#AND I COMPLETELY FORGOT I WROTE THIS

[dailycupofcreativitea]

Little comic which is a parody of a scene in Gintama (I completely forgot what episode) 🥹

Also: they were co-parents (oh my god they were co-parents)

[cheolhub]

on my knees thinkin about pegging vernon & it’s all your fault :)))) he’d be so good & so pretty & i’m losing my mind

he would be pretty wouldnt he? :( he’d given you wide eyes when you’d brought it up. when you told him you wanted to try it, he nodded in agreement because “anything for you.”

and he’s such a good boy, god, he’s so fucking good. when you’re pushing a toy into him, and he puts his hand over his mouth to muffle the embarrassing moans, your hands stops, the toy stilling inside of him. you can’t have that, not when he always sounds like the cutest thing on earth.

and when you’re softly saying, “lemme hear you, ‘sol.” he doesn’t even give it a second thought, moaning out a shy ‘sorry’ and letting it fall back to fist at the sheets.

it doesn’t take long for him to break. especially not when you’re being so sweet and telling him what a good boy he is and how gorgeous he looks squirming under you— whining under you.

with one hand on the toy and the other wrapped around his aching cock, he’s just a mess. in tears with a dark blush painting his cheeks, it’s so pretty. everything about him is so so pretty, it’s really not fair.

“does it feel good, vernon?” you whisper, both your hands moving faster and faster. he chokes over his words and moans, nodding his head vigorously. you shake your head, gently demanding, “tell me how good it feels, baby.”

“s-so good, ‘s so so good,” he slurs, struggling to get the words out.

you smile, biting your lip for a split second as you feel a gush of arousal soak up your panties. your words come out airy, feeling your throat dry up, “yeah? are you gonna cum for me, pretty boy?”

his back arches slightly and he gasps at the idea, “can i? can i?”

you coo, stroking him harder, pushing the toy in deeper. “‘course you can, ‘sollie, you’re a good boy aren’t you?”

“y-yes, i am, yes, thank you— fuck, th-thank you!” he nearly cries, hips bucking into your hand eagerly till his release spurts up. his seed paints his abdomen and your hand and the bed, creating an even bigger mess that you couldn’t even be bothered about.

“good job, baby, you did so well,” you whisper, pulling the toy out of him and bring your cum coated hand to your mouth to taste him.

he’s panting, hand coming to rest on his forehead where his hair lays matted against the sweaty skin… and then it dawns on him.

“w-what about you?”

you furrow you eyebrows and pull your fingers out of your mouth. “hm? what about me, sweet boy?”

“you didn’t get to feel good, too.” he says, a frown etching into his cute lips. “can i… can i make you feel good, too?”

you smile, “how?”

vernon shyly comes up to kiss you, moaning at the tasted of himself on your lips before maneuvering you, putting you in the position he was in a few seconds prior. he spreads your legs before giving you a look that screams ‘can i please eat you out?’

“you wanna? are you sure?” you ask, bottom lip finding its way back between your teeth.

he nods, “please?”

you nod, whispering, “okay, baby, whatever you want.”

© cheolhub — all rights reserved, please refrain from copying, reposting, modifying or translating my work on any platform.

[starbiology]

when the rulers all showed up in the plot figured itd be fun to sketch portraits!

and then had to add my thoughts on them

[youruinedmylifebynotbeingreal]

Thinking about Soren being the one to initiate 99% of the touching scenes we see on screen of him and Corvus. Even in season 6. There’s a handful of charged moments where Corvus lays a hand on Soren’s shoulder, but that’s about it for physical touches initiated by Corvus in S6E2.

Even when Corvus is being vulnerable and telling Soren about how he’s a good man with a big heart, Corvus is downright shocked when Soren hugs him.

Now, chances are, we all know The Podcast™️ Jesse Inocalla was on where he discusses the theme of acceptance in Love, War, and Mushrooms (If you haven’t heard about this, do yourself a favor and listen to it ASAP. As a person who doesn’t usually do podcasts, it’s very worth it).

Basically, Jesse argues that in the episode Corvus accepts that he genuinely cares for Soren, in whatever manner that may be. Platonic, romantic, what have you. Corvus sees Soren for all that he is, not just the facets of his personality most others see him for.

I think it’s interesting how after S6E2, the next time we will really see them together will be what we can assume is S7E1. We left S6E2 with Corvus slowly accepting a hug from Soren (and of course there’s also The Look™️ and going into the meeting room together in S6E4, but I digress). Now, in S7E1, Corvus appears to be initiating their reunion.

And I feel like it has a lot to do with his realization in the mushroom forest that Soren is important to him.

