your nose lightly when you sniffed it, not really having a smell, just kind of burning.

“Isn’t poison fire coral deadly?”

“Oh, very, but this potion neutralizes it. Trust me, I use it all the time.”

Hesitantly, you sipped the smooth, slightly thick, potion from the spoon. It sent shooting pain down your throat, as if a million fire and were crawling up and down your innards. “Oh, my gods, that hurts!”

“Just wait a second.”

Sure enough, the pain went away as soon as it came. “What did that even do besides hurt me?”

“Blow me.”

“WHAT? SOLOMON!”

“No, I mean like, blow air at me!”

You let out a puff of air through your lips. A bright reddish orange flame spewed from your delicate lips, reaching out to lick his cheek, like the hand of a deadly yet seductive mistress. The fire caressed his skin lightly, not daring to light his hair aflame. In fact, he seemed unphased by it, as if it wasn’t warm whatsoever.

“I can breathe fire?!”

“Kind of. Try to blow on your hand.” He instructed.

You did as he said, noticing that the flame felt slightly cool, an exact parallel of what you’d felt in your throat moments earlier.

“It only lasts for a little bit, only about 30 minutes. I have an antidote, if you’d like one.”

“As long as it can’t catch anything on fire, I’m fine with having this for 30 minutes, count me in!” As you excitedly talk, little bursts of flame expelled from your lips, wisping past your hair.

He chuckled, leaning on his arm. “You know...” he shook his head “I quit befriending mortals because so many of them die whenever you’re super close to them. Yet oddly enough, I can’t stop myself from being close to you. You’re like trying to resist... gee, I’ll say, you’re like trying to resist sin itself. But I’d say you’re the best sin out there.” He stared into your eyes. “Damn you for being a human. I might just have to turn you immortal with me.”

♥

Back at the house, before you’d woken up, Mammon ran to Lucifer, freaking the hell out, waving your note in his hand like a madman. “MC!... Lucifer, bro, it’s MC, th-they ran away, a-and... they said they ran away but I don’t believe it because why the hell do they need to run away they just said that needed to go to Purgatory Hall for a break but why wouldn’t they just tell us?! And Lucifer we’ve gotta go lookin’ for them becasue only dad knows where the hell they are now! What if someone just wrote like them? There are a lotta people in the Devildom who would kill to hurt or take them and I’m worried and...” He sucked in a breath of air, choking on his sobs.

Lucifer furrowed his brows, snatching the note from Mammon, going over the note a few times. “I’m calling a family meeting to see if anybody knows about this. We will contact Lord Diavolo if there is reason, but we don’t have suspicion to believe that they were captured. Here, seem like you need it.” Lucifer offered Mammon a sip of his water, who just shook his head.

Dammit, why was he so bothered by this? Why did it rub him the wrong way? Was he sick in the head or something for assuming that was where you’d gone? Or was it a normal reaction? Either way, he just... he had to know you were safe. Regardless of if you probably were, as your first man, it’s his duty to know you’re safe.

Everyone gathered in the living room, half worried sick, the other half of the brothers not really surprised at all.

“First order of business.” Lucifer folded his hands neatly on his lap. “I did hear MC awake last night, they walked out of their room, I know that. I heard them. But I need to know if any of you saw them leave, and if they were alone.”

All of the brothers stayed silent and still, all but Belphie, who quietly raised his hand. “I saw them leave.”

“And you didn’t stop them?! What if they get hurt?!” Mammon exclaimed, “are ya crazy?!”

Belphie shook his head “no, I didn’t stop them. They were checking their phone when I saw them. I was trying to get Beel back to our room. I saw one of Lord Diavolo’s cars out the window. I think they’re fine. They had a bag and everything. I really do think they just got overwhelmed.” He curled up on the sofa like a cat, laying his head on his arms.

“Oh.” Mammon stopped having what appeared to be a heart attack, shiveling as he wiped up his tears. “Well... so... they’re fine? I was worryin’ over nothin’?”

Nobody responded to him as Lucifer drew his phone from his pocket. “I’ll call Lord Diavolo just to double check, but thank you, Belphie.”

“yeah.”

Lucifer dialed up Diavolo, who answered right away. “Hello, Lord Diavolo? You’re on speaker. My brothers and I would like to know if you had a car pick up MC last night.”

The demon prince’s giggle came clear through the phone, a failed attempt at stifling his glee “I won’t tell, Lucifer. I’ve been sworn to secrecy~”

“So, I’m guessing that’s a yes?” Lucifer rubbed his temples with a quiet yet exasperated sigh.

“...You see right through me, Lucifer! Yes, you’ve caught me.” He pouted.

“Understood, I will inform my brothers to not contact MC until further notice, thank you for the explanation, have a nice day. Goodbye.”

“...So, they’re fine.” Mammon put a hand on his chest, taking a deep breath. “Okay then. I don’t, how will I keep myself entertained?”

“Figure it out yourself, I’m taking a nice long nap with a body pillow.”

“I think I’m gonna go to Hell’s kitchen.

“I’m taking a self care day!”

“I’ll update MC on the book I’m reading when they return.”

