#and this abomination is what you get lol

[thegoldenshi-shi]

*muffled Journey music plays in the background*

Don't ask me why, but Malleus makes me think about Journey (the band) voice, typical music content, the 80's vibes, all of it.

Also, I think he'd wear old 80's fashion with 0 regrets since he wouldn't know it was outdated and Lilia wouldn't tell him.

[vaguely-concerned]

how I like to imagine lucanis is feeling about being dragged along to the grand necropolis every other day in this playthrough... it's about the duality of

all the walking dressed up skeletons and other assorted body parts strewn around: undeniably kind of bad and creepy. how the fuck is it so cold and windy down here all the time rook is just a slip of a thing how are they not shivering constantly. should I get him a nice warm scarf or would that be against his sense of swag as a watcher I am currently being made to think way too much about spirit possession (these weirdos seem to think it can be benign???? it does NOT feel benign). someone might have worked very hard to get those bones to lie still and dead on the ground it seems disrespectful to that hard work to make the bones get back up again and dance a jig like this. is all I'm saying

vs.

hearing rook speak to spirits and wayward wisps with kind calm authorativeness and care and generally show a whole new side of competence and knowledge they've kept close to the chest so far: ...this better not awaken anything in me (challenge failed)

(rook who's anxiously trying to gauge if the skeletons are going to be a dealbreaker fondly reminiscing 'oh I had my first kiss over there by the van markham mausoleum from the latter part of the steel age actually' and lucanis having to admit 'this does explain some things about you'. there must be some kind of comfort in feeling like you're too removed from the normal human experience anymore to connect with someone only to find that the person you're growing a terrible crush on had barely ever seen the sun until the age of like 34 and thinks this place is the height of normalcy. lucanis' broody line where he's like 'I only know death' and ingellvar both meaningfully and amusedly raising their eyebrows like 'yeah? uh-huh? please, say more' fhdskjaf. i'm sorry you've had your freak matched lucanis I'm sure it's a bit disorienting but we'll figure this out together yet. two little death dudes sitting in a tree k i s s i n g and also trying to figure out the 'life' part of things together)

[medi-bee]

Hey FAM are you still accepting asks if so what's your thoughts on the centi-lizard.

The... centi-lizard? What? I've never heard of... oh, an image. That's—

HOW? No, WHY— WHO would make this? It's obviously not natural! A red lizard and a red centipede? Are you trying to create a monster?? Don't you know that getting too ambitious results in—

...

Only an idiot would have created this. A very gifted idiot.

[reignpage]

Frat Boy!Gojo

Estrella Damm: don't drink and run

Contents: general dumbassery, cursing, slight sexual language, violence, lots of cursing, wrote this high so idk if this even makes sense, I'll reread it and let you know whether its bs lol

It’s the same scene again. 

Three guys are circling you, laughing so irritatingly, and you’re just sitting there, doing your very best to shrug them off. The park is empty, it usually is at 3pm and especially these days with the nippy weather. Whenever Gojo strolls along the place to get to campus, he sees you resting on a bench, watching the tree branches sway above the pond. 

You’re hard to miss. 

A mass of black like an omen amongst the peace of nature, a blob of ink on a Monet, and he sees you everywhere. It’s funny, he thinks, how prior to the announcement of the engagement during the summer, he had never seen you on campus before. 

He can’t fathom how it was possible that he missed you. You stand out so badly, all eyes are on you everywhere you go. What with your lace frocks, thick platform boots, and terrifying piercings. 

You’re rolling your eyes at the lanky guy in front of you, thin lips curling over yellow teeth to snarl insipid insults that the other two chortle at. You just wanted a peaceful break in between your lectures, to take in the fresh autumn air, and watch people pass. But then again the universe has never really liked you. That became abundantly clear when your parents threw the news at you.

Was Nietzsche right?

So now you’re stuck watching disgusting idiots pick up a layer of your dress, mocking the fabric as if it’s something cheap. Little do they know.

“Where’s the funeral, hot stuff?”

You cringe. It’s the repulsive roll of his tongue, the way he flashes you a grin as if he’s such a catch and you should be happy he’s giving you any kind of attention. He probably thinks of himself as something akin to a wolf, wild and feral in the sexiest way, but from where you’re sitting, he more closely resembles a rabid hyena, slobbering all over itself. 

His breath surely smells like it too. 

Exasperated, you stand, snatching your dress from their grimy hands and sneer, “Don’t touch me, you ugly trolls.”

They don’t like that. 

Just as you’re stepping away, someone grabs your hair with a harsh pull and you gasp, tears brimming in your eyes from the burn on your scalp. Whoever has your hair drags you back to him, his face too close to yours, and you can see every pore, every hair, and you resist the urge to gag at the feeling of his breath skimming your skin. 

“Who the fuck do you think you are, you prissy little pri—“ 

Before he can finish his sentence, a hand is gripping his wrist, wrestling it back at an awkward angle, forcing his body to follow suit. He yelps and you stumble back on the bench, rubbing at your head. 

Your heartbeat is galloping like crazy, air robbed from your lungs and you’re rearing back to see a white-haired man looming over all of you with a menacing grin.

Gojo looks terrifying. 

A shiver claws up your spine, fear prickling your skin, and it feels as if the park had just become colder, dropping into the negatives. There’s something devoid of light in his eyes and it knocks you off balance. You’re dazed and his withering look full of disdain and contempt isn’t even targeted towards you.

"You guys again?"

The sheer revulsion, the abhorrence and loathing seeping through his words creates a flurry of shame through you all. You see it in the flush that reddens one’s guys face, and in the deep gulp the second one makes. It’s as if you’ve committed a fundamental wrong, like the whole affair was an abomination that he had happened to stumble upon.

He’s still twisting the guy’s arm back and ignoring the broken moans coming from him, choosing instead to direct his ice cold stare at the other two guys. They stand uneasily, glancing between each other as if deciding what to do. Seeing the resolve in the newcomer’s eyes, and the promise of pain, they grab at their friend and hastily walk away, not sparing a glance back. 

Not even at you, like you were never there to begin with. 

Huffing, you stand up, brushing imaginary dirt from the skirt of your dress and muttering a reluctant ‘thanks’ to Gojo. He’s studying you, sunglasses hanging low on his nose bridge so he can look at you over them. 

What kind of idiot wears sunglasses when there's no sun?

He doesn’t say a word and you begin to feel uncertain. 

The man before you is a mystery. You don’t know what he’s thinking. One minute he hates you and has declared you public enemy number one and the next he’s defending you from slimy perverts.

What is wrong with him?

Sure, you’re glad he didn’t just leave you to fend for yourself but you also wish he just left as soon as he came so you wouldn't have to deal with the awkward aftermath. Now, you’re left staring at him waiting for a stupid comment to come. 

But it doesn’t. 

“Got something to say?”

Your voice is snarky, but wavers just ever so slightly, the effects of the shock still coursing your veins. Gojo doesn’t flinch, he just shrugs and gives you one final look over, before he’s stalking off, long legs carrying him away like he was just strolling past to begin with. 

One step for him is like three for you. 

You begin walking too. And you scowl when he looks back at you over his shoulder, his hands tucked into his trouser pockets, swinging his crazy long legs like a giraffe.

Why does he walk like that?

“You following me?” 

His tone is so disgustingly arrogant you feel a sudden urge to whack him over the head with your boots. But you don’t. Because your boots are limited edition and much too pretty to scuff up with his ugly face.

Not to mention your parents would kill you, and so would his, probably. And maybe even the entire campus. 

Because according to the 'Bulletin' and this so called ‘List’ Gojo introduced you to, your fiancé is apparently the most beloved man in EdenU. Known for being friendly, approachable, charitable and charismatic, everyone either wants to be friends with Gojo, date Gojo or be Gojo. 

Having read every single piece written by some girl with poor tastes in men, clearly, you realise that there must be something wrong with the entire student population-- and even the staff, if the blushing some lecturers do when he passes is anything to go by. There are direct quotes from people detailing first-hand experiences with Gojo’s ‘kindness’, with how he took the time out of his day to give directions, helped an old lady cross the street, claps at the end of lectures as an expression of gratitude.

Classic bourgeoisie propaganda.

How could anyone consider him as a) a good guy, and b) a hot one?

That question has been bothering you for about a week now. And it continues to do so as he looks at you like you're bothering him.

You speed walk, pumping your legs as hard as you can so you can glide by him. Who’s following who now?

It’s petty, you know that. But for whatever reason, the guy just brings out that bitter child inside of you, the one that wants to be mean, to spit back as good as you get, and to put him in his place. 

Because clearly, the campus gossip has gotten to his head. 

You hear him scoff before he starts speed-walking beside you. It looks effortless on him. What a prick. 

His jacket brushes against you and you recoil, aghast that his bacteria touched you. With a new wave of determination, you begin jogging. It’s the most exercise you’ve gotten in years but it’s so worth it to see him jog as well. 

“Give it up, I’m way faster than you.”

Wordlessly, you jog a little faster every time he does.

“Surprised to see you sober enough to walk in a park,” you voiced with a taunting tone.

