#but have a squishy shadow

[glitchedcosmos]

A thing to smoosh

[rabbitprincessthief]

gog i still can't get over minish cap vaati's Everything. He is So Fucking Stupid (affectionate)

Like. This guy's establishing character moment is, in order:

he's introduced as having won an entire tournament to get to touch a magic chest and get a cool sword, which was the prize for said tournament

turns around and does a goddamn evil soliloquy TEN FEET AWAY FROM THE GUARDS who were about to hand him his macguffin on a platter

(like this man fucks up his own horribly planned daylight heist because he cannot keep a lid on the dramatics for FIVE FUCKING MINUTES, IN PUBLIC)

(THE BAR WAS ON THE FLOOR VAATI, FUCKING GANONDORF PLAYS THE PIPE ORGAN FOR HIS OWN BOSS INTRO AND HE STILL KNOWS BETTER THAN THIS SHIT)

proceeds to fight the guards (it is, admittedly, a curbstomp for him, but it still clearly wasn't his plan, because otherwise why bother with the tournament)

gloats evilly

opens chest, unleashing a whole bunch of monsters

exposits out loud about Zelda's powers like a nerd while she is actively charging up her magic powers to kick his ass

RECOGNIZES and IDENTIFIES said magic as the special power carried by the female royal line

completely fails to recognize it as the light force he is currently trying to get his hands on (he spends like 99% of the game not figuring this out.)

petrifies her

(i have no idea if link could have deflected this spell if he had managed to get the right angle with his shield but i like to think somewhere there is a very short and very funny alternate timeline where it happens)

(more importantly: no part of vaati's original presumed plan would have involved doing this. he 100% created this situation for himself by being an dramatic idiot and picking a fight for no good reason.)

looks in the chest

there's no light force

considering his stated goals he might be as confused as you are about the monsters tbh

uhhh

evil laugh

teleports the fuck out

He then proceeds to spend the rest of the game trying to figure out where the light force is and ends up having to wait for Ezlo and Link to figure it out first because he was, as far as I can tell, GENUINELY stuck on this part. He fucking kidnaps and impersonates the King, not for access to Zelda, but to… send guards to go look for the Light Force, presumably because he was either running out of ideas or genuinely thought that would work.

None of the guards even had any idea what he was talking about. He's not even good at impersonating the King. He's already sent like twenty people to the dungeon by the time you get there and it hasn't even been a week. Somehow the game spins this as a cunning plan and clever manipulation or something.

(Meanwhile the guards are just. Poking around in random bushes and shit hoping to find the light force. One of them asks you what you think it might look like.)

Zelda is literally right next to the throne and Vaati does not figure it out until you find an actual honest-to-goodness LORE TABLET spelling out that the Light Force is Stored in the Zelda, at which point he's like "ahahaha you've done my work for me this was definitely my plan all along" and takes over the castle and throws a bunch of monsters at you to stall for time while he figures out how to extract the force from her. Somehow he still doesn't think to actually lock the fucking door.

[dol-dee]

chibified bastards

the relationship chart is my excuse to finally post these chibies! Please note that I've only included the NPC's that I already created designs for. Otherwise Robin would be included, naturally

[zellkabellk]

I finally beat Shadow of the Erdtree's final boss.... it was hard but going slowly day by day helped learn most of the patterns (and survive the ones I still didn't get completely) ;;;;;;;; TIS DONE

[inkyquince]

Who wants to sit on the floor of my empty flat, watch Dirty Rotten Scoundrels and share a Domino's pizza with me?

Then talk extensively about cock and balls

[orcelito]

also. what they dont tell you about being a sorcerer (5) bard (1) is that

you get a F U C K ton of spells

[shiawasekai]

When you're fueled by the power of spite and go as healer to a (normal) raid to prove something can be done and it truly isn't that hard

[peachesofteal]

Through Me (The Flood) - secret baby fic Simon Riley / female reader - 18+ request(s): sick fics (1/2) and mama's body image

He pulls you under the covers in the marigold shadow of your bedroom as soon as Orion goes down.

You’re not as bold as you have been over the phone, reverting back to his shy, sweet kitten, bashful in his arms as he sucks marks into your neck, hands drifting down your spine and over your hips to fill his palms with plush curve of your ass.

“Missed you, mama.” You smile softly, hiding your face in his chest.

“Missed you too.” He tries to map you with his fingers, stroking them over your thighs, your shoulders, pulling your fingers to his mouth and dotting his lips across each knuckle. Maybe, if he does it enough, he'll never forget what you feel like.

You're wearing another one of your sleep shirts, oversized, stretched, frayed, a thin veil shielding you from him, and when he slips underneath the hem tracing up towards your navel, you stiffen in his arms, muscles tense like a deer in headlights. "What is it?" You don't answer, gaze holding steadfast and forward, directly at his chest. Fear bristles, worming its way into his gut instincts. He sits up. "What's wrong? Are you dizzy?"