[voice-of-the-inchworm]

So, everyone’s heard of the famous phrase “nothing is certain but death and taxes”.

The Shifting Mound is already known to contain death within her multitudes, as it is the final change that any living creature will eventually succumb to. Taxes, on the other hand, are a constant. It is not a one and done change of being, instead being a constant unchanging routine which will continue on for the rest of our lives. Taxes will never go anywhere, taxes will never leave us. We (as a society) will always have to do our taxes.

Which is why I propose we let the Long Quiet contain taxes.

As a treat :)

[drunkeninlovesailor]

Cybertronian guide to human companionship. Vol. 1

Introduction: Thank you for purchasing our ultimate guide on human companionship. Here you'll find out how to develop and maintain a healthy companionship with your human, as well as comprehensive examples on human keeping and tips.

Among the most notable human functionalities, we have:

Soothing face mask: For a complete soothing effect, apply your human directly on the surface of your somatic panels. Hold it firmly, but remember not to apply too much pressure in order not to damage it. Let it sit for approximately 30 minutes while it exerts its calming properties such as kissing and cuddling. Exposure time can be extended if in need of a stronger soothing effect. Remove human from somatic panels once finished, and store it in its abitative unit. Always remember to handle your human carefully to avoid damaging it.

Squishy toy: humans are naturally squishy and soft, making them perfect for handling. Have fun poking and squishing your human, but be mindful of its boundaries and physical limits. If you squish too hard, you might cause the leakage of its organic components, rendering the human unusable. Tip: humans don't enjoy being held into closed servos, as it deprives them of the air nutrients necessary for their well-keeping.

The maintenance steps required in human keeping include, but are not limited to:

Surface washing in dihydrogen monoxide and alkaline salts of choice.

Min 8 hours of recharge time.

Insertion of organic compounds (remember: your human might favor certain compounds over others! Check its intake carefully make sure it remains varied).

Excretion of organic compounds, which must be disposed of as soon as possible.

For further information, check our FAQ page. Have fun with your human companion!

[andhumanslovedstories]

I'll play the 500-word ask game! Your Tortall fanfic, please - I was thinking of this segment, but really anything you want to comment on in the fic! (Also thank you for writing it; the voice works very well and the text feels very true-to-source!)

Kel may never have forgiven the king for putting her through a probation period—a life’s first major disappointment cuts deep and leaves a scar—but her issues to him as a man did not blind her to his success as a king. “He’s formed alliances with the Bazhir, the Yamani, and Tusaine for the first time in our history. He controls the Dominion Jewel, the most powerful mage in the world is loyal to him, and our training school produces the finest knights in the world.”

Don’t forget our excellent spy operations,” Alanna added. “But people’s memories get short, especially in times of hardship. A short war unites a nation; a long one wearies it. And our war with Scanra has lasted far longer than we expected, even after your contribution.”

Kel grimaced. It was true. Even after Kel had slain the creator of the Scanran war machines, the forces of King Maggur fought bitterly for every inch of land. They had no reasonable hope of winning, not with Scanra’s weak harvest and weaker tribal alliances, but they were determined to make Tortall’s victory costly. They’d turned to guerilla tactics in the mountainous border region between the two nations, and they were willing to lay down their lives for every square inch.

Still, the gaudiness of the Midwinter’s Festival felt tasteless to Kel, a slap in the face to the soldiers who died and the ones who were still there fighting in the bleakest of conditions. “If everyone could put some trust in each other and go without the things they don’t need, we could redirect all this wealth to ending the war.”

“If people could trust each other and go without, we wouldn’t be fighting this war. We’d be living in some happy utopia that would be very boring for people like you and me.”

Oh my god, I wrote this Tortall fic in 2011. Sometimes the passage of time just hits. Especially because of the time I remember Kel has always been my favorite of Pierce's leads. It would be difficult to overstate the impact Kel as a character has had on me over the years. I wrote this fic in October 2011--that was during my first semester of college, when I was 18 years old. I'd brought The Protector of the Small books with me to college for emotional support. There was a hurricane on the east coast during our freshman orientation that knocked out the power in my dorm. I remember reading all four books by a window while it was raining like crazy, and then thinking ruefully that I should have saved them for later when I needed a pick me up.

That makes it an extra pleasant surprise when I reread it and really liked it! (I even had the very odd feeling of being inspired by my own ending.) I remembered the broad strokes of it--Kel and Alanna talking at a banquet while on the lookout for Tortall's second openly female page--and absolutely none of the details. I can't believe the only relationship tag I had in there was Kel/Dom. I'll be honest, I don't even really remember who Dom is. I went back and added Kel & Alanna as the main relationship because, like, duh. Yeah.