Gojo retorts, just as quick, “And I’m surprised you’re out in broad daylight.”

Dodging fallen branches and puddles, you leap and clutch your dress, lifting the thick skirt so your legs can push and push. There is no way you'll lose to the likes of him. You just need to reach the park edge, where grass meets concrete, and once you pass it, you'll claim victory.

Huffing, you barb, “I’m sure you like the weather just fine, right, Periwinkle?”

He snorts. “That must make you Vidia.”

“She’s hot so I’ll take that.”

Throwing you a side glance, he rolls his eyes and maintained, with a singsong voice, “Silvermist is hotter.”

Eventually, you’re both running through the park, overtaking each other in a give and take, and you grin every time you get the best of him by cutting corners. You know this park like the back of your hand. The cool wind doesn’t even register on your skin, adrenaline urging you forward, winding along the path and dodging bystanders who look on with half confusion and half amusement. 

This is probably the most excitement this park has seen in years.

Gojo doesn’t seem the least bit embarrassed. 

"Move, you're in my way, Eric Draven," he jab, not even slightly breath.

You sneer.

"No, you're in my way, Johnny Bravo."

You screech when a sudden force knocks you into a hedge. Sharp twigs poke at you, you struggle to gain footing against the mud, and you flail your arms. Your hair is caught, so is the lace of your dress, like a moth trapped in a spiderweb.

The motherfucker shoved you.

He actually shoved you.

Gojo's staring, with his mouth gaping, at his hand and then at you and then back to his hand, like he didn't mean to push you, like his body just moved on its own. And you see him take a step, hands stretching out to reach for you.

The fucking dick is so childish you don’t feel any guilt when you grab him by his jacket and yank. He falls with laugh like he had been anticipating your revenge, a light and airy sort of chortle, so childlike and youthful it almost makes you smile. Almost, because then you're both going quiet when he lands on top of you. 

That wasn't very well thought out.

You’re both angled slightly back on the thick hedge, so out of breath, the tiny branches prick at you both, leaves no doubt catching on your dress. Gojo’s holding his body weight, trying to find his footing on the wet grass but struggling to press his hands on anywhere concrete. Your legs are tangled, hips pinned to each other, and your hands are clinging to his jacket so you don’t fall deeper. 

“Woah,” he breathes out, panting slightly, “you want me this badly?”

Your frown deepens until you’re sure your lips will stay stuck in that position. He really just can’t help himself. It’s like it’s in his DNA to say something stupidly arrogant just to avoid the silence. With a grunt, you try to push him off you, feet kicking. The fucker is heavy. And he doesn’t even look like he’s trying. 

Gojo smells clean and you hate it. He smells like fresh laundry and sea salt and fluffy clouds. With every movement you make against each other, you become more aware of his broad shoulders and narrow hips. It’s like he’s got a sleeper build. His chest is firm beneath your palms and  your face is buried in his neck, feeling his Adam’s apple bob. 

“Move, fat ass,” you say through gritted teeth. 

He makes a sound of indignation, “Fat ass? Me? How dare you! I don't calorie count for nothing.”

Always fucking joking, the little shit.

You shove at his chest. “Move, Gojo, I swear to God.”

"Yeah, yeah. I'm trying," he huffs and puffs, clambering away, and then he adds, like he just cannot fucking help himself, "Siouxsie Sioux."

With awkward shuffles and uncomfortable twists and turns, you both manage to free yourselves. There’s a blush on both of your faces, yours is certainly from anger, raging at the sudden turn of events and the sheer humiliation at falling, and ashamed that you had stooped to his level and raced him, like a toddler. 

What the fuck is wrong with you?

You were raised better. For goodness sake, your mother would keel over and die if she saw you sprinting in a park, almost pushing an old lady out of the way just to beat your fiancé. God, you hate calling him that.

And you hate to admit even more that you might have actually enjoyed it.

Catharsis, that’s all it was.

Just a physical and mental need to let out the pressure building up from months of the most restrictive schedule, with the frequent dinners with stuffy guests, the constant handshaking and ass kissing, the indignity of it all.

Sometimes you wished you could be Murakami's Ice Man, maybe then you could rise above these petty emotions and let nothing bother you. But you aren’t free of your past. You’re defined by it.

Gojo isn’t meeting your eyes. He’s settled on adjusting his clothes and sunglasses, plucking leaves from his jacket, mouth opening and closing like he wants to say something. But you don’t let him. You dash past and ignore his existence, like you should have done from the beginning, and head to your lecture. 

Your hands are clenching and unclenching, neck creaking as you try to relieve the tension wound so tightly in your body you’re afraid you might combust. Everything about this is wrong. 

An engagement with Gojo is one thing, but to like the feel of his body on you, is a whole other thing. It’s stupid and it’s dangerous. Just like your mother said, emotions have no place in a marriage. You only need respect, and sometimes not even that. And as much as you hate her Machiavellian attitudes to life, you understand. You need a husband who'll mind his own business. Gojo is not that kind of man.

The guy refused to be friends, despite the many opportunities and chances you had granted him, so you won't do yourself the disservice of seeking a friendship.

You will not let the ‘hottest guy on campus’ sway you. His charming grins and arrogant comebacks will not warm your chest, and his muscular frame will definitely not haunt your dreams. There’s too much riding on this arrangement, on you. You cannot be distracted.

Man might be condemned to be free, but that doesn't apply to women. Not women like you, anyways. Thanks for nothing, Sartre.

Those are the thoughts you come away with from the encounter. 

Gojo, on the other hand, is still standing where you left him, hand rubbing his chest whilst lost in thought. His head is tilted, sunglasses hanging low on his nose bridge again as he watches your retreating figure. 

It’s kinda hard to see your features through the pile of black clothing and accessories, but having been close enough to rub noses, he realised, you’re pretty. The kind of pretty that would inspire art, not that he knows much about that.

He licks his lips and he swears he can taste the sweetness of your scent lingering, and when he looks down on his chest, he also swears he felt the unmistakable sensation of small metal balls scraping at him through his thin jacket. 

A Cheshire grin pulls at the corners of his mouth. He stuffs his hands in his pockets once more and carries on walking at a leisurely pace, a slight pep in his steps gained from a victory over a game he didn’t even realise he was playing. He strolls to class with just one thought filling his mind. 

My future wifey’s got nipple piercings.

[lamb-teaa]

` last of his kind, or not

` C.1 - dragons, flowers and what?

—⁠ tags: AU for Sylus's myth. canon divergence. Sylus x fem!reader. human-dragon hybrids. comedy/crack me thinks.

—⁠ teaa’s note: short scenario. possible future fic. or not lol. cliffhanger am sorry (ᵕ—ᴗ—)

—⁠ edited: caved in and wrote C.2 ooft. happy reading!

—⁠ ` C.2 - first impression failed successfully

Sylus believed he was the last of his kind. Doomed to a life of solitude as an extinct race and condemned by the humans as an abomination.

Yet he persevered, survived and lived out of spite against those foolish humans - creating havoc everywhere he goes, stealing treasures for his trove of collections, and when he's feeling mischievous, he'd toy around with humans that dared to even dream to cross him.

Or stupid enough to try to kill him.

Sylus wouldn't even grant them an instant death, no no, that'd be too boring. He'd let them live for a short while, torture them as he deemed fit and watched in amusement as they begged for mercy. Truly, these humans are much more entraining alive than dead.

That is until he gets bored of them and stabs them straight in the throat with his sharp tail.

Just another normal day for the last dragon of Philos.

Only the rarest day when Sylus isn't being a menace is when he took himself to the skies to observe the lands below, especially towards a certain flower field that gave him even just the tiniest taste of tranquility.

His large wings flutter behind his back, his eyes gazing down at the field of red daturas coming into view. The sight of the flower field that brought solace to his empty heart.

Until he saw something that made him freeze mid-air.

He saw you.

You were crouching down slightly amidst the vast field, picking the flowers into your arms to make a lovely bouquet, your dress fluttering as you moved around, your light blue tail swaying calmly behind you, your moonlight horns shone slightly by the evening sunset - completely oblivious to the dumbfounded dragon watching you from above the sky.

Sylus thought he might have lost it. That the centuries of isolation and loneliness finally caught up to him that he hallucinated the existence of another dragon like himself.

A trick of the light. An illusion. It can't be rea-

But the moment you stood up with an armful of daturas, your eyes flickered up towards the sky, locking gaze with Sylus - he felt time stilled around him.

The confused tilt in your head, the wondering gaze in your eyes and the slightest of movement as you took a step back while still maintaining eye contact with him.

His eyes widened at the sight of you, his heart raced both in anticipation and trepidation, his fist clenched so hard that his claws stung his palm.

You looked alive.

You weren't an illusion.

You are real.

You -

His body reacted in an instant, his wings flapped strongly behind him and before Sylus knew it, he was flying fast towards the alarmed humanoid female dragon.

He didn't even think, subconsciously causing the speed of his flight to increase. In his mind, he'd already be thinking of landing calmly and gracefully in front of you.

