bakerstreet | WELL, AT LEAST IT COULD HAVE GONE WORSE

[ wow, what horrible events in this clown's life could have potentially been avoided... also open to new scenarios! ]

[Vox had been as careful as he could have been with Fizz. That's not to say Vox was inept with security. It's just that someone had managed to somehow sneak by all of the security that Vox supplied. And now, Fizz was captured and a ransom demanded. The deadline to the ransom was very tight, only mere hours until the captor decided to end Fizz's life.

It's around five minutes to go until the deadline and the captor is getting impatient.

Husk had been sent to be on the case and finally arrives at the building. He doesn't like usually using his wings, but he flies up to the roof of the building, throwing dice which explode like flashbangs, before slicing them up with cards, taking care of the guards on the rooftop.

Now, Husk peeks in through the skylight of the roof to see if Fizz is okay.]

[ it's been 'fizzarolli and the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day' all the way down. he has no experience with this kind of thing; vox had picked up his entire life after the accident, and he's always had enough security to take care of everything ever since.

and now, he was in some warehouse, tied to a chair with his arms and legs completely bound so he can't do jack or shit about anything. not that he's a fighter; he's quick and agile, but he cannot fight to (literally) save his life.

he hears the commotion on the roof and glances up in fear, but he sees the tips of husk's ears over the edge of the window and sighs, slumping in relief in his chair. husk always figures things out when shit goes wrong.

fizz doesn't look as if he's been deeply injured, but he does look roughed up and there's some worrying sparking at one of his shoulders. could be much worse, but could be much better too.

there are also long streaks in his foundation, but that's because he's definitely been crying. ]

[From the roof... it looks like there isn't too much damage done to Fizz. Good. That means Vox will yell and threaten Husk less. Sure, Husk can say that it was no one's fault that Fizz got kidnapped, that this was some oversight no one saw coming, but Fizz is money and Husk knows Vox doesn't like to lose money.

A hand slips into Husk's pocket, taking out a couple of smoke bomb dice and drops them near where Fizz is tied up. That's your cue to hold your breath and close your eyes, because seconds later, they go off, beginning to fill the room with smoke. The leader of the kidnappers goes into a bit of a frenzy, yelling at the subordinates to "find the dumbass dumb enough to butt into his business", those exact words. Husk waits a couple more moments before he's satisfied with the amount of smoke covering the area.

Husk holds his own breath, jumps down from the skylight, lands on the ground, feels around for the chair, locates it, firmly grasps it, and flies up and back out through the skylight, trying to do so in one quick, successive motion. After landing back on the roof, Husk carefully sets the chair down.]

...You okay?

[ fizz knows to hold his breath, thankfully. it's hard though, when everything is obscured from his vision and all he can do is hear the goons freaking out and starting to shoot each other, and he's scared one of them will hit husk, or himself—

—the lurch of movement almost makes him puke but he manages not to, swallowing down the saliva as he goes back to breathing once they're clear of the smoke. he nods first because he's struggling to answer aloud, then swallows again and exhales. ]

I. Yeah. Even better when I can move again.

[ then: ]

Thanks, Husk.

[Husk takes a card from out of his pocket and carefully yet swiftly cuts the ropes, setting Fizz free. He hears and is aware of the thanks he'd just gotten, but his only acknowledgement is a nod and a small grunt.

From here up close, Husk can definitely see the messed-up mascara. Husk frowns. Fizz had been crying. With a sigh, Husk puts a calming hand on the clown imp's shoulder.]

It... it wasn't your fault. You need a drink?

[ hey, he'll take the nod and grunt. it's fine.

he shifts once he's free of the ropes; he doesn't feel pain from his limbs but he stretches them anyway: the one shoulder sparks again, but he can still use it for now. vox can repair him once they get back to the tower.

he looks over at husk after a moment, brow furrowing. ]

It fucking feels like it. [ then: ] Yeah, but back home. I can't go out anywhere looking like this.

The douchebag you got kidnapped slipped through Vox's security. They've likely been plannin' this shit for months. It's nobody's fault, but Vox will be pissed at me, not you.

[But yes, Husk will respect Fizz's wants.]

...Do you wanna fly back or walk back?

