#I do find it really interesting that if they have kids with a human nearly all fish-like characteristics are lost

[problemswithbooks]

Fishman at lest reproduce like humans do because Oda said they’re mammals.

Oh, I'd go a step further and say fishmen and mermaids are really just humans considering they can have children with humans and those children can also then have children as well. Not only that whatever genetic difference that gives them fish-like adaptations is rather weak with half-fishman, half-human hybrids almost always look completely human. By the time that child has another child with a human all fish traits are gone, and the only thing they seem to retain is being naturally good swimmers.

My post about their possible different ways of reproduction was mainly just a fun world building head-canon that could help explain why/how some fishmen/merfolk can have spouses and children of wildly huge sizes. Also, if some fish-men like Hody can have possess genitalia similar to his fish counterpart it's not that big a stretch to thing other fishmen/merfolk might be equally effected sometimes.

The thing is I really doubt Oda really gives much thought to how the new races he puts in his story work biologically. If he did, he'd have known that sharks have two 'penis-like' clappers, instead of being surprised by the fan who brought it up. This is in no way a dig at Oda or One Piece. It's not a story that focuses much on that aspect of the world in great detail besides what is necessary for the plot and themes and that works just fine--in fact doing more would only bog down the story with unnecessary information that wastes everyone's time.

We don't need to know how fishmen/merfolk have kids or how it's physically possible for Otohime to have such a massive husband and daughter. It's not relevant to the plot or themes and Oda's already got a long story to tell without superfluous info being brought up. Plus, he just wants to draw fun looking characters. The science of it isn't important because it's the visuals that really matter anyway.

It's really just something I thought about and tried to come up with biological reasons for because I enjoy that type of thing so much. World building is fun for me, and as someone who enjoys biology, it's fun to look at these fish-like characters and think about how they might function with more fish-like biology, then continue that onto how that might effect their culture.

I just think it's neat :)

[save-the-villainous-cat]

So what about a genius hero x street smart villain, maybe hero is a little awkward from being in the lab all the time but villain makes up for it by being able to pick up on hero’s body language? Kinda alone the lines of “they didn’t correct you to insult you, they were trying to be helpful”?

"Can you walk?"

"Y-yes, of course," the hero answered. But the villain wasn't fooled that easily. Obviously, they noticed the white-knuckled grip and the pale face. They noticed the unsteady gaze and the shaking hand. The five coffee mugs.

"I didn't bring you here to work yourself to death," the villain said. they crossed their arms in front of their chest, attempting to sound soothing.

It could be quite challenging to guess the hero's feelings. Kidnapping someone to work for them wasn't exactly...a promise for good cooperation. It wasn't ideal either but the villain barely knew what an Erlenmeyer flask was and they really needed the hero to research the disease.

"Being careless could cost you your life. This is pretty dangerous. If this virus can kill people with superpowers, I don't want to know what it can do to us."

"The average human immune system can destroy the virus, don't worry," the hero said. They closed their eyes and took in a deep breath. "People with superpowers are flawed, though. Their bodies need to come up with a lot of energy to conjure superpowers. Specialized cells create a nearly independent system on their own. But, you know, some parts of the body - of the vessel - don't get as much energy as they need. Organs are important, so...immune system it is. That's why a bunch of kids with superpowers die. There is barely any information on it yet, though."

"Do you need more...specimen?"

"No. No, I..." The hero pressed a palm against their temple. They looked angry, they looked frustrated. The villain supposed not getting proper sleep for days was an explanation for that.

"Okay, that's enough, I think."

"I am fine," the hero insisted.

"You are not fine." The villain took a step towards them. "I know you are working on this so you can find a way to kill supervillains, not superheroes. But right now the only person you are close to killing is yourself."

"What would you know about my work? I am fine, I am doing amazing."

The villain reached out to touch the hero's shoulder but the hero slapped their hand away weakly.

They knew the hero wasn't...particularly good with other people. Especially, when it came to work. For the most part, the villain understood why but they could barely understand why they insisted on working hard enough to forget basic self-care. It seemed like brilliance demanded stubborness.

"You're right. I don't know much about your work, but I do know a lot about behaviour. And your behaviour is unacceptable."

"Unacceptable? How dare-"

The villain grabbed their chin, shutting up the hero. They took a step forward, forcing the hero to press their lower back into the table.

The proximity surprised even the villain - they hadn't realised the hero was this close to the table.

And this close to the villain.

"Alright, listen," the villain said. Their voice was dangerously low. "Right now, I am your boss and you will do as I say. If I tell you to rest, you will rest. If I tell you to eat, you will eat. I don't care if you want to work 20 hours a day or if you want to finish one more test. I decide how much you work, got it?"

The villain's fingers dug into the hero's cheeks softly and they smiled when the hero frowned at that.

"You don't want me to start threatening you, do you?"

The hero rolled their eyes and then they just stared at the villain. Stared with those curious and tired eyes, as if the villain was another experiment they were interested in.

"You're actually quite adorable," the villain said. They squeezed the hero's cheeks again for good measure. "You can have my bed."

The villain let go of them and the hero blinked a few times. A soft blush decorated their face. And for some strange reason, the villain felt really warm and...satisfied inside.

"What about you?" the hero asked.

"I will take the couch."

"Absolutely not. Do you know how many bacteria colonies are on a couch?" They turned away from the villain and slowly started cleaning their workplace with shaky hands.

"Believe me, I will survive."

"Fine." The hero shrugged. "Your funeral."

"You're making this up, aren't ya?" The hero turned towards the villain again and even their ears had turned red.

"Do I look like I would lie about that sort of stuff?" they asked but they didn't meet the villain's eyes. It was quite funny but the villain didn't know if it was supposed to be a joke.

Usually, the hero only acted sassy when someone criticised their work, when they got annoyed or when they got embarrassed.

The villain guessed the latter was happening.

But whatever was the catalyst, it seemed like the hero was willing to rest and that was all the villain truly wanted.

"Ah, screw it." The villain waved with their hand, still smiling. "My bed is big enough for two, anyway."

"It, uh, better be."

[rad-batson]

Billy Batson and Damian Wayne being weirdly good friends (ft. the occasional Jon Kent)

Billy befriends Damian after the JL learns his real identity. Batman approached him and told him they should meet since they’re the same age.

At first, it’s awkward because Damian isn’t interested in making friends, and Billy’s mad that Batman is essentially sending him to the kids' table. Until… 

Damian: “Why must my father insist that I socialize? I can handle myself!” Billy: “Thank you! I’ve been on my own since I was six. I don’t need an adult to tell me what to do.” Damian: “…I like you.” Billy: “Wanna spy on the Justice League?” Damian: “Yes.”

Batman immediately regrets his decision.

At first, the two don’t really talk outside of meetings or happenstance, but when they do, they’re like twins. They know exactly what the other is thinking at all times. (The adults are terrified.)

Both end up bonding over their upbringing, specifically the fact that they were abused/traumatized/malnourished for several years. That marks the point where they start talking regularly.

Damian nearly jumps out of his skin the first time Billy speaks to him in Arabic (courtesy of the Islamic Prophet, Solomon.) They now speak exclusively in Arabic when they gossip.

They will cut a bitch. Do not get on either’s bad side.

Every time one of them says something out of pocket, the other one high-fives them. Even Jon is concerned (and very jealous.)

Billy is required to attend the same school as the Teen Titans and YJ for a bit as a condition of staying in the JL so he and Damian end up taking a few classes together.

Billy “I have Zeus on speed dial” Batson and Damian “I got a PhD in The Classics at age six” Wayne proceed to roast their history professors in the back of the classroom for all of the misinformation.

Damian: “Okay so I really need a human skull, but you can’t ask why.” Billy: “As long as you also don’t ask why.” *pulls out several pristine human skulls from pocket dimension* “Take your pick.” Damian: “…this one.” Jon: “what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck”

They’re both eerily good at schooling their emotions due to countless years of emotional abuse and neglect. If anything goes wrong during a mission, it’s like a switch is flipped. They are suddenly completely level-headed.

Damian gifts Billy a PC that he built himself so they can play games together without so much lag. (It’s literally just Minecraft on creative mode. They design a working amusement park together.)

Both have been permanently banned from all zoos on the eastern seaboard. Damian tried to “liberate” the ostriches, and Billy taught the gorillas swear words in sign language.

Everyone Else: “We need to find civilization on this desert planet we crashed landed on or we’ll starve.” Billy and Damian: “The human body can go ten days without food.” Everyone: “…Are you okay?” Billy and Damian: “Not important.”

Billy, Jon, Colin, and Damian have a group chat where they regularly place bets on dumb mishaps the adults get themselves into. The one rule is they can’t bet with cash. Thus they create a trading system made entirely of local snacks, Pokémon cards, supernatural knick-knacks, and dares.

[tweedracer]

Hi! I saw you wanted some barbie prompts so I had a idea.

What if Ken meets someone in the real world and he instantly found them attractive, they end up complimenting him which makes him want them even more to where he forgets the whole patriarchy ordeal and just wants them to love him because they didn’t just ignore him.

💖 Meeting RG!Ken in the Real World 💖

(RG!Ken x Human!Reader)

💖 SO YOU DEFINITELY MEET THIS GUY WHILE HE’S IN DAVY CROCKETT MIDDLE SCHOOL’S LIBRARY. You’ve been working there a few months as a librarian and while it wasn’t exactly your passion it was something that filled your schedule and kept half-decent food on the kitchen table so you wouldn’t complain.

💖 “Hi! Would you point me in the direction of the Horses and Patriarchy section?” The cheerful voice made you look up from where you were hunched over at the painfully old computer- double checking that all of the due books had been checked in.

💖 “Excuse me?” You said, completely flabbergasted by both the words and looks of the man who stood opposite your desk. He was tall; with golden blonde hair and sun-kissed skin he would be strikingly handsome were it not for the ridiculous cowboy outfit he was donned in. (Who were you kidding? He was still ridiculously attractive even with the costume).

💖 “Would you point me in the direction of the Horses and Patriarchy section of this library” he repeated with another charming smile, leaning forwards to rest his chin in his hands.

💖 “That’s…” you started slowly, brows furrowed in a way that made his chest feel weird and tingly. “We don’t have a section for Horses and the Patriarchy.” You explained as gently as you could, eyeing around in hopes of finding the poor excuse for a security officer that usually took his lunch in here despite the obvious ‘no eating in the library’ signs posted around.

💖 The man’s handsome face wilted a bit and for a moment you felt a little guilty for not being able to indulge his ridiculous request. “Oh! Silly me- could you point me in the direction of the Horse Section first? I’ll go to the Patriarchy section after” He said, chipper once again.

💖 “We… don’t have a just Horses section either..” you said again, watching as the man seemed to actually wither, crumbling forwards till his head was against the cold wood of your work desk.

💖 “Do you have a Patriarchy section?” He whimpered, looking up at you from where he’d half collapsed dramatically against your desk- blue eyes glassy and filled with so so much emotion considering the circumstances.

💖 When you shook your head he nearly wailed, sinking further till he was almost entirely on the floor- fringe out of place and hat askew. You stood up to peer over your desk, looking down at the handsome man near-crying on your library floor.

💖 You glanced around, thankfully it was lunchtime for the kids so almost everyone was outside enjoying the sunny Los Angeles afternoon, leaving your room mostly empty. You gnawed on your lips nervously for a few moments before making a decision.

💖 “I can help you find some books on horses though.. and the patriarchy?” You offered, not entirely sure what you were getting yourself into as he jumped up, smiling eagerly and leaning forwards till his face was a few inches away from yours.

💖 “You’d do that for me?” He said with so much awe and amazement you’d think you offered to hang the stars for him.