Unfortunately for him, his lost control of his own speed caused him to crash unceremoniously into you, sending both of you tumbling across the flower field until he ended up hovering above you.

His breath hitched as stared down at you sprawled on the ground, jaw slightly agape as he took in your similar draconic scales like his, only yours shone in light blue unlike his dark red ones.

Sylus opened his mouth to speak but no words came out, too stunned at the prospect of finding another dragon like him in this lonesome world.

But he should say something, anything, just speak damnit-

Sylus snapped out of his reverie when he felt a strong smack of the flowers against his cheek, causing him to freeze up for the umpteenth time that day. His gaze flickered between your bewildered eyes to the flowers in your hand - he could only continue to stare at you in utter silence, flabbergasted.

You had just slapped him with the daturas.

[sotc]

as fun as it is to talk about the sillay crow family dynamics, i'm soo interested in what this means for the crow familia going forward in a darker lens.

im mostly speaking from the perspective of a rook de riva who romanced lucanis btw <3

illario brought the axe down on his own head after failing to take first talon. he's imprisoned except to play house whenever caterina wants to see him around for family dinners before tensions inevitably shove him back into the cage he's been left to like some house pet lmfao. it's actually kinda fucked up and as a certified sicko i love it. especially considering the casualness in which lucanis describes all of this. crows gotta be a little unhinged<3

But!!! while lucanis was right that illario's reputation is ruined forever as a traitor crow beaten to his knees before every house that doesn't exactly free house dellamorte either. Talon houses will want their pound of flesh of illario for nearly trying to put antiva under venatori control. and yet lucanis refused. house dellamorte showed mercy. they are breaking the rules, making exceptions. this is not how the crows operate and there should--WILL be retaliations for it. illario left this house bleeding in his attempt to claim first talon and their blood is in the water now with house dellamorte having a sole heir who blatantly exposed a weakness and seemingly has no lineage to take after him.

and nevermind that we know murmurs amongst the crows will linger about a first talon being an abomination. i know lucanis kind of handwaves it off as at the coffee date like 'there could be worst first talons' but baby boy, you have avoidance and denial issues this WILL become worse of a problem the longer it goes on. <3

more under the cut bc i didn't realize this was getting so long lol

but in comes fifth talon viago de riva. a bastard to the king of antiva who wants to strengthen the crown. a man who has been ruthlessly exacting and meticulous to get where he is now. and the scariest part is that he has ambition, always has, and knows he has more power than the king himself to make plays if he needs to. this makes for a dangerous (and sexy) combination. in comes his protege rook. casting silly family dynamics aside, viago knows this union between house dellamorte and de riva is extremely beneficial for both houses but also very dangerous. even he knows his ties to teia show a weakness in him that other crows may seek to exploit. and while i do think he may be sincere about wanting rook to find their happiness with lucanis as he has with teia - i truly think he will not shy from showing the importance of a 'political alliance/union' especially with first talon house dellamorte struggling from the blow after all is said and done.

and of course, by extension to de riva, house cantori and the beautiful lovely miss teia, will be extending her support to strengthen their houses but also herself from any opposition. as much as i love that she's kind of the heart that brings this fucked up lil familia together, i know she is just as cunning and clever to recognize what this alliance does for her too.

and caterina.. well, without going into a whole thought piece on her, she has built her (and her grandson's reputation) entirely to instill fear in others, even command enough respect to know she's the one running things while lucanis is just a stand-in as first talon. but what happens when caterina is gone? another dellamorte dead just like all the others. all lucanis has left is himself and his traitor brother. how does he handle illario? how does he fair being a leader to the crows when he didn't want any of this in the first place and no longer has caterina to guide him? how does he wish to pursue carrying the dellamorte legacy (if at all)? does he seek a protege of his own to take on after him? i can't remember who says it (viago or lucanis) but there's a line about how saving thedas will make their houses immortal (hot and very sexy) but also how far can that reputation protect house dellamorte, really?

i don't really have a point to all of this, this is all just stuff im simply chewing on and letting out into the ether because the ripple effect of repercussions with what illario did and what lucanis now has to deal with fascinates me SO MUCH.

[ask-the-rag-dolly]

after listening to an among us song i was given the drive to reboot this au so ,

originated from a doodle that spiraled , SPREAD THE INFLUENCE is an au where ragatha is the ( unwilling ) host of a parasite called ' the influence ' which is a virus that only wants to spread and survive . she wasn't compliant about it at the beginning which was ' fixed ' with an itty bitty bit of psychological torment !

also yes i know the abbreviation is unfortunate and i do not care it's funny

even though ragatha's still our usual sweet little optimist , there is this persistent feeling of wrongness . too positive . too affectionate . it's like all of her humanity has been scooped out and you're left with the mask she made for others in the circus .

which is how the virus spread in the circus - they preyed on vulnerabilities which was what their host is perfect for . striking when the victim puts their guards down , making them submit under the guise that their problems will be fixed ... unfortunately it's a monkey's paw situation .

of course , that's only for this particular instance of the influencer ! something to note is that the virus takes a lot from the host's personality , so t.i's mellow and passive , only resorting to violence whenever necessary . t.i's not really an opposite ragatha she's more like a Dark , Fucked Up Version of ragatha the amazing digital circus . she cares a lot for everyone she considers a part of her hive , but it took a lot of manipulation and gaslighting for them to get infected .

caine is left uninfected because " i would do that if my goal is to destroy this place ! " t.i's ultimate fear has always been dying . it'll do everything to not die , to the point it's trying to spread out of the circus ( <- honestly take this info with a grain of salt i wrote this before i fully developed the story ) . unfortunately there's this jester who's resisting the virus with pure lesbian rage and is trying to stop her .

now rags would eventually get de-influenced and the circus will no longer be infected , but we will talk about the extremely rocky journey of recovering from knowing you harmed everyone you cared about Later

was this ' the influence ' that amanda ( ragatha's va ) keeps referencing ? sighs ... yeah . ( feels so surreal that i can say i have their seal of approval for this )

why ragatha ? in story , how is she not the perfect host ? metatextually , this is an au of an au - this came from a blog about ragatha getting a virus that is inconveniencing her life . i simply thought of an idea of ' hey what if the virus took over her body ' one day . then this abomination was born . i would reveal the why and how she got infected ... eventually .........

is she still afraid of centipedes ? is it a ragatha if she doesn't have a fear of centipedes

does pomni still use a taser ? yeah

could i use / be inspired by the influence for my au ? i did not invent the concept of Computer Viruses so feel free to be inspired by it , no credit needed . for t.i as a character specifically , please credit me !

are there ships ? just pomni x ragatha

is suggestive content of t.i ok ? just don't send them to me , tag it as #tw suggestive or #suggestive so i could filter it out

is nsfw content of t.i ok ? my tiny artist hands are powerless against the unstoppable force that is the internet so my answer will not matter . that being said , i recommend that they're not put in the main au tag so people won't unexpectedly come across it . and no i do not want to see it please do not send them to me

could i draw fanart / write fanfic of this au ? 100% yes you could either mention me or tag it under #tadc influence au

does this au have an ask blog ? nah just a normal blog lol

READ THE COMIC ... I GUESS ... !!

the main story

oh boy a prologue

[redvexillum]

@peach-flavored-flambe I started this whole Flufftober/Kinktober journey as a way to challenge myself. Thank you for picking all the prompts for me this month. Thank you for always reminding me to write for ME and not for others. Thank you for being supportive of all of my writing since the day I entered this fandom. I know you are a fluff connoisseur so it's only right that I end this challenge with fluff - it is part Flufftober after all (and I wrote 24 smutty stories this month lol!)

TAGS: disgustingly fluffy, catastor, alastor is bad with feelings, alastor is in denial, touch starved alastor, ambiguously defined established relationship, alastor has a tail

✨️ This is a companion piece to Oblivious Love. A snapshot of a possible mini-series I may or may not write ✨️

In another world, in another time, Alastor would have scoffed at the very notion of competing for anyone’s attention—least of all yours. And yet here he was, locked in a contest of affections with the most revolting, misshapen, red… thing. His lip curled in distaste. 

Competing? 

What a joke. 

He, Alastor, the Radio Demon, competing with… this? This mangy, misbegotten creature that you somehow, with all your boundless compassion, deemed to be a cat. His left eye twitched as he watched you coo at it, tenderly brushing your hand over its head. Every stroke made its misshapen ears flicker back before they sprung up again like hideous, overgrown weeds. 

The beast grinned up at you—a lopsided, almost maniacal grin—and Alastor cringed at its wide, vacant eyes. Eyes that pointed in opposite directions, adding an extra layer of stupidity to its already horrific form. And to top it all off, it wore some ridiculous monocle over one eye, like some half-wit caricature. Alastor's gaze narrowed on the creature’s absurd antler-like protrusion. 

How… befittingly obnoxious.

And then there was the name. 

Catastor. 

Of all the wretched things to call this freakish beast, you—and the rest of the hotel—had somehow arrived at Catastor, no doubt inspired by some misguided notion that this abomination had any resemblance to him. He huffed. The very idea. 

