#WRITE AND TAG ME PRETTY PLEASE

[sjaudios]

I'm not sure if you answered an ask like this before or not, but what are your thoughts on ppl incorporating little headcanons about your OCs into art and stuff?

tbh, this question gave me Déjà vu to the point where I think I've answered something like this before, but ah well, worst case I ramble about this twice, haha!

I think it's super cool when people adapt my OCs/add lil headcannons into their fanart/fanworks; it shows how much they care about my characters and the lives they live!

the creativity of the small little fandom I have here on Tumblr is endless, and it warms my heart everytime I see people bring new ideas to the table, because I know it comes from a place of enjoyment and love. heck, even If I think it contradicts the character or whatever, I'd still think it's awesome just because someone put their time and hard-earned talents into making it!

I mean, @pinkcocopuff-aqualoid is always coming up with new, cool headcannons for me and a bunch of other creators, and I get so giddy everytime they tag me! (I've also adapted a part of one of their headcannons into Eenvra's canon, LOL-)

and @itsargyle (hello btw thanks for the ask haha) has one of the COOLEST artstyles I've seen, and def does my characters justice in all the awesome fanart they've made, sometimes even more than me. (no joke, when I saw the fanart of Caleb with their own listener OC, I basically showed it to all my family n friends with jumping-up-and-down levels of excitement, it was awesome).

So, I guess what I'm saying is that I think headcannons are what helps bring VA communities closer, and it helps reminds me that every subscriber out of the 1,107 I have is a person who enjoyed my work enough to want to see more, and there's no better gift <3

TLDR: I LOVE seeing that kinda stuff, so please please tag me, haha!

[kkoct-ik]

IT'S FINISHED! I'VE FINISHED IT!

for the past few months i've been putting together a guide for writers looking to make OCs who suffer from DID, since i have a personal investment in good representation and an absurd amount of autism. and today it is FINISHED!!

it's gone up on my neocities, but i really wanted to post about it too.

here's the link

please check it out / bookmark it / share it if you're interested! if just one person finds this useful and makes art from it all my hours of hyperfixation will be worth. ok. love you

[harbingersglory]

Hello, could I have transfem Signora x fem!reader smut? Any scenario is fine, just need dom Signora railing me 😩

{☆} characters la signora {☆} notes drabble, fem reader, sub reader, dom la signora, transfem la signora {☆} warnings 18+ content, restraints, temperature play, face fucking, degradation, pet play

There's a moment of silence that lingers for far too long, the cold nipping at your exposed skin until you feel shivers wrack your body. You squirm instinctively, seeking out the fading warmth of the thick furs laid out beneath you, yet finding nothing but the cold that chills you to your bones. You can't even see, your eyes covered by black fabric, silk tying your arms together behind your back.

It's almost torturous waiting like this. Your knees sink further into the fur as you lean your weight forward slightly, exhaling a shaky breath. You begin to wonder if Signora left you there– maybe you'd annoyed her earlier and she was punishing you. You hoped not. She wasn't known for being lenient when it came to punishments.

But the brush of her fingers along your jawline squashed that fear, your breath hitching as her thumb glided over your throat, the heat of her skin making you shudder. The contrast of the cold room, of your freezing body, to the unnatural heat that simmers beneath her skin is immense– your knees would have definitely buckled if you hadn't been kneeling already.

"Did you think I'd left you here all alone? You're shaking like a dog." The soft, biting lilt was nothing more than a murmur, but for you it was impossible not to hear the pleased tone beneath the roughness of her voice. Your heart leaps into your throat when her fingers trace back up along your jawline, lifting your head and tilting it back just enough to be uncomfortable.

You open your mouth to speak, but your words are silenced by her thumb slipping past your lips instead– you don't fight back, even though the sudden intrusion catches you off guard enough you almost bite her finger instead. You almost consider doing it anyway, but she's so rarely in a good mood it feels rude to spoil it.

"Pets don't speak until they're told," She chides, pressing down on your tongue slightly and laughing at the way you almost choke in surprise. "And I don't remember giving you permission."

You can only manage a garbled whine in response, your face burning in embarrassment– but it's quickly silenced by the click of her tongue and the creak of the old chair you know sits by the fireplace, her thumb sliding out between your lips to drag you closer. Close enough to feel the rush of heat across your skin as your cheek is pressed against her thigh, her hands resting on the back of your head. You can't see it, but you sure can imagine the smug smile that must be tugging at her lips right about now.

"Let's see about fixing your little disobedient streak, darling." She murmurs, digging her nails into your scalp and tugging you even closer, the furs beneath you doing little to prevent the ache in your knees from kneeling. But you don't complain– you know what she wants, and you want it too. "Open."

Like the dog she seems so fond of treating you as, you listen– you're not as surprised this time when her fingers fill your mouth, forcing it open even further until you can feel the saliva collecting and dribbling down your chin. She doesn't seem to mind, even laughing at how pitiful you probably look, drooling all over her fingers.

But Signora is a hard woman to satisfy, and this will hardly do anything other then work her up enough to really break you in. You can just barely hear the rustle of fabric over your heartbeat, gloved hands tugging you closer and forcing you to press right up against the edge of the chair. It's almost uncomfortable, the way the chair presses against your chest, but she always has you teetering on that fine edge.

"Perhaps you can be trained after all." Signora's voice is like a balm, the heat of her body driving away the cold and urging you impossibly closer, until you feel her hand guide you down just as her fingers slip out of your mouth again– right up until you feel her cock against your cheek. "Show me that you can be obedient, mutt, and maybe I'll let you sit on my lap."

You know she's just dangling a treat just out of reach, but you can't help but reach for it anyway.

Your tongue drags across the underside of her cock, so slow you can hear the hiss that rattles in her chest halfway between pleasure and impatience. You take your time anyway, lingering until you reach the tip and press a kiss against it. You almost wish you could see her face, but she's never been fond of expressing anything outwardly when you can see it– just the idea of her brows furrowed, of her face flush and her lip caught between her teeth..it's enough.