💖 “…Yeah?” It was your job after all, even if this man was definitely not a student or staff member as far as you knew. Maybe he was a substitute teacher (yeah… right)

💖 But the way his whole face lit up joyfully at something as small as helping him find books made your heart give a little skip in your chest.

💖 You guide him around, pointing out a few books that were somewhat relevant (though he really only seemed interested in grabbing the ones with lots of pictures). Standing next to him you noticed he… really didn’t have a sense of personal space- the man would lean close everytime you spoke up to offer your help in locating relevant books, big baby-blue eyes staring into yours as he hung on to every word you said, nodding enthusiastically.

💖 You felt your cheeks and ears warm go warm at all the attention, occasionally stumbling on a word or two and chewing on your lip nervously between sentences- eyes darting around to anything but the absolute ray of sunshine in front of you.

💖 “Why are you doing that?” He asked innocently, leaning forwards into your space again with only the flimsy spine of Horses, by Ryan Bessin to protect you.

💖 “Doing what?” You said, trying to sound collected and professional though your gaze was still elsewhere, skimming over the names and authors. You jumped a little when you felt him reach out to gently prod at your lip, freeing it from the grasp of your teeth.

💖 “You’re chewing on your lip” he started, unconsciously mirroring the action on his own face. His blue eyes were focused so intensely on your lips and he felt that weird flutter in his chest again. What was that? A side effect of the real world?

💖 “Oh sorry I do that when I’m” you waved your hand vaguely for a moments, waiting till he finally looked away from your mouth to meet your gaze. “Nervous.”

💖 His head tilted in confusion and you were unable to look at him and not see an absolutely adorable, floppy-eared golden retriever puppy. “You’re nervous? Why?” He sounded so genuine and you swear to god he needed to stop looking at you with so much kindness and interest or you may just explode.

💖 “You’re just” you grip tight to the book, “-you’re very… handsome” (and intense) you started again, cheeks warming even more when his face seemed to light up like the Fourth of July- a huge grin splitting his face. “I think there’s another book that might interest you over here!” Frantically you change the subject, thrusting the book forwards and trying (and failing) not to notice just how solid his abs were.

💖 He followed you eagerly, still smiling at you with those weirdly perfect teeth and that shamelessly attentive expression. “Thank you so much, Barbie!”

💖 You looked over your shoulder at him, bewildered. “That’s? Not my name?” You said with a confused but genuine smile. Was it supposed to be some type of weird compliment?

💖 The man blinked, baffled for a few moments before he seemed to remember something. “Oh! Sorry! Force of habit” he laughed, looking bashful as he fingered the pages of the book he held.

💖 (And you definitely didn’t let your gaze slip to those deft, elegant looking hands. Broad and masculine but spared any callous or freckle- his tanned skin nearly perfect)

💖 “So… why exactly are you looking for books on the Patriarchy and Horses?”

💖 He blinked a few times at your question, looking down at the books in his arms as though he’d forgotten they were there for a moment. His smile brightened marginally, and he picked up one of the books at random- The Origins of Patriarchy, waving it loosely in front of your face. “Oh! So I’m learning about this super awesome thing called The Patriarchy”

💖 He almost immediately noticed the slight downward tilt of your lips- and the resulting twist in his chest was not like the fluttering sensations from earlier. No this was… icky- this feeling was unpleasant (something he didn’t actually have a lot of context for) and all he could think of was getting that look off of your face as fast as possible.

💖 “But- uh that’s beside the point!” As flippantly as possible he tosses the book over his shoulder with a bashful laugh. You winced, knowing you’d have to put that up later, but the man didn’t seem to notice; too busy looking at you with those big blue eyes and leaning against the bookshelf.

💖 “O-Okay?” You said, blinking rapidly at him as you chewed nervously on your lip again, trying not to squirm under the pure fascination in his gaze, completely unaware of the rapidly shifting priorities of the man in front of you.

💖 “Oh my name is Ken! Hey- what size rollerblades do you wear by the way?”

[panlight]

I genuinely love and am fascinated by the found family of the Cullens, just this whole concept of people from different time periods and geographic locations forming a family.

(I love the concept with the Pack, too, but it's different in that they are all roughly the same age and grew up in the same place.)

But I find that sometimes people take the family thing too literally for my tastes. And again: write and read what you like! I'm just saying that for me part of the appeal is that it's not any easy 1 to 1 comparison to a nuclear family. In my head, Esme and Carlisle might have parental roles, but they aren't like . . . grounding anyone, or making them do their homework, because their "kids" are immortal vampires and not actual teenagers.

I also think the fact that they were all raised by someone else to adulthood or nearly adulthood is a factor, too. I can go hang out with my parents and brothers as an adult and fall into some childhood patterns, but the Cullens don't have that, at least not in the human sense. Esme didn't teach Edward how to tie his shoes. Carlisle didn't teach Alice the alphabet. They weren't involved in their childhoods. They were 17-20 years old when they came into Esme and Carlisle's lives; adoption is absolutely a valid way to have a family, but Esme and Carlisle never experienced raising a baby or child. The dynamic would naturally be very different here.

(I guess you could argue that from a vampire perspective they raised 'newborns' but like, Esme came after Edward, and Alice and Jasper were already mature vampires when they showed up.)

And again, I like this, I think it's interesting, and that's why the fics lean too hard into just making this like, The Brady Bunch generally lose me. I think C/Es play roles like parents. I think the Cullen kids see each other (other than their spouses) like siblings. I think they use these human terms to explain their relationships but they are imprecise, that it's different when you really didn't grow up together, but you were helped through the newborn year or adjusting to vegetarianism or whatever. There are bonds there and it's a family, but it's not quite a human family, and that's what makes it interesting to me.

[sircantus]

OOOOO the dark sbi one sounds fun! Are there any other wips that is dark sbi?

Anyways I am VERY interested in Yoink the identity one please do share🙏

Funny you say that bc yoink the identity is also a dark sbi au!! Kinda. Its actually just more of a horror au if anything (but also yeah a couple of the aus there have got dark elements i cant remember which tho my memory of them only activates when i focus on one)

anyhow that wip is about a shapeshifter au in which wilbur and Phil are supposed to have their weekly dinner night together, but then Wil gets a call with Phil panicking and screaming on the other end, telling him to rush over to his apartment. Wilbur goes over thinking something horrible happened, but when he gets there Phil has no idea what Wil is talking about with the phone call and he seems entirely fine.

They kinda go on with their dinner night but Phil keeps really odd, not quite getting details in the conversation right, seeming lost in his own house, ect. Wilbur ends up hearing a weird noise and sneaks off to investigate to find actual Phil locked in a closet.

To where he then realizes he was not talking with the real Phil and something is seriously fucked up here. They both sneak around the apartment trying to avoid the not Phil thing, who realizes actual Phil got out and starts to try to lure them out by mimicking their voices (it keeps calling for Phil in wilburs voice, “Phil? Phil, whered you go?” And then it switches to Phils voice screaming for help, which makes Wilbur just keep looking at real Phil desperately trying to reassure himself the noise isnt real)

They end up escaping the apartment and calling Techno, their mutual buddy, for help, but then the shapeshifter starts following them outside and they’re running across the empty streets in the middle of the night to try and lose it. Techno eventually finds them and nearly runs them over, and then proceeds to try purposely running the shapeshifter over upon seeing it come around the corner, looking like Phil but with everything about him seeming just Wrong. (Eyes glinting too hard, his walk stumbling too much, the voice from his mouth still being Wilburs-) so sbi is in the car now. Techno hits the thing with his car. They check to see if they killed it, and they watch as the shapeshifter tries to then turn into a kid, but still clinging onto Phils features, so then it just looks like a kid version of Phil (tommy!! Yays)

Its then crying about getting hit with a car and mimicking all their voices interchangeably to ask for help, and Techno is about to get back in the car to run it over a second time!! Only for Phil to stop him bc he wants to know what the heck the shapeshifter is even trying to do. Here is where i lose the plot a bit but i think from there on it would be cool for the three of them to argue amongst themselves over if they should be pitying a monster thing, not noticing Tommy getting closer until he’s right next to them and he’s taken Technos form and voice to try and join their conversation. This somehow results in them realizing he’s really not that harmful. Family dynamics

The thing is “Tommy” is meant to be a very naive type of shapeshifter who doesnt really have a grasp on humans, and he took Phils place first bc he heard about the dinner and he wanted to meet Wil. And then he sees Techno and how Phil and Wilbur talk with him and thats why he turns into a Techno. He also turns young when hes hurt bc he recognizes that humans treat their young gently. Its a neat concept! Alas its also a wip. I have no idea where the family dynamics will form but by god theyre gonna be somewhere

Also its called yoink the identity bc obviously tommy shapeshifter took phils place for a second there haha

[kai-anderson-whore]

Ghost boy (Tate langdon x fem reader smut) kinktober fic 6

Summary: you and your friends go to the abandoned murder house, where you met Tate

Warnings: smut, sex against a wall, sex with a ghost, teasing, clit stimulation somewhat public sex (since it’s a abandoned house 🤷‍♀️)

Word count: 1,5k

A/n: this was shit and the ending was so rushed, I’m so behind on this so I might not post the full ten fics but if I do they may be some after Halloween

•¤❅¤•.•°˚˚°•..•°˚˚°•.•¤❅¤•.•¤❅¤•.•°˚˚°•.

You heard all the rumours about the infamous murder house, how it's haunted, people who step foot there get killed, how the ghosts that live there aren't really ghosts they're just like humans only cold 'bullshit' you thought. You were always a sceptic about all that paranormal stuff, never believed in it one bit.

So when your friends came up with the idea of visiting the murder house you were more than willing to go and see. You wanted to prove your friends wrong, there was no such thing as ghosts. Now outside the old run down building, wooden barriers barricaded the windows except for one on the side of the house.

"So we going in or what" you spoke up unfazed by the eerie sight of the abandoned house. Your friends on the other hand looked if so they already regretted coming here. "Maybe this isn't a good idea, I mean have you heard the stories y/n, once you go in there's a high chance you never get out to tell the tale" your friend Chelsea's scared tone making you chuckle.

"Yeah and that's what it is a tale, it's just to scare kids from going in here and get drunk, all bullshit" you laughed climbing into the house. "What are you doing, are you crazy!?" Your other friend Oliver hissed. "Oh come on you two wanted to come here in the first place now your chickening out" you scoffed your leather jacket nearly getting caught on an overgrown branch connecting to the brick wall.

"Yeah it's fucking creepy" Oliver admitted you just laughed once again one of your legs on the ledge of the old window, the other inside the house barely touching the ground. "Fine I'm going in, I bet I'll make it out alive" you mocked dismissing them and jumping fully into the old house.

You heard their pleas for you to come back, never did you listen once you got something on your mind you do it. Going further into what you expect to be the dinning room, nothing was really out of place like someone had been living here. Dust was collecting on some parts of the house, no graffiti on the walls or smashed glass like other places you been to 'weird?'.

Nothing really sparked your interests downstairs, deciding to take your attention upstairs. Searching room to room all you found were some old photos of the Harmon family that lived here. Entering another room all dark 'this is probably a boys room' you thought to yourself looking around the room.

Spotting a record collection mostly grunge and rock music nirvana, Alice and the chains, hole and some artists who inspired the grunge scene. "Good taste" you hummed to yourself out loud. "Thanks" a voice chimed making out yelp in fright, clutching your chest.

"WHAT THE FUCK!" You snapped turning your head to find a boy with blonde hair with a amused smile and arms folded over his chest. "Didn't mean to scare you" he defended holding his hands up. "Who are you?" You asked not feeling scared anymore. You couldn't help but find this mysterious guy attractive he wore a knitted sweater with baggy jeans and converse.