It's doubly weird to me I tagged the barely mentioned romantic pairing considering the story was written for a livejournal community challenge to specific write gen fic about women outside of the context of romance and shipping. This was a weird transition time in fandom where lj communities were still very prominent, but more and more fic was getting posted on AO3 instead of in a community or on a personal journal. I remember some debate about what female characters counted for femgenficathon (the community/challenge I wrote this for). It might have been a debate about trans women, but I remember more specifically discussions of whether genderswapped male characters counted.

Anyway, back to this fic specifically, it's funny the author's note is me talking about the difficulties of writing fanfic for a book because I want to match the author's style when that's something that I've been thinking about a lot lately writing for Scum Villain. What I remember most about this fic is specifically the work I put in studying Tamora Pierce's writing style so I could ape it. A sentence early--"Her closest tablemate, a small but sturdy red-headed woman Kel regarded with equal parts affection and awe, chuckled at Kel’s distress."--is the direct result of me studying Pierce's first paragraphs in her work to see how she reintroduces the reader to characters they have met before. There's also a simplicity and directness to the language that isn't my default. I can get pretty flowery. In my default state, I love a paragraph long metaphor.

These two women have this shared experience but also could not be more different. When I was a kid, I really wanted Alanna and Kel to be best friends, and I was disappointed when they weren't, but I understood why. They are very different people, almost in different genres. Alanna and Kel are two very different takes on the lady knight. Having to pretend to be a boy versus openly being a girl leads to such different dynamics. Alanna's story is so much about identity and self-definition, but also about being extraordinary. She's gifted with magic, she's touched by the goddess, she has a magic cat. She's a fantasy heroine. She's indisputably extraordinary.

Kel meanwhile has no magic. Her story emphasizes continual, endless practice, discipline, training. Her adventures are human-sized. Alanna's book one ends with defeating magical monsters in a cursed city. Kel's involves helping a bunch of other pages fight off bandits. She doesn't deal with gods; she gets put in charge of a refuge camp. Her story involves a lot of practical logistics in a way Alanna's doesn't. So she ends up being this character that's such a mix of realism and idealism, seeing the world the way it could and should be while also seeing the work and frustration of getting there. That was what made her such a huge inspiration to me as a kid--god, between her and Tiffany Aching, I have gotten so much from the tales of hard working girls.

That's why Kel in this fic looks to everyday and mundane examples of female fighters. Because she works so close to the ground, she appreciates the grassroots. I thought that hit a good balance of her faith in the future without making it sound like she thought gender equality would be easy. Actually, to be honest, I got...comforted, I guess, by my own ending. (Again, a very pleasant surprise.) Kel's hope always feels earned. That's what I was aiming for.

[mikhardwheat]

Dustin is the only one who can communicate with a cursed man, who turned into a bat. Can be read without context, I suppose?

Steve is hanging out at Dustin's house (he gets lonely). Dustin does his hw, pointedly ignoring how Steve is petting the bat he told him multiple times is actually a human being.

Steve: I think, he likes me

Dustin:

Steve: don't you look cute, little thing

Steve: come here, come to da-

Dustin immediately turns in his chair. Steve stills under his glare, refusing to look his way.

Dustin: don't you dare finish that sentence

Steve: but-

Dustin: it's a grown-up man you're holding

Steve: he doesn't mind?

Steve looks at his chest, where the bat is plastered, wings all over his shirt.

Steve: you don't mind, do you?

The bat nods eagerly.

Steve: see?

Dustin: I have a better question for you

Dustin: do you hear?

Steve: now, that's just rude

Dustin: I'm not talking about your hearing, dumbass

Dustin: I'm talking about the Bat's thoughts

Dustin: do you hear them?

Steve: no?..

Dustin: obviously.

Steve looks at Dustin, then at the bat, then again at Dustin.

Steve: what's he's thinking about now?

Dustin: he...

Dustin:

Dustin: DUDE.

Steve jumps, the bat leaves his chest to sit at the Dustin's desk. It does some weird moves with its wings, clearly arguing about something.

Dustin: I don't care

Bat does some wiggling.

Dustin: keep it in your fucking non-existent pants

Bat looks warily Steve's way for a moment. Dustin's arms are now crossed over his chest and he looks pissed.

Steve: what's happening?

Dustin: nothing

He makes a pause, clearly listening to the bat.

Dustin: don't touch him anymore

Bat stills.

Steve: why

Dustin: I'm just repeating his words

For some reason, Steve's expression changes.