“I’ll get some good manga for MC to read when they get back!”

“...I might go to the casino.”

“Mammon, I will string you up if you dare go within 500 feet of a facility that inhibits gambling.”

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spacedustmantis · 2 years

Text

so... episode 73, huh?

I've been having a lot of thoughts about gillion and his approach to emotions, and it's all been kickstarted by the last episode

(spoilers for the just roll with it riptide campaign up to ep. 73 below, also discussions of multiple not so nice topics, such as self-hatred, lack of parental figures / abandonment, atlas personality, physical and emotional abuse, isolation, neglect and indoctrination. be safe.

also i am very aware that most of what I'm gonna say is not necessarily new to a lot of people and it's by no means a revelation, this is supposed to be more of a getting-my-thoughts-in-order kind of post. I don't really have a structure planned for this one, so get ready for a lot of rambling and don't expect a conclusion or anything of the sorts

also every english teacher on earth is gonna hate me for this, but I'm not providing any context. this analysis is not gonna do you any good if you aren't familiar with the rough plot of riptide. I'll do my best to make it clear which scenes I'm referencing in case you want to watch / listen to them to refresh.)

basically this whole thing started bc I thought that gillion was behaving quite strangely this episode (ep 73). of course, considering his situation (everything he's learned about his "purpose" in the episodes before the feywild, being in a phase of change and finding himself etc.) and the catalyst being the kidnapping of pretzel, it's not surprising to see him act differently, but what threw me off was that he was hugely inconsistent in his behavior.

now if I wasn't aware that charlie is an absolute improv and acting genius, I might have waved this off as the player being unsure of the best approach, but charlie doesn't only know how to be in character, he also knows said character impossibly well. he's proven again and again that he understands gillion's situation and the effects of his life on him to a tee.

and so I took a closer look at the inconsistencies to figure out a pattern. surprise, surprise! I did!

most instances I found have to do with his projected intent and mood, and his actual intent and mood.

after pretzel got kidnapped, gillion took an oath of vengeance and, very in line with that oath, started acting scary, forward to the point of aggression and very, very angry.

yet despite his demeanor he does not resist when asked to cooperate by the staff (who as far as he knows works with the very people he suspects took pretzel), offers dirla his help with their stolen cub and shows genuine interest in helping everyone who's lost someone to the pig girl, and goes out of his way to save the pixie that fell off of the flying pug. and even though it might not come across that way because of the weird mix of behaviors, he still tries his best to be as polite and well-mannered as possible. these are all things that gillion would have done before, but now contrasted by this sinister act, that he seems to only half commit to, they feel weird.

one instance I wanted to highlight was the conversation he and jay had with the pixie in the big tent. here is where gillion gets really upfront and explicitly aggressive (even though his attempt at kidnapping failed) for the first time, and he immediately gets interrupted by a sudden outpour of emotions when the pixie tells him that her pet weasel is called peanutbutter. charlie tells us ooc that gillion broke out in tears because he saw himself in her. what that means is that he saw a person who clearly loved their pet a lot and gave them a food related name, and the resemblance to him and his own pet was enough to break through his normally very strong emotional barrier (we'll come back to this) In Front Of Other People!

this reaction could be due to the pixie and her weasel reminding him that he very much misses his own beloved pet, or because he gets hit with the realization that this pixie could also lose her pet, or, most likely, it's a mixture of both. normally both of these would act as a motivator to get going and fix things, but gillion instead just kinda falls down sobbing.

the way he talks to the pixie shortly after he broke down, also shows a weird juxtaposition between his tone of speaking, which is extremely childlike and sounds very vulnerable for once, and the words that he says (talk about murder and torture) which again ties into the previously established inconsistency.

all of this leads me to the most obvious hint at what is going on with gillion and why he behaves the way he behaves: the fact that he breaks down crying the second he's by himself. it's like a big, red, sparkly, blinking arrow that points us to the source of everything.

gillion is putting on a facade. one that crumbles the moment he is alone.

and sure this is pretty obvious - we've known that he isn't really one to be vulnerable - but the moment I actually sat down to think about what this facade would mean for gillion, all of the above listed inconsistencies (and more) started making perfect sense.

to understand we need to take a look at what we know about his upbringing.

what we know of course is the whole deal with being raised as a weapon for the elders, being taken from his family, his training etc. but we actually know shockingly little about his relationship to the elders and his day to day life. all we have are implications and speculations. however, even though not much has been confirmed, most things we learn about gillions childhood work together to create a picture and we can fill in the blanks with relative ease.

we aren't given a specific age that gillion was taken by the elders but we know that he was already in training by age eight (gillion's first secret in the meat room ep. 52) and I think it's safe to assume he was taken way earlier, seeing as the prophecy and the incidents surrounding his birth (allegedly) lined up perfectly and the elders would have been informed immediately, since the whole prophecy thing is a huge deal to them. (Edit: as of ep. 79 we know that he was taken at age five or younger)

we also know, thanks to the description of young gillion in ep. 72, that he was bruised and wearing "clothes and armor that's a little too big for him". so the elders clearly had no issue harming a small child (even if it was due to the training, you don't just hurt a kid like that) and the not-fitting clothes indicate serious neglect. even form-fitted armor would not have been a huge trouble for the elders, the literal highest authority in the undersea, to get.