Just as he was about to enjoy a nice, quiet coffee break with you—his sacred time with his favourite person in all of Hell, uninterrupted and undivided—Catastor once again waltzed in, unannounced and unbothered. One garish screech later, and Alastor watched in slow motion as your attention shifted from him to… it. Your cooing started, that soft, adoring voice, while you scratched its revolting back, its purring filling the air with an infuriating satisfaction. 

Alastor’s grin tightened, his claws tapping rhythmically against his coffee cup, every nerve on edge. He imagined roasting the little beast, maybe flambéing it for good measure. Or perhaps he’d skip the cooking and just… devour it raw. 

It wouldn’t respawn. Unlike the sinners here, this little beast wouldn’t come back... 

...Actually, he wasn't entirely sure. It probably wouldn't come back. 

“Are you enjoying that, Catastor?” you murmured sweetly, eyes soft and radiant as you stroked it gently, letting your fingers glide down its back. Catastor’s eyes slowly drooped with bliss, purring loudly, completely absorbed in the luxury of your touch. 

Alastor’s claws tapped harder. Perhaps he would spare the creature for a little longer, let it feel a few more sunrises. But only for now, until he deemed the time right. 

He wasn’t jealous, of course. He’d never lower himself to something so trivial. No, he already had your attention. Compete? He smirked inwardly. He would never. 

“Dear?” Alastor called, his pride swelling as you looked up, your lovely smile still intact, eyes gleaming with interest as they settled on him. His heart raced—it always did when you looked at him like that, so openly, so innocently, as if he were your whole world. Clearing his throat, he kept his tone cheerful, even as he threw a disdainful glance at Catastor. 

“Your drink is getting cold, my dear. All this fuss over that… thing,” he muttered, lingering on the word with disdain as he quirked a brow toward the vile intruder. 

“Oh! That’s true!” you exclaimed cheerfully, scooping up Catastor with all the ease of picking up a damp noodle. The creature seemed to melt in your arms, his gelatinous little body sagging like all his bones had been dissolved into mush. His spine curved absurdly, draped over your arm like a ragged old towel, all while his purring grew even louder. You giggled brightly, an infectious sound that made Alastor’s ears twitch, and his eye give the faintest, most involuntary spasm. 

How smug, how terribly smug that little beast looked, he thought, like he’d won something. Alastor was positively certain that he could draw even more radiant laughter from you if he just had you to himself. 

But this… not-competing for your attention carried on. 

The next day, he found himself strolling around town by your side, his back ramrod straight, shoulders squared, as he recounted the latest juicy bits of gossip from Cannibal Town. Your expression was relaxed, attentive, and that quiet comfort in your eyes swelled a surprising sort of pride in his chest. 

“Oh, and don’t get me started on ol’ Frank here,” Alastor chortled, gesturing with his staff at a dilapidated little shop across the street. “Croaked in the last Extermination, poor fool! And now some hapless soul bought the building!” He pointed with glee just in time to see a young woman struggle with the door before it promptly collapsed on her head. He stifled a delighted laugh. “No one’s managed to run a shop there for nearly five hundred years! Imagine such a waste of souls….” 

“Aww, poor thing,” you murmured sympathetically, your amused smile softening. “Maybe you could help her out? Make her a deal?” you teased, a playful smirk lighting up your features, though your usual kindness still sparkled in your eyes. 

“Perhaps,” Alastor mused, softening his tone as the two of you strolled on. He did enjoy these quiet moments with you, wandering through the chaos of town. Ordinarily, he might have offered any other lady his arm with a bit of playful charm, but as his eyes drifted to your hand swinging casually by your side, he couldn’t help a ridiculous little thought from slipping into his mind. 

What would it be like to take your hand? To clasp his fingers over yours? He imagined the warmth, the softness of your skin and your hand would fit perfectly in his, as if made for him alone. 

The hum of Cannibal Town’s busy streets faded to a quiet buzz as Alastor fell into the silence. His gaze lingered on your hand for a moment longer, and then, in a rare, almost boyish impulse, he stretched out one gloved finger, brushing ever so lightly against the top of your hand. 

Immediately, his gaze darted to your face, but your expression remained calm, as placid as ever, lost in thought. The smallest curl of his grin softened as he looked ahead again, spine straighter than ever. 

A shuddering breath slipped past Alastor's lips. He had held other people’s hands countless times over the years—flirtations, deals, the occasional well-mannered escort—but this was… different. Strangely intimate. Vulnerable, even, which was absolutely absurd. He was over a century old, for heaven’s sake, not some fumbling schoolboy. It was just a hand, after all; he could chalk it up to nothing more than a gentlemanly gesture. 

So, after one fortifying breath, he steadied his gaze forward and reached out, his fingers inching toward yours. 

But… instead of your warm, delicate hand, his fingers closed around something smaller. And… hairier? 

Alastor’s eyes snapped down, and his lips clamped shut to suppress the hiss of static crackling in his throat. He gritted his teeth, trying to keep the shriek that wanted to escape from manifesting into the demonic roar his pride demanded. Because in his hand, instead of yours, was a limp, furry, noodle-like appendage. 

Catastor, somehow, had wriggled its way between the two of you and was now proudly extending its furry little paw into his hand. 

“Eugh!” Alastor recoiled, releasing the beast’s fuzzy limb with an audible cringe. 

You burst into peals of laughter, the sound bright and melodic as you greeted the cat with your usual warmth.

 “Catastor!” you cooed, scratching the creature’s head while it emitted a grating, delightfully hideous meow in response. Grinning up at Alastor, you said with a chuckle, “Look at us—a little family, walking around town like this!” 

Alastor’s grin tightened. “It looks nothing like me,” he muttered, only for the monocled beast to cast him a haughty, one-eyed glare. Under the hellish glow of the streetlights, its monocle gleamed almost smugly. 

“Oh, of course,” you replied simply, your laughter still dancing on your lips. 

His eye twitched as he entertained himself with the idea of cooking the cat into a jambalaya, rich and smoky. But no—that would be a small defeat, a concession that he was somehow competing with the fiendish little furball, which he wasn’t. 

Not at all. 

Yet, the relentless interference continued. Day after day, Alastor’s patience thinned. The little vermin seemed to have made it its life’s mission to sabotage every moment he tried to spend alone with you. He’d reach out naturally, aiming to rest a hand on your shoulder, only to feel the warm, slightly damp fur of the cat draped over your shoulder instead, as if it had some preternatural ability to stretch itself into his every gesture. 

Every time, he could imagine nothing less than punting the thing across the Petagram and sending it into the deepest layer of Hell. Yet, that urge would disappear the moment he heard your bright, amused laughter and saw your radiant smile. It was like you were some smile devil—any glimpse of your joy, and he lost all resolve to do anything that might bring you sadness. 

One afternoon, in the quiet shade of the bayou, Alastor stood by, his legs pulled primly together as he watched you lying in the grass. Your eyes were closed, a soft, contented hum escaping your lips as you lay there, bathed in the dappled light. The whole scene should have been picturesque: you, serene, the epitome of innocence and tranquility. 

But there was that hideous thing, sprawled over your chest like a satisfied pancake, purring loudly as if it had any right to bask in your affection. 

Alastor’s grin was wide, but his eyes were sharp, glaring daggers at the offending beast now lazing on top of you as if it belonged there. You, oblivious, kept humming, your hand stroking the cat’s fur in gentle, absent-minded sweeps. A perfectly peaceful scene, if not for the blob of red fluff ruining the picture by its very presence. 

One day, he mused darkly, one day that creature’s reign will end. But for now, he contented himself with standing by, watching the two of you in bemused, begrudging silence. 

The longer Alastor stared at that mangy little beast basking in your gentle touch, the more a unfamiliar itch settled in the back of his mind. He couldn’t help but wonder, just in passing—strictly passing, of course—what it might feel like if your fingers drifted through his hair instead, tender and deliberate. 

Not that he’d ever ask, of course.

It was merely… curiosity. 

Still, the cat’s purring only seemed to grow louder, practically vibrating with pleasure. Alastor's ears flattened, lying flush against his head as his grin grew tighter, his shoulders hunching slightly as his neck tried to disappear into his collar. He wasn’t jealous, nor was he competing with a wretched creature for your attention. 

He most certainly was not. 

His fingers drummed against his knee, the gentle tap-tap-tap a cover for how long it had been since he’d had time alone with you, just the two of you, enjoying each other’s company without any interruptions. To touch your shoulder, perhaps even feel your hand… in a gesture of camaraderie, of course. 

Yes, that cat really did need to go. 

“What’s wrong?” Your soft voice broke through his reverie, and he blinked, letting the darker thoughts slip away like shadows at dawn. 

Forcing a laugh, he pitched it into that usual two-tone cadence, rolling his eyes with practised ease. “Nothing’s the matter, dear, just basking in the peace and quiet,” he flicked his wrist with a dismissive flair, avoiding your gaze. 

You hummed thoughtfully, then suddenly mused aloud, “I wonder… is your hair soft?” 