"N-no, I'm fine. I feel... fine." Your body tells a different story, curled forward, still tense, like you're trying to protect your ribs.

"What's going on?" You shake your head, wet track of a tear shining in your cheek in the dark. His anxiety, his fear, won't let him tread carefully any longer, steel backed demand slipping free like he's speaking to one of the sergeants. "Talk to me."

"I don't look the same!" You blurt, and then try to roll out of the bed, away from him. "I don't feel the same, either. I'm kind of... squishy, stretched out because your kid is a giant. And I gave birth to him, you know... he wasn't easy." His grip loosens momentarily, and you seize the opportunity, feet landing on the carpet and trying to stand.

He snatches you around the waist so fast and yanks, tugs you back to the bed and shifts your weight so you're pinned underneath him. "Simon!"

"Look at me." He rubs his nose against yours, keeping your wrists pinned above your head, his thighs bracketing yours. "You did give birth to our baby, honey. You, and this body, grew him, took care of him, kept him safe. I love this body, mama. I loved your body the first night I met you, and-"

"Exactly." You snap, nose tipped up. "You loved the way I used to look and I definitely don't-" His brows lower, and he cuts you off with his mouth, stealing a long kiss before pulling away.

"Don't interrupt me. I did love your body then, but I love how you look now, even more," to drive his point home, he presses the length of his hard cock against where it's nestled between your legs, and your eyes go wide, "this body had my baby, mama," He dips low, closing his mouth over your t shirt and nipple, teasing with his teeth before releasing, "this body feeds my baby," he releases your hands, trailing his down your ribs and over your belly, where he holds you still, "this body is proof you belong to me, that you're mine, and I'd worship every inch of it, if you'd let me. It's okay if you don't love yourself or how you look right now, because I'll do it for you until that changes." Your eyes are half lidded, smart mouth parted on words stolen.

"I-" Orions cries, echoing from his room, and Simon kisses your shoulder.

"I'll get him."

"What if it's RSV?" He keeps his voice low, hand still covering the back of Orion's head, pacing a small pattern across the kitchen. He's been holding him all morning, too unnerved to be separated from him or put him down for even a second, and now he's sleeping on Simon's chest, tiny fingers and fist curled up in the neck of his shirt.

"I don't think it's RSV. We haven't really gone out much, and he doesn't have a high fever."

"But his snot is green." There's a monster curled up in the farthest reaches of Simon's heart. A cold, black thing that's pulling the strings in his head and making his blood pressure skyrocket. His baby is sick. What if it's serious? What if he doesn't get help in time?

You tuck your fingers inside the corner of his arm, and lay your head on his bicep. "Green snot is also a symptom of a common cold, which babies get a lot." You rub Ry's back and press the back of your hand to his cheek. "His fever isn't very high, and he doesn't have much of a cough. I think we're okay for now."

"Maybe we should take him in, or call the pediatrician again and-"

"Simon, hey." Your hand drifts to his back now, rubbing up and down his spine, like he needs soothing. Well, that's not right. He should be comforting you. You and the baby, he should be taking care of you, making sure you're both- "Dr. Marsh said as long as his fever doesn't spike, he's not sleeping too much, and he doesn't start wheezing, then we're okay to keep him here at home. He's okay, okay? Babies get sick. But we're here with him, and we're going to make sure he's okay. Right?" He closes his eyes, rolling your words around in his mind, your reasoning gaining ground and hooking into him, holding him steady. You're levelheaded right now, steadfast, and he loves you for it, allows himself to lean on it, just a little bit.

"Right."

"Why don't you let me take him? You've been holding him for six hours. Go... take a shower, or something. Or eat. I want you to clear your head, relax a little bit." He lifts Orion into your arms, but shakes his head at your suggestions.

"I don't need-"

"Please. For me?" Refusals die on his lips just like that, and he nods.

The shower does Simon a world of good. His head does feel clear, and he's more focused, more rational, as he dries off and pulls a pair of sweats out of his bag.

Everything is fine. Babies get sick. You're right. His fever isn't even that high.

The lights are dim in your room, where you're on your side, half propped up, Orion on his back in front of you. You smile at Simon as he crosses the distance, leaning over to press a kiss to your head. "Feel better?"

"Yeah, thank you. Sorry I uh, lost it a bit."

"You were worried." You pat the opposite side, next to the baby, and he lays down, big hand on Ry's stomach. "It's the first you've seen him get sick, of course you're going to lose it a little bit." Your choice of words make him wonder, and he cocks his head.

"Has he been sick before?"