the isolation from any friends or family (except edyn) gillion experienced while in training isn't even just implied, it's outright stated multiple times, most notably during the conversation with edyn in ep. 58, when she is talking about pretzel being intended to help with his loneliness. the elders even held control over how much he was allowed to see his sister and restricted the frequency more and more the older he got.

in that conversation gillion talks about how he was not the best student and had to take "extra lessons" (Edit: we now know that these extra lessons stem from the elders refusal to explain their expectations to gillion, ep. 77), and how he did not get much time (if any at all) for hobbies, which leads me to believe that any deviation from the intended path (such as misbehaving or interests in non chosen one stuff) was punished and beaten out of him, figuratively, or even literally.

the elders made gillion do stuff he did not want to do (also ep. 58, same conversation) (Edit: also ep. 75) and did not let him do stuff he did want to do, and still he holds an unwavering trust in them for a very long time even after he was exiled, a clear sign that his perception of the elders as rightful authority has been really deeply ingrained in his brain. not once would he question the elders since to him they are infallible.

and of course we are all quite familiar with the very core of gillion's story; the ideals instilled within him by years and years of influence by the elders and the prophecy: the very black-and-white view on morality, the "greater good" being much more important than his own life, the undersea being superior to any other faction and the clear correct choice once gillion's destiny rolls around, the idea that he carries all of the responsibility for literally every creature of the undersea and also every other person or creature (in that order of priority), the justification of murder (as long as they're "evil" of course) and the notion that he is only of any worth if he can be a weapon for someone to use, or a shield for someone to take refuge behind. (all of this is displayed in his behavioral patterns over the course of the campaign and I won't be digging out any scenes for you to go back to. if you aren't familiar with these patterns why are you here? /lh)

all of this paints a picture of abuse, neglect, isolation (and the distance from actual society that comes with it, which in turn results in easier manipulation), control and indoctrination, not to mention the absolute abandonment from his biological parents.

the amount of psychological issues that stem from this is enough to fill a whole book:

a lack of self-worth bordering on self-hatred and a very self-sacrificial nature, abandonment issues, an atlas personality (if you can't infer what that means through context clues, google it, it should be the very first result) and trauma from the elders' abuse.

the following part will only really talk about the last two, since they are the most relevant to how gillion approaches his emotions.

the whole facade that gillion puts on again and again is essentially one big trauma response. as many have already observed, gillion has two very strongly contrasting sides to him. one is his more "true" self which shows more and more as he stays with the riptide pirates. he starts finding joy in otherwise "useless" activities such as joking around and even pulling pranks (ep. 42), he stands up for himself instead of just others, and he begins very slowly and cautiously opening up to his friends.

certain situations (his friends being in danger, a village in need of saving, an insult to his honor) tend to trigger the other side of him (which used to be the only side that ever saw the light of day) to show: heroic, righteous, strong, but also closed off, self-sacrificial, and afraid of failure. part of this side, or this trauma response, is this facade. he falls back into old habits, habits that used to keep him alive: do the right thing even if it means the death of yourself or an enemy, if in doubt the undersea is superior, be on your best behavior, and whatever you do Do Not show weakness.

on top of all that comes the atlas thing, the idea that the world is resting on his shoulders and it's his job to fix everything.

so he restrains any show of emotions not just because back in the undersea that was dangerous, could get him in trouble, but just as importantly he was taught that his own emotions come last and being emotional could harm others. and it's his job to help everyone else no matter the cost.

and this explains pretty much all of gillions behavior this episode, especially if one considers that he is very emotionally affected by pretzels disappearance, which means that it is much harder for him to keep up the act. the mix of threatening and weirdly polite, his oath to get vengeance and yet not hurting anyone who might have been involved with the kidnapping, the stark contrast between cornering the pixie and collapsing on top of her sobbing, are all a result of all of his different pre-established patterns and systems of how to function clashing, and so of course it's a mess. he's angry at the pig-girl, rightfully so, but that also triggers the anger towards the entire world he's in that isn't intrinsic but has been instilled in him by the elders. he wants to be threatening but his instincts tell him to be well-behaved. he feels like he cannot let anyone see how he's actually feeling but he's so strung up that it only takes the name of the pet of a stranger to make him cry. and he expresses the most amount of emotion he probably ever has in front of others while talking about harming and killing people.

even the very fact that he made the oath of vengeance points us to his childhood; the moment something happens which he does not know how to solve otherwise, something that he cannot deal with in the same way he deals with other things, he makes an oath, or a deal, or a bargain. it's a pattern that's wormed it's way through the entire campaign ever since his talk with niklaus hendrix (ep. 8) and found it's beginning in his original paladin oath, one he took due to the conditioning and expectations of the elders. (my theory is that he finds something comforting in making a deal with someone higher up in the food chain than him. fucking freak.)