Alastor’s eyes widened, his head snapping back to you with an almost painful creak. His heart thundered, warmth radiating through his chest in a dizzying surge. “That’s a rather odd question, isn’t it?” he replied, wincing as he heard the slight waver in his voice. His tail thumped softly against the marshy grass in protest. 

“Well, your son—” 

“He’s not my son,” Alastor interrupted quickly, unable to hide the slight flush in his cheeks. 

You grinned, a playful glint in your eyes, and Alastor found himself scooting just the tiniest bit closer. 

“Oh?” He let a wicked grin slip across his face. “So, you want to touch my hair, do you? It’ll cost you a steep price, my dear.” His eyes glowed with mock menace, and a low buzz of static crackled from his staff. “Perhaps… your soul,” he laughed darkly, the edge of humour softening his tone. 

You blinked at him before bursting into bright laughter. “What if I offer a massage instead?” You wiggled your fingers playfully. “Catastor seems to love it when I give him a little scratch behind the ears.” 

“Ugh.” Alastor rolled his eyes, crossing his arms with an exaggerated sigh. “That cat’s so starved for affection, you could probably kick it, and it’d still be purring like mad.” His grumble was almost swallowed up by his own embarrassment. 

There was a moment of silence as you watched him, a thoughtful look flickering in your eyes. Alastor stiffened under your gaze, nerves prickling as though you could see right through him. Then, with a bright smile, you reached out, your fingers splayed and wiggling in invitation. “You can be the judge then,” you offered with a grin, your hands open and waiting. 

Alastor’s gaze locked on your outstretched fingers, and as if guided by some irresistible, magnetic force, he found himself drifting closer, leaning in with a reverence that felt both foreign and sacred. He knelt just above your head, his eyes meeting yours in a soft, consuming stare, so near he could see the flecks of colour that danced within your gaze under the dim light. Slowly, carefully, he bowed, his face hovering just inches from yours, every breath mingling in the silence. 

His hair brushed against your cheek, and the contact brought a light laugh from you, your voice a murmur that warmed his every nerve. “That tickles.” 

He was entranced, utterly held captive by your closeness, by the way your lashes fluttered and your cheeks flushed. He’d never seen you this close before, and each tiny detail felt etched into his memory. “Well, go on,” he said softly, his tone dipped in a vulnerability he rarely allowed. “Show me if your massage is as grand as you claim.” 

A rush of warmth and satisfaction welled within him when he saw your own eyes flicker away shyly, your teeth worrying at your lip. You looked so endearingly flustered, as if realizing you and he were somehow alone in a bubble of time—just the two of you, no one else to intrude, no foolish cat.

Your fingers threaded delicately into his hair, and he surrendered, eyes slipping closed as he basked in the soft drag of your nails against his scalp. A shiver chased down his spine, and he released a soft, involuntary sigh, savouring every touch. He couldn’t remember the last time someone touched him like this—no, no one had ever touched him like this. 

Your fingers travelled over his hair, deft and soothing, with your thumb tracing small circles at the base of his ear. He shuddered, his tail swaying in a steady, rhythmic beat beside him, betraying just how deeply he was affected. 

“Good?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper. 

“Mmh.” His lips curled into a barely there smile, eyes still closed as he revelled in the feeling. “Passable,” he said, his tone rich with teasing. 

Your soft laughter flitted across his forehead, tickling his bangs and sending a delightful hum through his chest. He felt your breath, warm against his skin, each laugh another note of the melody he’d come to cherish. The gentle sweep of your thumb against his cartilage sparked waves of pleasure down his spine, and at some point, he’d eased himself down beside you, both of you lying on the cool grass, faces close as if drawn by an unspoken force. 

“You okay?” you murmured, your smile impossibly tender, amusement twinkling in your eyes. 

He met your gaze and found himself drinking in every detail. He liked your eyes, liked the way they softened as you looked at him. 

He liked your smile. 

But above all, he adored your laughter—the sound that seemed to strip away his defences and leave him feeling both exhilarated and exposed. 

A strange, quiet want flickered in his chest, something deep and hidden, something he hadn’t dared entertain. He wondered, just for a reckless, precious moment, what it would be like to move closer. Close enough that his breath mingled with yours, close enough that he could feel the warmth of your skin, maybe even let his lips graze yours. 

Just close enough… to be with you. 

Would such closeness chase away that cherished smile, rob him of the laughter that had grown to mean so much? 

As his thoughts drifted, your fingers slipped down his hair, tracing the line of his cheek. He could feel your fingertips gliding over his skin, tender and curious. Then came that small, enchanting giggle, a sound so sweet it echoed within him, lingering as if it were a treasure he’d never forget. 

Alastor could feel his heart beating a little too quickly as he leaned closer, drawn by the soft warmth of your touch. His face was just a breath away from yours, his lips so near your forehead, he could already imagine the gentle brush of a kiss. A kiss there would be innocent enough, right? Perhaps pressing his lips to yours would be too bold... but a tender gesture to your forehead surely wouldn’t be unwelcome. 

After all, this was for friendship—of course.

Just then, you sat up, leaving Alastor frozen, a pang of disappointment dropping like cold lead in his chest. But the ache melted away, replaced by a flash of heat, as you leaned forward, hair falling around him in a private curtain that made his breath hitch. Your smile softened, your eyes warm and unwavering, and then they closed, lashes sweeping delicately against your cheeks. Slowly, achingly slowly, you moved closer, and Alastor felt his pulse roar, filling his ears with a rush of anticipation. 

He could feel the warmth of your breath mingling with his, your fingers grazing his cheek as if the touch itself could tether him in place. A thrill he hadn’t realized he was longing for stirred within him. He closed his eyes, waiting, a tension brimming in his chest. His fingers trembled as he raised his hand, longing to close the last bit of distance, to touch you, to be as close to you as he’d been daring to dream. 

But then—“KAOUGH, KAOUGH, KAAAOUGHGHGHH!” 

A horrid, hacking noise broke through the moment like a thunderclap, snapping his focus away and shattering the spell between you. Instantly, Alastor’s warmth turned to ice as you jerked back, your attention stolen by none other than that wretched, blasted cat. 

“Catastor!” you exclaimed, startled, pulling away as the cat began to retch with ferocity. Alastor turned his gaze, annoyance brewing in his eyes, and found himself staring at the feline menace who was now coughing up dark, soot-like balls. These abominable little things, complete with tiny pointed ears and two unsettling, beady eyes, tumbled out of Catastor one after another, writhing and blinking as if they’d just spawned from a nightmare. 

“What the—” Alastor’s voice dropped, a disgusted snarl creeping into his expression as he watched the horrid little creatures emerge. Each ball of shadow looked like a poorly crafted miniature imp, malformed and twitching, with pointed ears and flickering eyes that seemed to leer at him. 

You, however, looked anything but disturbed. Stroking Catastor’s back in gentle, soothing motions, you cooed, “Aww, Catastor, did you eat too much again?” Your voice was filled with a doting affection, and Alastor watched in utter disbelief as the monstrous cat leaned fully against you, sprawling across your torso and letting its chin settle on your shoulder. 

“Yeeeeooowww,” Catastor moaned, an ugly, grating yowl that grated on Alastor’s every nerve. 

He gritted his teeth, feeling the rage simmering beneath his strained grin. The cat’s smug, hideous expression seemed to taunt him as it claimed your attention and care. Alastor could practically hear the mockery in its yowl. In his mind, he imagined various methods of removing this furred menace from your life—and more importantly, from his. 

But as he looked back at you, watching the way your eyes softened with laughter and your voice became gentle for this thing, the thought of that precious smile disappearing stayed his hand. Instead, he forced a tight grin, one that masked the bitterness eating at him from the inside, knowing he would endure—even if he had to suffer through a hundred more of those retched “yeeeooowwws.” 

"Aw, there, there," you murmured, gently patting the cat’s back with slow, soothing strokes. You looked at it as if it were some fragile, innocent creature, while the vile shadowy minions it coughed up scattered in all directions like troublesome spirits unleashed from a curse. 

Alastor could feel his patience fraying. With a quiet, heavy sigh, he sent out his own shadows, ruthlessly ordering them to snatch and crush every last one of the creatures scuttling about his beloved bayou. They obeyed, darting after the minions with deadly precision, each shadow winking out in a puff as they met their end. He folded his hands with a dark, calculated grace, but his gaze—his burning, dagger-sharp gaze—never left that insufferable cat. 

Oh, he saw it, all right. 

Saw the smug curl of its eyes, narrowing like crescent moons, and that infernal tongue hanging out, like it had the audacity to taunt him. Him. Alastor, the feared overlord, the Radio Demon. He felt something ancient and fierce coil in his chest, as if the essence of his full demon form threatened to break through, to remind this creature who reigned supreme. 

But just as his head tilted, shadows thickening around him with a promise of retribution, you turned toward him, drawing his full attention like a magnet. Your eyes softened, and a faint blush crept over your cheeks, spilling a fragile warmth he hadn’t anticipated. “Sorry about that, Alastor,” you said, your voice laced with sincerity, and as your gaze flicked downward, his anger dissolved just slightly, easing in the tender lull of your voice. 