[ happy to talk aus and new concepts! ]

[ the possibilities are endless: your character narrowly escapes getting got/making a deal/whatever with him, both characters escape some shit together, or he somehow escapes some righteous vengeance from your character. truly i am happy with any! ]

[It's been a couple months since they had won the premature battle against the exorcists and the hotel rebuilt. Things were going peaceful and plans were being made by the various overlords to determine what the next step they should anticipate.

During one night, Husk had been walking back to the hotel from a bar. He took a shortcut through an alleyway and that's when they had ambushed. With a quick stab of a lance, Husk is driven to the ground, yelping out in pain. The exterminator angels wasted no time in making sure Husk was unable to reach for any weapons he might have had while also disabling him with blessed rope.

The angels then made a show taunting and further injuring Husk, who remained silent aside from yelling and gasping in pain.

Husk... just looks at the ground when the angels stick a knife to his throat. Looks like he's going to die... for good.

Who the fuck cares about Husk's fate? He, himself, sure didn't anymore.]

[ as it happens, husk is much later than usual getting back to the hotel, and alastor had hushed charlie and angel's worries so that he could go out and look for him in peace.

it's generally easy to go after him: their deal is enough of a connective bond to lead him in the correct direction. it's when he starts to smell blood that he begins to walk at a much quicker clip, and when he hears husk is when he flat-out runs, just in case.

as he skids around the corner into the alleyway and sees what's going on, his grip on his cane tightens and before anything else, a shadow tentacle whips out to grab the angel with the knife to husk's throat by the leg and yank her back, dangling her upside down before she can figure out what's going on. ]

I believe you ladies are playing with something that belongs to me. Now, if you would care to indulge me and g̸̻̚ȅ̸̳ẗ̶́ͅ ̶̮͝t̶̢̉h̶̟͋ē̷͚ ̴͎̂f̸͍̿u̴͖͒ç̶̄k̴̯̆ ̷̛͖à̶̟w̵̡̚ä̵̘́y̵͓͂, I won't have to kill every single one of you.

[ the thing is, husk will be able to tell that's an outright lie. alastor is mad enough to kill all of them either way, he just seems to be trying to goad them into coming after him instead so that he can lead them away a ways to do it.

in fact, as he speaks, another tentacle whips out to grab the dropped angelic steel knife off the ground and plunge it directly into the throat of the angel he's dangling. ]

[The first thing Alastor would be able to see on Husk's face when Alastor appears to save the day is genuine surprise. Husk didn't actually think anyone would come save him. The next thing Alastor would see could surprise Alastor: Relief.

The Exorcist Angels look amongst themselves before mostly abandoning Husk, one of them staying behind and forcing him to lay on the ground with a pained grunt, and taking off after Alastor with intent to harm, maim, and kill. And they look pissed now that one of them is dead.]

[ alastor is surprised by the relief, but he's not going to take the time to harp on it nor unpack it at the moment, so he simply goes to work instead.

as for the angel hunching over husk like a dog waiting to feed, alastor simply creates a small shield of shadowy magic around husk, forcing the angel to step back. it's very similar to what he used to surround the hotel that day, which tracks.

then he just grins, sharp as anything, and it's time.

he grabs one of the angels with both hands, digging his teeth into her neck and yanking his head back to rip out a huge chunk of flesh in the same moment that he stabs her as well, making sure it takes. golden blood sprays everywhere and even one of the angels seems startled by the brutality of it. ]

[Husk watches all the carnage happen mostly with an amount of lethargy. There'd be no point in struggling to escape from the rope, it's not tied in a way a magician could easily escape from. And even if he did struggle, that would just aggravate the wounds he already has, causing him to bleed out faster.

Instead, he idly tries using his tail to fish out his cards from his pocket, but it's difficult to do so with it not being prehensile.

At this point, at least one exorcist angel seems to want to bolt.]

[it came out of no where. no reason for it. no warning. not in the same manner as before. before, it had been a yearly sacrifice, one that was waited on baited breath in anticipation. now? it was an all out fucking war, it seems.

the angels dived down into hell. more than before, it seems. as if they truly planned to wipe out all of the sinners in the pride ring. maybe more. they weren't allowed to touch the other rings of hell, but val wouldn't put it past the angels to reach further and start exterminating where they could. they were obviously fucking pissed by lucifer's daughter and her hotel of miscreants. val was fucking pissed!