It's not hard to imagine it anyway when the heat grows hotter, nearly turning the room into an oven before she catches herself. You aren't stupid enough to mention it, but your smile must be enough, because a low growl makes you shiver– so you drag your tongue from the base to the tip again, revel in the way it throbs beneath your tongue. For a moment you almost have something like control, your saliva dripping down her aching cock as you lap at it like a mutt.

But you're both growing impatient– the sharp click of her nails against the chairs arms makes you shudder, urging you to lift yourself up just enough to wrap your lips around the head with a muffled groan. You consider dragging it out just a moment longer, just to see if you can get her to whine, but she knows you better then you do– before you can even blink, her hand shoves you down. You, predictably, gag. Your throat burns from the stretch, but it's not unpleasant, eased by the pleasured hiss that tumbles from her lips. Signora at least has the mercy to let you get used to it for a moment before she drags you back up, the emptiness in your throat making you whine before she's shoving her cock back down your throat. Your eyes sting with unshed tears, your own sounds of pleasure muffled and garbled as she does it again– and again.

"Finally quiet, mutt?" She laughs, but it's strained– her voice quivers slightly as she fucks your throat like your nothing but a toy to her, drool dribbling down your chin and tears staining the blindfold. "If I knew it was this easy to shut you up, I'd have done it a long time ago."

You so badly want to do something, but with your hands tied behind your back and her fucking your face so rough, so fast, you can barely even think..there's not much you can do but let her, your cunt clenching around nothing. You really hope she wasn't lying about that reward, for once. You're practically dripping on her floor while she uses you, just barely able to squeeze your thighs together for a fraction of friction.

It only serves to make you more desperate, though.

"Fuck– or maybe you're too stupid to know better. You'd just let any pretty woman with a cock use you," Her breathing was getting heavier, more strained, but her grip on your hair didn't relent. Neither did the harsh thrust of her hips, her cock constantly hammering into your throat until you felt dizzy. "You're lucky I'm even willing to train a mutt like you."

Your mind starts to feel fuzzy, the words blending together until she digs her nails into your scalp and forces you down again– and keeps you there. You nearly gag again when you feel her shudder, her cock throbbing in your mouth as her cum spills down your throat, your hands straining against the silk binding them together. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, nostrils flaring and your body tensing– you don't even realize you'd briefly lost consciousness until your find yourself on her lap, rather then on your knees, her hands brushing the strands of hair stuck to your face with sweat out of your eyes.

It's the most gentle she's been all night– and likely as gently as she will be tonight. You lean into her touch anyway, groaning softly and shuddering at the taste of her on your tongue mixed with her cock throbbing against your thigh.

"I'm not done yet, darling. Did you think I'd let you get away with a little light training?" She laughs, cupping your jaw and pressing a kiss that's far too gentle to your cheek, the warmth of her body almost suffocating– but you welcome it, like you always do.

So you nod, smiling drowsily and spreading your legs like a good pet should.

[kame-writes]

Random headcanons that are always lurking in the back of my mind about Alastor:

The papers dubbed him 'The bayou Butcher'

Alastor used to bring up his own murders on air, and people would phone in with gossip and theories. He loved the infamy and brought more publicity to his crimes, while still being able to remain anonymous.

He was only allowed a mainstream radio broadcast slot because his transatlantic accent was so good, his ethnicity wasn't obvious. People who found out it was him were shocked to learn he was of mixed heritage.

He was light skinned enough that he could possibly pass as white with a very deep tan, but mixed enough that he didn't look like he fit in with either side of his ethnicity.

His natural accent is very different, with a clear french influence and obvious southern drawl.

He and his mother would speak fluent French when alone, and naturally, Alastor will still occasionally mutter to himself in French when he's annoyed and thinks no one is listening.

In Hell, he puts on the transatlantic accent since he is always performing a character, its part of the mask to ensure he's always in control. His true intentions and identity are hidden away from prying eyes

He was seen as a bit of a social outcast while alive since he showed no intentions in finding a wife, which was extremely unusual for a man in his thirties.

Since Mimzy was the opposite, having many flings with unsavoury men, which was also a big social taboo, they fake dated for a little while to dissuade the gossip about their intentions with the opposite sex.

After his death, the media went wild with the reveal that a popular radiohost was the Bayou butcher.

Years after his death there was a documentary made about his crimes (Probably named something like 'murder on the airwaves') Husk probably knows of this documentary, maybe even Vox depending on when it was made.

When Alastor first started his killings in Hell, he kept up a double identity. They wanted to dismiss Alastor as a threat, and he kept the fact he was the notorious Radio Demon a secret until he had enough powerful blood on his hands to inspire fear. When he finally revealed he and the Radio Demon were one in the same, Hell became extremely unnerved that no one had taken him seriously.

Mimzy used to cover for Alastor while they were alive, since she was the only one who new about his murderous hobby. When she died, she used his notoriety to further herself and stop people trying to take advantage of her, since she had such a powerful friend.

Alastor humours Mimzy, taking pleasure in her giving him some sport in the form of people coming after her. He figures since she covered for him in life, he can return the favour in death.

Mimzys "give him a couple of fingers of rye and he becomes a kitten" is reference to what he was like while alive. She doesn't accept or realise that he is a very different beast now that he has power and reputation behind him. They haven't really spent much time in hell together socialising.