Your next words undid him further. “Maybe tonight, we could read together?” You glanced up, offering a small, gentle smile that seemed to light the space between you both. “Just the two of us?” 

With those words, that insatiable, molten rage that had been brewing in his chest dissipated instantly, snuffed out as though you’d whispered the calmest of spells. 

He was sure of it then—you had to be a Smile Demon. How else could you possibly hold such power over him, capable of soothing his very soul with a single look? 

He gazed at you, awe mingling with amusement. Yes, you must be a demon of terrifying strength indeed—one who held him, the Radio Demon, in the palm of your hand with nothing more than a smile. 

Follow #vexitober 2024 to read my questionable kink/fluff stories!

[slightly-knot-insane]

Bloody Blessed

Monstertober 2024 - day 23 + 27 [ Curse + Bloodthirst ] by @ozzgin

[ werewolves x fem!reader ]

content: blood, knotting, orgy, licking, oral, anal, piv, and a random curse by a curse generator lol

tw: cannibalism

You never expected to wake up surrounded by a pack of surprised werewolves. You had no idea how you got in that situation. You expect them to maul and devour you but instead they just stare at you, cautiously whispering among themselves. You realize your mouth is full of some metallic tasting liquid and that you are soaked in blood. Did they already hurt you? But you are not in pain. You are completely unharmed. Actually, you feel excellent. That is not your blood.

"We heard terrible screaming and came to investigate", one of the worried werewolves explains. "And we saw you... and that bloke over there."

You turn around only to witness remains of a barely recognizable human. You burp and a shocking realization dawns on you - you ate a human. You're a murderer. Even worse - a cannibal!

You start crying and the werewolves immediately approach you. They sniff your body and lick the tears off your face. "Little human! What is wrong? Are you hurt?"

"That damn artifact!" you shout. "Why did I take it? Why did I sell it? I felt something was wrong with it." A very pissed off god must have cursed you. And now you're an abomination, hungry for human flesh.

While you explain how shocked and disgusted you are, werewolves comfort you in the best way they can. "Why? You are so strong. So fierce. We will help you hunt bad humans and we will eat them together with you." They know you can't return to the human society so they offer to adopt you and teach you how to become one of them.

You are reluctant and scared, and they sense that. "Try," they say. "We will take care of you. We are sure you will love being one of us." You quickly notice the difference between the three of them. One of them talks and compliments you the most. He strokes your hair and face, pushing his fingers inside your mouth, investigating your teeth and tongue. The second one licks your arms and shoulders, and delicately bites your breasts and hips. You are soon covered in noticeable bite marks and hickeys. The third one lightly scratches you all over, sniffing your palms and inner thighs. He is the quietest, but his eyes burn the most.

They slowly remove your bloodied and tattered clothes and lick all the nasty blood stuck on your skin. You breathe heavily, overwhelmed with new sensations. Whimpers and mewls escape your lips and werewolves grin and chuckle, enjoying your exasperation. You are soon completely wet from their drool and you arousal being smeared by their claws and snouts. All three phalluses are out of sheaths, moist from need.

One of them pulls you on him, squeezing your hips. You rub against his cock, painfully horny, and he leads you onto his length. You are only allowed a little taste of his full size before he spreads your ass cheeks to let his other pack member claim you from behind. You yelp, surprised, but are quickly shut by a thick penis shoved down your throat. Choking but enjoying it at the same time, you're roughly fucked in all three holes. Your new pack mates switch, abusing your body in many ways, growling and panting, and howling every time you orgasm, enjoying it as much as you do.

They all want to knot you at the same time, but the one who gets to claim and breed your pink pussy has to be special so they decide to fuck you individually this time, and the one who gets you to orgasm the fastest gets to knot your cunt. You aren't sure who won because you were completely brain fogged from all the pleasure you were drowning in. Begging and moaning to let you rest, all three of them enter you at the same time, and knot you, spurting their cum into you mouth, ass and pussy. They remain inside you for some time, praising you and lovingly stroking your swollen sweaty stomach.

* * *

Werewolves take good care of you and every time bloodthirst curse overcame you, they captured and brought a human. Then, all four of you feasted on him. For a while, you felt awful every time you did that, grateful you had amnesia during that day. But soon, after many months of being pampered and bred by your werewolf boyfriends, you accepted this bloody cycle and your beautiful poly pack. Besides, you had to admit, sex after feasting was the most intense and feral experience you ever had. In a very twisted and morbid way, you felt blessed for being cursed.

[mrs-gauche]

So I have seen several people now playing with the idea that Rook might've actually died at the ritual site and that whatever happened there with their blood and their connection to the Fade/Solas/the Dread Wolf pride demon was something similar to what we know of demon/spirit possession that can bring people back to life...... which would be absolutely insane to me, given what that could imply for the story and also how Solas feels about free will and abominations and... you know, all of that. 😂

BUT (and this is probably the most tinfoily I'm gonna get at this point lol)....

Between THIS and *checks notes*...

The short story "The Wake" implying that Lucanis died some time after The Wigmaker Job, him being called "The Demon" and all the pride demon imagery in his design/tarot card, having people suspect that he was brought back to life by a pride demon.

The devs saying "Manfred the skeleton is not romanceable, but we're not saying NO skeleton romance".

Harding suddenly having magical abilities.

There being something eerie about a lot of the companion tarot cards, mostly because of the glowy eyes that we often associate with possession.

....so I'm just gonna put the tinfoil hat back on and conclude that all this clearly has to mean that.. uh...

Everyone is dead...?

And they're all abominations now, which means that somehow all of them have a connection to some powerful spirit/demon that brought them back to life to join Rook on this final mission to save the world. 😂

Or something like that, Idk, the heat is clearly getting to me. lmaoo 💀

[etz-ashashiyot]

hello! Are the Neturei Karta a reliable source when it comes to the overall opinion of Jewish people? Obviously Jewish people are not a monolith so I suppose there might not even be an “overall opinion” but yeah. I’m seeing them used as a source quite often nowadays when it comes to Israel and Gaza and Zionism.

Short answer: no.

Explanation:

The Neturei Karta are a fringe cult that make a big spectacle of themselves because they believe that the Jews should not have self-governance in eretz Yisrael until the Moshiach arrives. However, they believe that the Moshiach will estalish a theocratic Davidic kingdom in the land, build a Third Temple, and that Jews will control the whole territory.

In the meantime, they think that the modern state of Israel existing is a theological abomination and are willing to align themselves with terrorists about it because they think its existence will bring down divine punishment on all of us.

They are not doing real peace work, they are trying to destroy Israel for fundamentalist (not humanitarian, no matter what they tell you) reasons, but their end goal is a Jewish theocratic kingdom.

They have a lot of other wild, fringe beliefs as well; as a friend put it: "they aren't a reliable source of halacha, you don't even need to get into geopolitics" lol

All that said, "overall opinion" is probably a strong word here, but solidly 80-95% of Jews in the world support Israel's continued existence and/or support Jewish self-determination in eretz Yisrael. So, the NK very much do not represent anything but their own niche fundamentalist perspective.

[illubean]

can i request headcanons of any hxh characters your choice (preferably including illumi, chrollo, and/or feitan) with a crush on/unestablished relationship with a gender neutral reader who refuses to fully align themselves with anyone but has an incredibly OP ability that requires their blood or body (can shoot blood in like spikes, detach their limbs to chase down and drag back runners, use their blood and/or tears to heal wounds, can just regrow lost limbs including their head, ect.) that would make being on their bad side more trouble then it's worth

so every fight they kind of /have/ to get injured to use it. Plus their ability weirdly doesn't seem to use nen (chrollo can't copy it and gyo doesn't show anything, ect.)

and when they're finally asked about it they're casually like "oh yeah, I'm not human. I was actually created to be an unstoppable force that infects and destroys humanity, but that's honestly too much work. Plus you give me snacks so I'd rather just hit whoever you tell me to." and their reactions to the fact this insanely overpowered goober they've fallen for is a stray shapeshifting little abomination who could have murdered the entire human race and that they're lowkey lucky reader likes getting bribed them so much

(Sorry if that's too long btw, I thought you'd like the idea but I couldn't think of a better way to condense it 😅)

HXH With an Unaligned!OP!Reader

Characters: Illumi Zoldyck, Chrollo Lucilfer, Feitan Portor Type: Headcanons, Gn!reader

i do not like how this came out but posting anyways lol...