he wasn't at the tower, wasn't there to hunker down or be with vox or velvette. he barely had a message sent off before an angel tried to throw a spear at him. immediately, he had caught the weapon and returned it right back into the angel who attacked. he can't even fucking think straight, too caught up in the war before him. around him, sinners run in fear, right back to their sheep cowardice minds. val doesn't care for them, only set on surviving and getting back to the tower.

more and more angels fly through the streets, weapons raised and obviously hungry for vengeance. val uses a variety of things to survive, between the weapons they use to the angelic bullets he keeps on hand. he even is forced to light up a cigarette and use the smoke as a weapon to pull a few back. his wings are his final weapon to utilize, stronger than the wings of the angels and pushing them back enough before val shoots off a few rounds to the angels' heads.

he's not sure how long he keeps this up, or even when he's first stabbed by a spear. each time, he pulls it out and attacks back. adrenaline keeps val running fast through the streets and alleys of the city, and as he turns a corner sharply, he feels himself running into another body smaller than his. val barely has time to notice a familiar set of antlers and red deer-like ears before he catches the sight of a group of angels coming right at them. instinctively, val shoves the deer sinner right behind him, wings even acting protective (which he will deny) as they circle around both of them. and, quickly, he shoots the four angels, each in their foreheads.

they all fall, and finally, finally, val can take a damn breath. he's not sure how much more time they have until the next rush of angels will appear, but the shadows of the alley at least proves useful for a minute or two.]

Alastor! [he breathes out the name of the deer in a hiss, wild eyes turning to pin down on the radio demon.] Why the fuck are they here?!

[ it all happens so fast. one moment he's on the way back to the hotel from errands, the next he's completely surrounded by angels. at first, it feels easy enough. his cane has angelic steel on the pointed tip now, and he takes out the first wave easily, a throat an eye a heart, smooth and measured and with a minimum of quips.

the next stretch is a blur; he doesn't know how much time passes, just that more and more exorcists keep coming. he 'takes care' of every one he can as he rushes back toward the hotel, cursing his inability to arrive immediately.

lucifer was there, it should be fine, but with this many—

—he can smell so much blood, sinner and angel both, and it's disorienting because he can't keep track.

the first sword slides through his side smoothly and seamlessly but he just wheels around and yanks it out, the tentacle that grabbed it swinging it around to lop off the head of the interloper.

he's still way too far from the hotel when he senses her and he feels like his heart stops. it has him skidding to a stop long enough that he gets a spear through the shoulder and he has to repeat the process from earlier. but it does give him an advantage in that he can keep all of the weapons and use them with tentacles to make himself even more dangerous.

(but it's still taking it out of him, wound after injury after wound.)

he doesn't expect to run right into valentino: he rears a sword back instinctively, but it drops back down when he realizes who it is. he's stupidly grateful (he will deny this also) and takes a split-second to breathe while the moth takes care of the angels around them.

he expects the question, but he just winces around his smile and shakes his head, looking more exhausted than surprised. ]

I wasn't at the hotel when it started. It's— [ her presence weighs to heavily on him, and his thoughts stray back to the hotel before he continues. ] Lucifer's wife has returned to Hell.

[ that says so many things in one sentence, but there's no hiding that lilith is a traitor anymore. ]

[the smile is ever pleasant on alastor's features, but valentino can see right through it. he's never seen the radio demon like this. and if alastor is reacting in such a manner, he can only assume the terror for vox and velvette.

valentino curses under his breath, running a hand over his face. shitshitshitshitshit.

and as alastor comes to give such surprising details, valentino looks wildly at the other overlord.]

Lucifer's bitch?!

[it was rumors, spoken hushed words between overlords alone regarding the situation with lilith. he heard some of lucifer's minions were trying to get a hold of the hearsay, but what could they do? and now, to have those fucking bitch-ass angels after them?! fuck. fuck it all. valentino needed to get to the tower before he lost vox and velvette to the invasion.

cursing beneath his breath, val looks over alastor. they're both looking like shit, but they're still standing. but for how long? once that adrenaline wears off, he's positive he'll be up shit creek. if he had a needle and thread, he could just take care of it himself. at least he can rely on his perseverance for now. it was one of his better qualities.

val comes to kneel down, careful as he inspects over alastor. it's hard to see the damage on the radio demon, and really, his fellow overlord was still standing.]

You look like shit, Bambi. You able to walk or run?