[6okuto]

heads up :p

hello. archiving my blog soon. like in the next month or so. not shocking. i still have a lot to queue but i needed to say this so i can't back out for the gazillionth time 😭 i don't have a new blog and i'm not sure if or when i'll be back. as for 6okuto, i probably won't delete it! probably.

thanks for being here for almost 3 years!! it was really nice writing for the first time and getting to know you guys. please take care of yourselves, and i hope you have a good end to 2024! ^^

and just a final request to tell creators you enjoy their work. i can't tell you how many times one kind person stopped me from doing this a lot earlier. please help make tumblr a kinder and stronger community !!

regular pinned - masterlists

[butterflysonnets]

yes i'm rooting for m*leven breakup because byler is neat but mostly? i'm rooting for m*leven breakup for the sake of el and mike.

to me, their romance was always a puppy love born out of a combination of social pressures, naïve curiosity, and a lack of true understanding regarding intimacy and romantic love and what it really is. it was real in that they do truly, deeply care about each other and they are close friends, maybe even shared an attraction, but a maturing romance is so much more than that. they've grown up and out of being boyfriend/girlfriend, and that's okay! i think television/film needs to show more often that most of us don't have definite "soulmates" or first childhood loves that we spend our whole lives with. it doesn't mean these relationships meant nothing and didn't impact us, it just means they've run their course and that something else is in the cards, and this is part of life!

i've always felt el was at her best and most confident self when broken up with mike, discovering who she was and what she liked alongside another girl her age instead of just relying on mike for mentorship on how to live in the real world. she deserves more of an opportunity to find herself, her autonomy, and her independence, and to love who she is, and she's made it clear she's felt insecure in the relationship with mike because she isn't being loved and understood the way she wants, needs, and deserves from someone who is her partner.

also, it's okay if mike doesn't love her in "the way he should". he is not obligated to love her romantically and stay in a relationship with her just because she's a girl, because she "needed someone", or because he cares about her a lot. he shouldn't be pressured into a romance if it's not truly coming from his heart. he deserves freedom to find out and honour who he is, too, instead of just staying in his non-functional first relationship — one he got into as a child, essentially — and defining himself that way because it's what's expected when a boy and a girl are close. he loves her in some way, yes, but it's okay if he doesn't feel comfortable or secure being her boyfriend anymore, for whatever reason that is. he's felt insecure too, and that's valid and it matters.

they are their own people and are steadily growing and changing every day. they need time to figure out who those people are, and it's become clear (at least in my opinion) that those people aren't meant to be a couple at this stage.

they deserve freedom. they deserve to grow up and be authentic to themselves and not feel like they need to lie for the sake of a relationship. they deserve to move on from this version of their relationship that isn't making them happy and rekindle the best part of their bond: their strong, beautiful friendship. they don't have to be a couple if it doesn't make them stronger and better and happier people.

i think it would be healthy and wonderful for a show, especially one consumed frequently by young adults, to show a relationship starting, progressing, and ending on good terms in this way. sometimes things don't work out, and that is okay.

[sailing-through-hawkins]

✧ written for 'charm' ✧ word count: 548 ✧ rated: T ✧ cw: creepy in the luring kind of way ✧ tags: other!eddie ✧ @steddiemicrofic (≧∇≦)ﾉ⁠✧

The ringing wasn’t that annoying, mostly because it meant his favourite guest had arrived.

“Meow.”

And there he is, with the little charm on his collar. Steve has no idea how it makes a jingling sound but it’s so cute, he doesn’t really care.

“Hello precious,” Steve greets and opens his windows out to let the black cat in. Robin always complains and calls it a hazard, but she also baby-talks to him so Steve doesn’t take it to heart.

But the cat doesn’t come in. He stares at Steve with wide eyes, eyes as red as the jewel of his charm. Huh. He didn’t know cat eyes could be red.

The cat meows again and hops out of the window. Steve takes his coat, locks his front door and steps out. The cat meows again, hopping along the street and Steve follows.

“Meow.”

Steve blinks. The cold air has finally hit his skin and has him shivering except – he’s been cold for a while, hasn’t he? He’s been – he’s been walking for a while, his legs ache so much. Steve looks around, the shadows of the empty road crawling around him, and realizes he must have left town ten minutes ago.

How –

The cat.

The one that always came to their window and asked to be let in, the one he followed all this way.

Where is it?

“Aren’t you a little far from home?”

Steve swivels around, hand grasping out for – for what?

A man smiles at him from the middle of the road. It’s too dark to see his face but he can see his eyes.

Pretty, pretty red.

“What are you doing here, stranger?” the man asks as he holds his hand out, crooking a finger in a ‘come-hither’ kind of way.

Steve stumbles over. “I – I was following this cat, where –“

The man’s (pretty, so pretty) red eyes widen, and he barks out a laugh. Steve smiles with him. “A cat, huh? In this cold? Oh, you poor thing.”

The moment he said that, the chill of the wind bit at Steve’s ears, and he shudders.

“Oh no,” the man tuts. He steps closer to Steve, pulling him in by his waist and adjust his own thick, fur coat around the both of them. “Is that better, sweetheart?”

Steve smiles, and he knows it’s his dopiest one because it’s the one that would always make people laugh and call him an idiot.

The man’s smile drops and his (beautiful, bloody) eyes flare angrily. He holds Steve even closer, even tighter, and Steve feels so warm. “They’re not worth it, sweetheart. We’re here now.”

Nuzzling into his neck, Steve sighs happily.

“That’s it, darlin’,” the man murmurs and he sighs too. “You don’t even remember me, but I’ve been so lonely without you.”

“Without me?” Steve frowns and goes to look at the man, Eddie, in the eye but a cold, clawed hand presses his face back into the warm skin. “Why were you without me?”

“It doesn’t matter anymore, does it?” Eddie chuckles and Steve hums. “You’ve got me now and I’ve got you. Just like we said.”

Steve peeks over Eddie’s shoulder, where the lights of the town fade into the shadows. Just like they said.

[gd-dollopole]

“The Death Song of Uther Pendragon,” 05x03, has to be one of my favourite Merlin episodes (it opens the gate to so many theories)

I rewatched it today, and a lot of things and questions came to my mind:

1) What would have happened if Arthur had summoned Ygraine, instead of Uther?

Following the rules, Arthur should have been able to summon every spirit he wanted. If Ygraine had been able to respond to Arthur, I believe things would have been very different. She would have been proud of Arthur, who would have changed things for the better, and therefore the plot line of the entire show. Ygraine has only ever been the one to make Arthur see what was right in front of him, even more than Merlin, like when Arthur had tried to kill Uther in the second season, and accused him of his hypocrisy, once he knew of how his mother had died, and since the second person Arthur trusted the most, Merlin, told him that what Morgause had shown him was a lie, Arthur believed him, reinforcing the idea that Uther was a good man.

