#and his new friends are actual demon spawn

[sweetnnaivete]

he's chalant at heart he's js evil around his friends so i can fix him 🙂‍↕️

[creantzy]

Defying God - a parallel between Fyolai and Stavrovensky

The Demons brainrot is taking over, and you know what happens when I acquire a new interest: my brain WILL find a way to connect it to my other interests, whether I like it or not!! And this is essentially what it's about xD I've come here to present a parallel I found between Fyolai (Fyodor & Nikolai from BSD) and Stavrovensky (Verkhovensky & Stavrogin from "Demons" by Dostoevsky). Before I start I want to clarify a few things:

• I don't think these two pairings are similar, I just love picking up any crumbs of connections I can find between my interests, even if it'd count as reaching.

• This interpretation (in either character's case) is in no way "the only true way of looking at it". It's merely one interpretation out of many and I chose to focus on just a few aspects out of the many others there are to explore in these complex characters. 

• Feel free to add onto or disagree with anything I say! I'm interested in your thoughts :D

WARNING: There will be spoilers for Bungou Stray Dogs and Demons.

The reason Nikolai wants to kill Fyodor is because he feels affection for him. Emotions are a prison to him, and he basically seeks the opposite of what his emotions make him want to do. Thus, in the face of affection, which makes you want to be closer and wish the best for your friend, he does the opposite and decides to kill said friend, going directly against his feelings in an attempt to prove free will. But here I want to focus more on the "You want to defy God in order to lose sight of yourself" part, specifically the bit about God.

One part of my interpretation is that Nikolai associates God with control. If there is a God who controls all, how can there be a free will? He wants to go against Him and His creations (the human mind, morality, etc.) to prove that it's possible. But God is very abstract - the idea of God is influential but varies depending on cultures, etc. For this point, I'll use the example of the biblical God, or, more specifically, some attributes commonly assigned to the idea of God:

• omnipotence (all-powerful)

• omnipresence (all-present)

• omniscience (all-knowing)

What I am leading up to is the fact that these traits can, in one way or another, be applied to Fyodor. Fyodor's character represents everything Nikolai wants to defy. Nikolai hates control; he wants to fight the idea of God and prove the possibility of complete independence. Fyodor (though not in a "direct" way) could be seen as a symbol for God. He knows everything, he is always present (metaphorically and sometimes literally, the way he spawns sometimes I swear-), and he seems to control everything. Only few people actually see him, but he pulls the strings behind the scenes, and his power is felt everywhere. For Nikolai, to kill Fyodor is not just a protest against his feelings of affection, but can also be a symbolic act of defying "God", of killing "God", by killing Fyodor.

This is supposed to be very symbolic and not taken literally. I feel the need to repeat this because I personally dislike the notion of Fyodor as a literal God (and disagree with the idea of him having a God-complex), so this is merely about the God-like traits he possesses, like a "substitute" for the idea of God, and how it interacts with Nikolai's philosophy. (I've also exaggerated some points for the sake of simplification - for example, I don't actually believe Fyodor is in control of absolutely everything, etc.)

Moving onto Demons:

Pyotr Verkhovensky grew up religious and (assuming based on Stepan's description) with a fear of God.

Now he's an atheist and very anti-religious. He plans to overthrow society, and destroying religion + everything it preaches is part of that plan. But interestingly enough, he picks not himself as the official future "ruler", but someone else: Nikolai Stavrogin. He chooses Stavrogin to be the role of the leader in Verkhovensky's ideal society. But not exactly the "leader" in the traditional sense, because he wouldn't necessarily give Stavrogin all the power. He would simply use him as a "pawn" (for lack of a better word) while himself pulling the strings behind said society. With that, Verkhovensky puts someone else above himself, in a God-like position, but he wants to do it while still keeping full control over Stavrogin. By doing so, he would overcome his childhood fear of God because instead of being controlled by God, *he* will control God.

(Same case here, not the literal God, but the character who he assigns God-like traits to.)

I am undecided (with both Nikolai's and Verkhovensky's character) whether this could be read as a solely subconscious intention or if it would make sense as a conscious one as well. Given that both have a different "main" goal (Nikolai focuses on emotions and Verkhovensky on the revolution) I lean more towards thinking it's subconscious (if present at all - like I said, just interpretations!)

It doesn't help that Verkhovensky describes his vision of Stavrogin's leadership as "hidden": Everyone believes in him and his power, but only very few people are said to actually have laid their eyes upon him. When I first read this part, I was honestly reminded of Big Brother from Orwell's 1984, but eventually realised that similar things can be said about God as well.

While these are parallels, they don't come without differences. Nikolai needs Fyodor dead, Verkhovensky needs Stavrogin alive. Nikolai wants to kill Fyodor for a sense of freedom, Verkhovensky wants to keep Stavrogin for a sense of control. Yet both symbolic goals are bound to fail:

Fyodor turns out to be unkillable, and Stavrogin ends up dead.

At the end, "God" stays untouchable.

[aonungsmate]

Hello I was wondering if I could request an Ao’nung x Reader, maybe reader could be Tsu’tey’s daughter from a woman he had mated with after learning of Neytiri’s and Jake’s mating, he had a woman that he had loved but he couldn’t have because he was betrothed to Neytiri. And that love bore fruit to our reader who is very close to the Sully family especially with Kiri whom she always defends when being teased by other children. She joins Norm and Max to the metkayina clan. And she’s just this badass with an ikran that was theorized by others to be the spawn of The great leonopteryx that Jake had tamed once. And Ao’nung is flabbergasted by this pretty na’vi riding such a dangerous animal? When the battle happens, she goes ham on the RDA and SAVES NETEYAM BC GDI LEAVE MY BOY ALONE and when they return theres a whole celebration and reader finally relaxes and shes been surrounded by curious na’vis alike bc phew baddie ‼️💅🏻 and ao’nung is such a simp tryna talk to her and rizz her up and it’s just ao’nung pining over her ackk

Destined for Might and Him

Ao’nung x Tsu’tey’s daughter!reader [Word Count: 3.1k]

🤷‍♀️uploading this after 123456789 years of draft!! Enjoy reading another rubbish fic😚💕

Warnings: mentions of death, spoilers

Jake has made countless mistakes since he joined the Omatikaya for his mission. Tsu’tey had never approved of him, until he actually saw him. He was betrothed to Sylwanin first, then came the humans, taking her away from his arms, Neytiri being the next suitable partner for him. As if there was a curse following him, a demon swooped Neytiri from him, though they were not that subtle. He has never seen Neytiri the way he looked at her older sister though.

Third time’s the charm, right?

In Tsu’tey’s case, it is. Being the next olo’eyktan meant he would be interacting with the entire clan, making sure that they felt safe even before his rule, heavily dedicating himself to making the hometree the most secure and comfortable place for their people. That’s where he met your mother, the forbidden fruit he’s always afraid to touch, only to see. He did not think it was right to look at another woman when he was promised to another man’s daughter. He was afraid that she would be too dainty for him to pursue.

Only to see, he said.

The third time he planned to mate with a woman was in the middle of the conflict. Right after he learned about Jake and Neytiri’s mating, he stormed off, not without giving Jake a good beating of course. It is when he actually had the chance to follow his heart, free of expectations. He soon learned that she too, was in love with him since he passed his iknimaya, hiding it from the rest of the clan as soon as she realized that she could not have him. Not without betraying the daughter of the olo’eyktan. So she comforted him, became friends with him instead. With his pride broken, he took everything that he thought would put his pieces back to being worthy of a warrior. Eywa, did it feel good to follow his heart and tell your mother how he really felt. So that’s why Sylwanin used to talk of mating as if it was the most beautiful thing in the world.

Somehow as he reminisced, he has really begun to see himself growing older with your mother. So, he set himself a new goal. To protect his love, and his people. Neytiri did not matter to him that much anymore, having moved on from the ghost of the past, accepting Jake Sully as his brother once again, deciding to fight against the sky demons with dreamwalkers whom Eywa have shown promise in.

What he did not expect was you. So imagine his surprise when he came home, your mother guiding his hands on her torso, telling him, Think you can handle one more, ma tsu’tey?

And so, the war came. Battles were won, people were lost. Including the mightiest warrior your mother has ever known. Your father, too young to be taken by Eywa, but alas. It was time for him to embrace the great mother’s comforting presence. He thought it was a shame it would take him years before he actually gets the chance to clutch you in his arms. He’s long entrusted you to his brother though. He made sure Jake promises him to look after you and your mother after all.

A beautiful young na’vi, born into war, just a few months before Jake Sully’s first son was born. You were then named, (y/n) te Rongloa Yenateu’ite. You were a carbon copy of your father, your mother actually exclaimed Tsu’tey’s name when she saw you having the eyes and seemingly permanent daring look your father had. You never really knew your father. Your mother would speak highly of him every night, stories and songs written by her, dedicated with her love for her long lost love. You would see her casting a longing gaze at the walls of your tent whenever she braids your hair, telling you of her and her past love’s nightly escapades when the people would head to their tents to sleep. Amazement and sheer pride written on your face when hearing of your father.

That’s when your mother would sigh audibly, completely defeated that you would always be a daddy’s daughter even without meeting him.

It has been a few weeks since your adoptive family moved to Awa’atlu to seek uturu. Your mother has long passed away, developing a sickness a few years ago. Life in the waters for them was not easy, having new responsibilities and things to work on, especially the breathing.

You were the seventh Toruk Makto, for Eywa’s sake.

Your iknimaya was going perfectly, along with Neteyam. Neteyam proved himself to be a mighty warrior, having wrestled with one of the toughest-looking ikran in the rookery. Kiri showed that she had the strongest connection to Eywa when she ‘befriended’ an ikran at a very young age, earning the title of tsakarem. You, on the other hand, basically confirmed the undeniability that you were Tsu’tey te Rongloa Ateyitan’s daughter, after an unusual occurrence in the ikran rookery. The “most dangerous iknimaya”, as Mo’at would say. As soon as Txop’alei sealed his bond with his ikran, as you stepped through the narrow path, a large ikran– No, a Toruk towered over the ikran rookery, making all of you yell in surprise followed by hisses from Neytiri behind you, and screeches from ikran fleeing away.

Your heart skipped a beat when you crossed gazes with the Toruk, stepping forward cautiously as its vibrant orange reflected on your yellow eyes, examining its slightly emerald green tinges on its wings. Soon enough, you were greeted with a threatening roar, making you gulp as soon as you realized that you were being chosen. Wrestling with an ikran is one thing, but with the great leonopteryx? It’s like a death sentence. Maybe it’s your mom or dad calling for you through Eywa, but would the warrior side of you really give up this thrilling opportunity?

Xi��di. That’s what you named your Toruk. Neytiri says it looked familiar. She thinks it’s a child of her mate’s Toruk. Mo’at says it’s your fathers gift to you from the other side when she pointed out how similar the green tinges match your father’s ikran colors.

You were more than happy to get to know your friend, Xi’di, through sneaking out and having late night flights. It wasn’t long before you were exposed to war, with Jake asking you to spot demon machines when the stars multiplied in the skies, together with his sons Neteyam and Lo’ak, brothers you would consider them as.

“Stop the useless yammering and out with it,” you spoke, jutting your chin upwards to emphasize that you were a greater warrior than he is.

“I saw your ikran,” Aonung inhaled deeply, petting the ilu swimming around the two of you, “it is bigger than the others” he pointed out, his incorrectness making you roll your eyes. You thought it was pathetic that he would attempt to hold a conversation with you after participating with yet again another standoff with your brothers. Your ears flickered slightly at the sound of celebrations around you, children laughing as they danced around.

You huffed at his curious glance, “It is a Toruk,” you smiled wickedly at his reaction, “Surprised that a girl smaller than you is a better warrior?” He scoffed at you, a mocking smile written on his face as he changed the subject back to something related to breathing.

The Metkayina chief’s son was not as who you expected him to be. He was arrogant, condescending, the complete opposite of what Neteyam was like, as the former olo’eyktan’s son.

“You wish,” he smirked, remembering how you checked him out earlier in the day as he raised the nets, his toned arms making your heart gallop. “Metkayina men are known for having mighty arms,” he boasted, too absorbed with himself that he somehow missed how you bashfully avoided eye contact for a second, a blush overtaking your cheeks as he continued on and on about what he has achieved, and his goals to be realized before and after he becomes olo’eyktan.

Regardless of the boastful and proud demeanor, Ao’nung lives up to his status though, having the toughest feats than the men his age, hunting the most, sparring the best, donning the most pleasing face in the clan and all, not that you would admit that to his face.

You remembered the faint voice of your father echoing from the tree of souls, telling that he might not be able to handle it if a pompous na’vi were to win your heart, you were Tsu’tey’s daughter for Eywa’s sake. Nobody would be worthy of you if he was actually there to guard you from presumptuous young men. So, you heed your father’s vivid wishes, promising yourself that you would be in your most sound and logical self when it comes to matters like this. Jake would always nod at you with pride when he hovers to size up your suitors, as soon as he witnesses you reject potential mates.

No wonder he and your biological father grew on each other.