"He had a cold around four, five weeks. I was a mess." Your lips split into a shaky smile. "He was miserable, wouldn't eat, wouldn't sleep. Couldn't breathe through his nose. I took him in right away, cried the entire time, but he didn't even have a fever. Just a cold." You shrug. "They told me if he does develop a fever, then it could be bad, and to bring him back in immediately. I spent the next two days watching him every single second, even when he was asleep in his crib, making sure he was still breathing. Checking his temperature every hour." You sigh. "Here, let's do this." You encourage him to roll onto his back, pulling the sheet up over his chest to his shoulders. "You run too hot." You tease, before carefully scooping Orion up and placing him on Simon's chest, still asleep. "This way, you can keep an eye on his breathing and his temperature and I," the words are cut off by a yawn, "can get some sleep right here. Okay?" He stares at you for a long minute, love and obsession and appreciation twisting him up until he's reaching over and cupping your cheek.

"Thank you mama."

[vrtvyg]

Body headcannons, based off of the ACTUAL character.

Soap: BEEFY. Have you SEEN the man's biceps? his neck? the way his chest casts a shadow in that one blue shirt? he's beefy. Full believer that his thighs ate just as thick, meaty calves, and a matching waist. every body has a bit of curve, but honestly he probably is mostly rectangle, some muscle showing on his stomach. I feel like his body wouldn't be SUPER hairy. like yes he has chest hair, leg and arms, but it isn't super thick. it's shorter, darker. he'd probably keep his pubes messily trimmed. not letting it become a bush but not caring enough to make it look pretty.

Ghost: honestly think he's a bit thinner than Soap. sure they both got muscle mass, but side to side, Ghost has the height and Soap has the form. more muscle showing but not super thick, just a leaner build, maybe a bit of chub on the stomach, arms, but not much. has minimum hair, it just doesn't grow. head a almost buzzed, arms have hair but it's short and almost too thin to see. same with his legs. no chest hair, some peach fuzz below the belly and his pubes are equally short. (I'm kind of debating this, dude might be hella muscular under all them clothes)

Price: Listen, I fucking LOVE thick price as much as the next man, but have you seen that slutty waist??? Big chest, thin waist, and a fucking fatty. he's the whole hourglass, minus the hips. Covered in hair, it's thick too. on his chest, arms, legs, thighs. probably has to get his nostrils and ears waxed, hair grows there too. probably has the thickest hair down there in 141, keeps it neat, but not trimmed. the snail trail is THICK.

Gaz: the definition of lean, the perfect cut after bulking. the long legs, thick calves, thin but muscular. He probably has a decent amount of hair, but it's only on his chest and legs (no happy trail, sadly). the hair on his chest is just ever so slightly curly, and his pubes are probably trimmed but a bit messy, like soap.

Graves: Ita giving skinny white boy. like don't get me wrong, he's a sexy mf, but I can't see him with buldging abs. he's not super thick has the biceps, thighs, and definitely ass, but his stomach is pretty flat, and his chest is flatter. no tits to grab at. I imagine he's pretty bare on the hair, and the hair he DOES have is too light to really notice. except his armpits, no idea why but they're so much thicker there than anywhere else. his pubes probably match his hair, a dirty blonde. probably shaves practically bald down there, regrets it everytime until it starts to flow again.

König: THICK. muscular, of course, but the softest layer of pudge wrapped around it. has that squishy tummy, love handles, and the HIP DIPS! the thickest thighs following, weapon harnesses squeezing around it so satisfyingly. and he's definitely a hairy man, but not in a soft bear way like price, more like a rough texture. chest hair, arm hair, thigh hair, leg hair, even hair on his toes. the snail trail is gorgeous. he doesn't really care to shave his pubes. a bit messy down there. the only time he trims is to make his dick look bigger before sending a pic.

[nhlclover]

𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓 | 𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐇𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐄𝐒

— cozytober masterlist !

summary: your first halloween spent in your new house together becomes unforgettable after a trick-or-treater brings unexpected joy for you and jack

warnings: literally so much fluff it's crazy, jack kind of having a revelation

word count: 1.36k

notes: tenth and final fic of cozytober! hope you enjoy i thought this was such a cute idea.

As October settled in, the air grew crisp, carrying with it the scent of fallen leaves. Your neighborhood began to glow with an eerie charm — orange and purple lights strung along rooftops, spider webs draped haphazardly over bushes, and grinning jack-o'-lanterns perched on porches, their flickering candles casting shadows on the pavement. It was your first Halloween in your new home, and excitement buzzed in the air. You and Jack had spent the last few weeks transforming your house into a Halloween wonderland, determined to embrace the spooky season in full.

“This is going to be such a good Halloween,” you said, standing in the kitchen surrounded by packages of candy. You poured another mountain of treats into the bowl, feeling like a kid yourself.

Jack, lounging against the counter, raised an eyebrow and smirked. “You know we’re probably gonna be that house, right? The one that gives out so much candy the kids talk about it all year?”