2) If it would have been possible to summon anyone, then why did Arthur choose Uther, of all people?

Even if the answer seems obvious, I don’t think it actually is. Arthur had always known one person that was meant to be family and who technically didn’t betray him. He still felt guilty for choosing magic to save Uther, and it was actually what brought his father away from him, the only parental and father figure (as horrible as he was) who Arthur had ever had. His choice was also influenced by the date, since it was the day after the celebration of his coronation, and the same day Uther died. The moment Arthur meets Uther in the Spirit World, he tells him, even as he fights with him, that he has so much more to say to him. I think Arthur wanted nothing more than validation, something he had never had, and hoped he could find in the same man who had told him, seconds before he died, while being held in his son’s arms, that he knew Arthur would make him proud. The last moment Arthur had with Uther was the only one in his entire life where Uther had actually rewarded him and his duty with kindness and sincerity. Which means, at least in my opinion, that Arthur had hoped that that was the man he was about to meet in the Spirit World. That rare man who had sacrificed himself to save his only son and who had called him Arthie and to whom he had said he was proud of. But it wasn’t that man, and Arthur left the Spirit World feeling disappointed.

3) But what if it wasn’t possible to actually summon Ygraine, or certain, specific people?

When they go back to Camelot, Arthur and Merlin ask Gaius about the Horn of Cathbhadh and they found out that summoning spirits has always been a ceremony, a tradition, even one that Gaius had multiple times attended, held by High Priestesses, meaning that many different people could have been able to participate, which explains while even a commoner or someone without magic or practice could use the Horn, like Arthur did. Later on, after Arthur meets Uther and Merlin confesses what they had gone to do to Gaius, telling him of his fear that Uther may have left the Spirit World, Gaius tells Merlin that those same High Priestesses trained for years before using the Horn, which makes me believe there were so many rules to follow and accept, which brings us to the question. What if one of these rules was to know in your heart who you’d believe had passed away and went into another realm, and who got stuck into the Spirit World?

4) Therefore, what if the Spirit World is actually a place where spirits, who have either undone/unfinished things in life, or are bitter, cruel, and with many grudges and anger inside, or had died in an unjust manner, get stuck there forever?

We have no explanation of it or of how it works, and no one else tried to blow the Horn, but that would explain why Arthur didn’t think of his mother first, Ygraine, instead of Uther. He thought it more simple and less dangerous, since he had no knowledge of magic and didn’t want to ask anyone, not even Gaius, about it (not knowing Merlin had magic, and still, even he had no knowledge of these practices) to summon someone, who deep inside his heart, he knew was still stuck, somehow, in the between of the Worlds, of the Dead and of the Living. This means that Arthur somehow knew that Uther had something he thought was unfinished, or even going more far, we might think Arthur sort of hoped it, and not only to see Uther again because he was his father, but to be right about his character and himself, as a sort of bitter sweet victory, as if Arthur wanted to say to Uther: “If you’re still here, if I’m able to see you, talk to you, you might have done something terribly wrong, which makes me right, because you have never actually been a good and just man, like you painted yourself to be.” It opens a great theory about where Arthur actually went to after his death, since he was burned and mourned by Merlin and sent into the Lake of Avalon.

Another thing I believe further proves my theory, is that all the people in the show that we see dying, are buried in a boat and burned in a lake. Now, I have no idea if it would have been unusual or even disrespectful to burn Uther and send him on a lake, but even Elyan, and Lancelot, two honourable knights with high status, who before were simple commoners, were burned and sent on a boat in the lake when they died.

All, except Uther.

I want to believe that it was a sign to show Uther the disrespect he deserved.

Others may think that it’s the opposite, that Uther was the king and had to be held on an higher position, and therefore buried in the same castle he had conquered, but it wouldn’t make sense, since Merlin buried and said goodbye to Arthur in the same way as the others.

It makes me think that all who had died in the show are free of the Spirit World, unlike Uther.

It also opens so much theory about where did Morgana, or Mordred go.

6) Did people’s beliefs matter?

If the majority of people had supported Morgana and Mordred in their conquest to kill King Arthur, maybe their support would have been enough to make Morgana and Mordred free, to be free in the after life. We also have to remember Mordred was buried, much like Balinor, under rocks, because it was illegal to do otherwise for sorcerers, to be buried in another way.

7) All these people, buried in another way, in an unjust way, like for sorceres, who didn’t even get a burial, but were killed unjustly, where did they go?

I like to imagine they are stuck in the Spirit World too, and take revenge on Uther in any way the can, knowing none of them will ever die again. Uther’s punishment is to live in an endless loop of what he had put magical beings, humans and non, under, while he, a tyrant, reigned.

5) If this is the case, this must mean, in order for the summoning and the ceremony to work in the Living World, there had to be rules in the Spirit World. Did Uther know these rules?

As soon as Arthur entered the Spirit World, taking in consideration the theory that is just a layer of another world, slightly pulled away from the Living one, where some can see the progress of humanity but not so clearly, as if looking through a damp glass, Uther was able to not only spit everything he hated about his son to him, but he also warned Arthur that he had seen the kingdom he had built and that he disagreed on, which is another proof to my theory that those who are like Uther, or simply left to death in an unfair way, without an inch of respect, are somewhat stuck in the Spirit World and damned to see what happens outside of it, but without the ability to stop or intervene in anything they witness (it would explain why Uther hadn’t discovered Merlin’s magic before, since his goal has always been the one to watch Arthur and how the kingdom progressed, in order to protect his legacy, as he puts it in the episode). Not only Uther told Arthur he had watched him, but he warned him that he had to go, otherwise he would have been stuck into the Spirit World forever. This means that Uther knew that there were bounds and rules and that summoning someone with the Horn of Cathbhadh could be dangerous, if a person didn’t know the exact rules.

8) Has Uther seen someone else being summoned?