Steve: I- I just assumed he liked it too

Steve: I'm sorry I didn't ask for permission

Dustin: it's not-

Steve: I didn't mean to make him uncomfortable, I'm sorry

Dustin: Steve-

Steve: I- I probably should go, sorry aga-

Dustin: STEVE

He only now notices the bat crawling up his shirt. He stops in the middle of standing up to cup a hand around it, so it won't fall.

Dustin: you didn't make him uncomfortable

Dustin: the only one who's uncomfortable here is me

Steve: I'm not sure I follow?

Dustin: you make him... happy?

Steve: you mean, he likes me?

Dustin: I mean "he wants to fuck you", but close enough

Steve: oh.

[spookyrea]

face of gold, heart of coal (my cross to bear, baby!)

You and Loki have an agreement - just sex with absolutely no feelings. None. Nu-uh. Zero.

(Unfortunately you both signed that agreement with your fingers crossed)

Word count: ~2k

Warnings: fem reader - plot? what plot? p-i-v sex, oral (f receiving), hate sex (kind of. 'hate' if the definition of hate was 'longing so profound it makes you mad'.)

“If only our team could see you right now. Whoring yourself out to me. Your big, bad villain.”

“Not so bad,” you bit out. “You’re nothing but a lap dog.”

“Boo. Another lazy insult,” he snorted. “Big, though?”

He pulled your hand down to palm at the length of him, straining against the fabric of his trousers. You shrugged, even as your thighs clenched in anticipation. “Eh.”

Loki laughed, closing his mouth over yours in a wet kiss. “I seem to recall you singing a different song a few days ago.”

“Your memory is failing you. Dementia, maybe? That’s pretty common with men your age.”

His upper lip curled. He dropped your wrist to gather your skirt in his hands, hiking it up to your waist. “Hold this,” he commanded.

You bunched the fabric in one hand. With his hands now unoccupied, he traced the inside of your thighs slowly, tipping your hips upwards to get a better look at your clothed mound. Both of his thumbs slid over the cotton fabric of your underwear, reverently in comparison to the way he had demanded your submission. They pressed gingerly, barely pulling your folds apart before pressing them back, working in circular motions around your clit but not quite over it. His eyes were half-lidded, transfixed on the way his fingertips spread wide over your hips, on the twitch of your tense muscles, on how you gave yourself up to him angrily and willingly.

You stifled a whine, hoping he wouldn’t notice - but he did. Loki always noticed; every gasp, every lingering look, every shiver when his hand brushed over yours - he saw it all. He could read you like a book, something that both infuriated and secretly delighted you, to be seen and understood so completely. 

Loki mimicked you, scrunching his face up in a patronizing pout. One hand rose to pinch your cheeks, holding your head still while he pressed a sloppy kiss to your temple. “Oh boo hoo. Woe is me. Please, Loki, have mercy.”

You hissed, digging your knuckles into his abdomen. He laughed in response, dragging his nose across your jaw before sucking a mark under your ear. Your voice came out thready despite your best efforts, a casualty of the way his other hand was drawing figure-eights across your thigh. “You cocky bastard.”

“Careful. You speak to me like that again and I might just leave you wanting.”

“You won’t.”

He dipped his head, laving his tongue over the junction of your shoulder and throat. His thumb slid to the side, tracing the damp seat of your underwear with lazy intent. “I won’t?”

“Nope.” You swallowed another embarrassing sound when the meat of his palm ground against you with delicious friction.

“What makes you so certain?”

You tilted your head; distracted as he was by marking up your throat, his hold on your face had loosened enough for you to get your lips around the webbing between his thumb and pointer finger. You scraped your teeth over the delicate skin, delighting in how his body tensed against you. “Because you want me just as badly.”

“You’re finally right about something. Looks like you do have some coherent thoughts in that pretty little brain of yours.”

“Asshole.”

“Tsk. Try harder. I’ll make you a deal - if you call me something creative, I’ll let you come tonight.” He pulled away, his head tipped ever so slightly to the left to admire his handiwork. No doubt your lipstick was smeared across your face at this point, considering how it stained his pale skin from the tip of his nose to the sharp point at the corner of his jaw. “I warn you though, mortal, I’ve been alive for many centuries. I’ve heard it all.”

“Monster,” you tried.

“Old news.”

“Duplicitous snake.”

“Boring.”

“Evil, traitorous coward.”

“It’s starting to look like tonight will only be about me, little thing.” Loki grinned, sliding the tail of his belt through the buckle. It fell open with a clatter against his thigh as he worked the zipper of his slacks down and pushed on your free hand, urging you to take him in your fist and pump him slowly.

“Lover,” you spit.

He paused. “Excuse me?”