You grinned back, unbothered. “Good! We never got to do this in the apartment. We’re going all out.” You tossed another bag of chocolates into the mix, the bowl overflowing now.

Your previous apartment building didn’t have many kids, and handing out candy was never part of your Halloween traditions. But this year, nestled in a family-filled suburb, it felt like you were finally getting the Halloween you’d always wanted — the decorations, the costumes, the eager trick-or-treaters. You could hardly wait.

When the doorbell rang for the first time, you practically leapt off the couch. “They’re here!” you squealed, racing to the door like a child on Christmas morning. Swinging it open, you were greeted by a group of tiny witches, superheroes, and a very tiny dinosaur with a tail too long for his legs. Their eyes widened at the sight of your candy bowl, and you couldn’t resist giving them extra, their excitement contagious.

You watched them scamper off down the walkway, their candy bags bouncing, before collapsing onto the couch next to Jack, who had Ghostbusters queued up on the TV. “There was this little dinosaur, and his tail kept dragging behind him,” you laughed, snuggling under his arm. “It was adorable.”

“Is that what happens every time the door opens? You’re going to give me a recap of all the costumes you see?” Jack smirked, pulling you in closer.

“Absolutely,” you grinned, poking him playfully. “I don’t want you missing out on all the cuteness.”

And that’s exactly what you did. Each time the doorbell rang, you bounded up, eager to meet the next batch of trick-or-treaters. After every encounter, you’d return to Jack, excitedly recounting the different costumes — witches, zombies, fairies, and one memorable kid dressed as a very squishy marshmallow. Jack would laugh at your eagerness, but you could tell he enjoyed each one of your recaps.

Between the rounds of doorbell dashes, you and Jack sank into the movie, the Halloween vibe settling in like a comfortable blanket around you. The evening was perfect — the glow of the porch lights, the hum of neighborhood excitement, and Jack’s arm wrapped around you, making it all feel just right.

As the night began to slow and fewer knocks came, the doorbell rang one last time. You jumped up, still full of energy. “I’ve got it!” you called, already halfway to the door.

Opening it, you were greeted by a sight that made you freeze — a kid fully decked out in hockey gear, pads, helmet, gloves, and all. But what caught your attention was the jersey. The black, white, and red jersey stood out in the dark, the 86 on the sleeve glimmering under the porch light.

“Trick or treat!” the small voice squeaked from beneath the helmet.

Your jaw dropped as you let out a small gasp. “Oh my gosh, you look amazing!” you gushed. “Hold on—there’s someone who has to see this.”

You darted back into the living room, grabbing Jack by the arm. “Come on, you’ve gotta see this!”

Jack, confused but curious, paused the movie and followed you to the door. The second he saw the mini-hockey player in his own jersey, his eyes widened in surprise. The kid looked up, eyes shining as he recognized Jack.

“You’re Jack Hughes!” the little boy said, his voice filled with awe.

Jack crouched down to the kid’s level, smiling. “Looking good out there, bud,” he said, adjusting the boy’s helmet so it wasn’t covering his eyes.

The kid's dad, standing at the end of the walkway, waved his phone. “Would it be alright if we got a picture?” he asked, clearly as excited as his son.

“Of course,” Jack grinned. He knelt beside the kid, who raised his hockey stick proudly. You quickly snapped a few photos, capturing the pure joy on both their faces.

Before they headed off, you grabbed two fistfuls of candy and dropped them into the boy’s sack. “You get some extra candy for having the best costume we’ve seen all night,” you told him, smiling as he skated on his roller blades down the walkway.

Jack stood there for a moment, still processing what had just happened. You could see a soft smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he watched the boy skate off.

“That was seriously cool,” Jack admitted, sliding his arm around your waist.

You nudged him playfully. “You’re a little stunned, huh?”

Jack chuckled, his eyes still lingering on the street where the kid had disappeared. “Yeah, I mean, it's one thing to see people wearing my jersey at games, but that little guy was really into it. He looked like he was having the best night of his life.”

There was a warmth in his voice, a mix of pride and disbelief. “It’s gotta feel pretty surreal seeing a kid look up to you like that,” you said, guiding him back into the house, his eyes still going back to the kid who was far down the street now.

Jack nodded, his smile widening as you took your places on the couch once more. “It just… it reminds me that this whole hockey thing is bigger than just me, you know? Seeing him so pumped, dressed as me for Halloween… it kind of makes it all feel worth it in a different way. A way that’s not just for me.”

You could tell that moment meant more to him than he let on. His eyes glinted with that same spark he had when he was passionate about something, and you loved seeing him like that.

As you both settled back onto the couch, you leaned your head on Jack’s shoulder, feeling the warmth of the moment settle in. “You made that kid’s night,” you said softly, glancing up at him.