You were not keen on migrating to another clan, only knowing the forest since you were born. You were angry. Furious, that the sky demons were responsible for your family's pain. You would never hold that against your adoptive father though. You loved him more than anything in the world, together with your half na'vi brothers and sisters, but you could not give up the forest. And so, you held your ground and decided to stay with the Omatikaya people.

Since the Sully's arrived in Awa'atlu, your siblings have received nothing but a flurry of insults and looks of disgust from most of the village people. Especially from the chief's son.

As the eldest sister, you felt responsible for making your brothers and sisters feel safe. Back in the forest, you would glare at every stupid boy who would dare sneak up on your sister and call her a freak, you would cast the most frightening look on your face when people would point at your youngest brother. But the most important of all, you would smile the sweetest directed at your younger siblings.

So when you heard of Kiri's situation from Norm, you immediately called upon Xi'di and braved the waters to come to where your family was. Horns and spears were let out when the Metkayina guards caught sight of a large beast coming upon their island, terrified yells from people left and right were heard, except for Lo'ak who let out a laugh of disbelief when he laid his eyes on the majestic Toruk. The colors were oh-so familiar, clad in a saddle that screamed Omatikaya, a dangling string of beads around its neck, the diversity of materials that came from none other than him.

A loud roar resonated within Awa'atlu, startling Neytiri who was busy tending to Kiri. She frowned at the thought of you, thinking that she was imagining things.

"Did you hear that Ma'itan?" Her question was answered soon enough when she noticed him running towards the crowd outside and exclaimed, "Sister, you have come!"

And there it was.

Ao'nung almost snapped his neck at how fast it turned when he caught you in his peripherals. His eyes almost bulged out of its sockets at how fast it widened when you turned your eyepiece upwards as you broke the bond with Xi'di.

"My mighty warrior! It has been too long baby brother," you slung your arms around Neteyam's frame, telling him how much he's grown in just a few months. Gladness and worry was written on your face when he brought up Kiri's situation, "You mean she had a seizure underwater ?!"

Ao'nung noticed how your waterline easily filled up with tears waiting to be shed when you approached the marui where Kiri was currently being taken care of.

What made his feelings definite was the brief eye contact with him that you shared though.

"Thank you, great mother! Thank you!"

You wailed with your family, hugging each other where Neteyam was lying down, grateful that your family has been once again blessed by Eywa. The sky people had wrought destruction in just a matter of a few weeks since your arrival in Awa'atlu after you decided to stay until you have reassured Kiri's well-being.

You were feeling beyond terrified at what had just occurred. You saw your brothers and sisters getting chased by the demon machineries, three of them tied on the huge ship that drove on the waters, spurring the darkness inside you as you fought and fought and fought until you have ensured that they were all safe.

Your brother, Neteyam.

The brother that you have known the longest, shot near where his heart lies, sealing RDA's fate when you saw your brother wheezing on a rock, who wanted nothing but to come home. You were soon enough blinded by rage, together with Neytiri who channeled her anger to retrieve her daughters who were left on the ship.

Everything was a blur that night. Guns and armies thrown left and right, ships exploding, taking hundreds of lives, both na’vi and human. You didn’t think you could have handled it well without the guidance of your father. You felt rage and hurt. Seeing your brother writhe in pain, shivering in the numbing coldness of the water raging against the rocks, you felt like you have just had your heart thrown away.

Your childhood friend Spider, getting sliced across his chest. Your mother, completely having her judgment clouded over her dying son, her daughters, desperate to be freed from the arms of a demon who somehow took pleasure in making your father's life null.

Then it was all submerged in the harsh waters.

You cried out for your companion and rode your Toruk, circling around the sinking demon ship, tears continuously flowing in frustration.

Where was everyone?

You swore you almost lost your mind, but then you remembered.

They were Omatikaya. They will survive.

So, you swallowed the impending grief. You forced yourself to think clearly through the bond, Xi’di responding with the loudest roar it could muster, and swooped down towards the direction of the rocks where you Neteyam laid.

At the sight of Neteyam, you cried.

It was that day when Ao'nung first saw you cry in Neteyam's arms, who was also sniffling at the thought of almost dying and missing out on his siblings' lives. He ruffled Tsireya's hair as she cried in relief, thankful that his sister was also safe.

The people cried. The people mourned. The people had their reunion with their families.

Sully’s stick together. And stick together, you did.

All of you were safe.

“You okay, kid?” Jake mumbled against the top of your head, embracing you and Neteyam as soon as he climbed up the shores, to which you responded by sobbing and hugging him tight. Neytiri had Neteyam against her chest, kissing his forehead, thanking the great mother all over again.

You turned your heads at the sound of water splashing once more, revealing Spider.

“Monkey boy!” Kiri exclaimed, smiling at the sight of her friend, pressing a hand against his chest. You untangled yourself from your father, fussing over Tuk and Neteyam as you see Lo’ak and Spider get squished against your father’s chest.

As you pressed your lips against Tuk’s forehead, you somehow met Ao’nung’s gaze, casting a soft smile at him as you observed him rubbing Tsireya’s shoulder in affection as she cried in his arms, completely being washed over with relief and mostly just overstimulated from the war you had just gone through.

And soon enough, it was time for a celebration of their victory against the sky people.

Fires were started, wood were piled up on one another, the children holding hands together as they sing praises to the great mother, celebrating the victory of their people, ever grateful for the safety of who remained, and prayed for the guidance of Eywa to help those who were lost, to come home to her warm embrace.

Ao’nung fixed the headdress he was donning, a symbol of his status, as he sat beside his sister, scanning his gaze amongst the sea of his people.

And then there was you.

Your eyes were piercing as you held your gaze, the brutal reality of his feelings slowly sinking in as you tucked one of your freshly braided hair, his eyes slowly trailing over the accessories you saved for occasions like this.

Did you have different sets of necklaces for ceremonies?

Were they of rare materials? Because he has never seen a woman this beautiful, he wondered.

He was so struck with your fierceness he did not notice that he was the only one left on the mats laid out on the high platform that was planted on the sand for celebrations. He placed a hand against his left knee, slowly rising from his spot to walk towards you, perhaps ask for a dance?

You were speaking to him as soon as he stopped walking, him blurting out a question he’s been meaning to ask, only to be responded with a huge hit to his ego.

“Surprised that a girl smaller than you is a better warrior?”

He never let people step on his pride.

Not even his sister whom he closetedly doted on, completely overtaken by the idea that ‘he’s a man, so he should not be seen as vulnerable’. He soon learned that that shouldn’t be the case though.

With you to pursue? He’s going to relearn everything, it seems.

You were different.

But perhaps those differences would be the factors to taking him a step closer to you.

To a future where you and him embracing under the starry skies as constellations meld together as one during the darkest of the nights, would be a normal occurrence between the two of you.

That, you did.

Months of building himself up in your eyes, and you finally learned to see him as he hoped you would.

“Good, because I see you too,” you remember him saying those exact words after you practically swept him off his feet, his pretentious demeanor once again taking over to spare him of your teasing, not that it went by unnoticed.

You knew him too well.

So when he promised to take care of you, you knew he would.

Just like when he promised to not spoil his first son to the point that he’d grow up like him, you knew he’d end up eating his words.

You knew him, after all.

You see him, in both light and darkness, you see Ao’nung.

•

Edit: 💀somebody pointed out a misplaced paragraph so i went to remove that one ohmygofd

[jazjelspen]

devil's spawn.

angel alastor w/ radio demon daughter reader

(notes: based off of the concept of my other story 'my angel baby' except alastor and his adopted daughter switch places and personalities. In Alastor's pov (?)in this chapter.)

(caution: RUSHED!! definitely rushed qwq so I greatly apologize. Not proofread in the slightest. Might have cringe parts am so sorriy qwq)

(Alastor is still in a way the angel version of 'the radio demon' except he's called 'the radio angel' by his fans, but he doesn't refer to himself as such since angel alastor is actually humble)

(I'm willing to make another part but considering Hs becoming more stressful and it blowing my brain up it'll definitely take time, but always willing to make more if wanted/needed)

It was another bright and fresh day in heaven, Alastor clinging the laundry up on the line while his mother, whom he managed to find in his decades inside the pearly gates, sat on a rocking chair reading a book as she usually would.

The bright heavenly lights making his halo shine, complimenting his wings, other neighborly 'winners' he would be acquainted with would walk by and greet him with a wave or a tip of their hats to him while he was outside fixing their clothes.

In this particular universe, Alastor is the complete opposite of his original counterpart. Where the original Alastor would hurt and destroy, this version of him would care and heal. He was selfless, kind, compassionate and sympathetic to which again is also a complete twist around compared his original self.

Alastor died out of an accidental kill, mistaken for a deer and shot through the head while he was out in the forest collecting his adoptive daughter's favorite flowers, at her favorite flower meadow on the day of her eighteenth birthday.

Unfortunately due to missing his baby girl's birthday and being taken away from her too soon for his liking he has been living in pure regret, panic, and pure sorrow form having to leave her too early and it pained him everyday.

He raised you all by himself while juggling his passion for radio hosting, finding comfort in your innocence and smiles when he first found you and as you grew up you gave him a reason to live and work.

That's the only thing that him and the original sadistic version Alastor have in common; the fatherly love for their daughters who are also their entire lives. Their love traverses across universes.

Eventually the more you grew up the more.. peculiar and unique you became.. your innocence would melt away with a sadistic fire in your eyes that he would notice at times but would try his best to lead you in the ways of love and compassion which you had for him but lacked for those around you..

Alastor was finishing up his morning chores for his mother's home before he would eventually go back inside and get a few necessities before leaving his home. His pearly coat, his shining microphone staff, fix his appearance in the mirror just a tad, and finally hugging his mother goodbye from the porch to head up and down the street towards the main part of the city.

Yes, he was still a radio host as well too.

Instead of broadcasting screams of pain and terror from sinners he instead would give voices to those who wished to express their passions, interview everyday folk and influential people on opinions and advice to those listening to his radio show and he even has good connections and acquaintances to the high Seraphims of heaven in order to get the latest news in the ruling of heaven.

He's just as famous as he was in life, maybe more considering how many people there are in heaven alone.

His polished shoes creating sounds on the pavement as he hummed a special tune that he adores, a tune he used to sing to you. Yet again still greeting passing by acquaintances and fans of his show with genuine glee and care.

Alastor waved off to an old friend while walking by, shining his taken cared for smile. "Good to see you again Roger, don't forget to tune in soon in a few hours! It'll be a real gas so don't miss i-- oh my!"

Alastor looked down as he seemed to bump into someone small, looking down at his feet he saw a young little girl. Another fellow 'winner' she seemed to have bumped into him with chocolate smeared around her mouth with a giddy yet apologetic smile on her face. And unfortunately smeared some chocolate on his pants.

"Hiya mister!" she waved, showing her dirtied little hand as well "Sorries! I didn't watch where I was going..!"

Alastor noticed the stain and his jaw hung slightly from surprise but then immediately laughed it off, petting the young girl on the head in understanding.

"Oh little one, don't worry about it at all! Here, so you can clean yourself up." He then took a white embroidered handkerchief for his chest pocket to give to the little girl who then wiped her face and her hands, seeing her struggle a bit Alastor graciously held her hands gently to wipe them off for her and her nose as well.

"Mary!" A voice exclaimed that approached, a woman than came into view, a winner as well. "Oh! Well if it isn't our most kind radio host! I deeply apologize about my daughter sir.." The mother would smile sheepishly and apologetically. "Thank you so much for helping my little girl, I apologize for her clumsiness! Could I perhaps offer you help of any kind?..”

Alastor shook his head as he would then neatly fold the handkerchief and saved it in his coat this time so that he could remember to wash it when he got back home. "Oh no no! No need ma'am, it's nothing a little magic can't cover up for the time being!" He smiled at the woman who now had her hands placed on her daughter's shoulders with a sigh slipping through her lips. He looked down at the girl as he gave her a pat on the head "On the other hand, are you okay dear? I do hope you didn't hit yourself too hard!.."

The little girl shook her head as well in reply, "Nu-uh mister! Thank you for helping me! I promise not to bump into anymore misters or any misseses!" Oh her messing up of words ringed a bell in his head

"How darling! Take care of yourself and your mother now, " He looked up at the woman to then lower his head slightly in respect before resuming his steps again "Apologies for the rush, just trying to see if I can get some special guests on my radio show tonight!"

The woman waved at him 'goodbye' with her young girl following suit "Oh I sure hope they agree! Good day to you Alastor!"

"Good day to you as well madame!" he waved back as he finally took enough steps away from them to now get a clearer view of the inside of the city.

He couldn't help but sigh in despair, he remembers when he used to have his own little girl.

Took care of her as if she was his own blood, as if they came form the same flesh and heritage.

And although you didn't, he never loved you any less.

His smile faltered slightly but picked it up quickly, rushing towards the next moving tram that he recognized to get to his destination: the middle of the city. Once he saw one and hopped on, he could feel his heart pump with blood he once had as red and now as gold as the tears of the elder angels.

If what he heard was right, he would try to get a segment with three special guests from hell.

Sure, he knew that they came from a place of bad and evil but that didn't deter him any less. From life to death he would give voices to everyone that needed to be heard and he would follow it no matter where someone came from.