“I said ‘lover’.” Even without his hand guiding yours, you drew your hand back and forth in lazy tugs, arousal pooling, hot and wanting, at the way his stomach jumped, muscles visible through his open shirt. “What a pathetic god. To love a human.”

His eyes crawled down, then back up the length of your body. Slowly, achingly slowly, he slipped from your grasp and sank to his knees in front of you. “Truly debased.”

You ran your fingers through his damp curls, heavy with the humidity of want. “It’s sad, really.”

He tapped the back of your calf, shouldering your leg until you draped it over his back, and pressed a loud kiss to your lower belly. “Clever girl.”

Loki pulled your panties to the side; you would have been embarrassed by the threads of arousal clinging to them if it wasn’t for the way his expression darkened, a clear reverence rolling off of him while his thumb slid over you, pulling your folds apart to get a better look. His pretty eyes were awash with desire, burning a hot and syrupy trail as they traveled from the mess between your thighs to your face.

You smoothed a curl out of his eyes and watched him tip his head, pressing a loud kiss just beside your clit. He took his time teasing his mouth over you, alternating between licking long stripes and sliding sloppy kisses over slick, heated skin. The hand around your thigh clutched you in a bruising grip, holding you against his shoulder like you might slip away if he let go. His other hand slipped between his own legs and worked slowly up and down his cock.

You tipped your head back against the wall. “You’re enjoying this.”

His grip tightened. “Shut up.”

Loki squeezed his eyes tight, desperation clear in the way he tipped his head for a better angle. He closed his lips around your clit and sucked, pulling a thready gasp from your chest. You felt a familiar coil between your hips, winding and winding as he worked you more urgently; occasionally you felt his forearm bump against your shin while he pumped his cock in time with rolls of your hips.

You grew delirious. Your legs shook, struggling to hold you upright. You planted your hand on his shoulder for support, back bowing off the wall with the force of your impending orgasm. Loki laughed against you, the sound humming over your skin in the most delicious way. 

You found no relief in his mouth; he seemed only to wind you higher and higher but never to the edge. Your chest heaved, pleasure turning desperate and achy. You pushed on his forehead, tears welling in the corners of your eyes. “Stop. Loki, it’s not… I need…”

He paused, his mouth still pressed against you. His eyes scanned yours curiously, brimming with mischief, before he gave one final flick of his tongue. You clenched, hissing through your teeth, and squirmed away. His shoulders shook with laughter under your leg. Loki turned his cheek into your thigh and drew his wet chin across your skin, leaving an uncomfortable sticky path in his wake.

“Get -” Your order stuttered and died on your tongue when he bit down on your hip. “Get back up here.”

“So bossy.”

“You want me so bad, Laufeyson.”

“So, so badly,” he hummed mockingly.

You let him nudge his way between your legs, lining his hips up with yours to guide himself inside you. There was an initial pressure, that familiar press before your body yielded to him and he slid down to the hilt. 

He groaned once his hips met yours and, privately, you agreed. There was something electric about him, as if he had rewritten the polarity of your nerves so they yearned in his direction. He was an asshole - arrogant, stubborn, untrusting - but there was such an aching kindness in the way his fingers trailed over your skin that it left you feeling raw and oozy. 

A self-deprecating laugh hissed through his teeth when your fingers wound through the curls at the back of his skull. Very quietly, he murmured something against your skin.

“What was that?”

“I said I hate you.”

“Right.” His hips rolled against you slowly, testing you. “Come on, lover,” you goaded him on. “Fuck me like you hate me.”

He groaned. “One day you’ll let me make love to you.” 

You gasped when he thrust into you, jolting you up the wall. He set a brutal pace, tugging your body down onto him with every sharp jerk of his hips. You twined your arms around his neck for support and tried to leverage your weight against him, shifting so he was angled to bump against that soft spot inside you that made your knees buckle. The sob that ripped through you when he finally connected seemed to spur him on, working him into a frenzy.

“One day you’ll let me do this in a bed. In my bed. No, actually, in our bed. Now, tell me what you feel.” Loki punctuated the order with a kiss, though you were both moving too much to get any further than a brush of open, panting mouths.

You nodded dumbly. “It’s- it’s good. So- oh, right there. Please.”

“Yes. Beg for me.”

Annoyance turned over in your belly. You scraped your teeth along his jaw. “Asshole.”

Loki pulled your body to a sudden stop, his cock buried to the hilt deep inside of you. His head cocked menacingly to the side.

“Hmm.” He gave an experimental roll of his hips. “You’re lucky you make the most fantastic sounds when you come. And I do so very, very badly want to hear them. So sing. Praise, this time, little mortal.”