[ honestly, in most (if not all) other situations, alastor would feel amazing seeing valentino so upset about something. but that's the furthest thing from his mind right now for so many reasons, and he just nods to the reaction toward his statement: he has no disagreement about lilith being an absolute bitch.

it's when he's being asked if he can walk that he nods again, drawing himself up to his feet with another smile-grimace. he doesn't initiate any help up, nor does he stay still long enough for the moth to get a better look at any of his wounds: a longer glance would show just how many holes and tears there are in his coat now.

he gives valentino a wound-check once-over, and sighs. ]

Yes. You don't look much better yourself, you know.

[ biting, but without the attitude it might normally have. no chipper radio-host charm, either. there's no time for petty bitch fits right now. if either of them are going to get out of this, they're going to have to work together. ]

I've already cleared out that way.

[ with a gesture. ]

If we both go around and change the angle, it's likely we can handle what comes up.

[valentino about sighs in relief when alastor agrees that he can walk. he could carry the deer, but with his own injuries, he's not sure how much faster he'd be. but, despite their differences, he wasn't going to just leave the other overlord here.

alastor squirms too much for val to get a proper look, and he lets the deer be. he's noted all the outside wares and tears quietly to himself, but it's not as if he has any way of fixing them up.]

I'll survive.

[he remarks quickly. the less he knew of his own injuries, the better. when he stops being able to move, then he'll worry about it.

he goes to reload his gun, making sure both magazines are full of the anti-angel bullets. he quietly listens to alastor's plans in the meantime, before lighting up a cigarette. he wasn't going into this war without every arsenal at his disposal.]

I noticed the videos not moving around the city. I need to get to Vox and Velvette.

[he blows out the red smoke above their heads.]

I've cleared the way I came, but these cunts are flying in more and more. Stay on my heel, alright?

[ it makes sense to work together for now, and that's what alastor intends to do. there are no differences to be had when one's dead, after all, and let it be known alastor is not, and never will be, ready to die.

he watches the moth reload his gun, still thinking about the best way to approach this.

when valentino mentions vox and velvette he's largely unmoved, but he does understand the desire to get to one's... well, loved ones is quite the stretch, but he understands the sentiment of needing to check on people. ]

It's on the way. I can make it on my own past that.

[ he gives the other sinner a look at the casual order, but waves a hand of agreement anyway. valentino is taller, a larger target, and has ranged weaponry that will take things out before they reach them and it's better than him having to aim around or over alastor to get at things. ]

Fine. Let's go.

[ he feels like he's vibrating out of his skin, but he can deal with that later. ]

[ Poor Navia has had too many close calls. ]

( info. assumed cr and plotting a-ok! )

[ Remilia shows up at the very last second and pulls another character out of the fire and so forth/severely fucks up their attacker. ]

[You must be truly desperate to come to me for help, etc. Disaster buddy checking in, what can he save you from?]

[It practically slams it's own door open so rudely, probably not caring what it might be interrupting on the other side. Something is clearly wrong on first sight, it's never looked so... fraught or anything but calm, and if that's not enough, well.

A large black book appears to be eating its arm, already past the elbow, enormous talons and all. Stuck as if it's become part of the arm and apparently sucking the whole creature in, one agonizing inch at a time.]

You! Icepick with the paradoxical fire. Burn it! Get it off!

[And it's never, ever shouted. Always been so quiet and subdued even when one could literally feel it raging. It must be desperate, indeed.]

[Nine times out of ten Loki isn't doing anything but annoying people anyway, and even on that tenth time, he wouldn't expect Headache not to be rude. Out of sheer, bizarre coincidence he's in one of the remaining brick-and-mortar locations for Barnes & Noble, half buried in the religion section. The place is largely quiet except for the radio lightly playing, so one would think the shouting would catch the employees' attention fast, but it...doesn't. Not yet, at least.

Look, Loki doesn't like to be approached by helpful salespeople while he's browsing.

If Headache itself didn't seem so genuinely upset by what's occurring, it would almost be tempting to laugh at the sight of it being attacked by a book, but knowing what little Loki knows about its existence, he suspects this is more horrific than it appears.

They're surrounded by flammable items on flammable shelves. Going full-on flamethrower sounds like a terrible idea, so his first impulse is ice. Aside from a brief "Wh-?!" expulsion of air, he opts not to speak before dropping the book he was looking at and spinning seidr, fingertips twanging the air. Ice reaches out, attempting to tie the black book to the floor while leaving Headache free to pull away. Frost burns the cover of the thing, the same deep cold that can cause mortal flesh to blacken and crumble at a touch.