The fresh breezes and the smell of bakeries, restaurants, the sounds of workers in mom and pop shops and independent growing businesses were like music. He could've sworn that even the laughter of children and the chattering of friends, couples, and families amongst each other turned into melodies in through his brain circuits.

Heaven was.. heaven.

But his only sin was not speaking out at heaven's hypocrisy or flaws at times. Many times he would but it turned into heaven setting restrictions on him.. silencing his own voice. He was never fond of that but apparently according to Sera and that blasphemous Adam, it was required. 'To avoid panic and prevent disturbances amongst the people of heaven' or so they'd say.

He was working on a way to go around that.. change their minds. But it was much harder than he anticipated.

Oh!-- The tram stopped with a loud hiss and ring.

Alastor snapped out of his thoughts would hop off the tram and finally start resuming his walk. He was now just a block away, the more he walked the less the voices and sounds of work distanced, entering a quieter part of the city. He was now in the smack middle of the entrance to heaven, where ice cream shops were laid in rows, cafes as well, people quietly chatting and drinking their beverages or eating their food.

Oh! And he could heard a familiar tune! It was that one.. welcome song that St. Peter would often sing..

Not a favorite song of his.. at all.. but he applauded them for effort!

Maybe a splash of swing or jazz would bring it to life.. but he assumed that was the old man in him talking.

For the time being he decided to watch some place nearby yet not too close since he knew that if he stayed where he was he would be caught up in the performance and he would have to sing with them..

Waiting at the side and hearing the singing come closer and close Alastor would make himself busy by polishing his microphone with his breathe and sleeve, fixing and dusting himself off as to not give any bad first impressions.

And thankfully he managed to remember his stain that the little girl left-- forgetting about it due to wanting to get to his destination on time and helping the poor thing. With a gentle swish of his staff pointed at the stained he then managed to cover it with his heaven-given magic.

Once the full group performance made his way towards his direction was when he stood up straight, chin high, shoulders fixed, looking good as always Alastor.

He heard Emily's voice among the performance, the youngest of the two Seraphims.

He's quite close with the two, at first only starting as something for business until one day he got closer to them and confessed his past, and his regrets.

Emily reminds him much of his daughter, the high angel having an enthusiasm and mentality of a late teenager or young woman, same age his daughter was when he last saw her.

He thought, wondered, pondered, dreamed-- what his little girl grew up into.

His eyes stared at his microphone, the shine of silver blinding him when he turned it for a spot of sunshine to burn his eyes slightly.

Did she grow up into an incredible woman? Did she ever find love? Settle down and have children? How has she matured? Does she resent him for leaving him so soon even if he never meant to? Does she look completely different? Did she ever change her name?

Were you even up here at all?

He hopes you were, looking and asking for you far and wide in heaven. Did you seclude yourself? Did you hide from him on purpose?

Or were you simply in hell..

No-- his little girl couldn't be in hell. Sure she had concerning hobbies, thoughts, ways of doing things but it didn't deserve her going to hell of all places.

You had to be up here, somewhere.. you had to.

A somber sigh escaped his lips as he stared at his reflection in the object between his palms and fingers. His heavy heart tugging and ripping itself apart.

'my little girl.. where are you?'

"Alastor!! Hey!"

A young voice shouted at him from afar, looking up he saw Emily wave and ushered him to head towards her way from afar.

He let go of his guilt for now, and shined his iconic smile as always.

"Why hello Emily, Sera," he lowered his head at the high angels in respect for them "How may I help you ladies today? I see we have new visitors!" His head moved to look at the other three ladies in front of him that came from below.

There was a young woman with eyes that shared the same enthusiasm as Emily's did, hair of sunshine and gold, fangs as sharp reminiscing those of a blood bat, small and thin frame and an outfit that successfully mimics casual sophistication.

Another young girl to her right was one that seemed more reminiscent of an angel, her long hair filled with silver and moon, a gaze as sharp as broken, stance serious and unapologetic, she seemed ready to protect the blonde girl beside her but also had eyes of worry and a sense of uncomfortability haunted her features and her almost slouched back.

The last one, really shook him up.

The next young woman to the left of the blonde girl was adorned in nothing but pure red with tones of a deep hot pink in her entire look. Her clothes were of an era he knew of very well, of course he'd recognize clothes from the 30s!.. except they had a few odd touches that more or so reminded him of the 40s or heck maybe even 50s.. a bit more ahead of his time. She had a large sharp smile that screamed of mischief and eyes that are waiting to do something-- anything sinister.

Despite all this, these characteristics weren’t the ones that shook him to his core.

She looked like someone he knew, that he missed.

"Everyone, this is Alastor. He's heaven's most famous and influential radio host! Giving voices to the voiceless when he was alive and even more up here, and of course due to his selfless acts when he was alive he was blessed to be let through the gates of heaven." spoke Sera, introducing the 'winner' as he chuckled sheepishly.

"Oh thank you Sera, but it's nothing really! Just had to do what was right."

Sera then lead his eyes back to the newcomers, having him face directly to the girl with hair of sunshine first. "Alastor, I present to you the Princess of Hell and heir to the throne, Charlie Morningstar. She's here to present a few ideas to the court the next day."

Alastor's eyes widened in surprise, "Princess! I didn't know royalty were to visit us today!" he bowed down towards the girl as to pay his respects, standing back straight once he finished. "A pleasure to meet you sweetheart quite the pleasure! Didn't expect our guests to be of royalty so apologies to any bad manners."

The princess shook her head with a large smile "Oh!-- don't worry you didn't give off any bad manners! It's nice to meet you too Mr...Alastor!.. it.. it's very admirable what you did before and what you do now! You seem to have earned your place here quite well!"

The man shook his head as well in reply "Oh like I said it's nothing! If anything I should thank my daughter, she was my reason and my motivation to be nothing but kind to others to present a good example! I continue to do so in her honor."

Charlie's eyes grew as a soft 'awwww' escaped her lips "You must love your daughter very much..!"

Alastor nodded, "Of course I do! As a father always should!"

Charlie opened her mouth again to speak, her eyes filled with a sense of bittersweetness until she was suddenly interrupted by the young woman dressed in red. She walked in between Alastor and Charlie with a sense of charm and enthusiasm, the spirit of a presenter or spokesperson shining in her body language and way of speaking.

"How delightful! The love of a parent transcends heaven and earth! Now that's poetry!" the girl's voice was glitched out and heavily amplified with a strong sound of static, as if her vocal cords came straight from a radio speaker. She held a staff much similar to his, except her's was shorter and more compact-able.

The girl with silver hair rolled her eyes in nothing but pure irritation, Charlie giggled nervously as she then pointed her way towards the one who spoke. "And this is ______! She's the founder and host of my hotel back in hell! She's helped me throughout everything and I dont think I would be able to get to this point if It weren't for her help as well!"

Ah,

He knew it.

______, anyone could have that name.

But you looked like his daughter, his pride and joy.

His face still shines with a smile but his eyes are baffled with the sudden hit of realization.

It couldn't be a coincidence-- you looked like her, your eyes had that spark he always used to see in his daughter before he left. The way of speaking, that stance-- more confident and mature but the way you spoke.. your vocals were a match to his daughter's just with a touch of years to it.

And you looked at him as if you knew as well, eyes narrowing with piqued interest. Sharp smile widening an-

wait..

what?..--

You seemed to have almost hopped right in front of him with your hand suddenly shaking his. "A real pleasure to meet you sir! Quite the pleasure!"

You mimicked his greeting yet somehow you spoke it so naturally, as if spoken a billion times before. He was stunned, if there weren't people around he would've slipped and broken down right here right now--

but he cannot, will not.

He will not worry others, he will not bother others with his emotions.

"Good to meet you Ms.."

"______. Simply call me ______." Your sinister grin only stretched, a sense of despair fell into the pit of his stomach,

His little girl in hell?

Did he.. fail at raising you?

Was dying too soon the reason why you let yourself fall?

Whatever the case, Alastor was nothing but stuck in a small limbo of his own guilt again

If he did this to you-- even indirectly,

he wouldn't ever forgive himself.

"Ms.. ______..."

'my little girl' he would've said, 'my daughter, how I've missed you. please forgive me for leaving you so soon... I'm so so sorry my darling..'

the words were stuck to his throat.

a small gust of air was the only thing that escaped from his cords.

Sera clapped her hands together once as a way to announce, "Well Princess Morningstar. I hope your stay here is nothing but comfortable, and I say that to your companions as well."

Sera looked at the 'winner' with confusion and a sense of concern but she knew she had to leave due to duties calling for her and Emily's presence.

Sera gently put her hand on his shoulder, "Alastor, would you perhaps show them where their hotel is and how to check in? It's going to be the one nearby."

'the one nearby' he thought, 'a block away.. '

"of course! anything to make our guests feel more welcomed!"

Sera nodded in 'thanks' before flying off with Emily on her side, herself also waving goodbye to all of you as well.

Alastor paused, before finally turning his head at the girls.

"Well, let's get you all to where you'll stay for the time being!.."

He will find out what happened to you, what went wrong, how he messed up.. he'll beg for forgiveness from you. for you were and still are his reason for who he is.

you were his one and only daughter, he will make it up to you.

"Follow me now! Time isn't going any slower!"

Little did he know, he wasn't at fault at all.

You were just born that way.

You knew what you were and you embraced it as a way to cope from him being taken away from you.

Of course you had to blend in and you took on the mantle of taking over your late father's radio show, eventually becoming as famous as he was and you were nothing but just as charming as he was on his show.

But then you killed, the power imbalance favoring you was nothing but amazing to you.

Years later, you enjoyed it. Killing was your life's purpose. Your crimes were never a subject for you to ever regret or feel guilt for.

You regret nothing.

You were a merciless killer then, and one now.

Through earth and hell, forevermore.

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

The Radio Times magazine from the 29 July-04 August 2023 :)

THE SECOND COMING

How did Terry Pratchett and Neil gaiman overcome the small matter of Pratchett's death to make another series of their acclaimed divine comedy?

For all the dead authors in the world,” legendary comedy producer John Lloyd once said, “Terry Pratchett is the most alive.” And he’s right. Sir Terry is having an extremely busy 2023… for someone who died in 2015.

This week sees the release of Good Omens 2, the second series of Amazon’s fantasy comedy drama based on the cult novel Pratchett co-wrote with Neil Gaiman in the late 1980s. This will be followed in the autumn by a new spin-off book from Pratchett’s Discworld series, Tiffany Aching’s Guide to Being a Witch, co-written by Pratchett’s daughter Rhianna and children’s author Gabrielle Kent. The same month, we’ll also get A Stroke of the Pen, a collection of “lost” short stories written by Sir Terry for local newspapers in the 70s and 80s and recently rediscovered. Clearly, while there are no more books coming from Pratchett – a hard drive containing all drafts and unpublished work was crushed by a vintage steamroller shortly after the author’s death, as per his specific wishes – people still want to visit his vivid and addictive worlds in new ways.

Good Omens 2 will be the first test of how this can work. The original book started life as a 5,000-word short story by Gaiman, titled William the Antichrist and envisioned as a bit of a mashup of Richmal Crompton’s Just William books and the 70s horror classic The Omen. What would happen, Gaiman had mused, if the spawn of Satan had been raised, not by a powerful American diplomat, but by an extremely normal couple in an idyllic English village, far from the influence of hellish forces? He’d sent the first draft to bestselling fantasy author Pratchett, a friend of many years, and then forgotten about it as he busied himself with continuing to write his massively popular comic books, including Violent Cases, Black Orchid and The Sandman, which became a Netflix series last year.

Pratchett loved the idea, offering to either buy the concept from Gaiman or co-write it. It was, as Gaiman later said, “like Michelangelo phoning and asking if you want to paint a ceiling” The pair worked on the book together from that point on, rewriting each other as they went and communicating via long phone calls and mailed floppy discs. “The actual mechanics worked like this: I would do a bit, then Neil would take it away and do a bit more and give it back to me,” Pratchett told Locus magazine in 1991. “We’d mess about with each other’s bits and pieces.”

Good Omens: The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch – to give it its full title –was published in 1990 to huge acclaim. It was one of, astonishingly, five Terry Pratchett novels to be published that year (he averaged two a year, including 41 Discworld novels and many other standalone works and collaborations).

It was also, clearly, extremely filmable, and studios came knocking — though getting it made took a while. rnvo decades on from its writing, four years after Pratchett's death from Alzheimer's disease aged 66, and after several doomed attempts to get a movie version off the ground, Good Omens finally made it to TV screens in 2019, scripted and show-run by Gaiman himself. "Terry was egging me on to make it into television. He knew he was dying, and he knew that I wouldn't start it without him," Gaiman revealed in a 2019 Radio Times interview. Amazon and the BBC co-produced with Pratchett's company Narrativia and Gaiman's Blank Corporation production studios, with Michael Sheen and David Tennant cast in the central roles of Aziraphale the angel and Crowley the demon. The show was a hit, not just with fans of its two creators, but with a whole new young audience, many of whom had no interest in Discworld or Sandman. Social media networks like Tumblr and TikTok were soon awash with cosplay, artwork and fan fiction. The original novel became, for the first time, a New York Times bestseller.