"I'm Tate, I live here" he shrugged.

"What you live in a abandoned house yeah right" you scoffed not believing it. "I'm a ghost so yeah I live here" he says in a serious tone. "Sure and I'm the pope, did Chelsea and Oliver set you up for this, if they did nice try" you laughed which only made Tate a little bit frustrated.

"No" Tate unfolds his arms taking a step towards you. "Okay Tate prove your a ghost" you challenged standing from your kneeled position. "Why would I need to prove I'm dead" he scoffed rolling his eyes. "Because your not dead, but you are kinda cute" you smirked, Tate couldn't help but blush at your compliment. "Well thanks I guess, not so bad yourself if I may add" he returned his voice somewhat dulcet but a smirk always playing on his lips.

"Thanks Casper" you smiled biting your bottom lip. Standing up from your kneeled position. Leaving the room exploring more parts of the house. "You know shouldn't really be here alone" Tate speaks up you turn your head, raising an eyebrow. "And why's that Casper?".

"Because you never know what's in here" he shrugs. You chuckled dismissively, "oh yeah the boogeyman is going to get me is is". Tate smirked at you he couldn't lie he thought you were beautiful, with your leather jacket, the way your hair would flow as the breeze of the house swished past you. He oddly felt nervous around you but wanted to be close to you.

You notice his nervousness, smirking to yourself. "Do I make you nervous Casper?".

"What no" he blushed.

"I do" you laughed stepping closer to him, you could practically feel how nervous he was, swallowing a lump in his throat. You smiled seductively at Tate standing in front of him, "maybe just a little" Tate chuckled blushing. A new wave of confidence washed over you, you couldn't deny he was extremely attractive even if it was weird that he was randomly in this abandoned house.

"And why do I make you nervous Casper?" You teasingly asked using your newfound nickname. Tate swallowed a lump in his throat "w-well your really pretty that's why" he mumbles. Now face to face with him. "Oh really I'm pretty?" You teased now playing with the hem of his flannel.

"Yeah" he chuckled, you couldn't deny your attraction to the boy. Now with the sudden wave of confidence you kissed him, feverishly. Tate's eyes blown wide at your sudden action, but responded to your lips nonetheless. Your hand cupped his cheek deepening the kiss.

A moan left your lips feeling Tate's hands on your body, he was cold but you assumed that it was because of the cold air in the abandoned house. Tate grew the confidence to pin you to the nearest wall you gasped feeling the cold wall come in contact with you.

A smirk crept on his lips, his hand on your waist now slowly creeping under your skirt, his thumb coming in contact with your clit, you let out another gasp and he rubbed you through your nearly soaked panties. You grew wetter by the second, your hand gripped his shoulder to steady yourself. "Your so wet" Tate chuckled retracing his hand from your underwear.

His lips attacked your neck leaving purple marks along your delicate skin. You sighed your hand cupped his bulged rubbing him through his jeans. Before unbuttoning the button. "Eager are we?" Tate chuckles. "Just fuck me" you sighed. Tate pulled down his jeans and underwear just enough for his cock to string free.

His hands on the backs on your thighs signalling your to jump, which you did. Your underwear moved to one side he lined himself up with your entrance teasingly. "Don't tease me" you whined. Tate chuckled slowly pushing himself into you. Your eyes rolling back in pleasure your grip on his shoulder tightened.

Tate bottomed out inside you before retracting his hips from you, thrusting in you. Moans slowly crept their way out your lips, he stretched you out perfectly. Your head resting on Tate's shoulder, "harder" you panted your body jolting with each thrust, "I don't think you deserve it yet" Tate grinned, you immediately felt frustrated with his disapproval of your request. "Please, please Casper, I need it please" you begged, Tate's thrusts got even more slower.

"You know that's not my name, say my name and I'll maybe consider it" Tate's voice was more deep and dominant, "I'm sorry Tate, please fuck me harder please tate" you pleaded. “Well since you asked so nicely” he smirked.

His hips thrusted into you in a much faster pace, you almost screamed out in pleasure and pain, it felt so good. Tates hips were erratic the pace they went you were sure he would split you in two. Your head resting on the wall behind you. Your legs pulling him closer.

You felt dangerously close to the edge, Tate could tell “you close?” He asked, you nodded your head humming in response. “Use your words” Tate coaxed, smirking wickedly. “I’m so close” you panted out. Feeling that knot form in your stomach.

“Let go baby” he whispered, you let go over his cock with a loud moan. Your nails digging into his flannel, your orgasm triggering his own release. He pulling out of you spilling his seed on your thigh. You panted trying to catch your breath.

Tate set your feet down on the floor, you fixed your underwear and skirt. “That was fun” Tate smirked tucking himself back into his pants . You smiled nodding “yeah I gotta go my friends are outside waiting on me” I giggled. “Oh okay maybe I’ll see you around?” He asked. “Sure I’ll see you around” you smiled Leaving Tate.

You made it outside seeing your friends by the gates of the abandoned house. “What took you so long we were about to send a search party out for you” Oliver says. “Keep your head on, I’m here now I just found some cool stuff that’s all” you smirked blushing a little. “Come on let’s go” Oliver sighed, the three of you walked away from the house you looked at a window seeing Tate. You smiled and waved as you walked away.

[the-monkey-ruler]

Greetings! I hope you're having an at least decent weekend. Is it just me or is Stephen Chow involved in a lot of jttw/swk centered media? & do you have anything to say about any of Stephen Chow's jttw/swk centered work?

Stephen Chow WAS Sun Wukong in what could be considered the most iconic Sun Wukong that changed the game. I'm not kidding that there could be a butterfly effect on how Stephen Chow's Wukong in the Chinese Odyssey became such a classic we see how it has affected games, shows, and movies even years later. Dare I say it but I think Stephen Chow could have been just as influential to Wukong's development in modern media as much as even Liu Xiao Ling Tong with how IMPACTFUL his Wukong was.

I have to say that Stephen Chow does have a certain scene of humor that you see in all his movies, not just Journey to the West. He can be raunchy, violent, and nonsensical so I would say that his style of movies might not land with everyone but Stephen Chow undoubtedly always puts a lot of heart into his characters which is what really makes people connect with his movies. He is a master of incorporating meaningful connections through the most ridiculous and insane situations that humans could find themselves in and that is part of his charm seeing both the humor and the tragedy in life as they often go hand and hand. I would suggest reading more about his style here since I think it puts into words how his art form is expressed.

But there can be a fascinating conversation to say just HOW much his Sun Wukong has influenced even modern Journey to the West media. Chinse Odessey was nearly 30 years ago and yet its impact is still being seen today in movies that are directly related to his films, versus movies and shows that he is directly or indirectly involved in today.

Journey to the West Conquering the Demons (2030) (tv remake on Chow’s Wukong)

Black Myth Wukong (2024)

The Monkey King (2023)

A Chinese Odyssey 1 (2022)

A Chinese Odyssey - Origin (2022)

Journey to the West - ARPG (2019)

Bio of Wukong (2017)

The Legend of Sun Wukong (2017)

A Chinese Odyssey TV series (2017)

Journey to the West Demon Strikes Back (2017)

A Chinese Odyssey Part Three (2016)

Honor of Kings (2015)

Taste of Love (2015)

Journey to the West Conquering the Demon (2013)

Asura Online (2010)

Even in movies that he is NOT involved in like Monkey King: The One and Only (2021) 大圣无双 where the Wukong actor is basing his performance clearly on Demon Strikes Back (2017) Wukong. Not to mention nearly EVERY SINGLE Wukong x SO plot line where the SO dies in the end could be traced back to Chinese Odyssey. If you hate how much Wukong's love interests are killed off in media, you can somewhat blame Stephen Chow, not for doing it first, but for doing it WELL and then dozens of directors for years to come trying to recapture that magic but falling short of what made people love that tragic romance in the first place.

Chinese Odessey was made in 1995 and led to the light novel Bio of Wukong which was made in 2000 and at least 4 more movies and its own TV show. The Bio of Wukong was so popular that it led to the inspiration of Asura Online game based is the story and its own movie Immortal Demon Slayer. Stephen Chow continued to make his own movies Conquering the Demon and Demon Strikes Back. He also goes on to help produce Monkey King 2023 and even makes plans to help produce an entire TV series based on his own universe. Asura Online was worked on by Game Science who continued to work on the creation of Black Myth Wukong. This isn't even to mention the spin-offs, sequels, and prequels to Chow's movies and still how they are influencing directors today.

I can't express how much Chow has impacted the very image of Sun Wukong from being a fighter to a tragic hero. I even took from an ENTIRE CHPATER from Transforming Monkey: Adaptation and Representation by Hongmei Sun bout the CULTURAL impact that fans had with Chinese Odessey and how it became such a cult classic. He was the one to really reshape what Wukong could mean to people, not just a hero in an action movie, but a tragic figure that is forced to give up his individualism for the sake of saving the world because no one else can. That the burden of being 'Sun Wukong' can be relatable to anyone and anyone can see their own struggles with how Wukong tries not just to fight demons, but also fight himself.

I have so many feelings on the intricacies of how Wukong's character changes throughout each generation and each audience across countries and what he means to each new audience but never loses what makes him so beloved and keeps him still going strong after 400 years. And I think that Stephen Chow plays a huge and critical part in how Wukong has changed yet again in the public eye. Wukong going from a pure heroic figure to now a tragic hero who has all the power in the world but still finds himself falling short of what he desires in life. I think that this was a vital step in show the complexity and having more directors and the audience toy with the notion of Wukong's internal battle with his identity versus him always just fighting physical battles.

I will say that Chow's influence did lead to the popularity of the Journey to the West Conspiracy Theory which I am not personally a fan of. It is not that it can't be fun or interesting but moreso I believe that this theory has been drawn out far too long in the past 20 years and that it is time for a new nuance perspective to take its place. Genres have waves of new tropes and cliches and I do believe the 'heaven bad, yaoguai misunderstood' has been played out a tad too long to be charming anymore. I think this was a vital step in Wukong’s and Journey to the West adaptions but I also believe that now more can be built upon this premise to allow for more creative ideas that reflect a more modern audience.

I think that the audience that has grown up with Chow's work (Chinese Odessey at least) is now at the age where they can produce and create their own material and we are still seeing how this audience is echoing the same statements of Chow's Tragic Hero standpoint. I don't know what else I can say that I haven't said before but the sheer magnitude of changing a character's image is shocking and I hope that we see what new form Sun Wukong shall take!