His thumb pressed meanly against your clit. Each jerk of his hips against you made you bump against the calloused skin, a delicious but not-quite satisfying pressure. 

“You want me so badly. I could have you eating out of the palm of my hand. But I’m merciful. I won’t make you do that.” Loki licked a hot stripe up the side of your throat. “I’ll just fuck you instead. Now come on.”

Your face scrunched up, hands fisting in the back of his shirt. You’d given up on stifling any sounds you made, letting broken, wanton sounds tumble from your mouth with each nudge of his thumb against your clit. Your chest ached, your breaths thready and gasping, barely sucking in air before it escaped you as a squeal or a sigh. Your thighs shook with the force of it all, body gone taut and boneless all at once.

You pulled him in as tightly as you could as you came, burying your nose in his throat, seeking some tether to ground yourself by. It was all too much - too hot, too sweaty, too bright, too good. You needed him to come. You needed him to stay. You needed, needed, needed.

Loki stumbled into his climax and stilled after a few more sloppy thrusts, winding his arms around your back to properly ensnare you. His breath licked over your skin and left goosebumps to rise in its wake.

You stayed tangled like that for an eternity, slowly winding down back to Earth in the other’s arms. Your fingers traced a shy path down his nape while his hands slid up and down your sides placatingly.

Eventually, he set you down on your feet. His hands smoothed down your skirt before tucking himself away in his slacks. Your voice was small as you watched him loop his belt back through the buckle. “I get closer and closer every day.”

“To what? First-degree murder?” He turned his face up to yours, a joking tilt to his brows. Something in your expression gave him pause, the smile melting off of him. He smoothed out the front of his slacks and then put his hand on your shoulders, leveling you with an unreadable look. “Really?”

You nodded mutely, turning your eyes to the floor. He tipped your face up to keep them trained on him.

“Ask me,” you murmured.

“Make love to me, darling.”

You paused, drawing the moment out. “Maybe. If you’re a good boy.”

He sighed, a long-suffering sound. “You vex me.”

[flowersdiceandlove]

Au were WWX makes a deal w/ a demon to posses his body and in return will get revenge on the Wen and protect the people wwx loves instead of creating demonic cultivation when he’s tossed in then Burial Mounds. So WWX is stuck in his body while this demon is in control, pretending to be him. He, of course, gets bored of just being there unable to really do anything so he starts talking to the demon who can hear him since he’s in his head. He becomes like a backseat driver to the demon and makes comments on the demons actions as “Wei Wuxian.” Eventually he drives the demon so mad with his inane chatter and Wei Wuxian-ness that the demon stops possessing him to just get away from WWX and his endless talking.

But, in the meantime, WWX was watching closely and learning how the demon was doing demonic cultivation and stuff and so knows how to use it and was developing a lot of arrays and talismans and stuff that he couldn’t write down/didn’t want the demon knowing about. Also, he’ll sometimes tell the demon to do something and the demon will do it to just get him to shut up about it. The demon also helps WWX realize he’s in love with lwj after WWX blabbers on about him for days on end and not seeming like he’s gonna stop any time soon, making the demon’s eye twitch. He gets so fed up with WWX’s unknowing pining that he helps him through his bi-realization so he can finally have some peace in their head.

Of course this just leads to WWX gushing about lwj even more bc now he knows why he can’t stop thinking about the other and everything reminds him of him.

The demon is seriously regretting it’s life choices.

It won’t for long though bc WWX has decided this demon is family now and will be aggressive adopting it once he gets control of his body back. You don’t just spend years sharing a body and mind with someone and not make them part of your found family after all.

[gossippool]

i was gonna make a personal poolverine headcanons list because other people were doing it too but i realised my fics already have most of them so. here are some of my headcanons in fic snippet form. some contradict with others and some i don't even think are necessarily true but it's fun to experiment

people have said this before but logan fights wade because he sees himself in him (or because he realises that he actually doesn't and he hates that)

wade knows about and feels the (emotional and psychological) effects of all his other variant selves (and everything else if he tries)

logan's heightened senses gives him synesthesia

logan doesn't actually like violence/fighting/blood during sex or like ever. it's just an unhealthy addiction that started from him killing all those people that he snuffed with alcohol but revived with wade, and a way to take his anger out on (someone like) himself

with regard to wade's chronic pain slight p pressure on his skin hurts more and in a worse way than sharp pains like getting stabbed

[star--anon]