A follow up was, on one level, a no-brainer. The world Pratchett and Gaiman had created was vivid, funny and accessible, and Tennant and Sheen had found an intriguing romantic spark in their chemistry not present in the novel.

There was, however, a huge problem. There wasn't a second Good Omens book to base it on. But there was the ghost of an idea.

In 1989, after the book had been sold but before it had come out, the two authors had laid on fivin beds in a hotel room at a convention in Seattle and, jet-lagged and unable to sleep, plotted out, in some detail, what would happen in a sequel, provisionally titled 668, The II Neighbour of the Beast.

"It was a good one, too" Gaiman wrote in a 2021 blog. "We fully intended to write it, whenever we next had three or four months free. Only I went to live in America and Terry stayed in the UK, and after Good Omens was published, Sandman became SANDMAN and Discworld became DISCWORLD(TM) and there wasn't a good time."

Back in 1991, Pratchett elaborated, "We even know some of the main characters in it. But there's a huge difference between sitting there chatting away, saying, 'Hey, we could do this, we could do that,' and actually physically getting down and doing it all again." In 2019, Gaiman pillaged some of those ideas for Good Omens series one (for example, its final episode wasn't in the book at all), and had left enough threads dangling to give him an opening for a sequel. This is the well he's returned to for Good Omens 2, co-writing with comic John Finnemore - drafted in, presumably, to plug the gap left Pratchett's unparalleled comedic mind. No small task.

Projects like Good Omens 2 are an important proving ground for Pratchett's legacy: can the universes he conjured endure without their creator? And can they stay true to his spirit? Sir Terry was famously protective of his creations, and there have been remarkably few adaptations of his work considering how prolific he was. "What would be in it for me?" he asked in 2003. "Money? I've got money."

He wanted his work treated reverently and not butchered for the screen. It's why Good Omens and projects like Tiffany Aching's Guide to Being a Witch are made with trusted members of the inner circle like Neil Gaiman and Rhianna Pratchett at the helm. It's also why the author's estate, run by Pratchett's former assistant and business manager Rob Wilkins, keeps a tight rein on any licensed Pratchett material — it's a multi-million dollar media empire still run like a cottage industry.

And that's heartening. Anyone who saw BBC America's panned 2021 Pratchett adaptation The Watch will know how badly these things can go when a studio is allowed to run amok with the material without oversight. These stories deserve to be told, and these worlds deserve to be explored — properly. And there are, apparently, many plans afoot for more Pratchett on the screen. You can only hope that, somewhere, he'll be proud of the results.

After all, as he wrote himself, "No one is finally dead until the ripples they cause in the world die away, until the clock wound up winds down, until the wine she made has finished its ferment, until the crop they planted is harvested. The span of someone's life is only the core of their actual existence."

While those ripples continue to spread, Sir Terry Pratchett remains very much alive. MARC BURROWS

DIVINE DUO

An angel and a demon walk into a pub... Michael Sheen and David Tennant on family, friendship and Morecambe & Wise

Outside it's cold winter's day and we're in a Scottish studio, somewhere between Edinburgh and Glasgow. But inside it's lunchtime in The Dirty Donkey pub in the heart of London, with both Michael Sheen and David Tennant surveying the scene appreciatively. "This is a great pub," says Sheen eagerly, while Tennant calls it "the best Soho there can be. A slightly heightened, immaculate, perfect, dreamy Soho."

Here, a painting of the absent landlord — the late Terry Pratchett, co-creator, with Neil Gaiman, of the series' source novel — looms over punters. Around the corner is AZ Fell and Co Antiquarian and Unusual Books. It's the bookshop owned by Sheen's character, the angel Aziraphale, and the place to where Tennant's demon Crowley is inevitably drawn.

It's day 74 of an 80-day shoot for a series that no one, least of all the leading actors, ever thought would happen, due to the fact that Pratchett and Gaiman hadn't ever published any sequel to their 1990 fantasy satire. Tennant explains, "What we didn't know was that Neil and Terry had had plots and plans..."

Still, lots of good things are in Good Omens 2, which expands on the millennia-spanning multiverse of the first series. These include a surprisingly naked side of John Hamm, and roles for both Tennant's father-in-law (Peter Davison) and 21-year-old son Ty. At its heart, though, remains the brilliant banter between the two leading men — as Sheen puts it, "very Eric and Ernie !" — whose chemistry on the first series led to one of the more surprising saviours of lockdown telly.

Good Omens is back — but you've worked together a lot in the meantime. Was there a connective tissue between series one of Good Omens and Staged, your lockdown sitcom?

David: Only in as much as the first series went out, then a few months later, we were all locked in our houses. And because of the work we'd done on Good Omens, it occurred that we might do something else. I mean, Neil Gaiman takes full responsibility for Staged. Which, to some extent, he's probably right to do!

Michael: We've got to know each other through doing this. Our lives have gotten more entwined in all kinds of ways — we have children who've now become friends, and our families know each other.

There have been hints of a romantic storyline between the two characters. How much of an undercurrent is that in this series.

David: Nothing's explicit.

Michael: I felt from the very beginning that part of what would be interesting to explore is that Aziraphale is a character, a being, who just loves. How does that manifest itself in a very specific relationship with another being? Inevitably, as there is with everything in this story, there's a grey area. The fact that people see potentially a "romantic relationship", I thought that was interesting and something to explore.

There was a petition to have the first series banned because of its irreverent take on Christian tropes. Series two digs even more deeply into the Bible with the story of Job. How much of a badge of honour is it that the show riles the people who like to ban things?

David: It's not an irreligious show at all. It's actually very respectful of the structure of that sort of religious belief. The idea that it promotes Satanism [is nonsense]. None of the characters from hell are to be aspired to at all! They're a dreadful bunch of non-entities. People are very keen to be offended, aren't they? They're often looking for something to glom on to without possibly really examining what they think they're complaining about.

Michael, you're known as an activist, and you're in the middle of Making BBC drama The Way, which "taps into the social and political chaos of today's world". Is it important for you to use your plaform to discuss causes you believe in?

Michael: The Way is not a political tract, it's just set in the area that I come from. But it has to matter to you, doesn't it? More and more as I get older, [I find] it can be a real slog doing this stuff. You've got to enjoy it. And if it doesn't matter to you, then it's just going to be depressing.

David, Michael has declared himself a "not-for-profit" actor. Has he tried to persuade you to give up all your money too?

David: What an extraordinary question! One is always aware that one has a certain responsibility if one is fortunate and gets to do a job that often doesn't feel like a job. You want to do your bit whenever you can. But at the same time, I'm an actor. I'm not about to give that up to go into politics or anything. But I'll do what I can from where I live.

Well, your son and your father-in-law are also starring in this series. How about that, jobs for the boys!

David: I know! It was a delight to get to be on set with them. And certainly an unexpected one for me. Neil, on two occasions, got to bowl up to me and say, "Guess who we've cast?!"

How do you feel about your US peers going on strike?

David: It's happening because there are issues that need to be addressed. Nobody's doing this lightly. These are important issues, and they've got to be sorted out for the future of our industry. There's this idea that writers and actors are all living high on the hog. For huge swathes of our industry, that's just not the case. These people have got to be protected.

Michael: We have to be really careful that things don't slide back to the way they were pre the 1950s, when the stories that we told were all coming from one point of view and the stories of certain people, or communities within our society, weren't represented. There's a sense that now that's changed for ever and it'll never go back. But you worry when people can't afford to have the opportunities that other people have. We don't want the story that we tell about ourselves to be myopic. You want it to be as inclusive as possible

Staged series 3 recently broadcast. It felt like the show's last hurrah — or is there more mileage? Sheen and Tennant go on holiday?

David: That's the Christmas special! One Foot in the Algarve! On the Buses Go to Spain!

Michael: I don't think we were thinking beyond three, were we?

So is it time for a conscious uncoupling for you two — Eric and Ernie say goodbye?

David: Oh, never say never, will we?

Michael: And it's more Hinge and Bracket.

David: Maybe that's what we do next — The Hinge and Bracket Story. CRAIG McLEAN

[luizd3ad]

When in Doubt, Blame Damian | Jason x Reader

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ࣪˖⤷ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ ࣪ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ˖ ⤷

Pairing: Jason Todd x GN! Reader

WC: 928

CW: Swearing, over thinking. It’s mostly kinda fluffy. No use of Y/N.

Author's Note: I got this idea while giving my dog a bath sooo here you go idk lol hope you like it🖤

Summary: You get a dog!! … but you didn’t tell Jason.

Not my picture

▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀

You blamed Damian.

You normally blame Damian for a lot. More than you're willing to admit, sometimes for stuff he wasn't even involved in.

But this time you think it's actually his fault.

How could you not blame him? If he hadn't asked for a ride to the pet store. If he didn't insist that Titus absolutely needed a new friend. If he never put that little puppy in your arms basically forcing you to fall in love with the little baby that was giving you kisses, then you wouldn't be here right now.

You wouldn't be in yours and your boyfriend's apartment trying to figure out how to tell said boyfriend that you guys now had a dog. 

Would Jason be mad? Honestly? You didn't know. The topic of getting a dog or a cat has came up a few times.

He would usually say things like ‘Maybe’ or ‘Now's just probably not a good time’ it was never a definite yes or no.

So maybe it wouldn't be that bad, you thought to yourself trying to give yourself some confidence. 

I mean it was your apartment too. You contributed. And it would feel nice to have something to keep you company while Jason was on patrol or had to go somewhere for a while.

You'd hyped yourself up at this point you had some good arguments lined up for why it was a good idea.

You felt confident about your choice, especially when you looked down at the little puppy sleeping peacefully in his bed that was in your shared bedroom. You got this, you told yourself and you really believed that. You genuinely did.

That was until you heard the front door unlock. 

You rush out the room, closing the door softly trying not to wake up the puppy. 

You walked into the living room to greet Jason who was out all morning and most of the afternoon training with Dick, Cass and Duke. 

“Hey Jay.” You say giving him a soft kiss.

“Hi my love. How was your day?”

Jason says, giving you a tight hug, holding you for a moment. 

“Umm it was you know. It was fine. Hung out with Dames. Nothing crazy you know? How about you?”

You rambled pulling away from Jason trying not to sound suspicious while walking to the couch in the living room. 

Jason gives you a questioning look but ends up just dropping it and following you to the couch.

“It was fine. Just the normal shit. I missed you though.”

Jay pulls you into him while giving you a kiss on your head. You feel kinda guilty at this point.

You don't like keeping things from Jason. He has a lot of trust issues so it was important that you guys had a lot of honesty and communication in your relationship. 

You pull away from Jason and look at him, giving him a slightly guilty look.

“Jay, I have something to tell you. Don't be mad.”

“Did something happen when you were out with the Demon Spawn? Did he do something? What did he say? I'm gonna kick that little brats ass.”

Jason runs his hand through his hair already mad at Damian for whatever Jason thinks he did. 

“Jay calm down Dames didn't technically do anything. I did something, and before you get mad-”

You were interrupted when you heard a puppy bark and a slight clawing sound at the bedroom door and judging by Jasons face he also heard it. 

“What was that?”

“What was what?”

You give a little chuckle, now trying to play it off. Hoping that this isn't how Jason finds out but knowing that it is. 

“Babe Is there a dog here?”

“Um technically..? Yes?”

Jason sighs and gets up to the bedroom and opens the door letting the dog run up to you as he tries to climb up on you. You pick him up, putting him on your lap while he starts playing with your hand. 

“Babe, who’s dog is that?”

“Umm… Ours?”

“When did we get a dog?”

Jason says wide eyed and raises his eyebrows at you.

“It's all Damian's fault! He told me how lonely Titus gets sometimes and I felt bad and just look at how cute he is!”

You try to explain picking the dog up so Jason can look at him.

 “Don't be mad jay..��

You say putting the puppy on the floor so he can run around a little all while you look extremely guilty.

“Mad? Why would I be mad? Wait baby, is this what you were trying to tell me?”

Jason says sitting next to you on the couch while looking at you concerned. 

“Yes… I felt bad making a choice like that without you and I know how you don't like it when people hide stuff from you and I just don't want to make you mad.”

“Baby, I'm not mad. I'm not thrilled that you got a dog without me, especially because it was with the Demon Spawn. But I'm not mad.”

Jason says pulling you into him kissing the top of your head.

“You're not mad? Really?”

“I can't be mad at you baby. You mean everything to me.”

Jason says while the puppy runs up to you guys laying down at your feet.

“I'm still sorry Jay.”

“I know you are, baby. It's okay, promise. Now what's this little guy's name?”

Jason says picking up the puppy and looking at his face while you smile at them.

Maybe you shouldn't blame Damian… this time.