[relaxxattack]

Piggybacking off the last anon, what is it you like about Jane so much? I find my feelings on her kind of mixed but I lean towards positive.

okay i haven’t read act six in probably like 5 years so bear with me here. *cracks knuckles*

jane is sooo so interesting and it’s really a shame people miss like everything fun about her.

pre-scratch she used her detective work to literally succeed at tearing down the crocker cooperation, to the point that HIC has to fucking abandon ship and head into another universe to have another shot at her evil empire. pre-scratch jane is also fucking hilarious! if you didnt enjoy her antics with john as nannasprite you must just have no heart

meanwhile HIC breaches a new universe, and her FIRST fucking order of business is to NEUTRALIZE JANE CROCKER because of how goddamn detrimental she was to HIC’s plans the first time around.

not ONLY does HIC pump subliminal messaging and brainwashing into nearly every aspect of jane’s life, she also tries to straight up mind control her basically whenever possible! she ALSO sends assassination attempts after jane 24/7! (people will seriously try to say that jane lived a safe normal life… as if she wasn’t almost killed by walking into her backyard.) this is because HIC is fucking scared of jane, as she very well should be!

jane is also NOT a boring weepy annoying crybaby like everyone and their mother complains about. jane is literally the most fucking supportive friend and emotion-repressing dumbass you could ever hope to meet. jane combines john’s emotional repression and jade’s intentional cheerfulness together into one of the most fucked up cases of emotional repression in the whole comic

act 6 suffers from a LOT of shitty writing choices, but it’s not jane’s fault the whole act turns into a soap opera— and she’s ALSO not the only one who acts all soap-opera-y either! literally all of the alpha kids suffer from this, people just like jane the least so they project it all onto her. despite the fact that she did her very fucking best to NEVER talk about her feelings, to the point where she ONLY started telling people about shit when she was mind-controlled or took mind altering substances to make her do so! and you can say “ohhh that’s stupid she shouldn’t repress things in the first place how dumb” but, one she’s sixteen, and two, everyone eats that shit up when it comes from like. literally any other character.

people (cough hs2 writers) act like she would actually be “pushy” with a relationship on jake— as if she wasn’t literally the one who helped him make the decision to explore dating dirk?? because she thought it was the right thing to do???

jane is incredibly thoughtful and mature and people really throw all of those traits out of the window with preference for a version of the story where she Comes Inbetween Their Fave Gay Pairing as if she wasn’t, again, the one who got them together. jane is also extremely interesting in terms of queerness; she’s got the makings of a really interesting arc, not to mention she’s the only human girl that dresses mainly masc! there’s a lot there that people just don’t care to explore.

people just have less patience for the prospit kids in general. not to mention homestuck fans love to be misogynistic and berate jane for stuff they love the men doing, or claim she’s coming between them when she’s not, etc etc. and then because no one was writing fun meta posts about her, nobody ever rereads the comic to grab little scenes or lines to expand the online discussion about her! and then because there’s no discussion about her, people assume she’s boring and don’t go looking for bits to start discussing, which cycles on and on forever until we have the ripple effects we see of that misogyny today. which mostly consists of, “oh i hate jane because she was a villain is hs2”, or, “i know hs2 isn’t canon but i still don’t care for jane because she doesn’t do anything that interests me.” (and she’s only not interesting because of the cycle i mentioned before causing NO ONE to have meta discussion about her).

idk, it’s been a while since ive read so i could be talking out my ass but that’s what i’ve got.

TL;DR: jane is fucking COOL, she just suffers from intentional fandom ignorance. and she’s also a canonically hot, fat, masc woman, so i don’t know what else you could possibly want.

[the-marshals-wife]

New Horizons (Arthur Curry x Reader)

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ⋅☆⋅ 𝐀𝐎𝟑 ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

A/N: Requested by @dantes-devil-huntress. I can't believe this is my first Aquaman fic! This was so much fun to write, I hope you enjoy!

Premise: Trying to figure out his place in the world as the newly crowned king of Atlantis, Arthur meets someone who may just help him find the answers he looking for.

Description: Arthur Curry/Aquaman x Fem!Reader (Human), meet-cute fluff! | Warnings: alcohol, mild language | Setting: AU w/o Mera endgame, before The Lost Kingdom | Word count: 3,468

Edit: here's my Orm Marius x Reader fic for my fellow Orm girlies ;)

Gif credit: user jasonmomoaonline

Imagine Arthur giving you shelter when you're stranded in a storm, and discovering his true identity

Getting stood up for your date had been the worst part of the night, until the moment you got into your car. Instead of the engine turning over and sputtering to half-life like usual, it only stalled.

"You have got to be kidding me," you say, gripping the steering wheel and turning the key until you thought it might snap, "Come on, come on, come ON!"

Throwing open your door, you pop the hood and stumble back out into the chilled night. You mutter curses under your breath as you survey the labyrinth of steel and hoses before you.

"At least nothing's on fire this time," you mutter, rolling your eyes.

You step back and stare at the bucket of bolts the salesman had called "like new." Besides coming to this bar, buying this car was quite possibly your biggest regret. It wasn't quite a lemon, but it wasn't a Rolls either. And most of all, it was all you could afford.

You exhale, glaring up at the flickering light of the bar's neon sign. The last thing you wanted to do after waiting nearly two hours alone like a fool was show your face inside again. You retrieve your phone from your back pocket, just to see the blinking bars in the top corner. No service.

"Wonderful," you groan.

Like a bad joke, thunder rolls in the distance. You look up to see the lightning flashing on the horizon across the bay. The brisk, salt air rises up from the water and cuts right through you.

"Could this night get any better?!" you lament, an angry shriek escaping your lips as you kick the front tire.

"Excuse me, Miss?" a voice from behind interjected.

You jump and turn to see a man approaching, nervous smile on his bearded face. You appraise him wearily: tall, dark, and not at all lacking in style, clad in both leather and jewelry. He looked a sight better than the drunken fishermen you'd observed stumble about the bar, which you concluded was about ninety-percent of the clientele. Even from where he stood, he certainly seemed to smell better.

"Uh, I don't mean to interrupt, but you sound like you might need some help," he offers hesitantly.

Despite your initial scare, something about him puts you at ease.

"Oh, um...yeah, actually" you smile embarrassed, tucking your hair behind your ear, "My stupid car won't start. Again."

"Mind if I take a look?" he asks, pointing.

"Would you? That would be great, honestly," you say, folding your arms against the cold, "I just had it in the shop last week. I have no idea what's wrong now."

He pats the fender as he circles around to the front, "Let's see what's got you all clammed up here, buddy."

"Your guess is as good as mine," you say exasperated, stepping to stand behind him a ways.

He chuckles and pushes up his sleeves, ducking underneath the hood. You take note of the intricate tattoos, realizing this friendly stranger was becoming more interesting by the minute.

"Hmm, nope. Not that," he says, craning his neck, "Not that either."

You bite your lip and sway on your feet, silently praying he could find the source of the problem. Any easy fix was probably too much to hope for, but your fingers stayed mentally crossed nonetheless.

"Ooh, maybe- no, definitely not," he says, followed by a clinking sound, "That should not be there."

"I really appreciate this," you say after a moment, peering over his shoulder, "I can change the wipers and put on a spare if I have to, but that's about the extent of my car expertise."

"No shame in that," he grunts, his voice strained, "Oof, now that might be a problem."

"Did you find something?" you dare to ask.

"These spark plugs are kaput. Like, 'not even a necromancer can bring them back' kind of kaput."

"The guy said they were fine!" you exclaim, "I knew I shouldn't have gone back to that place. Probably just took my money and laughed."

The man finally stands up and winces.

"And your alternator is on its last leg," he says with a grimace, "Even if you could get it to start, I wouldn't go more than five miles in this thing."

"Great. That's just wonderful," you sigh, shaking your head, "Well, thank you for looking. It'd have taken me forever to figure that out. Google only goes so far."

"No problem, wish I had better news for ya," he says, wiping his grease-tinged hands on his jeans before extending one towards you, "I'm Arthur, by the way."

"I'm Y/N. Nice to meet you, Arthur."

"Nice to meet you too."

Despite your frustration, you couldn't help but grin. As Good Samaritans go, he was quite a handsome one. Something in the back of your mind whispered that you had seen his face before, but you couldn't place when or where.

Before you could speak again, a bolt of lightning strikes just across the harbor, followed swiftly by a crash of thunder.

Arthur looks off to the darkened horizon, his expression souring with concern.

"Storm's coming in fast," he observes, the sea breeze blowing through his long, sun-kissed hair, "Do you have someone you can call to come pick you up?"

He turn back to you, and only now do you notice just how rich and golden eyes his eyes are. For a few dizzied seconds, you forget to answer.

"Uh, not really. I'm pretty new to the area. I don't know very many people," you reply, feeling shy all of a sudden, "I can just call a Uber or something. If my service ever picks up."

"Yeah, definitely," he nods, clearing his throat, "They have a phone inside."

"Thank you again for helping me, Arthur," you say, starting to walk towards the door.

"I didn't really help, though..." he trails off, disappointment in his voice as you step past him.

Your hand is almost on the handle when he pipes up.

"Uh, look I know you don't know me, but my dad's place is just down the road from here. He's the lighthouse keeper. Him and my mom are actually away on little retreat, and I'm watching the place for them," he explains, "It's dry, warm, and definitely has a lot less drunk guys. You could wait there while the storm passes, if you wanted."

You turn back to him, trying to conceal your renewed hope, "I couldn't impose on you like that."

"Oh you wouldn't be. It's just me and the dog. He's probably getting sick of me at this point. He could use a visitor," he chuckles, "But I understand if you'd rather stay here. Strange guy at a bar invites you to a lighthouse on a dark and stormy night. Sounds like a horror movie, I know."

You laugh, and so does he, bringing some much needed levity.

"I'll bring you right back if you change your mind, just say the word," he adds, sounding truly sincere.

Almost everything in you was saying not to trust a man you'd just met, but your gut was telling you otherwise. There was more to the warmth in his eyes than just the color.

"Well, it does sound like the dog could use some company," you say thoughtfully.

Arthur smirks. "Oh yeah. There's been a Hell's Kitchen marathon on for days, and I'm pretty sure he's sick of listening to my Gordon Ramsay impression. I can't resist, love that guy."

"I might have to hear that for myself."

"Let's get you out of this weather, and we'll see what I can do about that, then," he says with a wink, "My ride is just over here."

Not even the chilled wind could overcome the warmth of your cheeks. The excitement in your chest grows with every step as you follow him across the sandy lot. The ride in question, however, soon comes into view, and the knot in your stomach tightens all the more.

"Oh boy," you say, staring at the motorcycle.

"You're not scared of bikes are you?" he questions, stepping alongside it and reaching into the black saddlebag.

"Not exactly," you hesitate, "I've just never been on one before."

He pulls out a red, half helmet and offers it to you.

"Don't worry, I won't let you fall off," he replies, amused.

You look between him and the headgear a moment before taking it.

"Besides," he says, swinging his leg over the seat, "All you have to do is hang on."

With no argument to make, and rain drops beginning to sprinkle down, you pull your hair back and fasten the helmet on. You nearly lose your balance trying to throw your leg over, having to grab his shoulder to steady yourself. He didn't seem to mind; you could have sworn you heard him snicker. You settle into the seat, heart racing from being so close to him. More anxious than ever, you lightly place your hands on his back.

"All good back there?" Arthur asks, a smile in his voice.

"All good," you repeat, unconvincingly.

"Alright then," he says, turning the key.

Seconds later, the motorcycle roars to life as he revs the engine. Arthur eases the bike back slowly, pivots out of the lot, and eases it up to the main road. The instant he accelerates, the force kicks you backward. You throw your arms around his torso, pulling yourself against him. Over the noise of the machine, you weren't sure if the rumbling in your ear that followed was thunder or laughter, but you figured was the latter.

With the bar now behind you, and the rain coming down harder with the increasing speed, you bury your face into his back and hold on tightly.

♆

The lighthouse comes into view just as the skies open up. Arthur maneuvers the bike up the slippery, sand driveway and quickly shuts it off. He gives you his hand as you climb off and leads you toward the house.

The helmet offers some protection from the downpour, but the wind blows the spray into your face as you squint to see. Lightning above illuminates the world like daylight as you scramble up onto the porch.

Arthur throws the front door open and lets you in first as you stumble inside the dark house. You take a few blind steps forward as he slams it shut behind him, thunder making the windows rattle.

"Man, someone must have really pissed off Thor," he laughs. His relief, however, is turned to exasperation as you hear a clicking sound followed by a sigh.

"Power's out. Awesome."

Still trying to catch your breath, you pull out your phone, struggling with wet fingers to use touchscreen. Finally the flashlight turns on, and Arthur throws his hand up over his eyes as you accidentally shine it right at his face.