Minho, who moved into Gally's childhood house

unknowingly also moving into an active War Zone™

it's Gally VS Thomas

they're both ghosts

they're fighting over who gets to haunt the place

both of them have attached themselves to the house already and are trying to convince the other to un-attach themselves

attaching oneself to a place is a simple procedure

In fact, it's so simple it can happen on accident for a lot of ghosts

like Thomas, who thought the house was cute and spent so long there that he just woke up attached one day

meanwhile, Gally grew up in the house as a living human and has haunted the place for three years

So he's not about to let some silly accidental ghost take it away from him

any number of ghosts can be attached to a property, but traditionally, only one ghost haunts it

the others just kind of... meander

most ghosts lose interest in staying connected to the physical world

and enjoy floating mindlessly in some forgotten corner of an establishment, wandering in their waking dreams

but Thomas and Gally aren't those kinds of ghosts

Minho isn't even aware of the fight between the two at first

Thomas and Gally don't really pay attention to Minho either

He's not really a "human being with feelings"

he's just another part of the house

that the haunting ghost gets the right to mess with

until Minho starts tearing down the old wallpaper, renovating the showers, replacing the mirrors, etc.

the two ghosts quickly set their rivalry aside to drive away the parasite that's demolishing their precious haunting place

they start off small

Minho can't find his keys, his TV remote is always missing, why is his toothbrush in the toilet, where did all the windows go, was this area of the house always this dark, why is it so cold, why are his blankets trying to strangle him

(okay Gally went too far with that one)

Step 2: ants start stealing his food, faces appear behind Minho in the mirror, rats drown themselves in his morning coffee, the doors open and close loudly at night, the basement stairs try to chew off Minho's feet

(okay Gally went too far again)

before they can get to Step 3, Minho catches on

he guessed that there was a ghost in the house at Step 1

Step 2 made him realize the ghost might be more malicious than he thought

he starts tossing food into the campfire as offerings for whatever spirit is messing with him

a ghost is kind of like a vampire. They need permission to do certain things

such as eating physical food

Thomas, who died last week and is unused to no longer being able to eat, eagerly accepts whatever Minho throws out of the flames

he stops messing with Minho

Minho notices the decline in ghostly antics and increases the food offerings

Gally is offended that Thomas is so easily swayed

"This is why you would've never made a good haunting ghost"

"Okay but you haven't tasted his pasta. He makes really good pasta."

as respectful and knowledgeable as Minho is, he's wrong on one thing: He thinks there's only one ghost

He buys a larger bed and another pillow, inviting the ghost (just one) to sleep. He puts out a second toothbrush (just one). He makes a second dinner (just one) and buys a second kitchen chair (just one)

for all his kindness, Minho only ever invites one ghost

so of course, Thomas and Gally fight over who gets to be Minho's ghost

(at some point you have to wonder if maybe they just like fighting)

"Just haunt the house. You love this house. You've haunted it for three years or something."

"You're just saying that because you want to haunt Minho"

"You want to haunt Minho too!"

"He's in my house! He's mine!"

"I literally died last week! I deserve some sympathy! I'm vulnerable and sad right now! You have no sympathy!!"

"You can get the pasta that he throws into the fire"

they draw hearts in the mirror (Thomas erases Gally's)

they helpfully write grocery lists for him (Gally tears up Thomas')

they drive away pests from his garden (both try to take credit for what's technically a team effort)

Thomas coaxes a stray cat into the house and is heartbroken when Minho tosses the cat back outside, not knowing it's a gift

Gally offers his old childhood toys (memories are the most precious thing a ghost can give) by putting them on Minho's bed and then sulks when Minho doesn't touch them

(he's afraid of angering whatever put them there by messing up the toys)

Thomas irons out Minho's clothes

Gally steals clothes from random passerby's and gifts them to Minho

(definitely Gally going too far again)

(Minho is frazzled by the increase of naked people outside his house)

they TOTALLY fall in love with him during the process

this is important and 100% normal

they start worrying when Minho takes too long to come home from work

Gally and Thomas even detach themselves from their beloved house to go looking for Minho

(who fell asleep at work 'cause his boss overworked him)

(picture that scene from Ratatouille)

Gally drapes a blanket over Minho's exhausted body while Thomas angrily goes to find his boss

he spends the rest of the night terrorizing him

(Gally is impressed by Thomas' ferocity. He doesn't tell him that, of course)

Minho is losing his mind

because he is the receiver (the victim, really) of a ghost's affection

unbeknownst to him, he is in fact the victim of TWO ghosts' affection

and how is he supposed to maintain his reputation as a normal person... if he's starting to feel affection for a ghost

it ends with all three of them kissing btw

[defiledtomb]

we're so fucking back baby

[the-punforgiven]

Do y'all ever get nightmares that just like, aren't scary?

Like you can tell your brain is trying to make this scary, but you just feel nothing?