In this episode, Gaius says the Horn has been saved before the Purge and never been used since. But someone else could have used it, even a simple person, who longed to see their dead lover and blew the Horn. Because of the Purge, many traditions had been forgotten and the use of the Horn could have been forgotten too, used only by simple people who found it or hid it, and who didn’t know what they were doing, but later found out about what it could do, once one of them, out of curiosity, blew it, and summoned a spirit. If the High priestess were people who were born as magic did, and had held these traditions for centuries, it would also explain why ghosts existed. Many people had been left out wandering without a chance to go back into their Spirit World. Uther may have seen, in a world where he wandered endlessly too, someone else being summoned before him, or met someone else who knew all of these things before him.

Which only means one thing:

The last thing Uther Pendragon did before Arthur would disappear from the Spirit World, was to manipulate him until the last moment, and hurt him in doing so:

With the knowledge Uther had, he may have understood that the person who summoned a spirit could have freed it by looking back at it. Uther was a tyrant, a bitter and cruel and murderous man, who without doubts, tried to kill Arthur in the same episode, in the name of his legacy and of “his” kingdom. Uther cared more about something that he couldn’t even rule anymore than his own and only son, manipulating Arthur to no end, so that he would do what Uther wanted him to. His last words to Arthur, that irremediably made the latter turn around, were: “I will always love you, Arthur.” It sounds as if Uther grasped at the little thing he had, knowing that those words would have made Arthur turn. Uther wanted to get out of there, and did not mean a single word he said to Arthur. To Uther, in that precise moment, Arthur was a mean to escape.

9) But what if the Spirits had some saying in being summoned, and refused to appear?

Arthur simply sounded the Horn and Uther appeared, which opens the door to so many possibilities. Uther had agreed to meeting him, but some other Spirit could have also refused to meet the people who had summoned it, and the Horn basically wouldn’t have worked.

10) What if the spirits simply got more bitter with ages of being stuck into the Spirit World and without nothing to do then relive their deaths, or past mistakes, and getting tired of it?

The spirits got stuck in their world for centuries and forgot why they were there or what they did, while they had lived, and just got so much anger inside themselves, they didn’t know anything else except that feeling, like those who believe the theory that every ghost is bad, and does bad things, because it wants to protect their surroundings, or does it because it doesn’t know anything else. Uther may have being fuled with even more hatred than ever and his true feelings actually came out once he got out of the Spirit World, showing himself to Arthur for who he truly was (Uther has always showed Arthur his tyrant personality, but it feels as if we had been the only ones to see it, until Arthur finally did too)

What if Merlin, at the end of the episode, smuggled the Horn into his satchel, promising Arthur he would have put it into a safe space, and went to the Stones of Nemethon instead.

Suspicious, Arthur followed him, and frightened of another Spirit wandering into the Living World again, he jumped into the light with Merlin, who had summoned Balinor,

and Arthur watched everything unfold.

And Merlin, after 1500 years of waiting, found the Horn again, under rubble and rubble of the Camelot castle, as he had desperately searched for it, and decided, in the last attempt to meet Arthur again, to blow the Horn.

But as Merlin had suspected, the Horn didn’t work, and no one, not even a light, appeared in his way. Merlin blamed it on so many factors, on the fact that Arthur had been dead for too long, or because he was in Avalon, and with an heavy heart, and a weary sigh, Merlin turned around and walked away from the dried up Lake.

But the sound of the Horn had been loud enough to disturb the Once and Future King.

And Arthur woke up from his old sleep.

[tagzpite]

Do you have any lore on fish Odysseus because I would love to learn more. Also would you be okay with fanfiction of him?

A wee bit!!! It’s yet to be thought through more but the general idea is that rather than going through the full 10 years of the sea as in the original, Odysseus was blinded and turned to a creature that can’t escape Poseidon’s domain. So even when he managed to break free of the chains Poseidon could keep going after him as he wished. I am debating to keep the Calypso thing and being trapped on the island for 7 or so years still in, maybe she kept him in a pond and released him later on. And once Poseidon is told by the other gods to leave him to go home he does so- then the whole thing with bringing him the sacrifices happens so he’s forgiven. He definitely turned into a fish after Underworld tho.

[rainbowsandwhumperflies]

The Winged Servant - 12

content warnings: discussions surrounding medically induced amnesia, royal/servant whump, angel whumpee, discussions surrounding corporal punishment (torturing onyx lol), let me know if I missed anything!

prev chapter | masterlist

The guard took me down three staircases and through too many hallways to remember before opening a metal door. “They’ll be waiting for you right in here. There aren’t guards in there, but those two are plenty capable and I will be waiting out here regardless, so no funny business.” I didn’t miss the click of the lock sliding into place as the door closed.

There was a table in the middle of the room. It had a white tablecloth on it, but it looked like it was metal and sterile under that.

Kieran was waiting at the table. Kieran and… someone else. The someone else would clearly rather I didn’t know. They were wearing a mask, blue and gray and big enough to cover every inch of their face. They had loose enough clothes to hide the curves of their body and their hair was pulled back into a bun that hid the texture and length of it—even the color outside of how dark it was.

“Hi, Onyx,” Kieran said softly. “How’s your arm?”

“Good, sir,” I whispered, bowing my head slightly. “Thank you for the concern. And, um, the medical help.”

“Of course. How about you come sit down, yeah? My friend here is going to stay anonymous, but you can call them Blue. We just wanted to ask you a few questions, if that’s okay?”

He was speaking so gently. As if I wouldn’t understand him if he was blunt with me. I wondered if I should tell him that I knew how to be a good servant, or if that was too irrelevant to the conversation. “Of course, sir.”

“What’s your full name?” Blue asked. They did not sound upset with me, but it was a far cry from Kieran’s soft tone.

“Onyx, Mx.”

“And… your last name?”

I glanced away, focusing my eyes on the tablecloth, tracing the gold embroidery with my eyes. “My apologies, Mx, but you would have to ask the royal family for that kind of information. I don’t know it anymore.”

“No? Why not?”

“I gave it to them, Mx, when I was seventeen. I don’t remember anything from before being a servant. It’s better this way. I'm more productive.”