another interesting aspect to look at under this new light is his initial reaction to finding pretzels bowl empty. first thing he does is scream. multiple times. to me that is a very clear very vulnerable expression of emotion. and then - he does nothing. until he's prompted to break the mirror by jay. and it's only until after that plan fails that gillion starts his whole vengeance spiel, which we now know is most likely an attempt at fixing things the way he should as instructed by the elders. in that short period of time before that he is aimless. he's just gillion and he lost his pet and he doesn't know what to do. in that moment his initial reaction is utter despair, pure emotion, and once he had time to gather himself that's when he doesn't see any other way than to do something painfully familiar. and with that also comes the whole barrage of old behavioral patterns that lead to him acting the way he does.

so that's this episode, but of course, similar, less obvious cases are sprinkled all throughout the campaign.

the one that immediately comes to mind is the fight for honor between him and chip (ep. 15), where the moment his honor is wounded, he opts for a fight to the death, even though at this point he already considers chip his friend.

or in ep. 8, insisting on a fight with niklaus and even going for a second round after getting downed by niklaus in one hit, and then accepting a deal that he knows is bad news, all because it would save the mayor and his daughter (because, quick refresher, they could have just let the mayor die and that would have lifted the curse). and "what is one more burden" right?

or the fact that he still sees having fun with his friends as an actual literal sin!! (ep. 71)

or letting jay down him willingly, even removing his armor (ep. 53)

and so on and so forth. there's probably a lot of subtle one-liners or passing ooc remarks, that I can't remember, but you get the gist.

the gist being that gillion grew up not being gillion, but The Chosen One instead. and now that he has the freedom to be both, there are some really messy consequences, and it's actually incredible what a grip charlie has on all of these layers and behaviors and I get more and more fascinated by him the deeper I dig.

we have not even touched certain aspects of gillion's character and journey, there's his fish out of water issue, very subtle hints that he might have been suicidal at one point, not to mention what his banishment from the undersea did to him. but all of that is another conversation entirely.

anyway! I hope you enjoyed this very all over the place, rambly analysis post, even though there's not many new thoughts or revelations in here and I basically winged it! the moment I started this train of thought on saturday I just couldn't get to rest until I put this whole thing together.

now I finally know peace.

can't wait for the next episode on friday to disprove all of what I said

(also please feel free to add onto this, tell me how I got it wrong, derail the post etc. I love reading other people's thoughts on stuff I say)

(@wrinklemcdinkle

@snails-in-spaceships

@keenscribbles

@poly-pirates-my-beloved

@enby-ralsei

@littlefoxwithbighat

@burning-sol)

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slusheeduck · 1 year

Text

In Which Yuri Plisetsky Definitely DOES NOT Have A Crush

This is an oldie that I wrote for an anthology that ended up only having two chapters, but it's still something that consistently makes me smile when I read it, so I figure I could share it again on its own.

----------------

As much as Yuri liked to say that he knew he was right about everything, he was painfully aware that sometimes he made mistakes. He usually managed okay, because he was awesome and yelling seemed to fix most problems. Case in point: he found Viktor after flying to Japan despite not knowing a lick of Japanese purely because he yelled his name a lot. Yelling worked.

But, after this mistake, yelling didn’t work. Punching his wall didn’t work. He even tried to flip his bed, but it was too heavy, so he kicked it over and over. But that didn’t work, either. So, for the first time in his young life, Yuri had to think about how to fix a problem. And he might…

…have to talk to someone.

But who? Grandpa? No, Grandpa would listen, but he wouldn’t really get it. Mama? No. Ugh, god no, she’d coo over him and tell him how cute he was being. Mila would do the same thing. Georgi would start crying probably. Maybe Yakov? He wouldn’t get it. He did still have Viktor’s number…

No.

Viktor could never know.

Surprisingly, this whole…issue didn’t start until after the Onsen on Ice bullshit. Clearly, whatever weird practice regimen Viktor was doing with Yuuri was working, because he ended up winning. Even though Yuri was clearly the better skater, the minute that stupid pig got on the ice, something changed. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him. Yuri wasn’t sure if it was Katsudon’s face or steps or some sort of weird black magic demon stuff (which, admittedly, would have been really cool.). So he decided to watch some of his old videos to find out what it was. Know your enemy and all that.

This had been the mistake.

Before this, he’d only seen the pig skate at the Sochi GPF. He’d been impressed with his short program—and even more impressed by the death glare he’d given the camera while waiting for his score. Most skaters were all smiles or tears in the kiss and cry, but not Yuuri Katsuki. That’s the kind of skater Yuri wanted to be next year: stony-faced after success, too confident to be moved even by a personal best score.

Yuuri Katsuki was so cool.

But then there was the free skate. And Katsuki had just fallen to pieces. He fell, twice. What was wrong? Was he sick? Yuri wondered if buying one of his posters had been a bad idea. Maybe it had jinxed him.

If Yuri’s faith in Katsuki had wavered during that terrible skate, it was renewed when he went to the kiss and cry. Again, there was that death glare to the camera! So cool!! Yuuri Katsuki didn’t give a shit and it was awesome!

Once the final was over (Viktor had won again, big whoop. Yuri would fix that next year) and Yakov was off yelling at Viktor for whatever reason, Yuri slipped away. He was going to find Katsuki. He had to meet this cool, collected skater face to face. He’d probably have better tips for next year than Airhead Nikiforov.