Jack’s arm tightened around you, and he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “I think he made mine too,” he replied, his voice filled with a contentment that made your heart swell.

As the credits rolled on the movie, you sighed happily. “Best Halloween ever,” you murmured, smiling to yourself.

Jack chuckled, resting his chin on your head. “You always say that,” he teased.

You laughed, looking up at him. “Well, this time I mean it.”

He grinned down at you, his eyes twinkling with affection. “Good. Because I kind of want to make this our new tradition. Decorating, handing out candy, watching you light up with every costume… I could get used to this.”

You leaned up and kissed him softly, feeling that familiar, comforting warmth between you. “Me too,” you whispered. “Me too.”

As you both sat there, the last remnants of Halloween fading into the quiet night, you couldn’t help but think about how special this first Halloween in your new home had been. It wasn’t just the decorations or the candy or even the costumes — it was the moments, big and small, that made it unforgettable. Moments like Jack seeing a kid in his jersey, or the way you both had embraced the evening together, fully present and happy.

And you knew that no matter how many Halloweens came after this one, this would always be the one that set the bar.

[eloaholiveira]

I was thinking like....

I have this little headcanon that Black Arms have asexual reproduction and don't really have a gender to begin with. So you have Shadow with Black Arms DNA right, and because of that his squid form would trigger what his kind would naturally do... (try to) reproduce.

Thing is hes not fully black arms so it would require a mate to fertilize the eggs. Think of the roe like periods.... Ok thats weird.

Fish roe are very squishy, so i thought it would be silly if he ran up to his boyfriend to show it to him.

...and he destroyed them. Woah. What a savage.

[handwrittenhello]

Tumblr's Poorest Little Meow Meow

A poor little meow meow, by definition, must have three traits: soppingly wetly pathetic, squishy scrungly cute (or a similar attribute), and morally ambiguous. YOU will be voting for characters to win the title of

Poorest Wettest Saddest Littlest Meow Meow!

Character nominations were limited to one character per fandom and were crowdsourced.* Match-ups were made on a seeded basis according to character popularity, in the hopes of preventing a popularity contest from happening. Remember, it doesn't matter if they're your blorbo, we're trying to find the SADDEST and MOST ATROCIOUS little meow meow. Please evaluate how well they fill the attributes of a PLMM when you vote!

*If your poorest little meow meow didn't make the cut, sorry! Maybe we'll hold another round.

Polls will be held daily at noon EST. Here's the bracket. It's not fancy; nothing about this will be fancy. (These polls are just as pathetic as the characters they represent.)

All posts will be tagged #tumblr's plmm contest

Check below for a list of all poll posts:

Round One (Feb 3 noon EST)

Loki Laufeyson (Marvel) vs. Jiang Cheng (The Untamed) Prince Zuko (Avatar: The Last Airbender) vs. L (Death Note) Izzy Hands (Our Flag Means Death) vs. Father Paul (Midnight Mass) Vriska Serket (Homestuck) vs. Kaeya Alberich (Genshin Impact) Tenth Doctor (Doctor Who) vs. Joel Miller (The Last of Us) Jesse Pinkman (Breaking Bad) vs. Harrowhark Nonagesimus (The Locked Tomb) Derek Hale (Teen Wolf) vs. Kendall Roy (Succession) Anakin Skywalker (Star Wars) vs. Lestat de Lioncourt (Interview with the Vampire) Dream of the Endless (The Sandman) vs. Emet Selch (Final Fantasy XV) Howl Jenkins (Howl's Moving Castle) vs. Daemon Targaryen (House of the Dragon) Arthur Morgan (Red Dead Redemption 2) vs. Harry du Bois (Disco Elysium) Bruce Wayne aka RBattz (The Batman) vs. Villanelle (Killing Eve) Will Graham (Hannibal) vs. Seong Gi-hun (Squid Game) Jonathan Sims (The Magnus Archives) vs. Catra (She-Ra) Yennefer of Vengerberg (The Witcher) vs. Faith Lehane (Buffy the Vampire Slayer) Castiel (Supernatural) vs. Nandor the Relentless (What We Do in the Shadows)

Round Two (February 4 noon EST)

Loki Laufeyson (Marvel) vs. Prince Zuko (Avatar: The Last Airbender) Izzy Hands (Our Flag Means Death) vs. Vriska Serket (Homestuck) Tenth Doctor (Doctor Who) vs. Jesse Pinkman (Breaking Bad) Kendall Roy (Succession) vs. Anakin Skywalker (Star Wars) Dream of the Endless (The Sandman) vs. Howl Jenkins (Howl's Moving Castle) Harry du Bois (Disco Elysium) vs. Bruce Wayne (The Batman) Will Graham (Hannibal) vs. Jonathan Sims (The Magnus Archives) Yennefer of Vengerberg (The Witcher) vs. Castiel (Supernatural)