If this doesn't work, he can change tack, but they're likely to burn down the whole goddamn store. (Eggs, omelets?)]

What is it?? [Maybe it's to his credit that he's trying to help before asking dumb questions? Or, trying to help while simultaneously asking dumb questions?]

[Now it's stuck to the floor via the book and a lot of ice, trapped in a horrifying blanket of cold. What a way to go a second time, being Michael, miserable and freezing! The ice doesn't seem to be doing any physical harm, not to a thing that doesn't exist, but it can't seem to detach from the book either... and the book itself isn't letting go, however much it thrashes and then groans, partly human and partly like something that's never been alive or organic, a horrible buzzsaw slicing through wooden corridor walls contrasting with a real voice in pain.]

Of course! You don't know what fire is! Is that your problem? That is not a fire! Get rid of it!

[He was the god of fire once. He can still claim the title, sideways, slyly, like you do. Freeflowing wildfire has never hurt him, but controlled heat and hot metal damn well have, and he hates this. He absolutely hates that he has to do this, but with Headache and his ilk, there's a better than zero chance that's the point. Fear, memories of pain. It wouldn't be the first time Loki used such things.

His voice is bright, silky smooth, swallowing the loathing:] Well, here's hoping they're insured.

[As if a multimillion dollar company was even on his radar of concerns.

And employee finally rounds the corner and freezes, gaping, as the column of ice crackles, sparks, and dissolves into a fountain of orange flame, not unlike a thermite reaction. It's violent, colorful, and the nearby shelves blacken at once.]

Don't just stand there, pull the fire alarm! [Addressed to the hapless bystander, this has roughly the same energy as Call an ambulance...but not for me! It'll get them space to work, regardless.]

[That double-sound groan again, as it seems to steel itself in a similar way before lifting the book and slamming it back down into the fire without daring to touch it with its intact hand. Whatever it is, because it can't be a book, just like the Headache isn't a door or a person or a maze, it seems so much heavier than it should be from the way it thumps down this time.

And now the monster actually shrieks, just once, but the damn not-book is finally burning (along with what's left of its arm, a bit) and it's not complaining with actual words anymore so it must be a step in the right direction? The poor employee is ignored, luckily, though who knows if they'll end up swallowed by a yellow door sooner or later just because. These things happen. Shhh.]

[The employee, who wastes no time in running because what the actual fuck, and who may in fact forget to pull the alarm in their haste to depart, is also not really on Loki's radar of concerns. These things do happen. In this instance, just having been in the wrong place at the wrong time is enough to condemn them. If they get a chance to put their affairs in order first, that just makes them lucky, right?

Loki channels the flame as best he can, but the reason fire still works for him at all is because it's chaos, so it really can't be fully controlled. The shriek coming from Headache is physically painful, not unlike when it laughs, but in this case that lancing pain is coupled with concern. Enough concern that if it were possible to cease and desist and find another way, Loki might try it.

But it's too late anyway. Sparks are leaping from book to book, shelves going up in flame, and even though the alarm hasn't been pulled, the automatic fire suppression system clicks on thanks to the billowing smoke.

Loki starts at the chemical spray from the sprinklers, swears, and lunges closer to Headache's side, deflecting the liquid with another spell.]

[It's up in the air whether it has any real biology to it, if it can choke on smoke or really be harmed by fire and not... an eldritch book? Is it the book biting down that makes it scream a second time? The pages are curling, the black book is finally 'dying', and with that the Headache finally rips what's left of its arm free, everything apparently swallowed up to the elbow and... bleeding something too colorful to be normal blood. Some bizarre liquid that evaporates into rainbow vapor almost instantly.]

A door! We can go now, it is finished!

[Of course there's a yellow door now where there wasn't two seconds ago, wide open with the smoke billowing into it.]

[Maybe harm is subjective. Loki has had it demonstrated that it can feel negative emotions, which is a kind of pain in itself, and while he doesn't fully understand what it means when it claims it was ruined, he's inclined to take it at its word. What is harm, after all, but pain and unwelcome change?

He's more than alarmed by the bleeding, by the dismemberment of one of those awful needly arms, which he knows are much, much stronger than they look like they ought to be. His eyes are wide, but he puts an arm around Headache's back, guiding and protective as if he were a person made of meat that needed assistance to walk after that kind of injury.