Kieran and Blue stared at each other for a long moment before looking back at me. “They erased your memory?” Kieran asked slowly.

“Yes, but- but I agreed, sir. I offered to let them do it, because I wanted to become the best servant I could.”

“Okay, but your offer was before they actually did the procedure, right? So the only reason you know that you offered is because they told you.”

“Yes, sir,” I agreed. “I’m very grateful to them for telling me, since they don't usually tell me about before. As is their right, of course.”

“Jesus Christ,” Kieran whispered. “You’ve been with them this whole time, haven’t you? What did you do when they were overthrown?”

“... What?”

“When they were overthrown. Since they’re no longer royal. Did they just take you with them when they left the castle?”

This was similar to what Dr. Charlotte had said—she hasn’t ruled a country for the better part of the last decade—but it couldn’t be true. “The Rao family has ruled Sathenn for sixteen generations, sir. And I don’t- I don’t think I’d ever seen the castle before last night.”

“So you didn't work for them as an employee, or at least not after the memory thing.” Blue tilted their head. “How do you know that the Raos didn’t just grab you off the street and wipe your memory?”

I frowned. “His Highness Prince Ryan told me that I volunteered.”

“And you took his word for it. Right.” They wrote something down on their clipboard. “Did you try to leave?”

“Of course not, not on purpose,” I breathed, staring at them in shock. “I’m- I know how to be a good servant, I can be, I swear.”

“And you didn’t ever want to, or you were just too scared to? Do you understand the difference in the question I am asking?”

“I don’t… think I understand, Mx. I don’t leave because that’s what’s required of me as a servant, and I can be a good servant. It’s not about what I want or how scared I am, I just don't leave.”

“... Right.” I could not see their expression, but I didn’t think they looked convinced. “And what would happen if you did try to leave? Would you… get in trouble in some way?”

“Of course, Mx. But I know my place, I swear I do, I wouldn’t run.”

“Okay. But if you did.”

“I wouldn’t, Mx,” I insisted. “I swear. I can be good, I wouldn’t run.”

They paused for a moment, but nodded eventually. “Okay. Sure. You wouldn’t run. But do you get in trouble for other things, then? Other, smaller mistakes, maybe? Can you describe… I don’t know. Can you describe the most recent incident?”

The most recent one was… last night, despite the fact that last night felt much further away than it was. “Each morning, I bring breakfast to Her Majesty,” I explained. “Yesterday, I was late, Mx. I was punished for that.”

“What kind of punishment?”

“I usually wear a shock collar, Mx, and His Highness Prince Ryan shocked me three times. One for each minute I was late. A fair punishment.”

Blue had been scribbling on their paper, but froze as I spoke. “So you- when you say punishment, you mean corporal punishment.”

“Of course, Mx. Punishment is required for me to become the best servant I can be. How else am I supposed to learn to be better? I make much fewer mistakes than when I was new.”

Kieran was frowning at the wall, and I flinched when he turned his gaze toward me. “Tell Blue what you told me about your wing.”

“My wing wasn’t broken as a punishment, sir,” I explained again, not understanding the relevance. I hadn’t understood the relevance of any of these questions, but it didn’t matter, because the prince had said to do what I was told. “It was only to keep me from flying. But it’s- it’s okay, now, it barely hurts, it’s been years. His Highness Prince Cardan broke it before I gave the royal family my memories, so I don’t remember it happening.”

“That’s convenient,” Blue muttered. “Fine. Okay. Last couple questions, because I can’t stomach this for much longer. What do you know about what you were doing in the castle last night?”

I hesitated. “One of the guards said that we were breaking in.”

“Mhm. Were you aware of that before you came here?”

“... The royal family can’t break in anywhere, Mx. They’re entitled to any building they like.”

“Allow me to rephrase, Onyx. Were you or were you not aware, last night, that you came here as part of a group on a mission to kill people?”

“That’s not-” I hesitated. “They weren’t here for that. They were here for… for Kieran, they said. Anyone that they hurt was someone in the way of their rule—it’s not that they wanted to hurt people.”

“Didn’t they? I’ve seen the camera footage. You were an accessory to murder before you even got into the door. That didn’t make you hesitate at all? It didn’t surprise you enough to ask any of the Raos what you were doing here?”

Right. The guard with the purple hair. Outside, guarding the castle. Guarding Kieran. Dead, after someone had killed her, someone that had arrived in a car with me.

“No, Mx,” I said. “I didn’t- I didn’t ask. I’m not supposed to ask questions. It would be a waste of time. I’m just supposed to do what I’m told.”

Blue took a slow, measured breath. “Okay. I have good news and bad news for you, Onyx. The good news is that I think putting you on trial wouldn’t get us very far because you somehow managed not to realize that the Raos were killing people. Even after watching them kill people. The bad news is that you are ridiculously loyal to people that have been lying to you for longer than you remember existing. These people are dangerous to everything this country stands for. That makes you dangerous by proxy, regardless of your intentions or information, and we can’t exactly let you free either.”

You are ridiculously loyal to people that have been lying to you.

These people are dangerous.

“That doesn’t- it doesn’t matter if they lie,” I managed. “It doesn’t matter if they’re dangerous. It’s not the same for them, Mx. They tell me what they want me to know so that I can be the best servant possible. Sometimes that doesn’t include the full picture.”

“Why do you need to be such a good servant?” Blue asked. “Why does their comfort matter so much more than yours? They might have the best servant in the world, Onyx, but what is the point of serving them so much if they give you nothing in return?”

This was something I had asked too, once. It was years ago, when I was new and I had phrased it differently, but I remembered it. Why is my happiness less important than yours, Your Highness?

Prince Cardan had laughed and asked me how happy I thought he was. And he’d said that happiness- “Happiness serves no purpose, Mx. It doesn’t protect me or keep me safe or provide me with food. The royal family does that for me, if I do my best to be a good servant.”

“They’re not going to be the royal family ever again, you know. They’re-”

“When was the last time you ate something, Onyx?” Kieran interrupted.