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[weepingtalecowboy]

Warriors and Legend's dynamic is the most ridiculous thing ever

Fanfic prompt : Especially if it’s a true older sibling younger sibling dynamic

Warriors is the one who would torment Legend for daring being his bitter and salty as fuck self

To the point where he would probably bully the other into being less bitter just because he kept saying how horrible the other's existence was

And Legend had to prove him wrong on principle

Warriors be that kind of older brother who smashes Legend’s head into the cake and then gets him a new one

He definitely seems like the type to make fun off legend

While also having his arm ready to grab him if they are near any form of escape

Windows and Cliffs included

That rat ain’t leaving

He needs his punching bag to torment

It’s for mental health

Who is he going to tease if the rabid rat is gone

An older sibling's teasing and love towards the middle child is ALWAYS the most devious and dangerous there is

The rest of the chain are not the ultimate middle children

That’s all Legend with his teenage angst and physical reaction towards Warriors' existence

He visibly experiences pain when Warriors is getting any kind of success

He has to ruin it or else he won’t reach the most inner peace of being a demon spawn that any middle child craves to have for once

They are so older sibling and their younger rat sibling coded

It’s unbelievable

Like even if Legend gets put under mind control or something (because of his dark form) he would rather get into an argument with Warriors and stop in the middle of killing somebody to tell him he is the worst thing in the universe

Then actually be controlled

The sibling rivalry is TOO fierce for even the strongest kind of mind control

The urge to be a gremlin is too powerful

The chain has to constantly drag those two away from each other because Warriors loses any and all maturity and self control when in general proximity to Legend

Time , Sky and Twilight be berating him on being too harsh

Just like any other parent does because you are bigger and older

Even when the younger one started it (the universal experience is no joke Legend was giving him the middle finger behind the others's back)

And the cycle continues

While also trying to force them both to be friends even if they are more or less the weirdest but best friends anyway

[zivazivc]

what's your headcanon about the bergens keeping the trolls as prisoners?

OHOHOHOHO! fair warning, my headcanons tend to be really dark and this is no exception.

I'm not typing this anew, I'm just pasting two blocks of text I sent to a friend via tumblr messenger on two different occasions, so it might feel a bit disjointed while reading:

block of text one:

okay basically in my hc trollstice is also a once a year thing but it’s not barbaric in the sense that on that day they let the bergens into the cage and they just go ham catching trolls left and right. in my hc king peppy and chef actually have a fucked up agreement where chef shows up a few weeks/days before trollstice on a particular year and tells him how many trolls she needs that year and then the trolls pick that year’s victims by lot (only trolls who are 40 and older participate (with a few exceptions like obvs the king, but also rosiepuff but more on that some other time)) (also the age limit used to be much higher at the very beginning but they had to adjust to their population growing smaller). they implemented this to keep the kids safe and also to kinda force the population to reproduce more, because everyone starts having kids young bc they want to see them grow up before there’s a chance that they can get picked for the next trollstice (it’s also why jd and freesia we’re already thinking of starting a family at 18) ANYWAY during all this the trolls have been secretly digging the escape tunnels for years, and they are getting close but they keep pushing the date back because of cave ins or other setbacks. ANYWAY the bergen king has a baby son who will be old enough for his very first trollstice in a few years, and the chef being a demon spawn proposes that the prince’s very first troll should be a princess. king peppy and everyone is horrified because viva is still young and he tries arguing that she’s the only heir to the throne. So then Chef is like “then make a new princess for the prince, you still have two years time”. SO THEN the king is forced to have poppy (hence why she’s so much younger than viva 🙃) but the trolls are still all horrified of the idea that the bergens would eat a child so they collectively start working extra hard in the tunnels and they manage to finish them just in time for the prince’s first trollstice…….

this would also explain why chef was so confident about where baby poppy was located at the last trollstice at the beginning of the first movie when she walked into the cage and knew which pod to grab - it all had to be planned in advance.

AND there being no “old” trolls would also explain why so much life wisdom and knowledge about the outside world managed to disappear during the time the trolls were imprisoned. no grandmas or grandpas to pass the knowledge on.

.

.

block of text two:

in my hc rosiepuff isn't the brothers’ grandma but is actually their great or maybe even their great great grandma, who was alive when the bergens arrived. she was from a family of like “biologists” who studied plants and fungi and knew how to take anything in their natural surroundings and use it as food or to make medicine. they were like witch doctors or folk healers, something in those lines. rosiepuff was pretty young when the bergens arrived and by the time the bergens and trolls implemented trollstice and the rules about picking who gets eaten, she was the only one left from her family. and the troll king at the time chose to excuse/prohibit her from participating in trollstice in the hopes of her passing on what was left of her family’s knowledge about wild plants because they will need it when they escape and will have to survive in the wild and build their society from scratch. so rosiepuff was basically the wise elder at the troll tree and she also drilled her knowledge into all her children and grandchildren and this is why branch and the other four were able to survive so well on their own. especially branch, who lived alone with her for a few years before she died and just hyperfocused on her teachings and his promise to build a bunker. the reason she died the way she did is that chef was experimenting with a new recipe for the bergen prince’s first trollstice so she quickly popped into the cage the day before trollstice and just snatched the first troll she could get her hands on… she basically died just the day before the trolls escaped. :( which is also why clay didn’t find out about it (in my hc clay didn’t escape the troll tree the way jd, spruce and floyd did)

[coffeefiction]

Megatron's "Not So Interesting' Life

So, I have this thought of an au for a while, where the war never happened but the world is littered with anomalies, entities and all that jazz, right? And Megatron, is just a normal mech, with a normal life, being friends with "normal" people and finding their newly crowned Prime off. Oh! He also gets these cool abilities that I have yet to properly set down-

If you have any ideas on what I should do with this story! Or questions! Let me know! Have fun!

_______________________

Megatron knows that he special he has always  known this. How could he not? From a young age, he could instinctively distinguish between a walking glitch of a fake and an actual mecha. It was as if his optics had been calibrated to detect the unseen threads of the universe. Shadows danced at the edges of his vision, and he always had the gnawing sense that something lurked just beyond his peripheral awareness. Not that he cared. In fact, he barely gave it a second thought.

Megatron has always known that he has abilities, that he has a gift. He knew this. He could see what others couldn’t. Yet, for the longest time, he refused to acknowledge it, treating it as little more than an inconvenient quirk. That was, until he befriended a few of those shadowy entities that liked to pass themselves off as part of the mortal world. He never really minded—they weren’t doing him any harm, again, he barely cared.

They are attracted to Megatron's gift, I mean, who wouldn't? Having the ability to sniff out someone's bull is pretty helpful.

You see, Megatron grew up in Kaon, and growing up in Kaon, which was and is a place dripping with superstition, Megatron had heard his share of horror stories: the dark, Unicron’s spawns, Primus’ Youngs, and the whispers of what prowled in the shadows. These tales were used to scare younglings into good behavior.

Megatron himself had his fair share of those stories, although, some of the elders do love to exaggerate those stories.

He likes it, not because it makes it creepy. He didn’t find them scary—he found them funny, mostly because of his friends. For reasons he still couldn’t quite fathom, his closest companions growing up were a spark eater, a ghoul, and a demon. Hearing their outrage over the inaccuracies in these tales was endlessly entertaining.

“You can’t eat a spark like that,” Starscream, the spark eater, would hiss in annoyance whenever he hears these ridiculous stories  . “Why do they always describe it like I’m slurping energon soup? There’s nuance!”

“Ghouls: do not hide under berths: waiting to snatch younglings” deadpanned Soundwave, the ghoul, glaring at Megatron. “Soundwave: not a sterotype: Stories; exaggerated”

And Shockwave, the demon of the group would just simply twitch in annoyance.

And unlike Iacon, who rarely has anything to do with superstitions and such beliefs were dismissed as primitive nonsense. (or as media likes to portray it). Kaon has plenty, it thrived on superstition, unlike Iacon,  If Kaon had a museum for the supernatural, it would probably need its own skyscraper.

Megatron can attest to it, as stated before, he is friends with some of the horrifying entities that the tales always tell. Not only that, He’d had his share of encounters with those dark forces, not all of them pleasant. Most of the time, it ended in one of three ways: a fight, a frantic escape, or an unsettling brush with death. The only reason Megatron was still functioning was thanks to his friends, who often bailed him out of tight spots to save his arf.

Yet despite all of this, Megatron barely cares.

He doesn't do much, than work at his boring office job, visit his friends and reassure them that he is well, one of the literally lives in Vos! But at least his trip is always payed, courtesy to his friend. Outside of that? His life is completely barren and uneventful.

That is, until he met the new Prime that goes by the name Optimus Prime. Not, met met him, more like saw him in the holos and the streets during the coronation parade. He didn't wanna be there to be honest, but Starscream wanted to be there, he was in town for royal duties as the Prince of Vos and he wanted to Megatron to hang out with him, that isn't the mech's lonely apartment or Soundwave's house, or Shockwave's lab.

And Megatron, is a friend, so Megatron decided to go with Starscream, begrudgingly of course. 

When Megatron first laid his optics on the New Prime, he immediately sensed something was off, and he can tell that Starscream noticed too, yet he seem calm, which was odd. Normally, Starscream would have been on high alert, his predatory instincts kicking in. But this time? He wasn’t reacting defensively. That wasn’t exactly a good sign, isn't a bad one either.

Spark eaters tend to have heightened senses, they have the ability to sniff out their pray, and they have the ability to semi manipulate the perception of others, making it easy for them to blend in. If Starscream wasn’t threatened, that meant whatever this “off” thing was, it wasn’t something Starscream recognized as dangerous—or perhaps it was something he couldn’t categorize at all.

Megatron looks at the Prime, observing him closely. Their newly crowned Prime seems nice, he speaks very confidently yet softly, a leader with stern yet does not weild his fist to cage those around him. He spoke to the crowd with warmth, crouched to address younglings optic-to-optic, and carried himself with an air of calm authority.

Megatron….he knows there is something wrong, something off with the Prime. Megatron could feel it, like static in his circuits. He wanted to dig deeper, to pull at the threads of this mystery. But before he could, Starscream interrupted.

Megatron has to put those thoughts into a file and store it for later to entertain his friend. A bored Starscream always never ends well.

Soundwave can attest to that.

So Megatron talks to Starscream as they watch the parade from the distance in the balcony of Starscream's  fancy hotel. They watch as the Prime mingle with the civilian, as he interacts with the younglings with such care.

“Ugh. Look at that pompous mech!” Starscream sneered, slumping dramatically in his chair.

Megatron arched an optic ridge. “What are you talking about? He seems fine.”

“Fine? Look at him, so pristine, so proper!” Starscream gestured wildly at the balcony railing. “He’s too sweet. It’s disgusting. He’s practically dripping syrup on those younglings!” 

"Shouldn't I be the one making complaints here? I'm the one who's gonna get affected if his rule is slag" Megatron quipped dryly, already dreading the new rules and laws that will be set if this Prime is like the other ones before him.

“Oh, please.” Starscream waved him off. “If it were up to you, you’d just brood in silence and not say a word.”

“I would, actually,” Megatron muttered. “Besides, you’re the one verbally attacking your own kind right now.” He pointed out, wanting to immediately change the topic, for all that is stands in this world, Starscream is right, he would probably just brood in silence, rules kept him safe after all.

Starscream makes a disgruntled noise. "That thing down there, is far from being my kin."

Megatron grows confuse, he looks at Starscream. "What do you mean?"

“My own kind?” Starscream’s wings twitched irritably as he leaned back in his chair. “That thing down there is not my kin.”

That got Megatron’s attention. He turned to Starscream, optics narrowing. “What do you mean?”

Starscream huffed, clearly annoyed he had to explain. “Look at him! He’s too…off. Too stiff to be a spark eater, too mellow to be a ghoul. His frame doesn’t match anything I recognize. And his voice?” Starscream shuddered theatrically. “It’s wrong. It’s too nice. No one’s voice is that…perfect.”

Megatron frowned, glancing back at the Prime. Now that Starscream mentioned it, he can see more of the odd things about him. The balance of his movements, the precision of his words, the faint flicker of something beneath the surface—it didn’t quite add up.

Huh… Yeah, he can kinda see that now.

[doberbutts]

Hi! I love seeing your training pictures of your dobe — would you mind sharing more about that / the personality of your dog outside of working? I just always find the individual personalities of dogs so interesting :)

Picture of my own boy as payment (he tears apart the blankets for fun. We can’t stop him. He’s a monster)

Well my queue is mostly full thru the end of September with mondioring training photos, so it will be a bit until candids become more common again, but I can talk about how he is outside of bities.

Fenris is largely a demonic entity that was spawned from the depths of Helheim itself, and he comes up with new and interesting ways to annoy me on a daily basis. He's a wild child, a free spirit, perpetually happy, and uncontainable. Life is one big game to him and he is pretty much up for anything except swimming, which is akin to asking him to jump into a vat of boiling acid. I have watched this dog stare at a doorknob or gate latch for several minutes before opening the damn thing himself, like he put together the steps for "door open" in his mind before acting on it.

He is happy happy happy and he's never met a stranger. Barks at the fence but dances when the gate opens and a new friend walks in. I was actually really surprised this weekend, he snubbed a new friend for the first time the way Creed used to (walked right past her without initiating a greeting, acted like she didn't exist). Perhaps he is finally remembering he's a doberman and the standard says "aloof and discerning with strangers" instead of whatever golden retriever ass reaction he normally has.