Yuri pulled the hood of his jacket up and stuck his hands into his pockets, slinking through the halls. He had to look cool when he talked to Katsuki. It wasn’t like he was a dumb fanboy or anything. He was basically an equal. They were just gonna talk. Like skaters. Cool skaters.

It took him a minute to realize the nerdy guy with glasses walking down the hall was actually Katsuki. He looked so different on the ice. Maybe it was to deflect the tons of fans he probably had. He was so much smarter than Viktor; stupid Viktor just kept making the fan problem worse. Maybe getting a pair of glasses would get those damn Yuri’s Angels off his back.

Well, he’d get cool glasses. Like, cheetah print ones. But still.

Yuri focused as he watched Katsuki slip into the bathroom, phone out. Huh? What was he doing in there? Maybe he was going to fire his coach for making him lose! Ohh, that’d be cool to see! Yuri slinked out from the hall and leaned against a wall for a moment. He didn’t want to be creepy. So he waited, just for a little bit, then slipped into the bathroom.

Immediately, he heard sniffling from the middle stall, and someone speaking in a language he couldn’t understand. Probably one of the sucky Juniors. Yuri was always surprised at what babies the other competitors could be. Some of them were even older than him.

Well, let that baby cry. He was looking for Katsuki. He had to be in here somewhere, letting his coach have it over the phone. But all the other stalls were empty, save for the one the crying was coming from. So…

No.

NO.

Yuri stared hard at the stall. This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t. It couldn’t be Yuuri Katsuki crying in there. But he was so cool! So collected! He looked like he was gonna murder someone in the kiss and cry! So how could…why would…

As Yuri’s view of his new idol crumbled before him, he shook slightly. Rage began to fill him, and before he could stop himself, he kicked the stall door as hard as he could. A little yelp came from inside. Then, slowly, it opened.

Yuri glared at the man—if he could even call him that after crying like a little girl!—who opened the stall. Stupid Katsuki with his stupid glasses and his stupid falls. Katsuki froze up right in front of him, looking terrified. That just made Yuri even more angry. Where was the scary face he was wearing earlier?

Where was the Yuuri Katsuki he had seen on the ice?

He tried to find what to say. How could he bring back the other Yuuri Katsuki? The cool one? He glared for a moment longer, then pointed at Yuri.

“Hey.”

Katsuki didn’t respond. Yuri grit his teeth.

“I’m competing in the Senior division next year. We don’t need two Yuris in the same bracket.” Yuri spat out the name. To think, just a few hours ago he thought it was cool that they had the same name. “Maybe you should just retire already…” The rage bubbled out of him, and he shoved his face as close as he could to Katsuki’s as he yelled, “LOSER!”

He deliberately kept his walk slow as he exited the bathroom, making sure his words resonated with Katsuki. Hopefully he’d see it as a challenge. If one Yuri loved facing a challenge, the other would, too, right? Right?!

As he slunk down the halls, he came across Yakov.

“There you are! I swear, Yuri, you’re just as bad as Viktor when it comes to…” Yakov trailed off, catching the glower still on Yuri’s face. “Yurochka? What’s wrong?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it!”

This dumb…thing did kind of explain a lot. It explained why he put up with Katsudon’s drunk bullshit at the Banquet. Sure, at first, he’d taken the dance contest as Katsuki’s attempt to challenge Yuri back. But…well, he was kind of fun and actually not a bad dancer (though Yuri was better) and…

Ugh. No. Focus, Yura.

It also explained why he didn’t immediately tear up the poster of Katsuki when he got home. He’d actually put it up on his wall, naturally, as a reminder of who he had to beat. Next year was going to be a competition of honor. He was going to make Katsuki work if he decided not to be a loser and retire. And maybe once in a while he’d laid in bed and stared at it while marveling over how Katsuki was so nerdy and awful off-ice, but how he was absolutely breath-takin—

Goddammit.

Anyway. Back to after Onsen on Ice. As mentioned earlier, he’d pulled up every video he could of the pig’s skating before the Grand Prix Fuckup, as a way to gauge what he did that made him so spellbinding. He watched his routines from Juniors, from the Japanese Nationals, from his practice sessions in Detroit. He watched them all again. And again.

The question of why Yuuri Katsuki was so amazing on ice wasn’t answered.

But the question of why Yuri was so obsessed with him was.

And he hated it.

So now he had to win. He had to train harder. And he told everyone that it was because that stupid pig had taken Viktor from Russia, so he had to prove that he didn’t need Viktor to win the GPF this year. And every time he saw an update of Katsudon’s progress, he was that much more motivated to be better than him.

Yuuko was the worst thing that ever happened to him. She reminded him of Mama, honestly; all enthusiasm and supportive of him even from abroad. She even kept texting him after Onsen on Ice and listened to his bitching about Lilia and Yakov.

That wasn’t why she was terrible. She was terrible because she kept giving him updates about the pig. Sure, some of them were prompted by him, but damn it, it wasn’t like he could stop himself from asking about stupid Katsudon! She should know not to tell him!