Blue glared at him.

“... Last night, sir,” I answered quietly. “At dinner.”

“I think that the conversation Blue is trying to have with you would be better managed over a meal. How about we get you some breakfast?”

Blue was still glaring, and Kieran didn’t look happy. …But someone had asked me a question, and I was supposed to answer it. “Yes. sir.”

“Okay. Blue—paperwork. Try to start questioning Lucia if you have any extra time. Onyx—how do you feel about crepes?”

~

taglist (btw i appreciate you so so much): @kaleidoscope-of-thoughts @toyybox @rainydaywhump @risk606

[skitskatdacat63]

For @sansebastinae and @boisinnot, my fellow saint seb truthers :)

+ the usual

Yayyyy finished a drawing! Haha only took me...2 weeks. I kept going back and forth on whether I could finish it tonight, and I really wasn't going to. But then I looked at the unfinished version on a different screen and was like oh? Not too bad actually?? So I finished it :) First of all, ofc, here is the process. Kinda weird seeing it for smth like this, it makes me feel like I'm the painter in rennaisance au, not Mark dhjfkf

Ah I was gonna draw a silly renaissance au comic to accompany this(read: lighten the mood), but it's 5 am and I've still not really drafted it well, so! I'd like to finish it at some point bcs I wanna draw more chibi comics, but when I finish smth, I can't help but immediately want to post it, so part 2 will have to wait. I'll show you the outline though so you can at least imagine 😭

^ So many renaissance and beyond paintings of Saint Sebastian are always the most horny thing ever. Like pre/early rennaisance, yeah he was naked and all that, but they were pretty chaste, and uhhhhh suffering?? Well the newer paintings are suffering, but in a different way, if you know what I mean.

So I feel like Mark's the type to be overly pedantic about it, and refuses to make borderline porn of a saint, I mean, god forbid, Seb!!! But then he just. Does anyways. Because he can't control his lust for Seb even when drawing him half dead. I just imagine him holding the paintbrush in a death grip like "must not be horny. Must not draw him sexy. Must make him chaste." And then he ends up with the one seen above. Seb is all smug about it. "Wow you'd wanna fuck me even while I'm all bloody and dying? 🥺"

Mark: "oh I'll make you bloody, alright."

But god so funny to imagine Seb doing all these different slutty poses, like arching his back as much as possible, the cloth nearly falling off at all times, etc etc. And Mark finally lands on this pose bcs he hopes the suffering will outweigh the horny. It doesn't. Also Seb is genuinely serious once he actually gets into the pose, focus mode on. And honestly that's even worse for Mark, bcs it's so much more arousing to see Seb in his element, focused. Tbf I think Seb could be drinking water, and Mark would still find some way to sexualize it. Don't look at his sketches!! They're just filled with Seb doing all kinds of random activities.

Also! Here is the painting I referenced this off of, must give credit where credit is due ofc

The Dying St. Sebastian by François Fabre

Also this isn't really relevant in the context of this drawing specifically. But I looked thru a bunch of Saint Sebastian paintings while trying to find one I could reference, and I came across this middle ages one that actually looks so much like boy king seb 😭 I guess it really is meant to be!

St Sebastian between St Roch and St Peter by Pietro Perugino

Lmao but do you see the difference between early rennaisance and later work???

[seilon]

please don’t by k.will did more for the gays back in 2012 than any boy group can possibly do with fan service and crop tops in 2024

[chayannesegg]

red team definitely loves lore and acting, but I really think it's be understated how much blue's actions are in-character. a major upset for red is how blue and green could just betray them immediately and start playing the game, but from blue's perspective this was completely logical and justified. from blue's perspective, this is a game that they are going to play (and try to win!) and the deaths don't mean anything to them bc it's part of the game. it's not a personal thing or a moral question for them. have bad, tubbo, pierre, tina ever shown a particular value for player deaths? no. and all of them have been quite willing to do adapt their approach with the circumstances and their needs.

tina tried being nice and it didn't work? she'll work with bad then. bad can't get his eggs back? he'll start kidnapping workers until something happens. fred's been kidnapped? tubbo is going to unravel quackity. with tina and bad, the easily shifting morality makes sense. they are both demons (or demonlike i know tina was iffy on what canon she wants for herself). with pierre, he's very used to be being a pawn in the federation's games at this point, this is just another game he has to play (idk much about ayrobot sorry).

tubbo is also used to playing the game. he has always reacted futilely to the federation's whims even if he didn't want to! look at his quest to fix ramon's machine. he and phil fought over that, bc phil couldn't understand why tubbo would just give in and break ramon's machines, betray his side? but from tubbo's perspective there was nothing he could do. feds were insistent, he was powerless, and the damage was already done by him being asked to do it. and this game is no different!! he's brought this mentality to pac too. who would otherwise be having a crisis about killing fit and losing everything. tubbo really helped him out by pointing out it was the futility of the game. pac gets to enjoy having a purpose and play the game even players like missa, who haven't participated in killing, have adapted to the game shift well. missa gets to feel useful and like he's not been left behind! he's enjoying himself and wants to participate! most of blue team was lonely, isolated, and purposeless. now they have been given a team, a purpose, and a reason to talk to people! of course they've taken well to this change! why wouldn't they?

[gooopy]

LOOK AT MY SELF INSERT BOY !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! cringe is dead i can do whatever i want FOREVER and that includes making a character to beat scout tf2 to death with my own two fists

[crossbackpoke-check]

it’s all the rest of what i want with you

connor dewar/brandon duhaime :: 8k

Summary:

“Brandon,” Connor says with a sigh. “There’s no baby in there.”

“Not yet,” Brandon says. Connor feels his stomach twist, almost like what he would imagine a baby kicking to feel like.

in these trying times of dewvorce, may i offer you 8k of pwp inspired by @stillfertile’s wonderful art which i had. several breakdowns about 🫶 anyway please enjoy!!!

[blackjackkent]

Jaheira rubs a cloth from her pack slowly along the sleek blade of one of her scimitars and examines its edge with an appraising eye. For a little while she pretends to ignore the small shape creeping around the edge of the fire towards her, but eventually Boo is sitting almost at her knee and she gives the hamster a sidelong glance.