There's no questioning the need to head to the door, and he makes no protest, hastening them both inside.] Are you all--

[He cuts himself off before he finishes the question because obviously it's not all right.] Do you need to stop the...leaking? I can do triage for mortal people but you're not the same thing.

[It's a bony thing, taller than any human has any right to be, but other than that and the 'leaking' arm, it's eerily normal looking at the moment. Just a blonde guy, some mundane loser in who wouldn't stand out in a crowd. And it doesn't object to being led, not at all.

The corridors are much the same as always, other than the smoke that followed them in before the door slams shut by itself. Mirrors, black rug and ever-changing carpet and wallpaper, endlessly curving off to the left... a spiral with no end.

It just stops dead once they're inside and it's being questioned, staring at the ruined arm somewhat blankly, unreadable.]

I don't know. I expect it will either fix itself or it won't, no matter what I am now.

[Way to state the obvious, but is anything 'obvious' about this Headache? What can ever be taken for granted?]

Edited 2024-04-15 16:45 (UTC)

[Maybe it says something about Loki's brain that he looks around them at the corridor the moment they're inside. Checking, analyzing whether there's something different, whether the external injury translates to this place that's not supposed to be a person but somehow ended up as one. Nothing jumps out at him, either figuratively or literally, and so he turns his attention to Headache's face, looking it over as he would to see whether a mortal person is going into shock.

He...has no idea, really. How is he supposed to tell? Does it have a heartbeat? Does it need to breathe? This is impossible. Maybe he can make a tourniquet.] Well, you're going to have to either humor me treating you like a wounded Asgardian or be clearer about your needs than you ever have been in the past. I'm assuming sitting versus standing is irrelevant to you, especially here, but it'll be easier for me to work on your arm if we're both on ground level.

Unless I get some very solid evidence that walking around missing your arm and leaking vibrant bodily fluids is your new normal, I'm going to try to repair it. [And what he really wants to know is what the hell the book-thing was, but something his friend says brings him up short of the question.]

What you are now, you said. Does that mean you're something different now than you were the last time I saw you?

I don't think so? [But how can it be completely sure of anything? That sounds awful, believing in things.] Being Michael, the before was different from the aftermath. I couldn't have had an arm to lose, not really.

[Somewhat more tetchy:] Why do you want me to be clear? You can do whatever you want, I am not for explaining. We can find out if it helps together. If you want. You helped very much already.

[Maybe Loki's struggle here is partly that he expects Headache to know all about itself. That there's some fragment of understanding that would explain it to Loki, and it just hasn't been shared yet. Now, suddenly, he feels foolish. How well does Loki understand himself, after all? Why should this entity be any surer, when it's less defined to begin with?

He sighs and rubs his temples with one hand. How is this friendship so peculiar and simultaneously so much like the kind of insanity Loki expects himself to get into?]

No, you're right. I'm sorry. I'll just have to do my best with instinct and past experience.

I want to help. I have a personal interest in your welfare. [Weird way to say 'you're my friend' but that's Loki for you.]

Are you in pain? [Battlefield triage takes over. It's not much effort to conjure bandages, at least.] I know you'll hate it if I cold-cauterize the wound, so let's try wrapping it up first.

[The entire living place seems to unclench, almost emoting more than the man-shaped part without any specific tangible changes anyone could point out. Just a sensation barely on the right side of real, just another instance of that bizarre projection of its feelings.

Also, there wasn't a couch for it to sit down on and now there is. There, not so tall. Perfectly fine with being told what to do, it seems. Good little eldritch abomination.]

Yes, I suppose. It let go, that was most important. But of course you have all the 'permissions', as long as it isn't cold.

[ I love some good fight/survival things in any setting. ]

WELL, AT LEAST IT COULD HAVE GONE WORSE

fizzarolli. helluva boss.

Fizztech AU

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blitzø. helluva boss.

alastor. hazbin hotel.

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time for a lil gore sprinkled in

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covers the dates on these with my hand

Navia . Genshin Impact . OTA

jack klein | original.

Remilia Scarlet (Adult) | Touhou Project | OTA

feyd-rautha • dune

Michael | The Magnus Archives

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and then I'm so late, rip

same!

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Nanami Kento | Jujutsu Kaisen