Round Three (February 5 noon EST)

Prince Zuko (Avatar: The Last Airbender) vs. Vriska Serket (Homestuck) Jesse Pinkman (Breaking Bad) vs. Anakin Skywalker (Star Wars) Harry du Bois (Disco Elysium) vs. Howl Jenkins (Howl's Moving Castle) Will Graham (Hannibal) vs. Castiel (Supernatural)

Round Four (February 6 noon EST)

Harry du Bois (Disco Elysium) vs. Will Graham (Hannibal) Vriska Serket (Homestuck) vs. Anakin Skywalker (Star Wars)

Final Round (February 7 noon EST)

Vriska Serket (Homestuck) vs. Harry du Bois (Disco Elysium)

The winner will be crowned on February 8. May the most sopping wet paper towel of a person win!

[ghostbsuter]

"Hello there, little comet."

Robin wirled around with his sword pointed, standing still just before the skin of the others throat.

"Always so tense." The person teases and Robin tuts, pulling his sword back.

"Still obnoxious as always, Wraith."

The man chuckles lightly, stepping out of the shadows with a wave. "Have you learned any slang now that you live with your father? Fitting in is one of the most important skills for an assassin."

Robin scowls. "I'm not an assassin anymore."

The man is undeniable smiling beneath the mask, green eyes crinkling. It has Damian feeling all soft and squishy, he turns around with a huff, kicking the ridiculousness of those feelings away.

"You have grown."

"I have."

"I'm glad."

Robin averts his eyes as his comm comes to life, crackling in his ear. "Robin, mugging happening around the corner from your position."

He gives his acknowledgement, turning back to the man—

Only for him to be gone.

Damian sighs. "Until then, brother."

He leaps across the buildings, stepping in as the mugging happens.

—

(Usually, I would put this in the tags, but I'll put it here now for some background!)

Wraith, also formally known as Danyal al Ghul, son of Talia al Ghul and Lady Shiva.

He is younger than his sister, Cass, but older than Damian. During his league days, his loyalty stayed towards Talia, always has until he met Damian as a baby.

He became his guard, much like Cass was supposed for the Demon Head, one of the few teachers Jason had after and went on missions with.

Does he reappear later again? Who knows! He is still with the League, under Talia's command while sticking close to Ra's. A spy if you will.

[kedreeva]

After a month-long fight, Artemis' system finally threw in the towel. We put her to sleep this morning.

I am crushed, and I don't really know what else to say.

She started slowing down shortly after her last suprelorin implant, and the xrays showed something, a weird shadow or cross-peritoneal sac encompassing her heart and liver, but none of the three avian vets who saw it could interpret what it actually was or what to do about it. We started her on some painkillers and antibiotics, and tube feeding liquid chow so she would not lose condition if she was not feeling well. We changed up antibiotics, we gave her an antiemetic for nausea, we tried different pain meds...

For a little while, she seemed to be improving. Whatever it was, it wasn't as visible on the next xrays, and her bloodwork looked better. She was moving around more and sleeping less (she'd been sleeping all day at the start), she could get up and down to the big perch on her own.

And then last night, her crop was a little squishy when I gave her her evening meds. I hoped that it was just that she'd finally eaten a good meal before bed, but when I came out today to give her morning meds, the blueberries from the evening before were still in her crop. That's NOT good. Her urates were also stained yellow. I called the vet and got an emergency appt, but I knew before I left that I would probably have to make the call to end it. I gave her a little time out in the sunshine and grass while I got the car ready, and then we drove down. She sat quietly, and didn't complain during the exam, but ultimately the radiograph showed the problem was still present, and her kidneys were shining bright. Her GI tract had slowed to a stop, her heartbeat was slowed way down, and her urates were showing crystals.

So, I said my goodbyes, and the vet did as well. Everyone was fond of Artemis- she was always well behaved and sweet to everyone she ever met. She loved people, she loved cuddles. She was only 6. I knew she wasn't going to make it a full, normal lifespan, not with everything that was wrong from the get go, but I had hoped for a few more years. I got a few more than she'd have gotten with anyone else. It's never enough.

Artemis was my favorite, from the moment she hatched. She was never mean- not to humans, not to other birds. She is the ONLY bird I've ever owned that was like that. She loved Stan from the moment she met him, and tolerated his weird social habits to the end of his days. They were ALWAYS together, always sitting in the sun together, always following one another. I'm honestly not surprised she followed him to death- there are so many anecdotes from keepers who have birds that spend weeks, even months, grieving after losing a close flock mate. It wouldn't surprise me at all to find Artemis had been holding onto life with both hands for Stan, and with his passing she gave up.

I am going to miss painting with her so much. I have her first painting, and her last, in my bedroom, and I'm really glad I didn't let that last one go yet.