"What is it then, small one?" she says dryly, the pale green pulse of an animal speech spell flaring around her body.

Boo perches up on his back legs and peers up at her with that beady, unreadable stare. Jaheira looks back thoughtfully, raising one eyebrow.

She reflects, not for the first time, that for all that Minsc often seems mad, it is hard to ignore that there is something about the little beast that is more than bestial. The little dark eyes shine with intelligence, and he is the only creature she has ever attempted to speak to with aid of magic that has deliberately not deigned to speak back.

And it is no different today. Boo ignores the spell and simply squeaks once, loudly, then turns and looks back across the fire towards the bedrolls of the camp. Jaheira follows his gaze, and has to resist the urge to smile. Minsc is peering around the edge of one of the tents with an air of stealth that would be more appropriate if he were about half the size that he is.

She has not spoken to him since their argument when they first arrived back from the sewers, and though Boo offers no words, the message is clear. You have grieved him. Will you not clear the air?

"He does not need to hide," she tells Boo softly. "You may tell him so."

Boo squeaks again and scurries off into the shadows.

She returns to the care of her weapons and does not look up when she hears the Rashemaar's heavy footfalls at her side.

"May Minsc sit?" he rumbles.

She smiles slightly. "You feel you must ask permission?"

He drops down at her side and stares into the slowly dying flames. A silence stretches for a few moments before he says haltingly, "I still do not understand all of your anger, Jaheira. But if Minsc has given offense, then he shall not rest until the offense is eased." A pause. "Minsc has lost too many witches. He does not want to lose you."

Jaheira draws a slow breath, lets it out heavily. "You have not lost me, Minsc," she says quietly. "It was I who almost lost you." She frowns. "And I have also lost too much to suffer that lightly."

Minsc looks at her sideways. "But you will not be my Wychlaran," he says. It is not a question, just a flat, tired statement of fact.

She sighs. "Minsc... do you think I did not listen when you spoke to Dynaheir, to Aerie? It was a bond of trust, entered into willingly by both sides. You cannot claim me in such a bond without my knowledge." A pause. "If you wished a place at my side, you should have asked me. Not claimed space within me like a conqueror."

He considers that in silence. "Jaheira, as always, speaks more wisely than Minsc can even think," he agrees after a little while. His mouth draws into a tight line. Then, in a very low voice, he adds, "Minsc has been afraid."

At that, she does lift her head away from her attention on the blades and looks at him directly for the first time. She knows Minsc well enough to know that this is an admission he would make to no one else.

"So many things have changed, Jaheira. I do not remember my time as a stone, for to Minsc it passed like lightning, like a blink - something and then nothing, and then something again but with more itching. Itching and loneliness. Had I a witch she would have soothed both. But I had none... Dynaheir was dead many a long year, and Aerie so far away that Minsc might never see her again..."

She nods slowly. She still remembers the keen, biting emptiness in her chest in the days after Khalid's death - the knowledge that she had been hurt beyond measure and that the one who would have eased the pain was beyond her reach. "You had only me."

"Yes," he answers, and a little more energy comes back into his voice. "And it seemed to Minsc that you must be my new witch, for you were the only one I trusted so, and a Rashemaar without his witch is like Boo without a bit of grain - quite empty." A pause. "Minsc forgot that for Minsc to have a witch, the witch must also have Minsc."

Jaheira smiles slightly and reaches over to rest a hand lightly on his knee. "I will not call myself Wychlaran - but you have me at your side, no matter the name, Minsc," she says quietly. "I did not travel yet again through the Baldurian sewer muck simply to toss you away."

His shoulders relax a little and she can see the slight curve of his lips back into his more accustomed smile. "Good. Minsc is glad to hear it," he says quietly.

For a little while, they sit in companionable silence, watching as the flames slowly drift lower and lower. Boo crawls back out of the shadows, dragging a carrot from the camp supply sack larger than he is; settling between them, he begins to gnaw contentedly on his prize. Jaheira begins to feel some of the tension that has been her constant companion for so many months beginning to bleed away. So much danger still lies ahead... but her friend, at least, is safe again, and that makes such a tremendous difference. He is not one of those she has lost, not yet.

"So," Minsc says abruptly after a little while. "This new monk you travel with. Hector. Tell me of him."

Jaheira stirs, jarred loose from reverie, and has to take a moment to collect her thoughts enough to answer. "A good man, I think," she says slowly after a little while. "He has seen as much in a few months as we did in all our time in Amn, and still stands as straight as he did the day I met him."

Minsc nods. "Minsc sees Rasaad in him," he says gravely.

Jaheira says nothing for a moment. Then she nods. "He has much the same temperament. He says little and sees much. Even when we were closest, Rasaad often said little of what was in his heart, and I think Hector also holds much he does not reveal."

"And he is not quick to catch a joke," Minsc points out with a sudden broad grin. "He said to Minsc that the bond of a Wychlaran sounded only like friendship. At that Minsc laughed, for such a thing should be laughed at, and said that by such a thought, the whole camp is full of my Wychlarans! But the monk did not laugh in turn; Minsc is not sure he saw the jest."

Jaheira grins crookedly. "Perhaps he did not. Certainly that was also a failing in Rasaad at times; perhaps Selunites are not trained in the art of humor." A long pause. "But I like him, Minsc. He is brave in spite of great fear - and good reason for it. He loves fiercely, friend and lover alike. He kills doppelgangers with only his fists. And there are shades of Caden in him, too; I think he would be kind even though it killed him."

Minsc squares his shoulders stoutly. "Then Minsc and Boo shall see to it that it does not kill him, for they shall kick the butts of all by his side." Boo lifts his head, his cheeks fat with a great mouthful of carrot, and gives a muffled squeak.

Jaheira chuckles. "He is in good hands indeed, then."

"Hands and paws," Minsc amends with a wide grin.

"Of course," she says, and grins back. "How could I forget?"