She was also terrible because she was teaching him Japanese. “In case you come back,” she said, sending a stupid little heart emoji. Granted, it was hard to learn Japanese via text. But one of the things that stuck was how to write his name.

ユーリ. プリセツキー.

If he’d had literally any other name in the world, that would have been cool to know. He’d write it everywhere, because Japanese looked cool and he could brag about it. But one idle thought, tapped out in a moment of weakness, had ruined this forever.

“is that how the other yuri spells his name too?”

Given the amount of emojis that followed, Yuuko’s nose was probably gushing blood. (Because that was just a thing that happened to Japanese people???) He shut his phone off immediately and hid in his room for the next eighteen hours.

Most of that time was spent kicking his bed enough to scare poor Potya off of it while blasting loud music over his headphones to drown out the shame.

A very small, insignificant part of it was spent listening to some dumb love song he’d downloaded on a whim. And, while listening, he definitely didn’t get teary over the injustice of being so misunderstood in the seriousness of his situation, and he sure as hell didn’t write out, in tiny, tiny characters, “Юрий + ユーリ”before scribbling angrily over them.

He wasn’t some sap.

Yuri really needed to burn that damn poster.

He’d brought it with him to Lilia’s to motivate him. To remind himself why he was fighting so hard, and whose beautiful STUPID UGLY FAT FACE he wanted to smash into the ice with his GPF victory. It was brought solely because of that reason. Definitely not because, after all of his purely academic searching of images, he thought it was one of the best official portraits of the pig yet. Certainly not because he found himself admiring the way Katsudon held himself in that pose. Absolutely not because it’s one of the few portraits where you can see that the pig’s eyes are a soft brown and a few pieces of hair had fallen across his forehead and his lips are slightly parted and maybe once or twice or five times in the middle of the night a stupid thought had entered Yuri’s head and he might have stood up on tiptoes and leaned forward to…

The first night Lilia wakes up to find Yuri Plisetsky screaming into a pillow, she worries. After that, she just lets him keep going until he feels better.

God knows she did the same thing at his age.

Mila prodded him into watching the Cup of China. “We have to support Georgi,” she’d said.

Hag. She knew exactly who they were going to watch, and it sure as hell wasn’t Georgi.

But he’d be fine. He’d be fine. He’d already seen the Eros routine, like, eighty times. He could probably skate it himself if he wanted to.

Skate it himself and look better doing it.

He tried to look as indifferent as possible as the pig got on the ice. He watched the tv with complete disinterest. His heart definitely didn’t jump as Yuuri the stupid ugly pig landed a perfect quad Salchow, using the exact method Yuri had taught him. When Mila pointed out that he’d tugged his straw out of his juice box during Katsudon’s performance, he loudly informed her that he’d done that on purpose and anyway juice boxes were for babies.

Due to some bad luck and thirst, his juice box was empty. Otherwise, he absolutely would have sprayed fruit punch right into Mila’s stupid face due to the smug look she gave him.

Even so, he managed all right with Eros. Basically complete disinterest. But then came the pig’s free skate the next day. He hadn’t seen that one fully.

Goddamn, he hadn’t been prepared.

His eyes were transfixed as he watched Yuuri skate. If he had been spellbinding before, he was an angel now. Yuri couldn’t even get angry about the falls and over-rotation. Katsuki was the picture of grace: neck outstretched, arms graceful, step sequence flawless. Yuri stared, jaw dropped and throat tight, as Katsuki tried to land the quad flip. It didn’t work, but the fact that he even tried to do something on Viktor’s level…

Yuuri finished, hand outstretched toward the camera, chest heaving and brown eyes wide and clearly so, so proud of himself. Yuri felt his heart flip. A part of his brain whispered, Let yourself have this. Succumb. Let yourself acknowledge that you have a cru—

And that’s when Viktor kissed the pig right on international television.

Mila whistled. “Well, guess we should’ve expected this from our Viktor. But that was some performance, don’t you…Yura, are you crying?”

“No!”

He definitely wasn’t crying. He definitely wasn’t jealous. He just…

He wanted to win so badly, was all.

The road to the GPF is hard enough without this…thing. So Yuri pushes it down and focuses. Before, he’d just wanted to win to prove to Katsudon that he was the better skater and that he was the best Yuri and that only losers cried and got kissed on television.

But then that shithead JJ came along.

Twice—fucking twice!—that self-absorbed Canadian snuck in and grabbed the gold. Even after Yuri snagged a personal best! He’d been so thrown that he’d actually caved and been nice to Katsudon. (Well, sort of. He’d still kicked him and yelled at him, and most of the motivation was showing how cool his Grandpa was.) He wasn’t even bothered by the fact that he slipped and more or less wished him a happy early birthday (which was November 29th and it didn’t matter how he knew that.)

Yuuri Katsuki wasn’t his target anymore. Now, JJ was the one to beat.

He could lose to Katsudon (he wouldn’t, but that wasn't the point) and be okay if it meant that fucking JJ was below him. But god, that first place spot on the podium would be the best place to watch JJ squirm in his failure. So no more Grandpa, no more Katsudon.

His motivation was ruining JJ’s life.