"Sorry," you pant, pointing it down.

"No worries. That's a good idea, actually. I always forget about this thing," he remarks, grabbing his own phone and doing the same, "One second, I think Pops has some candles in the kitchen."

You nod as he disappears into the next room. Now remembering the dripping helmet on your head, you release the strap with your free hand and set it down on the mat beside the door. A shiver goes through you from your soaked clothes. You point your phone about the shadowy room to get your bearings, admiring the otherwise cozy living area. As you sweep the light downward, something large and metallic glints on the coffee table in front of the sofa and catches your eye. You move closer to get a better look, and then your heart drops to your feet. Lying beside a bag of jerky and the TV remote is a massive, gleaming trident of gold. A memory flashes through your mind of an article you'd seen weeks ago, with a fuzzy photo of an alleged aquatic hero holding a weapon just like it. The pieces come together all at once as you realize the identity of your host.

The very next second, you hear Arthur's approach. He returns with a lit candle in each hand and a blanket under his arm, only to find your expression of complete and utter shock.

"You...you're..." you stammer.

"Oof, I knew I forgot to put something away," he cringes, "My bad."

"You're the Aquaman," you gape, finding the words.

"Surprise," he says in a sing-song voice, flashing a nervous smile, "Yeah, I never really know how to bring that up.

You stare at him dumbfounded as he places the candles on the coffee table. "I can't believe it. Aren't you supposed to be like...well, in Atlantis or something?"

"I was, earlier this morning. Just about died of boredom in council meetings," he says matter-of-factly, proceeding to talk as if he had a desk job, "I'm kinda part-timing right now, between land and sea. It's complicated. I'm still new to the whole 'king' thing. Don't have all the kinks worked out yet."

"I'd imagine," you breathe, your mind still reeling.

"Here, figured you need this." He holds out the blanket, completely unphased by the previous subject, "Do you drink tea? I can make some for you."

You take the blanket and chuckle in bewilderment. "Um, sure. That would be great," you answer, "Thank you."

"One tea coming up," he smiles, "Uh, just make yourself comfortable, I'll get the fire going here a minute, after I find the dog. Pretty sure he's hiding under Pops' bed upstairs. He's terrified of storms. Ironic right? Lighthouse keeper's dog afraid of a little water."

"I don't blame him this time," you say, wrapping the blanket around your shoulders, "I think you were right about Thor."

As if on cue, another boom of thunder shakes the walls. You both burst out laughing.

♆

A few minutes later, you find yourself sitting on the floor in front of a roaring fire with a warm mug in your hands, finally beginning to feel dry. Having been unsuccessful in coaxing the dog into joining him downstairs, Arthur settles down beside you crossed-legged, damp hair tied up, trading the tea for a can of Guinness. Your thoughts rage like the storm outside as you stare into the flames, agonizing about what you should say.

Arthur speaks a moment later, saving you the trouble.

"Sorry about the power. I'll call you that cab as soon as it comes back."

"That's okay, I'm not in a hurry," you reply.

You look over at him hopefully, meeting his piercing gaze for as long as you can. Mere seconds pass before you bow your head, heart racing while you repress a smile.

"I'm uh, sure you've got some questions about all this," he ventures, rubbing the back of his head.

"Honestly, with the night I've had, meeting 'Aquaman' is par for the course," you smirk.

"I didn't mean to spring it on you like that. I guess you can understand why I don't lead with the whole King of Atlantis thing. Kinda makes it hard to keep a conversation going once people know you 'can talk to fish.' They don't really see you the same after that."

"Yeah, I think I'd probably keep that to myself too," you agree, the awe returning full-force, "Still, it must be amazing. I mean, you're basically ruler of the ocean, right? Or is it just Atlantis?"

"Eh, I mean there's the other kingdoms-"

"There's more?!" you blurt out, wide-eyed.

"Oh yeah. Xebel, the Fishermen, the Brine, a couple of defunct ones no one wants talks about. We got a few."

"And you're the ruler over all of them?"

He shrugs. "More or less. I mean, they each have their own ruler. But then I'm also over them? Kinda? I'm still figuring crap out, they didn't exactly give me a rule book on my first day. Plus I have to answer to this royal council and they've got sticks up their butts about everything I do and say," he groans, rolling his eyes, "I like to consider myself more of a 'protector of the deep' than a ruler. Sounds more cool, and less like an old fart with a crown."

You giggle, hanging on every his every word.

"And with this bad boy right here," he says, reaching behind him and patting the trident, "I command all life in the sea. The animals anyway. Between you and me, that's the best part."

"You definitely have a cooler job than me," you beam.

"It definitely has its perks. But most of the time, I'd rather be here," he sighs, punctuated by a swig of his beer.

A visible sadness washes over him as he looks into the fire.

"You aren't from Atlantis?" you question.

"No, I was raised by my father. My parents met on accident. My mother was queen of Atlantis, and she ran away from her not-so-nice guy fiancé. She got lost in a storm, and my father rescued her. They've always said it was..."

Arthur stops and turns his gaze towards you, realization in his eyes.

Your heart skips as you understand. "Fate?"

He nods thoughtfully. "Something like that."

You blink, letting him go on.

"Anyway, I know I have a calling to the sea, but the land is always going to be a part of me, you know?" His expression softens. "Here, I've always found everything I need."

His words linger in the air between you. You look down at your hands, your chest pounding.

He clears his throat. "Sorry, I know that was a lot of info."

"Just a little bit," you reply teasingly, "But your secret's safe with me, Arthur. I promise. I've got no one to tell anyway."

"Don't worry, I trust you," he says, waving his hand, "It's actually nice to have someone else to share it with."

"I'm honored that you did. I know it's not the same, but I do understand what it's like to feel that you don't belong," you confess, "I didn't fit in my 'kind' either. Moved out here to start over. I guess you could say I'm still trying to figure some crap out too."

He pauses in thought second before responding, "Do you mind if I ask you something, Y/N?"

"After everything I've asked you? I'd say it's definitely your turn," you chuckle, taking a sip of your forgotten tea.

"I saw you at the bar before you went outside. I couldn't help but notice that you were there by yourself..."

"You noticed correctly. I was supposed to meet someone for a date, but after saying he was on his way, he never showed. I tried to text him, but he blocked me. I don't even know why."

"Nothing like being stood up at some backwater bar," he concludes, frowning, "Well, screw that guy. He's a bum."

"Yeah, I figured that out too late," you agree, then give him a knowing look, "The evening wasn't a total loss. I did meet you, after all."

"That's true," he concedes, playfully stroking his beard, "I may be a half-breed rookie king, but I'm not a bum."

You snort and gesture to the television set on your right, "So much for your marathon though, huh?"

"Ah, that's alright. They were all re-runs anyway."

You raise your eyebrow. "Think I could still hear that impression?"

He holds a finger to his chin in mock deliberation, "Hmmm, have I had enough to drink for that?

"I don't know, have you?" You lean in with anticipation.

He flashes a sly grin. "Of course I bloody have," he declares in the most hackneyed attempt at a British accent you'd ever heard, "And you better listen up, because I'm about to tell you everything there is to know about how to cook a bloody good flounder."

Your sides ache with laughter as he continues to go on a tangent about how to properly sauté shallots and season the perfect demi-glace. The voice sounded nothing like the infamously tempermental chef, of course, but you still thought his attempt was cute. By the time he was yelling at his invisible staff for serving him raw fish, the storm outside had passed, and neither of you noticed.

As Arthur went to light the stove to warm up some "gourmet" SpaghettiOs, still boisterously carrying on as Chef Ramsay, your excited thoughts returned to the story about his parents. You couldn't help but wonder about your own stormy night, the man you had met, and how much of a hand fate had played in it. The horizon seemed so much brighter than before, and for the first time ever, you were grateful to have bought that car.

[ronearoundblindly]

Hi!! I just found your blog and 😭😭 you're so talented, like, what?? I def need more!!! I dunno if this is how it works, or if you're still doing the dirty asks game, but I was thinking maybe E,K,U and S (or Z!) for Johnny?

Have a lovely day!! oh, and well, happy new year 🙂‍↕️

Prompts are from this ask game and part of my ongoing list of answers! You can also find A, B, C, D, and V already answered for this boi.

Warnings for...well...they are dirty asks so be prepared for sexy and sexual content 😉 including (but not limited to) discussion of oral, somnophilia, ummmm tickling? emotional unavailability? and idk other stuff. MINORS DNI.

Happy New Year! I love ya! I appreciate you taking the time, dearie 💜 Happy reading... 😈💋

K - Kissing

So this...implies some romance that's not typical for Johnny. His kissing is less emotional and more intense and deep--but seriously, it's not an indication of his longterm interest or level of affection. (There is an exception to this which is Johnny has no problem giving hickies. He will mark. you. up. ((He can't be marked in the same way due to healing.))

HOWEVER, those small, nonchalant pecks--if Johnny ends up smooching you and it doesn't lead to sex, it wasn't in the middle of sex, or especially if there's no one around to see it,--that's THE REAL DEAL. Something utterly devoted has sparked inside him if (and when) Johnny slows down to kiss you. Or slows for any reason, really.

In regards to where Johnny likes to kiss or be kissed? Again, he's not much of a kisser. He's big on touching and groping and tickling, since he's a goofball and true 'player,' i.e. Johnny is nearly always playful, but once there's a connection made with you, he...

okay, so, the thing is, he actually does like to be kissed, and the place that drives Johnny wild is above his dick, right at his adonis belt, that v-cut, the pubes. This is so ridiculously intimate/possessive/reverent; he can barely handle the conflicting drives to melt beneath or conquer you. Strange thing...he would have thought the proximity would just make him want a blowjob but instead he's a goner.

U - Underwear

Commando. Easy-Access Man. Next question.

LOL, just kidding. Mostly, Johnny wears nothing, certainly not with his Human Torch second skin. He used to wear boxers but lost too many of those to a smoldering heap. No point.

On women? Crotchless panties are his favorite, but there's this new trend of booty shorts--he's very, very into them. Generally, he would have thought anything less-is-more would be best in his eyes, but there's this kinda *pop* in the stretchy fabric when it jumps over the swell of your ass...mmhmmm IT'S GOOD.

S - Sleepy Sex

Sleepy morning? You are 100% welcome to wake him up with some head or ride his cock to your heart's content, but Johnny himself doesn't usually start stuff first thing. This goes hand in hand with him being unable to slow down much. He's all about releasing tension before bed though. A good romp to tire him out and calm the mind? Absofuckinglutely. No, he doesn't particularly care if you were already asleep. You'll thank him later. Don't worry. It's always worth your his while.

Z - Zones

Classic man. Go for his neck or his crotch. Johnny is a #basicbitch in this respect. It feeds his ego to be touched all over--duh, he's got this glorious bod, you should want to touch him,--but he has never been a fan of biting, on him or on others. Since he's just about always in the mood, it does not take a lot of foreplay to get him ready.

E - Extra Info

Unpopular opinion: I imagine that perhaps the ultimate show of love/devotion/possession to Johnny is not marriage and all that normal stuff but, instead, if you let him brand you.

He works hard and focuses to not burn people, so you allowing him permanently claim you as his--which he would not do in a casual way, not with random hookups and one-night-stands, not until he is sure that word won't get back to Sue who would kill him--shows a level of trust he didn't believe he would want much less earn.

Johnny is aware he's a ridiculous and kinda stunted man-child emotionally. He's smart enough to know that. Johnny will never stop being grateful to the woman who can stick around, see past it, and grow with him...playfully, of course. You should never stop roasting him about the man-child-ness.

Thank you for asking!