He's a tad obsessive, iirc he was the most obsessive in the litter, so he does frequently get "stuck" in behavior patterns. This is mostly limited to sucking on blankets and dog beds, and trotting in circles with a toy in his mouth. As far as obsessive behaviors go, these are probably the least offensive to me so I'll happily take them over things like self-mutilation and pica.

[kharmii]

The slutty pose in manga form.

I'm done watching the Black Clover anime so should move on to the manga, but instead I found a bunch of visually appealing Zora panels on Twitter:

Where they left off in the anime was kind of good but kind of aggravating at the same time. I liked how it was finally revealed who Yuno actually was. That would mean he's not in the running with Asta for Wizard King, like I was hoping they'd be co-Wizard Kings someday. They have that 'Two Halves of a Whole' aesthetic with their one wing on opposite sides of their bodies...light and dark.

They went and introduced new characters right in the last couple episodes. I thought Liebe was cute with his Inosuke voice. Nacht came across a douche. He reminds me of Volo with his smiling all the time but having a contract with a demon (like how Volo has the relationship with Giratina but he's secretive about it whereas Nacht is out in the open). I didn't like how Nacht said he hated the Black Bulls only focusing on their faults without acknowledging their virtues. I'm like...screw you then, Dick Bag.

Whoa, behind you!

Look at that sexy mofo. At the end of the anime, the fights with demons drug on too long. I was sitting there thinking, "Ya know...I wish my guy Zora would get more screen time. -Like they could have him in the bath, and Gordon would spawn like a Minecraft creeper saying, 'Hey bestest best friend Zora. How about I wash your back, and then you wash mine?' Zora would reply, 'I'm down..' (Because that's an actual running joke. *eyebrow wiggle*)"

How many aura points does Zora get for putting his arm around the Wizard King and giving him rizz eyes when they've only just met?

NOOOO!!!! Don't die Zora!!1!1! -Or maybe the thing just wants to disintegrate Zora's clothes, like, "I've seen most of it, and now I want to see the rest."

This is a good look for Zora. (Sassy hand on hip).

Do you mean it like 'back door to Hollywood' you hoe?

The gang of delinquents.

Zora's secret base where he puts together the most complex spells ever made.

I'm guessing that's not a fist bump between bros. Zora has the runes written on his own body, which means he's in real trouble. I hope they animate the rest of the manga someday because it's probably epic, and my guy gets more screen time.

The Purple Orcas cape covers up too much tiddies.

*A non-Zora related side note* I like how they prettied up the based Praying Mantis Guy (kekek), like I used to ship Jack x Nobody, but he's in the running now.

[creatrixanimi]

as a submas fan who recently got into hazbin I would absolutely love to hear your au thoughts!!!!

Ok ill have to try to write out everything i've got so far!

So the original premise was that ingo and emmet got mixed up and ingo got sent to hell instead of emmet as an oopsie (emmet didnt do anything overly bad in life but heaven/hell stuff is so arbitrary they probably just made a weird decision somewhere down the line lol) but i thinkkk i have switched it to Ingo gets sent to hell because Volo successfully sacrificed him in a ritual and emmet, while dying in the same place, wasnt actually part of it so normal rules still applied to him. Ingo's soul is all messed up and corrupted because of the ritual which caused his amnesia. Emmet finds out about Ingo being sent to hell after he cant find ingo anywhere in heaven and rightfully gets upset at heaven's lack of action because he see's ingo's situation as a huge injustice. So Emmet's whole thing is basically just causing problems until he finds his way to hell and reunites with ingo.

Ingo's situation is where the fun is lol. So he wakes up after spawning in hell and is just a total odd-ball. Half because he doesnt remember ANYTHING from before he died. Maybe not even his name? Which is weird. And also because he's a total sweetheart. No one can figure out why he's even there because it's not like he's a hellborn so he must have done something to end up in hell. After a brief period of wandering around aimlessly, Lady Sneasler, who is an overlord in this au, kinda adopts him and takes him places because she thinks hes so charming and adorable. Melli is just a guy that hangs around lady sneasler even though he acts like he doesnt like her? She's the poison overlord (kinda like an aqua tofana situation for sneasler) and melli is a poison guy. So they kinda just fall into the same group. So they both become friends of Ingo. After a while of character introductions and some brief fun stuff like Sneasler getting Ingo to do all kinds of fun stuff he probably wouldnt do on his own (like the clubbing thing lmao) Ingo has his first blackout, probably triggered by some sort of memory thing, and its kinda terrifying. When he has those blackouts he shifts into his full demon form and his power goes haywire causing a lot of destruction. Its a huge shock because normally regular sinner demons dont really have much in terms of inherent power and also because Ingo cant actually use his powers while conscious so there was no sign of him being capable of that level of chaos. Anyway, after he has his little blackout his body sustains damage from exerting that kind of power and is kinda down for the count for a while afterwards. His story from there on is figuring out what is going on with him and trying to stop those blackouts before it either destroys him or a good chunk of the city, whichever comes first lmao. Sneasler is kinda just there to reign in ingo and melli she just loves a good show lol Melli is kinda where i wanna connect it more to the existing hazbin characters/storyline. Because this is lowkey more of a crossover. He accidentally becomes charlie's new pet project which no one is a fan of 😂 melli did not volunteer for this at all but his character arc is learning to make friends and care about other people after pushing people away for so long because he's a huge ball of self-hatred. He's kinda perfect for the "i can fix him" thing the hotel is all about. SO he's stuck learning to become a better person and being the narrative connection back to the core of the actual show lmao. Not sure if they ever even stay at the hotel. Maybe ingo and melli could flip flop between sneasler's place and the hotel. They dont actually have places of their own so its one or the other. In terms of intra character interactions i think its like this (this is prolly set post-s1 so no sir pentious): Charlie: thinks ingo is nice, wants to fix melli and is working with ingo to do this. Her relationship w sneasler is similar to rosie in my head. Alastor: finds Ingo somewhat threatening because Ingo can read him like a book. would otherwise find him pleasant but because he has a hard time keeping up his mysterious scary image around him he avoids him if possible. Ingo really likes him because "he reminds him of someone but he cant put a finger on it", will teleport away if melli is in the vicinity, finds sneasler charming. would gossip with her 10/10. When emmet shows up they try to kill each other which is entirely unsurprising. Everyone else in the hotel is more or less "theres something not right about that ingo guy but he's nice enough i guess", "FUCK melli get him OUT OF HERE", and "lady sneasler is chill" and when emmet shows up theyre just like "oh this explains why he likes alastor so much. Now theres TWO OF THEM." I would like to develop the other character's opinions on the situation more but this is getting. so so long. misc other character stuff: 

Lady sneasler still has sneasels, usually 3 of them. they just have tiny wings and horns but otherwise look like regular sneasels. No clue what their deal is they just exist. 

Rosie and Sneasler get along great. they are kinda similar but fill different power-niches in hell. 

Rosie finds ingo SO charming. She loves his odd vintage flair despite literally dying like. in the 2020s lol. He's very popular in cannibal town because he's a train freak and edwardians love trains. He takes the cute edwardian cannibal kiddies on train rides.

im not really sure what goes on with emmet in this au i just know he's having a shit time of it and eventually finds ingo. I havent decided if he actually falls or just leaves heaven because it sucks and no one cares enough to stop him. Also only slightly related but i actually have a voice-canon for him which is will wood which works great for this au lmao. Also emmet plays killer jazz piano and alastor is so mad about it because its actually good.

emmet and alastor dont really have all that much in common besides the smile thing but its just enough for them to beef over it. really its a similar feud as alastor and lucifer, alastor sees emmet as a threat both because of his power and the smile thing and emmet doesnt like that ingo is following alastor around like a lost puppy. emmet is def way less mysterious, he's just pissed that his brother is suffering even if ingo doesnt seem to notice his own problems.

volo doesnt really come back up in this au because he's still alive. just imagine that akari is kicking his ass in the living world or something lmao. 

i cant decide if pokemon exist in this universe. It would be funny tho to have chandelure exist in a world where souls are like whole ass people who can die for a second time. worlds nicest guy's pet lamp eats people until theyre perma-dead for breakfast.

Elesa (and probably also drayden and iris depening on your headcanons) are very sad :( i like emmet/elesa so it makes it extra hard on elesa tho. there is no solution for this.

not sure what the arceus situation is here. hazbin as far as i know doesnt have a canon god design so for all we know god could be a dumbass llama i guess. its doesnt really matter besides stylizing volo's ritual

[the-obnoxious-sibling]

Hi Meredith! I'm a huge Buggy fan and I LOVE your analysis about the manga and I want to share this idea with you. I found myself thinking about Ace, well, we know he met Shanks when he was still with the Spade Pirates and wished to see his "little brother savior", but his meeting with Buggy was a totally different story. At that point years had passed and he was in Whitebeard's fleet as a "son" and commander, looking for revenge on Teach. That makes me wonder... was it really some casuality that he showed up in the Big Top or maybe, just maybe, he was curious to see the other man that was raised by his real father? I mean, I'm sure the old Newgate told something about Roger's past to him, even if Ace denied his origins. if I were in him I would be intrigued, plus it is clear by his acting on the ship that he percives no treat in Buggy, he's clearly not there because he's worried for Luffy, rather he enjoys the meeting very much.

It might be just my fantasy but I'd like to know your opinion.

Love!

[on ao3]

“you’re bold as brass, kid, i’ll give you that,” marco the phoenix said, the twentieth or thirtieth time he patched ace up. “fight a warlord for five days straight for a chance to meet your first emperor, lose impressively enough that pops offers you a spot on his ship, and what do you do with that? try to kill him every day for months.” smiling, he shook his head in a way that infuriated ace, like he thought knew better than ace how things were gonna go.

(he had, of course. ace was hardly the first hotheaded kid marco had seen make the transition from enemy to son—though ace did take the longest time about it.)

“not my first emperor,” was all ace bothered to say in response.

“oh? who else?” marco looked ace over and decided, “not kaidou, not if you attack all emperors on sight. he’s not half as nice as pops.”

ace snorted, grimaced at the spatter of blood this threw across the bandages marco had just finished tying off, and, wiping his nose with the back of his hand, said, “no, it was shanks. and i wasn’t there to kill him.”

marco startled. “oh man, i keep forgetting that kid’s an emperor now! time flies…”

ace sat up. “you know shanks?” he couldn’t help but be curious—he didn’t know much about the man who’d saved, and inspired, his baby brother.

“yeah, i’ve known him nearly thirty years.”

oh, he had meant it when he called shanks ‘kid.’ “…was he a whitebeard pirate too?”

marco laughed. “can you imagine?” he asked, glancing down the deck to look at whitebeard, lounging casually in his oversized chair, like ace hadn’t flung a half-dozen bombs at his head twenty minutes ago. the old man didn’t turn to face them, but his mustache twitched, a sure sign that he was grinning. “no way, that kid was roger’s start to end.”

the name hit ace like a punch to the gut—like the one whitebeard had landed on him nineteen minutes ago, actually, blunt and out of nowhere. “roger?” he asked, breathless.

”oh, yeah, you’re young enough you wouldn’t know,” marco realized. packing away the last of his supplies, he said, “gol d roger didn’t have a fleet like pops, just the one ship, and just two apprentices: shanks and buggy.” scratching at his chin, marco said, “what’d you always call them, pops?”

“red-hair and red-nose,” came the response.

“that’s it.” marco chuckled. “roger’s red boys. hey, if you met shanks, you must’ve seen buggy too. blue hair, bad attitude, and—well, pops is right, you can’t miss that red nose.”

“uh…” ace thought back, or tried to—the memory of shanks, luffy’s friend and savior, was being overshadowed by this new knowledge. a warm smile in a snowy cave—a smile worn by a monster’s pupil. surrounded by men with wary looks at an upstart with an interest in their captain—a captain whose former captain was that man. were any of them blue-haired? had any of them looked at ace, seen a demon’s spawn, and been glad at the sight? “doesn’t ring any bells.”

“no?” marco looked disturbed for a moment. “well, it’s been a long time. i guess even those two might’ve gone separate ways.” marco gave ace a pat on the shoulder and got to his feet. “alright kid, you’re in as good a shape as i can get you! try not to ruin all my hard work by going after pops again tomorrow, huh?”

but he said it like he knew ace would. again and again, until the siren song of the word “son,” genuinely meant, grew too strong to withstand.

it would be years before ace thought of that conversation again. he had other conversations with whitebeard—with his pops—about roger which lingered more in his memory. the fact that there were two people out there in the world who were, essentially, raised by that man… ace put that knowledge out of his head.

at least, he put it out of his head until, running dangerously low on supplies while hunting down teach, he spotted a ship with a red-nosed jolly roger.

“a red nose, huh?” ace brought striker into the larger ship’s wake, considering climbing aboard. if shanks had known ace for who his father was, he hadn’t mentioned it. this buggy guy would probably be similarly ignorant, or discreet. and if he did know, maybe he’d feel obligated to feed his old captain’s son? ace’s stomach growled painfully, a reminder of what single-mindedly hunting down a traitor could do to a man.

a delicious aroma drifted downwind, along with a raised voice shouting something about “strawhats” and that clinched it. between his brother, his father, and his hunger, ace needed to see what this red-nosed buggy was about.

[amusingmusie]

More questions about Evie? Ask and you shall receive!