[arahusk]

It’s unbelievable just how much it hurt. The pulsing on the right side of Husk’s head, along with the ache that was set just behind his eyes, so that even shutting away his sight did nothing to help. He woke up with a parched throat, everything tasting like sawdust. He coughed, and his entire body shuddered from the effort.

He hadn’t experienced this bad of a hangover in so long.

There had been some effort in trying to crawl out of his bed, but every throb of his veins made him want to hurl his insides against the ratty carpet of his room. It took all of his effort to not make a mess, even if he felt like one, disgusting and unkempt. He had sweated through the sheets, and his fur was probably a horror show for anyone looking in. And that was one positive to his day, that no one could see him at his very lowest—

“Husker! You’re late.”

God fucking dammit.

Husk only had enough effort to open his eyes while his head lay over the bed at an angle. He saw the infuriating shine of his boss’s shoes, red tips searing into his brain until he thought it simmered inside his skull. For a while, he just stayed that way, looking down, waiting for his brain to drip right out of his ears and stain the leather of those shoes.

A cane lightly nudged against his head. “Anyone home?”

Husk hissed through his teeth. “Can’t you just—” Another awful throb, shooting through his skull. He pushed away the cane with an unsteady hand. “I’ll be down in a fucking minute. Not like anyone needs it.”

“Ohh, I see now! You drank too much yet again. My, your tolerance levels are rather poor, aren’t they?”

Husk would have been more insulted if he hadn’t remembered just how often Alastor drank him under the table. The man had a taste for hard liquors that even Husk found himself struggling with.

With a small beat of his wings, Husk pulled himself just enough to crawl back into bed. “Least let me deal with this headache without you here.”

“Well, it won’t go away like that! Don’t you know a little stimulation to get that blood flowing should do the trick? But you’re not much of a stimulating fellow, I suppose.”

All this yapping was incredibly not helping. In fact, he was sure it was just making his hangover so much worse.

“I don’t give a shit. Leave me alone!” Husk placed both hands over his ears, pressing against his head as if that would be enough to distill every toxin that was running through his body. “Unless you’re going to do something about it…”

What he got was silence—he could barely pick up on any frequencies with how dense his headache was—and for a moment, he thought he got some reprieve and that his boss had actually left. He couldn’t imagine Alastor would have that much fun watching him suffer.

Instead, what he soon felt was a dip on his bed, and a touch against the right side of his head. He froze until he felt those fingers begin to scratch.

Husk hated to admit how good that felt. He struggled against the hold, but Alastor didn’t let go. “Hey, what—”

“You’ll make it worse.”

Another growl. But it barely made it through his throat, all as those fingers rushed through his fur. Claw tips kneaded against kin, carefully to not tear or cut. Another hand rested against his chin, massaging his jaw until Husk could barely speak.

The whole thing was too soft. Too sympathetic. Husk struggled again, but gave up shortly. He found himself leaning against those hands.

Experienced hands with gentle, tapered fingers. The touch moved to the underside of his left ear, while a thumb slid upwards to press against his forehead. Firm touches with a measured rhythm, going up and down in circles. And then those hands pulled him forward, gently, towards warmth that was nearly impossible to resist.

Husk gritted his teeth, but the petting was almost too perfect. The horrible throbs and constant nausea was lessening. He could close his eyes, and the sharp jabs that pricked into his skull finally stopped. There was only Alastor’s hands, the same that had probably steeped themselves in so much blood and gore, that kept such pain at bay.

How did Alastor even know how to do this?

“Nmf…” Husk mumbled, trying to wrench his head away. Instead, another finger massaged down the bridge of his nose, and it made his fur bristle in pleasure. His tail flicked, and his eyelids fluttered open, then closed.

“Why…?” he finally managed out.

Alastor grinned. He pressed down on one of Husk’s fluffy ears with a thumb, rubbing it gently before moving to his cheek.

“I used to have a cat.” Another gentle rub, all as he brought Husk’s head to lay in his lap. “Sometimes, you remind me so much of him.”

He should have been offended. He should have felt demeaned and small.

Instead, Husk pressed his head deeper against Alastor’s stomach, and made his head limp against those hands.

The pain had went away. That was all that mattered.

[pupkinpumpkin]

Was trying to think of cute headcanons for My Mage Rook and Davrin when I remembered that I gave her the Necromancer specialization

So I just thought of Rook and Davrin in his room, Rook's getting slammed down big-style, she gets too excited, and suddenly all of the bones and skulls in Davrin's room start rattling, screaming, and the big ribcage on top of his bed falls on top of them, essentially trapping them in it

Ya know, cute headcanons