[Main Masterlist; Dirty Asks Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

[cryptidghostgirl]

Hello hello!! You're probably swamped with asks, but if you have the time and energy, you should do a slow burn Alastor x reader set in the 1920s where the reader is a performer at mimzys speakeasy and that's where Alastor goes to chose his victims. He sees the reader for the first time and immediately thinks that they are his next victim but he keeps getting thwarted by small incidents, such as the reader leaving early and him barely missing his chance. After a while he notices small things about them and their personality after sort of observing them, and then they meet and he loses his interest in killing them. Of course the slow burn happens, the drama ensues, he's still a killer but keeps it a secret and then after a while the reader finds out. You can choose if you want a happy ending or not, but I had that idea in my mind and your one of the only writers I see that could do it justice. Thanks for sharing your talents!!! Your amazing and gifted in ways that inspire everyone who interacts with your blog🫶🫶🫶

A/N You’re literally so sweet?? Wtf?? I love you?? Thank you??? I hope you like what I did with this fun and fluffy idea!!! ahhhhhh!!!! also, I am running with the ambiguity of the ending. I am such a little slut for ambiguity.

Burn (Human!Alastor x Human!Gn!Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Warnings: SLOW BURN. SLOW. BURNING IMAGERY. A LITTLE OVER THE TOP ON THE BURNING IMAGERY THING. Dead bodies, blood, murder, killing, mentions of stalking. This one got away from me a bit.

Word Count: 4,197

Master Lists:

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List 

Alastor Master List

Click here and leave a comment if you want to be added to any taglists or send me an ask about it.

Ravenous, that was the word. Not in the way where everything dissolves, leaving only the object of your affection. Not in the way that someone is controlled by desire. Hungry in the way fire eats paper, in the way kindling catches light. Starved in the way that leads to a progressive repeated sense of the word, a starving. A constant state of being famished that turns into a well loved and cared for blaze. Alastor burned.

The box of matches pulled from the pocket had been Alastor going to the bar, all those months before. Nearly a year now, once he sat and really thought about it. He had been going to Mimzy's little speakeasy on the outskirts of town since it had been just that, a little speakeasy on the outskirts of town rather than the full fledged, illegal club she ran today.

Back when it was a speak easy, there had never been a problem. On that fateful day, though he hadn't known it then, the club had changed its form. It had become the kindling. Sitting down at the table had been pulling a match from the box and Y/n.... Y/n had been the rough hewn striker paper he lit it on. It was all so obvious now, looking back. The expression 'hindsight is 20/20' existed for a reason.

So, Alastor had entered the club (matchbox out of pocket). As soon as Mimzy had spotted him, she had run over with a bright smile and a glass of whiskey on the house as always. Alastor had always liked Mimzy. She was wild and positively hilarious when she wanted to be but, at the same time, she had a good head for business. Her morals were just wobbly enough that Alastor felt comfortable with her, a camaraderie he felt with no other.

The lights had gone down suddenly and Mimzy, cutting herself off mid sentence, had turned to the stage in excitement.

"Good show tonight?" Alastor had asked.

Alastor never came to Mimzy's club for the music. She knew he didn't care, not really. Still, he had the curtesy to ask and so, she whipped back towards him.

"You betcha." she grinned up at him, "I just got this new kid? Came from all the way up north, can you believe that? Anyway, they have a set of pipes like you wouldn't believe! Just the bees knees, I tell you."

Grabbing Alastor's arm, Mimzy dragged him to a table by the stage. Alastor sat down across from her (match from the box) with an air of mild reluctance. Mimzy tapped her hands on the table impatiently.

A spot light flickered on and a scrawny young kid stepped onto the stage. He couldn't be much younger than Alastor or Mimzy themselves but he was one of those people that always look younger than they are. He had been working for Mimzy for a while now but, Alastor had never bothered to learn his name. He was simply 'Mimz's Manager' in his view of the world. The kid cleared his throat, leaning in towards the microphone which had been placed at center stage.

"How are we feeling out there tonight?" he asked the room at large and there had been a miscellaneous cheer from the room at large, "Well that's good to hear! We've got a real treat for you tonight folks. All the way from the Big Apple, we bring you, Y/n!"

The kid left the stage and a new figure stepped out from the shadows (revelation of match striker paper). The minute Alastor saw them, in the well cut suit that shone dark in the light, he knew. They were perfect. Slim, but not too fit and shorter than he was. Morally ambiguous enough in their aims that they had come running from New York to work at a speakeasy. This 'Y/n,' if that was even their real name, was his ideal next victim. Alastor smiled in the dim light as somewhere off stage, a piano began to play.

"I'll be loving you, always" the person sang and Alastor was taken aback.

Mimzy had been right. He had never heard a voice like it before. They sang with an emotional depth that could be heard from few. Somehow, they still managed to keep it sounding like music.

"When the things you plan Need a helping hand I will understand, always, always"

Mimzy leaned across the table to Alastor, her eyes alight.

"What did I tell you?" she whispered.

Alastor nodded his head to the side in vague agreement.

"Not for just an hour Not for just a day"

When they finished their set a half hour later, it was to raucous applause. The house lights raised and with them, Mimzy stood from her chair.

"I'll be back in two shakes." she promised before disappearing off into the crowd.

Alastor leaned back in his chair, the wood creaking beneath his weight. Contemplatively, he took a sip from his drink. The time before a kill was nearly as an enjoyable as the act itself. It was ritualistic, it brought him closer to god.

Before he knew it, Mimzy was back, dragging the singer behind her. They looked slightly frazzled, their hair a bit messy and their brow furrowed.

"Mimzy!" they exclaimed as they struggled to keep up with the woman holding their wrist in her vice-like grip.

Their speaking voice was... different than Alastor had expected. From the way they had sung on stage, he had thought it would be sharp, loud, ebullient. Instead, it was rather soft. Alastor couldn't help but think of the creek out back of the house he had grown up in.

"Al, meet my new favorite!" Mimzy announced, coming to a stop beside Alastor.

"I..."

The situation had been unexpected to say the least. Alastor had had a long day. He hadn't come here to socialize, he came here to drink. Now, he was at a loss for words, the haze of sleep and irritation clouding his mind.

Y/n looked at Mimzy before fixing their gaze back on him. The took a step forward, fixing a smile on their face, and held out their hand.

"Y/n."

So it was their real name. The one they presented to the world, at least.

Alastor smiled, standing from his seat and taking their hand in his.

"Alastor."

They had a firm handshake. There was something authoritative about it, something just a bit too confident.

"Pleasure to be meeting you." they said.

"Quite the pleasure." Alastor nodded.

They broke contact and Y/n turned to Mimzy, suddenly seeming very tired.

"I'm gonna head, Mimzy." they hummed, their voice nearly drowned out by the cacophony surrounding them.

Before Mimzy could say a word against their statement, they were gone. The crowd sheltered them from sight almost immediately. After that night, Alastor started coming to the club a lot more often.

He always sat in the same seat, the table near stage left. It was right next to the exit. Anyone getting off the stage had to go right past him. It was a calculated choice. Step one of his little projects, so to speak, had always been learning more about his victims, finding out their patterns.

The problem was, Y/n never seemed to do the same thing twice. Every time Alastor would think himself ready, would ready everything for the action, something different happen. The first time, it had been that Y/n had simply managed to slip out earlier than normal. Mimzy was always introducing them to someone or another after their shows, delaying their departure. That night, it seemed, they had somehow been able to avoid the mayhem.

Another time, the problem had been that Y/n had stayed at the club too long. Alastor was a working man and once the clock hit midnight, it was time to cut his losses and go home. A third time, Y/n had just happened to call out sick the very night he had gotten everything back in order.

A month in, and Alastor was ready for his fourth attempt. He sat at his usual table, drinking his usual drink. When Y/n left the stage, he kept his eyes trained on them as always. It went like clockwork - Mimzy pulled them away, they tried desperately to escape and eventually, they succeeded. That was when everything went south again.

One second, Y/n was by the bar and the next? Gone. Alastor got to his feet, tossing a bill or two to the bar tender and disappearing out through the door. He was determined. Tonight had to be the night. If tonight wasn't the night? He was done. Alastor was not a foolish man, he knew when he was beat.

Quietly, nothing but the sound of cicadas and the occasional echo of a car from elsewhere in the city accompanying him, Alastor slipped down the ally he knew the club's back door let out into.

"There you are."

Alastor spun around.

"I was beginning to think you wouldn't show."

Y/n leaned casually against the wall, the dark fabric of their dress blending softly with the night. When Alastor didn't reply, standing in their gaze like a deer in headlights, they stood themselves up and walked the step and a half it took for them to be face to face with him.

"I'd like it if you stopped following me. Or, trying to follow me. It's getting kind of old.'' (match struck paper, match remained unlit.)

Alastor resumed his composure. Sliding his hands into his pockets, he leaned forward, fixing a teasing grin onto his face.

"Oh, would you now?"

Y/n, much to his surprise, held their ground.

"Yeah, I would. Whats your interest in me anyways?"

Thinking on his feet had never been an issue for Alastor. Besides, he really did have some questions for the illusive singer. Or, he had one question for them. One that might lead to others.

"Oh, you know." he hummed, straightening back up, "All the way from the 'Big Apple.'"

Y/n scoffed at his parody of their nightly introduction to the stage. They crossed their arms, glancing off to the ally's entrance as a drunk couple stumbled by.

"Yep."

"Why?"

Turning to face him again, Y/n narrowed their eyes.

"Why do you wanna know?"

The hint of an accent. At least he knew they weren't lying about where they came from.

"I suppose you can call me a curious fan."

"I think being a bit less of both those things would suit you."

They fell into a brief, nearly uncomfortable silence. Letting out a sigh, Y/n was the one to break it.

"Look," they began, "I know you're friends with my boss and all but... I am going to go back into that dive and I am going to stay there until you are long gone. I'll stay the night if I have to, d'ya get it?"

Alastor's smile tightened.

"Loud and clear."

"Good."

Y/n didn't see Alastor for another week. Slowly, the tension that had permeated their every waking moment since meeting Alastor that first night, the constant ache of his eyes on their back, began to fade. Just a little, but it was enough. When they saw him sitting at the bar almost two weeks after their little altercation, the amount it had faded was just enough to make them angry at his return.

Alastor hadn't really meant to come back. His plan was to give it a month, maybe even two. His plan was to come back and resume life like it had been before he had ever even known Y/n existed. His mind had other plans.

He had tried to find another target, occupy himself with a new victim. There was something unsatisfying about it, he couldn't quite get his head in the game. Every time he went to trail a potential victim, he heard their voice ringing out in the silence of his mind.

There you are.

Alastor had been killing for about three years now. He had a good number of victims under his belt and was in no ways a newbie. Even back when he had been one, no one had ever caught him out like that before. There had been a couple close calls, sure. There always were but waiting for him? Thwarting his plans repeatedly? Beating him at his own game?

"I thought I told you to leave me alone."

Alastor looked up from his glass of whiskey, smiling politely up at Y/n. He could feel the anger radiating off them in waves.

"Mimzy would be rather sad if I just up and disappeared like that, no explanation."

He caught sight of her across the open space and waved. With a bright smile, Mimzy waved back before returning to the conversation she had been embroiled in. Alastor turned back to Y/n.

"Oh, wouldn't you hear that? You're getting sober. Congratulations."

"Ah, but there is still the music and that wonderful new singer who came down from up north not too long ago."

Y/n took a deep breath, calming themselves.

"It's not that hard of a question to answer. Or at least, it shouldn't be for most people. What, are you on the run from the cops? I heard life is oh so dangerous in those big cities up there, after all. Maybe part of the reason was you."