I don't really know what else to say, besides that she was my heart. I loved her, and I hate that she's gone. There will never, ever be another lady like her.

Sleep sweet, lovely. I'll miss you til the end of my days, and I look forward to joining you at the meadow when that comes.

[rainybyday]

Pt 2 | Pt 3

Jazz was in awe of her baby brother. Sure, she had seen him in her Ma’s tummy but seeing him in person was different. 

He was so.... squishy and tiny and small and soft! His hands waving in slow motions with legs kicking in the air, closed eyes and baby soft clothes on his new body. Jazz was content on watching her brother like this, hearing his soft coos and simply staying with him but she felt a nudge from her left. 

“Touch him Jasmin,” Big Sister Rosa said. “Hold out your finger to greet him.”

Jazz looked back at her Big Sis. Her dirty (mud covered) blond (dark red) hair shifted so her green (missing) eyes stared at her in gentleness (and understanding, for she too was a big sister once upon a time). Seeing Jazz’s hesitation, she nudged her again towards the crib to encourage her.

Jazz looked at her, then glanced back at her brother. The baby was still wiggling in his position. Hesitantly she reached out her hand to hover over her brother, still a bit unsure as to what she should do. Just when she was about to retreat her hand when the nerves got the best of her, she felt the touch of feathery soft skin. 

Wide blues eyes watched in awe as a tinny tiny hand grazed her’s. Danny was blindly waving his arm to feel her own before little fingers with even tinnier nails finally unclenched from his fist and latching on to her hand. 

A moment of silence passed by before the tiny ittiy bitty baby made a soft whining sound. 

And then-! And then-!

He opened his eyes!

Jazz felt all her breath escaped her in a loud gasp as blurry blue eyes blinked against the bright lights of his nursery. He blinked for a long time before his eyes seemed adjust enough to seek out the soft thing he was touching. 

“Hi baby,” Jazz breathed. “I’m your sister.”

Little eyes blinked as responding hums answered back. 

(The specters watched the two living breathing beings as they conversed with each other. Neither of the siblings knew that those words would have taken a hold of them both. A bind that transcends beyond blood and water.)

(Both pair of eyes glowed under the veil, ebony hair became wispy white and crimson hair became blazing embers.)

(One held the starting of a star in his eyes, space under his shadow, and eternity written in his future.)

(One held the shine of a sun in her eyes, magic on her fingertips, and the birth of infinity that will be the tale of her destiny.)

Jazz protected and loved her brother. Twin laughter can be heard in rooms they claim to play in. Jazz would always insist on feeding him when her parents come to grab him for food. Giddiness would push Jazz to rush to her brother once school is over to tell him about her day. Slowly, Jazz’s life was becoming brighter with her little star by her side. 

The birth of her brother also had another side effect. She would converse with her Big Sisters more, asking questions about her brother's health or ask them what stories her brother would love to hear. Craft projects were made with the upmost care in order to gift them to her little star. She spent a large about of time digging for pretty rocks and wildflowers to present to him as well. More and more she planned her days around what she can do to make her little brother the happiest he can be. 

More and more she started to spend more time outside 

(More and more people of the town started to notice how the predator began to prowl the streets of their uneasy town.)

(Tension began to rise, and every person would start to slow down around corners of their homes. Afraid to meet the gaze of something unnatural, the beginning of something dangerous with too white teeth and too bright eyes. Tension was becoming thicker and only time will tell when it snaps.)

(And it did.)

“What are you smiling about?”

“Hmm?” Jazz hummed as she turned questioning to the voice behind her.

“You heard me!” A classmate yelled. “What are smiling about Witch!”

Jazz tilt her head at the term, not noticing the growing uneasiness of her classmates around her who were staring at the altercation. She pondered at the new word as she answered. “I was smiling because I was thinking of my brother.”

The classmate waited, clearly looking for more of an explanation but got none which agitated them. “So what? You just smiling thinking of your pet?”

Jazz frowned. “Pet? Danny is not my pet.”

No, Danny was her little brother. Her sweet little brother who would smile so adorably with so soft cheeks and playing with ever do gently. Her little brother was her prefect little star. He wasn’t some pet.

Her classmate looked at her disgust. “Thats what a Witch would say.”

“What’s a Witch?”

“What you are!”

She doesn’t understand what that means at all. 

(The unseen dead children cower under the name. The name that was said with such fear yet hunger. The need to destroy and take and light on fire because of that name. Many have seen those that set ablaze, many have been there longer than what their appearance may imply.)

(Many have seen the start of the hunt.)

(The Witch Hunt.)

“Why would you ask that?” Big Sister Annie asked Jazz. 

Jazz, unaware of the troubled look her Big Sister had, answered. “A classmate called me a Witch, but I don’t know what that means.”