Al and baby Evie. What would that look like? Does he dote on the baby, leave her to Nel, try (and fail) support the demon spawn he brought into the world? Basically, would he be a good father, and does he carry the burden equally?

Honestly, I think Nel would make a pretty great mom seeing as she basically raised Grace from birth, and Grace turned out fine! Nel does seem to have a nasty habit of raising agents of chaos, though. Maybe it wasn't actually Al's fault 🤔

Presuming, once again, that Al was alive for this, does he keep up with his habits? Does being responsible for a child who might cry a lot at night put him at a higher risk of being caught missing, and cut down on the murder time? Or who knows, maybe morals kicked in, and the thought of being caught and leaving Nel alone with a kid was a line not even he would cross (he's a murderer, not a monster).

And what was baby Evie like!!! Quiet baby? Loud baby? A nightmare in private, but an angel in public? She seems like the type to need constant attention.

There have also been a lot of hints that Evie is Violent. Did Nel do a good job instilling fear of the law into her? Or did Evie inherit her father's "hobbies," too?

What about his powers? Is there anything inherent about them that Evie might get? Or would she have needed Al's guidance in order to use her abilities. And if Al was alive, would he have taught her?

Does she have actual friends? I know that Nel is a loner and Al doesn't really care if his "friends" lived or died, but does Evie have any genuine human connection - outside of her arch nemesis ofc (don't tell her I said that). Like a bitch pack or a best friend who roam the school tormenting everyone they meet. Just as a treat.

Also, Roxy: what's her story? Is she a young Nel with a new look and (hopefully) no nicotine addiction? Does she get to have friends?

Let me know if I should break these asks up more in the future to avoid the wall-of-text problem! Once again, don’t feel pressured to answer any of the questions if you don’t want to or if it’s spoiler territory. Take care of yourself! Don't get lost or stolen!!!

YIPPEEEE!!! For pride month I am answering a yummy ask about one of my favorite evil lesbians.

In the little thought-world-brainrot-center I've created for Evie, Alastor isn't exactly around to know about her let alone interact with her. If he WAS around, I mean, he'd try his best to make sure the kid doesn't hurt herself since she is an extension of himself and he appreciates that, but I don't see him being the best dad. Emotional comfort? He doesn't do that. Teaching her to dissect things? Now that he can do!

I actually jokingly refer to an alt timeline in which Nel gets pregnant as "the good ending" because it's the only thing that would stop Alastor's charitable side hobbies in their tracks. Not because he has a change of heart- he just literally cannot find the time for it, and he knows Nel would cave his skull in if she caught him. He'd maybe try sneaking out one (one) night and then the ginger sits up in bed from a dead sleep and just says "fuck. no."...he gets right back in and doesn't sneak out again until Evie is older.

Evie was a pretty good baby! She didn't become an odd little cretin til she could walk, because then baby girl decided she wanted to play in the knife drawer.

She is violent in a way, but she actually takes more after Nel's brand than Alastor's. As weird as she is, and as sweetly as she threatens people, she doesn't resort to violence unless you've fucked with her or someone she cares about. It's that same sort of momma bear mauling-style that Nel has combined with Alastor's lack of remorse/excitement. It's not like she's killed anyone though, or even seriously maimed anyone. She has the capability, but not the urge. I know I jokingly call her an evil lesbian, but she's not actually evil. Just a menace.

I actually have always played around with the idea of Miss Genevieve being very spiritually attuned! I know that the supernatural takes a backseat role in my fic (for now anyway, that'll fucking change soon enough) so for Evie's story, I wanted it to play a much larger role. She's the kind of kid to look at someone and go "March 15th, 1933" and then skip away like it's nothing. Nel got used to it really, really fast. There's more than just her and Evie living in their house, after all. If Al was around, I don't know if he could have helped? I write him as someone who is aware but perhaps not the most integrated into the paranormal world (while alive). He'd definitely find it funny that Evie is though.

Evie has friends, but not close friends. Her story is hard to explain without spoiling my fic so all I can say is that she isn't a loner, but is incredibly lonely at times. Most of her relationships are shallow since she doesn't let others in. While her weird, chaotic nature isn't a front at all, she does rely on it to keep others at arms length if they get too close. She's incredibly popular with people she doesn't know well to the point that she has sort of created a little clique for herself. They don't really see beyond what she shows them. For those she's "closer" to who see her oddities, she uses those oddities and back-handed comments to keep them from getting close. Only Nel and Grace (and eventually Roxxy) are let in.

Roxy my beloved. She's much more than just another Nelly; she actually leans a little opposite to Nel, she's a slacker and usually gets in trouble pretty constantly. She's got a lot of anger from family expectations but she reacted to those expectations completely differently than Miss Penelope did. Roxxy actually has more close friends than Evie. Nobody would really see it unless they saw how fake Evie is with people (Husk would have a field day with that girl).

Thank youuuu for all the questions and I'm sorry it took me a while to answer them!

[themadlu]

A Star's Purpose

Part of the Spelljammer challenge by @spacebarbarianweird!

Astarion is happy, truly happy, in the safety of his lover's affection. The troubles of the Underdark have no sway on his mood as he relishes simply existing with his Zélie.

Until a call for help takes them to the depths of the Astral Sea on a Spelljammer vessel, and he'll be damned if he lets his maddening hero face the dangers of interplanar space on her own.

TW: None, I think. Maybe a smidge of self-worth issues? And end-of-game spoilers.

Not beta read and minimal editing, sorry for any mistakes!

This is mostly non-canon to Zélie and Astarion's story (I think).

@amywritesthings, in case you wanna check it out!

A year and a half has passed since the Netherbrain’s defeat. Zélie stayed in Faerun with Astarion, who’s now confined in the shadows due to his vampiric nature. They have settled in the Underdark, after concluding it was their duty to guide the 7,000 spawns towards a semi-functional society and a second chance at life. The lovers live in the magic tower near the sussur tree and have made it their own haven. A home, Zélie would say, but she is home to Astarion, and where they are matters not. 

He just wants to keep falling into reverie with her warm body tangled in his, keeping his demons at bay, and welcome the day with her wild, owlbear-esque hair all over his face. To live in the comfort of each other’s embrace, as nauseatingly cliche as it sounds. Not that she would allow it on most days, his precious, maddening woman. They have responsibilities, she says. Obligations. To the hells with them, he thinks, as he walks with her towards whatever bothersome issue they need to attend to next.  

So what happens when a message comes from a dear friend asking for their assistance in the cold void of the Outer Planes? Astarion knows. His steadfast hero will do what heroes are expected to do: run to the rescue, even if she’d rather not risk their lives again so soon after…well, everything. “You don’t have to come, Astarion, really. Actually, I think it more appropriate for you to stay here, now that we are making progress with your siblings.” As if. Aurelia and Leon can make themselves useful for once and hold the fort on their own. The pale elf is no hero and never will be, but his heart beats in her chest and her soul is his own, so he’d be damned if he doesn’t follow her into this new, gigantic mess. She (“We, Astarion”) already slayed a Netherbrain; what’s a lich queen in comparison. 

______________________________________________________________

Well, that’s impressive.

Astarion examines the raiding ship that Lae’zel somehow managed to secure. The very thing that is going to sail them into the cold, deep astral sea. The technology is clearly Illithid—since he woke up inside that fleshy pod, he’s become familiar enough with their tentacled technology to recognise it when he sees it. But the Githianki’s influence is evident: the large, fan-shaped sails stand proud against the moonlit sky like a dragon’s wings, ready to take their riders towards their next conquest. The front of the ship has what he can only describe as teeth; fanged protrusions, not unlike his own, ready to swallow whole whatever unfortunate creatures they’ll meet. A silent but unavoidable promise of war echoes off the vessel. It makes Astarion antsy. 

He has no issue with violence–he still revels in it at times, the need to own, to consume and not be consumed, so typical of his kind, exasperated by the horrors he suffered. But his bouts of spite and aggression have been fading since her. 

He turns to look at Zélie only to find her staring at the ship with eyes so wide they mirror the moon perfectly. Her mouth is the slightest bit agape in wonder, the closer her stern face can get to a surprised expression. Perfect thing. Gods, over a year together (A year, five tendays and eight days.), barely leaving each other’s side even in dreams, and his little hero still leaves him speechless with the smallest quirk.

(The way she smiles at him when she thinks he isn’t looking makes him want to scream, weep, beg her for forgiveness—for all he has to his name is a used body—and ravage her for days. At the same time.)

You’re a gift, my love. Let me keep you. 

Astarion isn’t worthy of her devotion and mercy, no angry huffs and puffs from her will convince him fully, but gods below he wants to be. He’ll do anything, become anything to keep her safe, happy, looking at him as if he were some miracle of the heavens. 

(Do it. I dare you, he thinks to the silent gods, Try to take her from me. See what happens next.)

“Seen something you like, darling?” He jests in an airy tone, both because he likes to prattle and because her attention scalds him kindly, completely, like the sun never could. Insufferable woman, making him feel so alive. 

Zélie flips her head towards him, frizzy curls bouncing wildly. “Oh Astarion, this ship! I know we’ve been on a mindflayer vessel before, but this is incredible!” She takes his hand in hers and he burns in the best way possible. 

Precious thing, so enamoured by technology, human or otherwise. He pulls her into his arms so he can feel whole one last time before he has to share her with their friends. Astarion kisses her softly, a grin on his lips at her inexorable embarrassment. She is not one for public displays of affection—most of the time.

(Part of the reason he prefers it when it’s just the two of them, so he can worship her properly in the temple of their home.) 

Fuck. 

He is getting hard just thinking about it. He needs to distract himself or else he’ll end up with a wet patch on his trousers that Lae’zel will ridicule until the end of days. 

Jealous prick. Green suits her.

The pale elf grips Zélie tighter, his familiar hardness pressing into her stomach, and her already wide eyes become impossibly larger, paler. (He so wishes he had a reflection in times like these.) 

“I stand by my point, my sweet. Size does matter, it seems.” Astarion winks at her and the woman’s flustered expression turns unamused. Oh, he so adores riling her up, his fierce hero. 

It seems he has underestimated the effect he’s had on her since they met—he can’t believe it’s almost as deep as the one she had on him—because suddenly she presses into him, burying a hand into one of her coat’s pockets so she can grab his length without being seen. Astarion hisses under his breath with poorly concealed pleasure. It’s his eyes that widen and darken now.

“You, cheeky, little pup,” he murmurs, rattles, heat spreading through him so that he would surely combust if he weren’t a cold corpse. 

“Mhm. I guess you do have a point, my dear,” Zélie says, face still unamused as she looks at him and gives him a gentle squeeze to emphasise her statement. 

(It takes all of his self-control not to buck his hips into her hand.)

“Although size doesn’t mean quality. Both are necessary. What good would such a huge ship do to us if it couldn’t sail properly, don’t you think?” She whispers the last few words in his sensitive ear and Astarion almost whines, the desire pooling in his underwear threatening to stain the fabric.

 If it were anyone else touching him like she does, Astarion would rip their throat and limbs out or die in the attempt. But it’s his Zélie and, gods and hells, he wants her, this, all of it, desperately. Her hands are so gentle to him, always, as if he would break should she press a little harder. He thought it was her relative inexperience at first, or worse, pity. The idea that she could be so tender with someone like him purely because she wanted to was unfathomable; now, he has no interest in living without it.

Only she can come to him unannounced. She can do anything she wants with him. 

(He trusts her more than he trusts himself.)

“T’chaki, you two never cease to be revolting,” a cutting voice calls out from behind them. Ah, right. Lae’zel is here. And a few dozen other Gith warriors loyal to Orpheus, all looking equally disgusted. 

Astarion scowls at them while his love-addled brain quickly sobers up at their most untimely appearance (Thank you very much, Lae’zel.) 

Only then, he notices the strangeness of his predicament: it’s his usually stony Zélie who’s all but moulding their bodies into one, it’s her smaller frame in his arms and her fingers caressing his still-hard length. 

Oh? You’re more worried about this journey than you let on, aren’t you, darling?

He recognises the signs from their last life-threatening adventure, her need to have him close to her so she could keep him safe. Impossible thing, always shielding him so fiercely, he is starting to consider his centuries of captivity as a due price for having her to himself. 

(A mortal human protecting a vampire should be laughable, but she saved him in every possible way already.)

Astarion snarls in warning at the burdensome company that ruined what could be the last moment of private intimacy with his person in a long while. “With all due respect, Lae’zel dear, go fuck off for a bit, would you?” 

Lae’zel’s warriors look just about ready to use him as a practice target (They can try.) when the woman in his embrace clears her throat, “It’s all right, Lae’zel. We’re revising last-minute arrangements for the journey. We’ll board in a moment, thank you.” 

The Gith does not look happy, but she and Zélie share a close friendship (And a stick up both their backsides, Astarion used to think.), so she listens to her and heads to the ship with her crew, cursing some pretty mild threats. Small mercies. 

“Oh,” Finally alone, Zélie realises she is still gripping Astarion’s length, colour draining from her face in mortification. “I’m so sorry Astarion, I got carried away,” she tries to move her hand away but he grabs her wrist, keeping her in place. 