Warnings: mentions of blood, experimentation and violence, reader isn't human if that counts as a warning

Illumi Zoldyck

the way you met Illumi was... not ideal to say the least

he was on a job to kill some scientist guy but little did he know scientist guy had quite literally created a monster

the day he was going to do his mission happened to be the day your power was finally realized

annnndddd Illumi walked in on you killing scientist guy and literally everyone else who worked for him

you had managed to pop your arms off and launch them like missiles, turn your blood into weapons and spikes around the room and also not die????? and grow your limbs back???????????

the weird part was Illumi couldn't sense any of your aura at all

he just assumed you were a super advanced nen user and were able to still keep up hatsu really well while fighting

which led him to the conclusion that he should either A. run away or B. try and get you on his side

when you noticed him just standing there you turned to stare at him like come at me bitch

"So? Are you here to poke me with more needles like the others? It won't end very well." "Actually I was here for the guy in the lab coat, but it seems like you did the job for me."

realizing he wasn't a threat (or trying to be because you know...you cant die) you let down your guard down

you ended up just following him around after that, not really having anywhere else to go so Illumi decided on plan B

turns out it took a lot less manipulating than he thought

he brought you to the estate and you agreed to help him with whatever for a popeyes chicken sandwich

watching how you wandered around the estate aimlessly and lounged about Illumi quickly realized you only use your abilities when threatened or bribed

so you become his personal little treat fueled killing machine

he takes you on missions with him because he doesn't trust you alone at the estate...

eventually he asks you about how your hatsu is so good and you're like wtf is that

and he's like What.

you tell him you we're pretty much created in that lab and they did all these tests and stuff and you didn't even really know how or why you had the power you did but you found out you did the day you met

and you were all like "they were so annoying and they told me to do stuff for free, I'd never kill you though you feed me :3"

he is so glad you are clueless and he got to you before anyone else because you could take over the entire world if you really wanted to

he is going to marry you ASAP

but again, you being clueless did not understand what marriage entails

and you agreed for the same reasons you agreed to literally anything else this man has asked of you

you are Illumi's most prized possession and no matter how freaky you are, he really does cherish you as normal people would their spouse

Chrollo Lucilfer

running into you on a heist was definitely unexpected

especially since you looked like you just got out of captivity

mistaking him for an enemy you shot your fist off at him and barely missed

and he was like woah im not an opp dw

then your hand grows back and hes like !?

he asked why you were there you explain that you were some sort of war weapon yada yada yada the guys got annoying you killed them and yeah

and Chrollo offers you to come back w him and the troupe and you're like sure if you feed me

so after the heist is over Chrollo takes you back to Phantom Troupe hq and then talks with the gang blah blah blah dismisses everyone and then takes you to wherever the hell and buys you whatever you want to eat

and while you're stuffing your face bro is like

"Your powers are pretty impressive. Mind telling me how they work?"

and not caring you tell him, mainly focused on your meal

and he's like huh what a useful ability time to steal it

one thing leads to another and he somehow gets you to touch his weird book and when he flips to where your nen should be the page is blank and he is insanely confused

and hes like "Why didn't my nen ability work on you?"

and you're like wtf is nen

and hes like oh my god I don't think this thing is human

so he asks

and you're like "I literally told you I'm a war weapon. A weapon created for war, but that's too much work."

now he is confused but also intrigued

he offers for you to join the troupe and you're like

"But being in a gang is so much wooorrrkkkkkuuuuhhhh"

you can literally destroy man kind but you don't because you're LAZY!?

you're not officially part of the troupe but you're practically an honorary member because you follow Chrollo around after your first encounter

and he decides it 's better than nothing

Feitan Portor

I can't think of a clever way for you guys to meet LMAO

umm uhhh idk maybe you were created to take out the chimera ants and happened to get deployed in meteor city the same time the troupe was hunting down the 'queen'

so when the troupe got there you were already fighting some ants

you look human enough but your abilities make Feitan think you might not be

soooo he tries attacking you before he ended up getting to the lizzard ant crocodile lady thing i don't remember what she was

and he couldn't beat you and you're like wtf do you want from me I'm trying to do my job

and hes like ??? you're not an ant?

and youre like no

and hes like oh and leaves you alone

then he throws the entire sun at the ant lady and leaves the building

he kinda forgot about you until he felts something lift the back of his cloak

and he's like !!?!?!??!

and he looks behind him to see you crawled under his coat and took the snacks he hides under there for himself

and he's like what the fuck

how did you even know he had those???? (you could smell it because you have super enhanced everything)

ok i just remembered his cloak got destroyed in this scene but pretend it didn't

anyways he snatches the bottom of it away from you and tries taking the snacks back out of your hands but you are quick to dodge

he's irritated but he just lets you have them he's too tired to deal with this

you end up following him after this like a lost puppy and the rest of the troupe is like ??????

but they can't get rid of you

and on the way out of meteor city you were like yap yap yap weapon yap yap created in a lab yap yap yap immortal

feitan could not care less about what you had to say but he was like ??? to the immortal thing

maybe you weren't a bad thing to keep around

[bookishmeow]

Grey Wardens and Ghilan'nain

Welcome to my Ted Talk. I don't tend to make these posts on tumblr but I do overload my friends on discord a lot so I thought I'd give it a whirl here. I'm going to be talking about some spoilers from Tevinter Nights here and the new trailer.

So I was re-reading Tevinter Nights again after we got all these big reveals from the trailers and I got to Horrors of Hormak. It made me do the thinkings.

I wanna touch on this imagery just cause I love it. It looks as if Ghilan'nain's tentacles are choking out a stone griffin. Griffin's being the symbol of the Grey Wardens.

In Horrors of Hormak in Tevinter Nights, we have Grey Wardens who stumble upon what we believe is Ghilan'nain's eldritch horror pits. It shows darkspawn just walking right in and getting mutated. The implication that they're being controlled ala the calling sets up some interesting things for grey warden specifically.

Maybe that's what's going down in Weisshaupt.

Because the Grey Wardens have battled darkspawn forever, they're kinda pros at it. Weisshaupt is supposed to be their fortress, their hub of awesomeness, but something (that we know) is going wrong there. Couldn't just be darkspawn, they know how to handle darkspawn.

Couldn't just be red lyrium darkspawn right? Cause at this point it's been 10 years since the situation at Adamant Fortress. They should be somewhat aware and knowing how to fight that. They had Lord Commander Clarel mucking that up. They likely are super wary of letting that happen again. It is likely that they have done things to keep the Red Lyrium stuff in check, you'd think.

So if it isn't normal darkspawn, and it aint red lyrium tainted darkspawn(i mean it still could be), It really could be what was set up in Tevinter Nights.

Which goes with Davrin being a "monster hunter". It's just perfect.

Davrin who looks like he gets a bit of an upgrade at some point. His armor is pretty gilded out. Interesting imagery like the shoulder looking like a helmet we've seen before. Then we had a few scenes in the trailer that looked like Grey Warden. We had a scene with an impaled Ghilan'nain before Elgar'nan dabs in with them in the background.

I did the zooming and it looks like two griffins. These are Grey Warden attacking Ghilly. Later in the trailer and with Taash, similar geared out soldiers are seen.

Then, of course, you have Solas himself who does not care for the Grey Warden.

He really doesn't care for the Grey Wardens and we always have been squinting our eyes at him with knowing he is one of the Evanuris. Like, why you so mad bro?

In Tevinter Nights we had two reactions to these pit things of horror. We have the recruit who wouldn't have done the joining yet and then we have the wardens who have. When they went in, things didn't go the way they should have. The recruit just went mad but wasn't changed? Still had a bunch of grey brine water inside them, though. Not entirely sure what was happening there. But the warden who was twisted stated things weren't going right with the wardens on their transformation and they had to consume the grey brine, rather than walking into it like the darkspawn. Then they were fighting for control when transformed. So something is wrong with the grey wardens in general straddling the line between the blight and humanity/elfanity/dwarfanity (lol) [Side note, we had this in the behind the scenes video from 2020. This is totally one of her monsters, isn't it?]

I think Solas doesn't like this either. I think he knows what the blight is or where it's from and he sees the grey wardens as abominations or something of the sort. Then you add on the theory of the "old gods" being connected to the evanuris and they're outright killing those pieces of the evanuris with the archdemons. It could also be weakening the jail he put in place when they do this. He is probably unsettled by the whole thing, but he can't really do anything about it considering the whole darkspawn/blight situation in thedas when he does wake up. I'm pretty confident in saying that Ghilan'nain's plot and the grey wardens specifically go hand in hand. It'll be the first half of the game. Thank you for coming to my talk, we will see if i'm right in the end of October haha.