"If I answer your question, will you leave me alone?"

Alastor was silent for a short moment before he replied.

"If I like the answer? Sure. I'll leave you alone."

In a single, sharp movement, Y/n dragged the stool beside him out and sat down. Tapping their fingers on the table, they got the bartender's attention and ordered themselves a drink.

"You want to know why I left New York?" they hummed thoughtfully, "It's because of guys like you."

A shock of sudden nerves fought through Alastor's system. Did they somehow know? After all this time, had someone figured it out? After just under two months?

"Guys like me? What ever on earth do you mean?"

"You know, pretty boys. Pretty boys who turn out to be creepy boys that don't know the meaning of the word 'no.'" (match struck paper, match remained unlit.)

It wasn't the first time Alastor had been called pretty or handsome or something of the like. In fact, he knew he was pretty. It was part of why the whole ruse worked. Normally, however, when people told him he was, it was accompanied by far too much blushing and looks to the side. Y/n held his gaze firmly the whole time.

"So, you're escaping an ex? A jaded lover?"

"A jaded 'someone-who-watched-me-perform-once-and-decided-it-meant-we-were-married'? Yeah."

The bartender placed the drink in front of Y/n. They picked up the glass, downing it in one go. They grimaced.

"You like my answer?"

"Hmmm... no." Alastor grinned, ear to ear, "I don't think I do."

Y/n sighed.

"What is it you want from me?"

Alastor's brow furrowed in confusion. He was very good at keeping the inside from showing on the outside. The question had just caught him so off guard, or maybe it was something about Y/n that had him on his toes, he couldn't help it. They kept seeming to make his head spin.

"Want from you?"

"Money? Sex? Fame? A fall guy? What."

"I don't want anything from you." (match struck paper, match remained unlit.)

Y/n eyed him suspiciously. The answer had been automatic. Alastor himself was struggling to comprehend the words that had left his mouth. He wanted to kill them, right? What he wanted from them was their life, right? That was what he had been working for over all these days, fighting for. He knew it was true so why did the statement not feel like a lie as it had traveled from his tongue?

"Yeah right." Y/n placed their hands on the bar, pulling themselves to stand, "I totally believe that."

"Just your time, Songbird. Just your time."

They turned to him.

"I don't understand you."

"You don't have to. I don't understand you either."

They paused.

"It frustrates me." Y/n admitted, "Who even are you? I don't know anything except your name."

Alastor gave their now empty chair a pointed look. Y/n stood in contemplation for a few seconds before they nodded their head once, seemingly to themselves, and took their seat once again. Confidently, they tapped two fingers on the lip of their empty glass.

"Another."

(match strikes paper, match lights.)

Alastor was the match, Y/n was the paper. The club stopped being kindling the moment the pair took their conversation outside its boundaries for the first time, about a month or so later. For a while, there was no kindling, there was just match and paper. Alastor liked it that way.

It had been hard enough to come to terms with the fact that he really did have no interest in killing them anymore. That the moment such an idea occurred, he could see them in his minds eye, smiling or picking at the hem of their shirt the way they did when they were nervous.

The kindling reappeared when Alastor realized the match had been struck in the first place. That was a whole other thing. The friendship suddenly seemed easy, the loss of bloodlust directed toward them was like nothing in the face of a realization like that. Once he recognized the flame, Alastor stopped being a match and Y/n stopped being paper. The match became the little flutter of their stomachs when they caught sight of one another, the tension of the moments where they could make contact. Y/n and Alastor were kindling now and they were standing oh so very close to that dangerous flame.

It was Alastor's sleeve that caught fire first. It happened when they had gotten caught in the rain. Y/n had opened their umbrella and, seeing Alastor had none, insisted he join them in its cover. Alastor had, of course, refused. With a roll of their eyes, they had grabbed his hand and yanked him forcefully into place beside them. Alastor hadn't realized they had only touched once, when they first shook hands, until Y/n's skin made contact with his once again.

The worst part about it all, was that it made sense. It made so much sense. They were quiet, contemplative, and calculative. Before long, being with them felt like being with an extension of himself in an odd way. Alastor couldn't quite describe it, he didn't have the words.

Y/n always seemed to notice things no one else did. When Alastor had forgotten his umbrella the next three or four times it had rained, they had confronted him.

"Almost like you're doing this on purpose." they had hummed softly.

Though they didn't look at him, Y/n knew Alastor was blushing.

"Shut up."

The next thing to catch had been Y/n's collar. Y/n had been chatting with him, sharing a drink before their set and they had lost track of time. At the sound of the stage manager, Alastor still did not know his name, beginning their introduction to the stage, they had jumped up in fright, hurriedly tightening their tie which they had loosened in the casual atmosphere. Noticing that the action had caused part of their collar to fold awkwardly, Alastor had gotten to his feet as well. With a gentleness he had not made use of since his mother died, he had fixed Y/n's collar.

"Wh-" they had stopped mid question, having realized what he was doing.

His hand lingered on their collar. Y/n's eyes traveled up his arm, at last meeting his own.

"Thank you."

Those big wide eyes, full of curiosity and comfort. Alastor could get lost in those.

"Y/n!" the stage manager announced.

"Shit!" they exclaimed and the magic of the moment was broken as they pulled themselves away.

All it took was that. It wasn't much but, fire has a way of working with what it has. When a few days later Y/n had stepped out into the street without looking, being too caught up in the story they were telling Alastor, and he had pulled them back just as a car passed, it was too late. The house couldn't be saved, the flames had gone too far. A few blocks later, after thanking him, Y/n had realized they were still holding hands. They stopped, pulling Alastor to a halt beside them.

"What are we doing?"

"We're going for lunch. Are you quite alright? You were the one who sugge-"

"No, Alastor. I mean: what are we doing?"

Alastor followed the path of their eyes to their interlaced fingers.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

There was a pause. The world turned around them.

"I don't... I don't know if I can do this anymore."

Alastor took a deep breath before braving the sight of their bewildered and slightly saddened face once again.

"I said all I wanted was your time."

"That's the problem."

Y/n let go of his hand, running their own through their loose hair.

"That's the problem, Alastor." they said again.

"What is?"

Y/n had a habit of telling him the most serious things eye to eye with a stoney demeanor. He was surprised to see them break from this confident custom of theirs as they looked away, their arms wrapping protectively around themself.

"I want more. I want you to want more."

Alastor was stunned, he was speechless.

"I... I'll see you tomorrow, Al."

Before they could make it more than a step away, Alastor grabbed their shoulder, spinning them to him. Y/n looked up at him, confusion painting their features with the most delicate brush.

Alastor struggled, he fought. Still, there were no words.

"Don't you get it?" he asked, "I want your time. Y/n, I want you."

Alastor kept finding himself in trickier and trickier situations. First there had been trying to kill them, then the hurdle of not wanting to kill them. Friendship had given way to its own bag of worms and now that they were more than friends?

He had thought that it all would stop. He had thought that if things ever worked out the way they had, everything would be okay. He had forgotten his nature.

At first, hiding the killings was just as easy as it had been before. It did not stay that way. Alastor was good at hiding things, always had been. That wasn't the issue. What was the issue was that he cared about Y/n, he didn't want to hurt them. Keeping secrets... well, his mother had always told him that no one ever fools anybody. His mother was a wise woman. His mother had been right.

Y/n had stopped by as a surprise. They had a home cooked meal in a basket and a bag over their shoulder full of records they thought he would like. When they stepped into the foyer of Alastor's large, garden district home, they had called their usual greeting.

Alastor's heart had stopped at the sound of their voice. He froze, his cleaver still firmly wedged between the shoulder and chest of the man he was chopping into pieces for easier disposal. Hoping it was his mind playing tricks on him, he waited. They called again.

"Al! I have a surprise for you! The surprise is me! And also? I made you dinner. Come out! I know you're home!"

Under any other circumstances, them showing up like this would have filled him with unbridled joy. However, it wasn't any other circumstances. It was these circumstances. Alastor was covered in another man's blood. There was a body just a few rooms from his beloved. Either way, they would find out the truth. They were a nosey thing, always so inquisitive.

"Alastor!" he heard them call again.

They were closer now, much closer. He watched in a mixture of horror, despair, and a twinge of excitement as the doorknob jiiggled.

"Alastor?"

How would Y/n react to such a sight? Would they cower in fear? Was their love alone enough to hold them here, to tie them to him in loyalty? Would they run to the cops? Would they cry? Would they ask to help? Would he have to kill them too?

It was sickeningly delightful, all the unknowns. His heart pounded violently in his ears. The door swung open.

"There you are!"

Ravenous, that was the word. Not in the way where everything dissolves, leaving only the object of your affection. Not in the way that someone is controlled by desire. Hungry in the way fire eats paper, in the way kindling catches light. Starved in the way that leads to a progressive repeated sense of the word, a starving. A constant state of being famished that turns into a well loved and cared for blaze. Alastor burned.

"My dear! How wonderful to see you."

----

TAGS:

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Sorry if the end made you angry,,, I just think the not knowing is so much more fun!

Also the song is "Always" by Irving Berlin.

[grnpurplgrmln]

In my billford feels on this fine day, so let me rant a bit

Ford was possibly the closest Bill has gotten to relating to someone in EONS, so of course he opened up to him about his home, of course there is some sentimentality, and of COURSE Bill was heartbroken when Ford didn't want to finish the portal.

Bill's had plenty of failures before, this should've been just another in a long line, but no. Bill went ahead and got himself attached to a human.

Not necessarily romantically, but he does care a lot more about Ford than he let on. And it's all because he sees a bit of himself in him.

He sees the kid who was cradled by his parents while they assured him that they would keep him safe and that they'll love him no matter what.

He sees the stubborn child who refused to learn how to tie shoelaces and wore velcro for sixteen years.

And he also sees a man who is willing to let go of, and maybe even dispose of, people who stand his way. Or at least that's what Bill saw.

But there was a part of Ford that Bill didn't really take into account: humanity. That was what set Bill and Ford apart.

Bill is a "needy ex who can't get over Ford" because OF COURSE HE IS.

Would *you* ever get over finding someone who finally somewhat gets you? You do the thing you do best - manipulating people - but there's something at the back of your mind that makes you, despite everything you know, still foolishly believe that you two can work together, as equals, as partners. That they will, without a second thought, grab your hand and vow to fight to stay by your side?

But in the end, you just got your heart broken again, and you know that you're the only one to blame here.

Where Ford is ashamed of himself for letting himself be manipulated, Bill is ashamed because he let himself get attached, for the slightest chance of keeping Ford by his side.

Because deep down, he knew. With his Ciphervoyance, surely he saw a timeline where Ford agrees to stay with him, and there was a twisted sensation inside of him that hoped that would happen in this timeline too.

It's why he goes to O'Sadley's for I'm Fine Juice and breaks down at Interdimensional Taco Bell when he's told that he can't get Sixer.

Because that's exactly what's been ringing in his head ever since Ford's betrayal. To Bill (though he will never admit it out loud), Ford will always be the one that got away.

Oh! As if the betrayal wasn't enough, the time he almost dies, it's by the hands of Stanley (and technically Ford, but y'know).

The fact that Stan was the one to kill him was an enormous blow to Bill's ego.

So much so that he goes on a whole rant how Stan's the lesser twin and "he shouldn't be allowed to wear a suit and tie."

What's really interesting though, is how through cursing Stan, he praises Ford.

Ford's the "better genetic duplicate", Stan is just "a carbon copy of Sixer."

Let's face it, if Bill almost-died by Ford's hands, he wouldn't have complained nearly as much (still would have complained, though).

I mean dude, don't you think this is a bit much for a guy you basically only know as "my ex's annoying brother"?