“You don’t have to apologise, love. I know I’m simply irresistible!” His attempt to lighten her mood is met with a sceptic glance. Silly, precious thing, always caring for his well-being. Let me help you. “Truthfully, my sweet,” his next words are the truest ones he’s ever uttered, “you know I’m yours.” 

Zélie raises an eyebrow, “you are your own person, Astarion. We went through this, multiple times in fact.” 

He laughs, “To you, with you, darling, it doesn’t matter. As you can clearly see,” he squeezes her hand around his dripping cock.

His stubborn woman studies him carefully, searching for any of his masks and finding none. “Very well,” she concedes. She turns to her left as noises filter from the ship. “Last chance, Astarion. If you want to remain in the Underdark, you must tell me now. Lord knows how long this expedition will last, and I reckon your siblings would benefit greatly from you being there to—”

That’s what it is, then. She worries for him still; and it still unravels him. 

Let me care for you, idiot.  

“Hush, you,” Astarion places a finger on her lips to shush her, “I am where I belong.” 

(Something inside him tears at the thought of being separated from Zélie. Of her alone in the face of danger.)   

His hero’s stance softens, finally relaxed. Her relief makes her look so much younger. “Oh, well, in that case,” she leans into him and kisses him. Truly, fearlessly, savouring all of him. Astarion barely suppresses a noise of surprise before responding in kind, fangs grazing her lips, never hurting her (Never.), devouring her. 

Zélie quietly moans into him. Astounding, how she is still pleasured by such a simple act when they have been entangled into way more complex scenarios during the last year. (As if he were not close to coming already.) If the Gith are watching, he’ll gauge their eyes out.

A tremble of the earth signals that the ship is ready for departure. Zélie detaches from him and this time he does whine at her loss. She gives one last gentle squeeze to his length, making him narrow his eyes at her. The cool night air flows between them.

“The moment we are alone, I will bury myself into your perfect little body so deeply they will have to pry me from you, love.” 

(There’s no holier sight than her tender ecstasy as she shatters around him.)

He expects her embarrassment but not her smirk, “Careful. Promises must be kept, Astarion.” 

She pecks him on the lips again, fully extricating herself from him to climb the steps to the main deck. 

Cheeky, maddening pup.

Yes, Astarion decides, he will make her shout his name so loud Vlaakith herself will hear. 

______________________________________________________________

The Astral Sea is not what Astarion expected. Not that he expected much of anything since he didn’t really want to come here in the first place.

Zélie is leaning against the taffrail in front of him, a multitude of celestial bodies surrounding them. She is so eager to examine every part of the vessel that she stepped onto the outer deck the moment the ship slowed down to pick up some more crew members (As if they weren’t cramped enough already.)

“Don’t you find it uncanny, Astarion? This works very much like a regular ship, and yet it doesn’t. The Astral Sea functions like any material sea, until it doesn’t. And those strange helms—” 

“A pinnacle of technology, taken from the Ghaik and immensely improved by the Githianki so that our empire may conquer and prosper,” comments Lae’zel. Her queen’s betrayal hasn’t quelled the admiration for her own people; if anything, she seems more determined than ever to see a worthy leader at the helm of Gith society. “With a spelljamming brig such as this, you can travel anywhere, anytime. Time passes differently in the Astral Plane. Open a gate into one of many material planes to plunder and pillage to your heart’s content!” 

Gods, intense as always I see. Good. 

A formidable trait in war; fearsome in a foe, welcome in an ally. 

(So Lae’zel can protect Zélie on the battlefield while he keeps her safe from the shadows.)

Zélie’s attention shifts to the mechanism supporting the sails as she speaks, “The travelling part sounds delightful, Lae’zel. The plundering and pillaging less so, for my tastes.” 

The Gith begins a rant about the istik’s inherent weak nature. She even dares to say his Zélie should have chosen her as a partner, back when she proposed, so her martial skills would not have been dulled by the puny vampire. 

Excuse me?!

“I’ll let you know, Lae’zel, that I can keep our dear leader on her toes just fine,” the elf interjects. Astarion is about to add a snarky remark (He was chosen after all.), but Zélie speaks first, “Oh Lae’zel, I would have just been an impediment and you know it. I would have slowed down all the conquering and deadly fighting you enjoy so much. Besides,” she turns to Astarion, a playful glint in her eyes. If he weren’t so attuned to her, he’d miss it.

 (He wonders how many silent gestures he has missed at the start of their travels.)

“I am where I am meant to be,” she concluded. The tips of his ears definitely do not blush at those words. 

(She’ll be the end of him and he wouldn’t have it any other way.) 

Astarion shoots his darling a winning smile, which morphs into a cocky grin as he looks at Lae’zel. 

There. Don’t be sour, you heard what she said. 

Lae’zel is unimpressed. “T’chk. Suit yourself, Zel. Your loss.” 

She marches off towards the helm of the brig when Zélie interrupts her, “Wait. You mentioned that time here passes differently, but how so?”

The Gith sighs, “Ignorants. It’s not the time itself, but its effects. They come to an almost complete halt; no hunger, no ageing—you’ll see when you won’t recall the last time you ate.” 

“Oh”. Oh. 

No ageing is almost as good as—

Immortality. 

Astarion has heard about the Astral plane before, but it seemed so out of his reach he never bothered to learn more. He pickpocketed a book or two about it from some of his liaisons, but they were confiscated immediately and he was handed to Godey for his insolence. It’s not as if Cazador ever had any interest in entertaining his spawn’s curiosity. 

Time is of no consequence to him, but to know that Zélie’s limited lifespan (Because of course the impossible woman had to be human, of all things.) could also be endlessly extended— 

Astarion faces her, her eyes already on him, lit up with the same realisation. He doesn’t dare to hope it’s going to be that simple, but gods, if anyone deserves eternal life is her. And he deserves some happiness without such a dreadfully finite time limit, he fucking does. 

He sees how Lae’zel looks at him, then Zélie, and sighs loudly. She stomps off, shouting, “Boarding is about to be complete. I suggest you two get inside soon enough, if you don’t want to end your dull lives swept away by the astral winds.” 

Astarion nods as she passes by him—her people-reading’s skills have improved enormously since they met. The moment she is out of earshot, he speaks, “Darling, did you—”

“I don’t know—” Zélie says, at the same time. 

The elf lets out a shrill, small laugh, “You first, my sweet.” 

She smiles, a “I don’t know what to think, Astarion. Being immune to the effects of time, it all seems so impossible, so…” He knows what she is thinking, that it’s unnatural, that it’s not how things, people, are supposed to be. When he thought ascending was the right choice for them, when he failed to convince her to embrace becoming his eternal bride, she recoiled, attached to her mortality. 

She doesn’t understand. 

He would outlive her even if he were not a vampire because he is an elf and she, holy as she is, is human. There is no facet of reality where she won’t leave him behind and go where he can’t follow—

“I think we should try,” Zélie stands taller, back straight, like a general making an important call, “After we help your siblings and all the others settle down. Who knows, maybe we can even get our own astral skiff. Do you think dogs will be fine here? I wouldn’t want to leave Scratch behind.”  

She talks faster, excited, and Astarion’s breath catches, head spinning even though he doesn’t need air. He darts forward to cage her between himself and the taffrail, causing her to let out the most adorable little breath. 

(Perfect.)

Zélie composes herself again, “And if we can travel between material planes, there may be a chance to find mine…to find my family. Even if just to tell them I’m well and to introduce you to them.”

Astarion feels like he’s falling, so he catches himself with centuries-old sarcasm. “To—what? Love, you can’t be serious. Introducing a vampire spawn to your oh-so-proper family is a moronic thing to do, even for an impossible woman such as yourself.” 

They would scorn you my sweet. 

She speaks of her family, her planet, sometimes. The image of stern faces, so similar to hers, twisted in fear—or worse, disgust—at the monster their precious Zélie is in love with leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. He isn’t fond of children, but even he wouldn’t want his daughter to have anything to do with something like him. 

Zélie exhales in offence, “Of course I want you to meet them, ridiculous elf. I have nothing to hide. I am proud of you, all of you, infinitely, and I know they would be too. You complete me, and for that they would welcome you with open arms.” She stares him down in challenge. 

Astarion studies her expression as he presses his forehead to hers. He seeks for unwillingness, for embellishments of the truth—because lying is a sin to her— and finds none. 

You mean this. Gods.

“Yes, love. We can bring the pest. We can even ask Halsin for the owlbear if you’d like. We will travel through every single material plane if we need to. Anything,” he kisses her parted lips, “Anything,” pecks her cheeks, “Anything,” her forehead, “Anything,” her nose, “Anything you want.” His grip on her tightens. 

She smiles at his onslaught, “All right, all right. We’ll find out how to make it work. For a while!” Zélie points her index finger at him in mock sternness, “I don’t think an unchanging eternity wandering the Astral Sea is something we should limit ourselves to, even if I want to. What purpose would it serve?”

“Purpose?” Astarion snarls the word as if it personally offended him, “We are purpose enough, stubborn woman.” He lifts her up and she clings to him on instinct. He strides inside the ship, ignoring the disapproving looks of the Giths. 

“Astarion! What are you doing?!” 

He whispers, fangs grazing her ear, “I’m finding a private space on this overcrowded thing, darling, so I can fully demonstrate how purposeful I can be.”

Zélie pales and flushes at the same time, and Astarion can feel himself basically purring at the thought of what he’s going to do to her—

“I’m glad you learnt to keep your promises, Astarion,” she murmurs, the outline of a smile into his neck.

Oh love, you have no idea.

[subacctformaribat]

A Challange Worth Takeing On!

It has been four years since Hawkmoth’s defeat (Chat gave up his Miraculous after the defeat and then disappeared) and Marinette traveled to Gotham to get away from her past. After Hawkmoth’s defeat Marinette, being the guardian of the miraculous, decided to take the miraculous elsewhere(and also get away from Lila and her old friends). Where she found herself was in Gotham where she met a tall dark haired boy that she now calls her Husband, his name is Damian Wayne. Now after three years of marriage (even though Damian’s brothers still don’t believe that their younger brother could find love and keep a girl long enough to marry) Marinette and Damian now have another challenge ahead of them.

This is one challenge that they both are new too but won’t be as hard as fighting a villain and one that will bring much joy to them both and the family. 

Marinette is four months pregnant and the only person who knows that are the Kawmis and Damian the challenge they have is that they have still yet to tell either of their families and still live in the Wayne manor which was quite a feat to keep the news from Alfred and Bruce for as long as they have. Damian and Marinette found out in the first month of her being pregnant and have kept it a secret for three months ,and now they have to tell their families before they find out for themselves and have to deal with another mess. The reason they have kept it a secret is because they wanted a chance to prepare for the smothering of the family once they found out about the soon to be new addition to the family.

Which brings us to now where they have gathered the family in the dining room full of shenanigans and two expecting parents wondering if they should keep their secret or not.  

XXXXX

“Hey little D why does pixie pop look like she is about to run away , did you finally scare her off.”Jason teased 

“No Todd, if anything would deter my Angel it would be you being rambunctious ” Damian glared at Jason.

Tim decided to pop up in the conversation a little intrigued by Damian’s response “Why would us being rambunctious be the cause when she has never been bothered by it before unless you are hiding something from us?”

“Yeah baby bird , ‘Nette has been avoiding seeing anyone besides Sabine, Alfred , or Bruce for about three months now!” Dick exclaimed   

Marinette decided now was a good time to speak up and give a glare to her three brother-in-laws  “ I have not been avoiding anyone Dick , I was simply protecting myself from being in a crushing hug or someone crashing into me”

From that the room went silent as everyones’ worries began to grow as this was an unusual statement from the girl.

Everyone was worried about their favorite little designer and demon tamer wondering if she was  injured somehow or if something bad happened.

Sabine was the first to speak “ are you okay honey why are you avoiding crushing hugs?”

Her mother was properly worried because she knew her daughter was never one to shy away from hugging a family member.

“Well mamma the reason why Dami and I have stayed after the monthly dinner and joined everyone in the living room this time around is because we have big news for everyone.”Mari said 

***Damian’s family and Marinette’s family have a monthly dinner to catch up and whatnot with each other , then they usually gather in the living room after to play games or to try and embarrass one another ,which it was usually the latter so Marinette and Damian did not hang around after dinner often.*****

Jason popped up and said “ You're not finally leaving demon spawn are you?”

Damian was about to retort to Jason when Marinette jumped up and yelled at Jason, surprising and worrying Damian due to how fast she got up ,and the others worried due to her actually yelling at all.  

“No, Jay, I will not be leaving Dami as I am four months pregnant and don’t enjoy you calling the father of my unborn child demon spawn!”  (that nickname always hit a cord with Marinette and she has not corrected it but she is hormonal due to being pregnant and just sort of lashed out at Jason) 

“Angel! You should not get up so fast! You could hurt yourself and our baby!”,Damian scolded 

Mari for her rashness and that did not go unnoticed by the family and put it away to tease him about it later for when he was not around Marinette. Which was wise on their part as they did not want to aggravate the pregnant Mari more.

After they got over the shock of Mari yelling at Jason and Damian scolding her they finally let what was yelled at Jason to sink in!