And, surprise, it worked.

The thing creeps up again when he stands on the podium with Katsudon and Otabek (who, by the way, was his new super-cool best friend). Despite losing, the pig is still genuinely happy. Maybe he really is proud of Yuri. Maybe it’s from the engagement (?) or because he’s glad Yuri kept him from retiring like an idiot. But he’s smiling and care-free and goddammit, for a moment Yuri wonders if that whole “skating for love or whatever” thing actually wasn’t bullshit.

But then he remembers that he won his gold purely out of spite, and that snaps him out of thinking like a sap.

For one bright shining moment after the GPF, Yuri thought he finally, finally had someone to talk about this with. He had a friend. One that he made on his own! Surely Otabek would have some advice on what to do with this.

But there was one problem.

Beka…was really, really cool.

He was a DJ! He skated like he was in a war! He rode a cool scooter and wore sunglasses inside and was technically an adult and went to cool clubs and he was just so cool.

And the coolest thing of all was that he thought Yuri was cool, too. He said he had the eyes of a soldier. The eyes of a soldier! That was, by far, THE COOLEST thing anyone had ever said about him ever.

But this whole thing with Katsudon was definitely not cool. He’d just come off as some dumb, drooling teenage fanboy. So Beka could never know.

But there was a problem.

The pig had moved to St. Petersburg. So now they were rinkmates. And he’d expected it’d be like when he’d become Viktor’s rinkmate: he’d finally see all of the flaws and how terrible Katsudon was when he was around him for more than a week. He was expecting relief.

Instead, he was pretty sure he was in hell.

Shitty Katsudon was nice to him. He invited him over to his and Viktor’s place or when they went to explore the city. He asked for help with translations when Viktor wasn’t around and taught him how to use chopsticks. Sometimes he called him “Yura” instead of “Yurio” and it made him want to die.

He had to talk about it. He had to get this awful strangling feeling that was nice but also the worst thing in the entire world out of his chest. If he didn’t, he would probably die. And it’d be the lamest way to die ever.

But again, who could he talk to? Beka was too cool. Lilia would probably tell him to kill that part of himself (to which he would yell back “What do you think I’ve been trying to do, hag?!” And then he’d have to do an hour of grand adages.) Yakov and Grandpa wouldn’t understand, because they were old men. Mama and Mila would be terrible. And Viktor…god no.

But who? Who would understand the pain of having a…..c r u s h……..on someone who would probably never, ever think of him that way?

No.

NooooooooooOOOOOOOOOO.

Hell wasn’t having your crush live nearby and be friendly to you. It wasn’t having your crush be a rinkmate and constantly have to look at his stupid fat beautiful face on the ice while listening to his fiancé gush over how beautiful his stupid fat beautiful face was. It wasn’t having catching your crush making out with said fiancé in the locker room when all you fucking wanted was to put on your skates.

Hell was your crush being the best option to talk to about having a crush on him.

“Did you mean to text me this morning?” the pig asked as they warmed up. Yuri felt like he was going to throw up.

“If I didn’t want to text you, I wouldn’t have sent it, dumbass.” Yuri hissed out the insult to really drive home the fact that Katsudon wasn’t that important to him and he totally hadn’t been staring at his phone for an hour before finally sending the ‘i wanna talk after practice” text to him.

The stupid pig stared at him curiously, but nodded. “What do you want to talk about?”

“I’ll tell you after practice.” Yuri hopes his face isn’t red, because Jesus Christ does he not need that right now, and he skates away. To try and combat the anxious feeling building in his chest, he does a quad Salchow right there and then.

It doesn’t help much, but it does look cool.

Practice drags on forever. Yakov makes him do drills like some novice. Viktor and Yuuri are all over each other on the ice, giggling and kissing and generally just being gross. Yuri debates calling off the stupid talk and just going home to throw up instead. But that won’t make him feel any better. He has to do this, even if it’s the worst thing he’s ever done.

The two Yuris exit the ice while Viktor hangs back to be yelled at by Yakov probably for being an idiot. In the locker room, Katsudon is the one who brings up Yuri’s impending death.

“So what did you want to—”

“Not here!” Yuri hisses, then glares down at his skates. “I don’t want Viktor to hear. Just…just you.”

He chances up a glance at the pig, who looks surprised and…what, touched?...at his statement. He quickly adds, “Will you be able to survive being away from him that long, pig?”

Yuuri gives him that infuriating smile that says he knows Yuri’s being prickly on purpose, and he says, “I think I can manage for a little bit, yeah.”

Katsudon doesn’t say any more on the subject, even after they’re changed and marching out into the Russian winter. Yuuri pulls out his phone—probably to text Viktor some gushy love crap—and Yuri tries not to look at him or think about how it’s kind of cute that his ears get red in the cold because that’s a LAME and STUPID thing to think about.

Yuri leads the way into the first café he sees, with Katsudon following quietly after. When the idiot fumbles his order, Yuri barks it out for him. He orders the same tea with milk at every place, it’s not like Yuri pays attention or anything.

It’s not until they’re both sitting, hot drinks in hand, in a very cute corner of the café that would be a very nice area for a date that would never ever happen, that Katsudon decides it’s time for Yuri to die.