Thanks for coming to my TAD STRANGE talk or whatever it's called.

[weebsinstash]

consider; multiverse shenanigans with a spider!reader where they make some offhand comment about how their heat/rut is coming up soon and they'll need some volunteers to cover patrols while they're down and half the society is like 'o damn that sucks, yeah i can swing a tuesday' and the other half is like 'your WHAT is coming up???'

and it turns out that a decent chunk of the multiverse has no idea what a/b/o orientations even are and it somehow just got totally lost in translation until that very second that this was a thing. what do you mean omega???? what the fuck do you mean you just thought i was a really boring smelling beta?????????? y'all motherfuckers are SNIFFING PEOPLE?!?!?!?!

now consider a miguel that is not from an a/b/o verse hearing about this and doing a little research to figure out exactly what a heat/rut is and just getting sucked down a rabbit hole and going feral for the idea that you're going to be in a highly suggestible and vulnerable state for nearly a WEEK and he's going to miss it!!! he didn't get invited!!!! what the fuck!!! the man spends a solid 48 hrs immersed in really bad multiversal porn and comes out the other end hungover and weeping that he nearly missed out on this

so he takes it upon himself to do a little rearranging, some scheduling, some scheming, and lo and behold you find yourself stuck in this crappy half-built nest in nueva york with miguel, who has no real idea how he's supposed to actually perform for you while ur like this and is just making it up as he goes- and totally ignoring the cultural and consent issues he's digging up doing this bc its biology right? so its fine? people in ur universe do this all the time, he has no idea why ur complaining just let him help u out jeez-

Some rando Spiderperson intending to be transphobic: --and they want us to accept everyone as whatever they say they wanna be now, as if men can get pregnant!

Reader, without skipping a beat: what the actual fuck are you talking about, my father carried me and my siblings for 6 months

Miguel is just starting to know you and is actively trying to learn more about you and one day you just, I dunno, you two do a mission together and he gives you praise and you just look at him with a big smile 😊 and your ass straight up PURRS for a few moments and he's just like 🥺❤️ gatito... ❤️

The man sees you talking to Jess and Peter B one day and O'Hara is watching from a distance because he's, awkward and not sure how to approach you, and suddenly his super hearing can pick up someone in the room talking idly about you, or even explaining ABO stuff to another person. "Yeah, see em over there, holding Peter Bs kid? Those Omega always have nurturing instincts. It's cause they're wired to spit out tons of babies. They're the breeders. They even have natutal pheromones to calm down their mates and friends and children" and suddenly Miguel's ears are burning "youre tellin me my darling might wants lots of little babies running around? Fantastic."

Mexican/Irish and also Catholic Miguel who wants one of those STUPID HUGE families where people have at least 6 kids and it's like "oh a typical Omega pregnancy usually has at least two or three babies in one go and theyre shorter than normal human pregnancies huh? Interesting :)"

Some members of the Spider Society are like "why is Miguel kind of lowkey being a dick to me all the time now" oh well its very simple you see, Miguel read your file and found out you're an Alpha and you share this weird connection and also natural biological attraction to HIS lil honeybee and He Hates You Now. Fuck off out his house and don't let him see you talking to his baby or else

He gets really close to you one day, I mean like physically, or hey maybe emotionally too, and he's hugging you and he gets a whiff of your scent and it's something he can't even describe, something that has a carnal biological effect on his where he just wants to keep holding you and hearing your voice like a drug, like it's oxytocin on crack, and suddenly in true scientist fashion he's researching you, your universe, its history, its medicine, its culture.

Can't help but imagine a Miguel who goes full yandere and gives no fucks about doing what he wants for darling and splices his DNA with Alpha DNA so he can officially claim you as a mate, scenting, knotting, and everything. Lyla gives you instructions to meet him in a specific place and it turns out he's been experimenting on himself and he's deep in a rut and suddenly your knees are getting pushed into your chest and you're getting passionately knotted and filled up by a grunting growling purring Miguel who's leaving love bites and kisses all over your skin, just, his size alone would make him hard to get away from, you don't even need to add Alpha instincts and being able to track your pheromones on top of that 😳

Miguel "just let me 'help you as a friend'" O'Hara who tracked when your next heat was going to kick in and maybe even drugged you so it comes at a specific time and he makes it where the two of you are together or even trapped or something when it happens and, here he is, "oh just let me help you, isn't it hurting" but like. We all know it's because he wants to. Like could you even imagine he's, you know, using his fingers and he goes to remove his pants or free himself or whatever and you're just like "no I'll get pregnant" and he just kind of has a Microsoft error window in his brain because it's like. Oh you'll get almost DEFINITELY pregnant? Guaranteed? You're trying to tell the man you dont want to and instead at least internally he's like "promise? 👉👈"

[jedisandspacepirates]

Thoughts on Jod Na Nawood and Where We Go From Here

So, Jod Na Nawood. Spoilers ahead for 1x05, read at your own risk.

After watching 1x05 and seeing other folks's thoughts about what went down there, I felt the need to write something.

Now I'm going to start by saying that from the beginning, I (and everyone, really, I'm sure) was wondering just who Jod is, really. I didn't immediately buy into the idea that he's a Jedi just because he can use the Force. That doesn't make or define a Jedi, I don't think. Anyway, it kept me wondering and kept me interested. I will be honest and say that in the first few episodes, I sort of hoped that despite the fact that he's a pirate, a scoundrel in it for his own interests....I had hoped that his heart would soften at least a little bit, being with the kids. But now I remember what Jude himself has said about Jod and his perspective of the kids. According to Jude, Jod has this sort of disdain because his childhood was taken from him (or something along those lines iirc). It's a little sad because apparently Jod didn't have that. But, Jude said, he also doesn't want the kids to end up the same way he did.

Either way, I think it's interesting that Jod has twice done things that remotely demonstrate even the vaguest, faintest sense of...I won't call it affection but whatever it is, he isn't disregarding them.

First example, when he reunites with the kids on At Achrann. Neel and Wim run to him and hug him, and he just holds them close. He could have easily been aloof, or shoved them off and been like 'Ick. Small humans. Go away.'

Second example, when he finds Wim crying. Initially, he's very much repelled by the sight and turns as if to leave, but then goes back, sits down and talks to Wim about it. True, he doesn't give very good advice when he says to let go those attachments (Granted: to the Jedi, that's important, but in the sense of being free from those attachments not in the sense of cutting off love and wholesome, good human connections). But it just caught my attention.

Another thing I thought interesting is exactly how the writers are presenting him. I don't have extensive experience with studying writing methods or even observing it in the shows I watch, but I've noted that in some of the best written stories, the big reveals are almost never obvious. That's sort of their nature, no? Like why would it be a surprise if it's already been spoiled before its time?

What's my point?

This. I think it's notable that when they first present Jod, it's in an ambiance of mystery, so much that everyone is asking 'Who is he?' They're already laying down that idea of wanting to figure him out completely and see what he's made of. Now after 1x05, it was striking to me to see Jod invoke the pirate code and threaten Fern with a knife at her neck.

Let's unpack that moment first. There's a few things I want to point out.

Jod hesitates. It seemed to me like he's debating, really turning around in his head the idea of what he's considering doing. It struck me because we see only moments before how quickly he had SM-33 fill the pit back up with acid and melt the pirates. Jod has no problem with killing, that's clear. So why did he make such an effort not to harm Fern, if he's as despicable a man as we're supposedly led to think he is?

He holds the knife near her neck, but not nearly enough to harm her. It's a threat to make it real enough for her, but he's not trying to harm her. Anyway you dice it, it's NOT okay that he did that and I don't approve it, I just think that it's worth noting.

He keeps insisting that she has to say 'I yield' because that's what the Code demands. 'You literally have to say it,' he tells her.

Then, and this point's more flimsy, up to interpretation, I suppose, but...the bit with the chair. I assumed, on first watch, that he didn't react because he simply didn't care what happened to the kids now that they're out of his way, but I saw a post once (if it was yours or you know who wrote it, tell me please and I'll credit them here) pointed out it's because he knew what the chair would do and he knew where they were going--into a tunnel.

Lastly, I was thinking about this more recently and it came to mind that Jod could have, essentially, done this at any point when he was with them, no? Why did he chose THAT moment to do it? Furthermore (and I mentioned this in a different post), I find it very suspicious that the writers, if they do intend to make Jod out to be the actual Bad Guy ™ po

That's it, thanks for coming to my Ted Talk.

[chowadoe]

Heyyy I just have a question about your au (which I'm obssessed with btw)

How did Robotnik stumble across Sonic? How did they find eachother and why did Sonic choose to work with him? (I noticed you used quotation marks on the word "raised", this is why I'm asking)

(Also I'm sorry if you have explained this before I'm just dumb and forget things alot😭)

hehe yes!! i touched vaguely on it but in the AU, but i have more thoughts

the AU is set in a Mobius/Earth that's heavily-industrialized, nearly robot-run and almost-dystopian backdrop.. rather than it being a case of man vs robot, its more like Earth vs the over-industrialization done by humans.

I'd like to think Robotnik found Sonic when he was pretty young, before his teens. since it's a role reversal where Sonic takes on more of Shadow's "ism"'s, I'd think there's lapses in sonic's past/memories that's simply a result of his upbringing in an machine-operated unnatural world. possibly found him orphaned and beat up from an unfortunate run-in (with either a robot or something else) in some junkyard. also toying with the idea that Robotnik suspects a rodent problem in his lab because whyyy is stuff going missing :/ and it seems to be connected to this little hedgehog over here.

Robotnik, having a lapse in his usual evil scientist judgement, decides to take him under his wing under the self-disgusing excuse of 'yes! haha! i'll teach him for taking my stuff! he can become my minion! my protege!' (when really Robotnik probably has a soft spot for kids). Robotnik is also quite interested in Sonic's extraordinary speed, thinking he'll prove quite useful for his future endeavors if he can train him. of course, Sonic is like a stray dog and kind of feral, because who can he trust in this world other than himself, so used to fighting for scraps where he can. the socialization process is long and arduous process LMFAO (as for the clothes, Sonic isn't interested in things that are readily given to him, he likes pissing Robotnik more, so lets say its something he "borrowed" from the scientist's closet and modded to his own liking. hes silly like that)

Robotnik at first tries to placate him with clothes and "toys" and "treats" (like fidgets and building sets and small robots. Sonic always ends up breaking them.) with little success. Sonic probably escapes several times, only coming back for something he needs- and its a routine that they both get used to because Robotnik can say "this is your last chance!" all he wants but when is it ever. and it's a habit that Sonic never really outgrows either.

Robotnik comes to the conclusion that Sonic is better left treated like outdoor cat that lets himself in when he's bored or whatever else (Sonic's quite good at sneaking into places. hedgehogs and burrowing and all that). eventually the machines and robots Robotnik builds do pique Sonic's interest-- but mostly in breaking them. he's more invested in the ways he can take things apart than anything else and that's a reoccurring headache Robotnik imposes on himself by dishing out new tech for Sonic to try out and they come out worse for wear at the end of the day.

They both mind their business at the end of the day, their relationship is rather estranged with little-to-no familial regard, Sonic's more of a thorn in his side than anything, but Robotnik still does have a soft spot for the rodent. Sonic is like the adoptive son that just never left his rebellious phase, wanting nothing to do with his guardian but bothering them when its convenient. he's Robotnik's contractual accomplice but only when it's on Sonic's terms, only agreeing to certain requests if it's interesting enough, like trying out Robotnik's new "toys"/weapons/robots or if it's tech that happens to boost his existing abilities (that he can try out on Robotnik's robots or G.U.N. soldiers or whatever gets in his way first).