[weepingtalecowboy]

Legend as echoes of wisdom link lol but confusing

Fanfic prompt : after Linked universe he decided to go visit Nayru and the other oracles again and then seeing the harp of ages

Realized how he can help Hyrule

Because if the harp can let him travel back several centuries then why not go forward

Because that way he can stop ganon from being revived and Hyrule can maybe travel back with him

He and then travels forward in time and then tries to orientate himself about where the hell he even is… then he sees the riffs through time and assumes that dark link has to learn his lesson again and goes in

He doesn’t appreciate the void for taking his voice… he kind of needs it to figure out where the heck Hyrule is because this one certainly looks too colorful to be the same one Hyrule is from… at least not in the next decades or so

Forests still need to grow after all but good for him that he succeeded eventually

Then he meets lueberry and they figure something out to go create the sword out off the crystal Legend dragged out of ,… hell he supposes

The cloak is cool though

So legend goes beefing with the random copies… so unoriginal of dink to go around and summon even more black blooded monsters or something

Well at least he now has the ability to use gps to find out where the next portal appears

And at some point finds out this Hyrule's Zelda is kidnapped and it sucks but maybe a new link will spawn or something

Then he and ganon get to beef ,,and surprisingly ganon remembers him (talking about the importance of friendship lol )

He then gets sent back to the void but manages to free the new Zelda

Then he at some point finds a random ugly ball thing… man, dink really down graded

He finds it with the club he found chases after it then goes and blocks it before the new Zelda …Nelda can go get kidnapped again

Then legend gets Zelded and now knows how much it must have sucked for fable and Nelda

…he only wanted to go visit Hyrule why must it always be an adventure

He will blame him for it later

He also gets the triforce of courage back while Zelded

Then Nelda is back…but it’s two Neldas now

He then gets freed by one after …she copies (?) a bunch of .. beds (?) and kills the other one

Well , let’s hope it’s the good one who kills the other one he always had problems with Hilda

Then he fights an eldritch abomination and uses the ..prime energy (?) to go restore Hyrule

And his voice is back so the first thing he does is ask , “hey , what’s the date and where the fuck am I .?”

He is surprised when the king turns out not to be an asshole

And fucks off into the RIGHT time promising everyone to stay in contact via the post man

Hyrule wakes up to “I fought the embodiment of nothingness and got vored to visit you be fucking grateful”

He is more confused than he was happy about his brother's return

[canarysage]

…make a psd look interesting?

aka, how to fuck up a psd no glue no borax. have you ever looked at your psd and gone, damn, this shit doesn’t fuck? happens to the best of us. here are easy ways to spice up your psds so you don’t end up with the editor equivalent of communion bread

for example purposes, i made a simplistic psd to test these methods on. they should work with most psds, but, as always, fuck around and find out on your own for best results <3

i. threshold + gradient map

this one is an easy way to add specific colors to your psds. step one: add a threshold layer, and adjust it your liking. typically, i set mine to somewhere between 60-40. if you’re making a psd to work on dark skintones, you may want to set it even lower, but if you’re working with, say, pjsk characters, you can go pretty high

wow flashbang. you can see on my example behind that it doesn’t work super well on irl pictures, and my pjsk images don’t have threshold at all lol. next thing you want to do is set the blending mode of your threshold layer to either multiply or darken—they’re basically the same thing

(psst, if you want to know more about blending modes, check out this post!)

waow crunchy! but still boring right? still boring. not to worry, here’s the fun part: add a gradient map layer, tap it, and go to the slidey icon on the side, which’ll bring up a page like this:

click the gradient in the middle there to edit it. once in, edit the black color to be at about 80-90%, and then change the white color to whatever you like. edit out, and tap the little square next to the text that says “reverse” which should make your gradient look more or less like this:

then change the blending mode on your gradient map to ‘screen’ which’ll axe all the black and just leave your color. now your image looks like this:

boy howdy, isn’t that fucked up! it is more interesting, but if you don’t want to be looking at that abomination, change your color in your gradient map to be darker, which’ll give you something more along the lines of:

…which is much more reasonable. this is a fun way to add color to your shadows slash lineart, and can be a quick and easy way to make a psd look less flat.

ii. noise gradient map

some of you may be thinking, but, canarysage, what the fuck is a noise gradient map? to which i reply: you’re boring. let me show you.

kinda fucked up, right? well, that’s the goal. unfortunately, there isn’t a way to directly edit a gradient map, but you can just click that little button that says ‘randomize’ a couple times until you get something you like! you can also mess with the percentages but i don’t do that because it looks weird

boy howdy, that’s weird looking. not to worry, though. once again, our best friend blending mode is going to come in handy

i typically go to soft light and set the opacity to about 20-30%, but, as with anything, feel free to mess around and do whatever you want. luminosity is also a fun setting for noise gradient maps, just make sure to crank the opacity way down for the sake of my eyes

wow, much better! you can see that the gradient map added a bit of purple coloring and a funky little texture. super cool! thank you, gradient map!

iii. channel mixer

i already have a post on channel mixer and i’m not rewriting all that so if you don’t know how channel mixer works check that shit out but the tl;dr is: ideally, all your channels should add up to 100 (including negative numbers) but that rule can be broken if it looks cool enough. capiche?

iv. color lookup

photopea has a few default color lookups that are pretty easy to use, but i have a couple of presets that i like to add if i’m feeling stuck. to make your own color lookup, open up a psd, and go to file > export color lookup

then save it and open it from your files. when you open a color lookup layer, you’ll see an arrow next to the text saying LUTs—click that and your new color lookup should be there

once you tap that, you’ll get a compressed version of your psd added to your folder. it’ll look something like this:

holy orange and blue, batman. luckily, you can apply blending modes to color lookups just like any other layer—mess around with them until it looks how you want!

waow much more reasonable! i set this one on color and about 55% opacity, but that is really dependent on what your color lookup looks like and how you want your psd to look. remember, there’s no right way to do things!

an additional note: if you want to, you can save the psd you’re working on as a color lookup instead. if it looks too simple or just isn’t turning out how you want, that’s a good way to incorporate it later :3 just follow the same steps as above!

v. no shame in starting over

if you’ve added and taken away, duplicated and removed, fucked around and found out, and your psd still isn’t how you want: it’s alright to just axe it. the edit police aren’t gonna kill you for it, i promise. if you’re worried about wanting it later, just save it as a psd and come back when your brain is refreshed ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

psd-making isn’t an exact art, so, obviously, there’s no real simple solution to making it look how you want. you just have to mess with it and see what you’ve got. these are just my methods of making my psds less blagh, but, obviously, my editing is moderately more deranged than your average editor.

…so that’s how you do it.

[raccoonscribbles]

Fallen for Hook’s Girl

Peter Pan x Reader; Yandere Character | Hook x ((adopted)) Daughter Reader

Season Spoiler; Has to do nothing with anything in the show except characters, and Wendy being in a cage

Warnings; Yandere, Lying, Acting, Rum(reader does not drink it), Hook being ‘fatherly’, Hook drunk, Pan crying, Wendy, you don’t love Peter yet

italics are flashbacks

Other; Long ((for me lol)) and written out of a dumb spark of imagination that became this abomination, second part?? Maybe if it gets famous or I really want to continue, it’s kind of fever Dream ish. I POSTED THIS ON THE WRONG BLOG, I JUST NOTICED, I posted it like a week ago too. Also, this terrifies me, I don’t know if I should post it.

Hook ended up back on Neverland, with a young girl. Pan was always intrigued by her.

“Y/n, you’re going to be a little spy, and get us Pan’s heart,” Hook said, he was drunk, everyone was, except her, “Rum?”

“I’m alright, drink some water,” she said, “I’ll be in bed.”

“Goodnight, love,” He grabbed her by the waist and kissed her head.

He thought of her as a daughter, he always had. Milah was the reason she ever was able to stay with him. So she was their daughter, to him.

“Wake up,” Hook said, Y/n opened her eyes.

“Hmm?”

“You’re going to find camp, alright? The lost boys, when you do, you find Pan and sob and cry like I kicked you off the ship. Capture his heart, and you come back to me,” he smiled, “With his heart, you’ll get everything you want. You’ll get to be a princess.”

“That’s it? Simple..” she sat up.

“I love you, sweetheart,” Hook hugged her.

“I love you, papa,” she laughed, “now, I gotta go.”

Hook knew she was a good actor, she tricked anyone, that was something he adored about her.

•

Y/n found the camp, no one there, but logs and an unlit bonfire.

“Hello,” Pan appeared, “You’re Hook’s girl, yes?”

Y/n turned to face him, “Not anymore,” she grumbled, trying to ‘not cry.’

“What?” Pan was confused, he had seen there bond, inseparable, he believed her.

“He.. he..” she whimpered, tears now falling.

“Hey, it’s okay, follow me,” he said, she did, grabbing his hand.

“Oh.”

“I can let go, I just-“

“No, it’s okay,” it was so obvious he liked her.

He was vulnerable, she was curious as to why.

Felix and Pan sat together, Pan trying not to cry and crumble in front of his second. He was sure Wendy loved him, and then she shattered his heart and he locked her away in the cage. He cried as he told Felix, who was there to comfort. And that was merely an hour ago. Pam trying to heal his heartbreak.

He healed it by falling in love with her, so fast. She did not understand but it happened.

“This is my cabin, come in,” he brought her inside, she sat on the couch, still crying.

He was not going to let her leave, that was for sure. The door shut by itself.

“Do you want cocoa?” He questioned, it was cold in Neverland, being it was early in the morning.

“Please,” she whined, he brought her a mug, she took it with shaky hands.

“Let me get you a blanket, love,” Pan kissed her head, she smiled slightly, still crying.

He came back, wrapping it around her, holding her.

“Why’d Hook leave you?” He asked, she leaned into him.

“He..” she started sobbing again.

“It’s okay, it’s okay..” Pan said, “Don’t cry, please, it hurts me.”

He wiped her tears with his thumbs, she sighed.