“So what did you want to talk about?”

Yuri fidgets. He takes a long drink of tea. He burrows his nose into his scarf. Yuuri is annoyingly patient with him, watching him with those stupid doe eyes. Finally, Yuri swallows, keeping half his face buried in his scarf.

“What do you do...when you like someone?” Yuri grimaces and tries to burrow deeper into his scarf. “Like…really like them?”

Immediately Yuuri’s face softens, and he smiles. “I’m…not really sure I’m the right person to ask about this, Yura.”

“Yes, you are. Everyone else would be stupid about it.” The pig will probably be stupid, too, but with Yuri’s current condition, he could tolerate that stupidity. He watched Yuuri hard, frowning beneath his scarf, as the pig stayed quiet, stupidly soft brown eyes staring down at his cup. Was he just not going to talk? Was that better or worse?

“Okay, but really. I…don’t know what to suggest to you. Tell them?”

“Нет.”

“Why?”

Yuri grimaces as he feels his face grow hot. He hated this. Hated. This. Maybe he could just strangle himself with his scarf. “H-They’re seeing someone.”

“Oh…”

“I don’t want your pity, pig! I want a solution!” Yuri snaps, earning a couple glances their way.

Yuuri puffs out a breath, looking away. “I…I don’t know what to tell you.” He gave a small smile, an awful one that made Yuri’s heart ache so hard he nearly punched himself in the chest. “I know you’ll think I’m a loser for this, but…it’s only been Viktor since I was twelve. I spent most of my life pining for someone who didn’t know I even existed. I didn’t think he’d ever see me like I saw him.”

“That’s exactly how I feel,” Yuri blurts before he could stop himself. “And it sucks. It really sucks!”

“I know it does.”

“And then I see him and if he does literally anything, I just…it’s like I’m having a heart attack and it doesn’t stop and I like it but I also really, really hate it, Katsudon. I hate it so much!”

“Having a crush is the worst,” Yuuri agrees.

“It is!”

This conversation is surprisingly…not terrible. Yuri seemed to be doing a good job of keeping Katsudon in the dark, and Yuuri was giving him exactly the kind of sympathy he’d been dying for. Which probably wouldn’t help in the crush department, but in the moment, it feels so good to get it all out. Yuri slumps forward, chin plopping into his hands.

“The worst is when he skates,” he mutters, looking at his quickly cooling tea. “He’s like something out of a dream. Like the moment he’s out there…”

“The whole world stops, and it’s just him.” Yuuri says these words slowly, and Yuri starts to nod, but he freezes as he catches the emotions flitting over Katsudon’s face.

Realization.

Guilt.

Distress.

Sympathy.

Shit.

Yuri sits up straight, eyes wide. For the first time in his life, he’s speechless. He fucked up. He really, really fucked up.

Katsudon knew.

Was there even any way to recover from this? Should he just die? What was the quickest way to manage that? He was already in hell, so it wouldn’t be any worse than just sitting here, staring at Katsudon who now totally knew that he had a crush on him.

Just as Yuri was about to throw the table and run, a hand reached out to rest on his arm. If he wasn’t in shock, he would have thrown it off and continued with the table plan. But considering his entire world was crumbling at the moment, he couldn’t do anything more than stare up at Yuuri—stupid fucking beautiful shitty understanding asshole Yuuri—mutely and wait for the inevitable, “Oh, Yurochka, I’m so sorry…”

It didn’t come immediately. For a long moment, Yuuri simply stared at him. He wasn’t mad—which was good but also not because if he’d been mad then they could fight and Yuri was good at that—but he didn’t look too happy either. After a long moment, he moved his chair closer. What was he doi—?

Yuri’s crumbling world came to a grinding halt as the stupid pig pulled him into a tight hug.

This wasn’t like the Rostelecom Cup. He couldn’t fight this; he was in too much shock. So he just sat there, stock still, as Yuuri gave him what had to be one of the top five best hugs in his life.

“It sucks,” Yuuri finally whispered. “I know it does. It’s the worst thing in the world. And…and it’s really, really unfair that I got the ending I did.”

Yuri manages a stiff nod. Yuuri just hugs him tighter and he feels himself melt, just a bit, into the hug before Yuuri pulls back to look at him with the most hopeful, wonderful smile he’d ever seen.

“But Yura, you’re amazing. Look at what you did at the GPF, and I know you’re gonna make us all work three times as hard at Worlds!” His look softened, and his smile warmed. “You’ll find your own Viktor someday, I know you will.”

Yuri’s soul is forcibly ejected from his body.

“You think…I…Viktor?!”

“Like I said, I completely understand, and…” Yuuri’s cut off as Yuri gets to his feet and kicks his chair back. “Yu—”

“This conversation’s over, pig!”

It turned out, hell wasn’t talking to your crush about your feelings for him.

Hell was having your crush think you liked Viktor FUCKING Nikiforov.

#yuri!!! on ice #yoi #yurio #yuri plisetsky #katsuki yuuri #viktor nikirofov #After all this time I still love my son so much #fic #yoi fic #one-shot

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