(The Fenton Household became still. The elderly couple at the back stopped gossiping with each other as their auras became a deadly shade of black. Big Sister Rosa frozen in kitchen, her open wound on her neck started to drip blood once more and her mulated hands tumbled. The women in dresses of fire started to burn, skin turning black and the smell of ozone.)

Big Sister Annie stayed silent for a long moment. So long that Jazz started to shift every so often for waiting for so long. Finally, as years of waiting (not) Big Sister Annie crouched down to meet her eyes. 

“Listen to me Jasmin.” A̸̰̹̬̭͌̏̅̍͜n̷̺̆͌̽̈́̽́͝n̴͔͉̻̯̪̤͇̐̐͛͋̚͝ę̶̦̓̀̃b̵̈̀̓̀͛ͅë̷̡͚̬̳͎̪́̚t̴̡͊h̷̜̪͖̓ͅ ̷̡͖͎̥̇M̴̡̛̠͖͚͈͋̈́̑̾a̷̢̺̝̭̣͎̾̈́̋̾̑r̷͕̣̐ḯ̶̢̤̉͗̔̒̽͝b̸͍̓̅̂̀ͅe̶̝̬̹̪͇̒̄͒̌́̃͝l̴̰̍l̸̼͕̭̞͂̋̽͝ ̴͖̼̙̞̬̈́̔̃̓G̴̠̭̖̥̦̮̙̓̓͆̉͋̋r̴̜͙͊̽̉͗ã̸͖̞̬̠͎̦̓͆̃͂͜c̷̱͙̬͈̺͗͐͌͆̚e̶̪̭̦̬͉̯̩̔̇̽͂̀ demanded. “Listen to me very carefully to what I am about to tell you. Do you understand?”

“Uh.. Yes?”

“Jasmin.”

“Yes!”

(There's something about history. History always tells us the stories of the past, the winnings of war and the start of buildings anew. History is always taught to show the mistakes we make so that we will be blessed to no repeat them.)

“Witches are people that are hurt by others because people fear them. They don’t mean to cause fear, it's just that people are scared of things they don’t understand, things they deem strange.”

(But we often forget that History is written by the survivors, the winners.)

“Jasmin, you're not strange to me nor to Roselle or Madame Victoria or Master Wischer. We love you so very much, but you have to understand something Jasmin. Not everyone can see us, they don’t understand us, nor do they accept us. It's not their fault nor yours, but sometimes people believe in stories that are passed down far to earnestly.”

(And History, is not always right.)

“We don’t want you to be hurt, so please, listen to me Jasmin. Listen to me.”

(Witches, as they all know, were always burned at the stake.)

That day was the day that Jazz learned how to pretend. Pretend because if she did not, then she will be hurt. 

She doesn’t want to be hurt so she pretends, even if she doesn’t like to pretend that she can’t see the children in her classroom. Or how she can no longer call out to the madams in beautiful gown in the streets or dance in the forest with them anymore without getting caught. Sure, she could still talk with them behind closed doors, but her family started to come less and less by the day. 

Slowly, it became just Jazz and Danny. But her and Danny. And no one else.

(She wonders why they left her.)

It would be years of being normal, years of pretending to read more silently and walk away a bit faster. Years of pretending to be someone she is not. 

It was years of fakeness when she meet someone new, someone lost. 

His name was Jason. 

[redvexillum]

@whatswrongwithblue Thank you for the request! I tried my best to showcase really long "fuckening" LOL. I would like to dedicate this story to @safination for writing two Adam x Reader stories for me - I'm just super touched, oh my god, thank you!

TAGS/WARNINGS: f!reader, p in v, tentacle s♡x, double penetrati♡n, marathon s♡x, oral s♡x, finger♡ng, an♡l, suspension, squirt♡ng, cunniling♡s, established relationship, soft alastor, alastor being a lil shit, rough s♡x, b♡ndage, ♡verstimulation

An invisible weight tugged down your eyelids, and your shoulders drooped as if bound by chains trying to drag you down. Your eyes burned, your lips felt dry, and your head began to spin. Even in Hell, exhaustion was inescapable. You glanced over at Alastor, who hummed softly as he cleared away the cup of Zestea with a snap of his fingers. 

You adjusted the soft, fuzzy towel wrapped around you, sitting on the bed with damp hair draped over your shoulders. Fresh from a warm bath Alastor had prepared, you’d hoped it would relax your body, but all you felt was the maddening sensation of a mind wide awake while your body remained fatigued. 

“Ugh, I can’t do it,” you whined, pressing your forehead against your knee and tapping it in frustration. “I’ve been trying to sleep for days, Alastor.” As you lifted your head, you caught his eyebrow arching at your childish display. 

The longer you went without sleep, the whinier you became, feeling reduced to a petulant child. You knew it wasn’t fair, but the frustration of your body resisting your mind’s wishes was beyond torment. 

“Darling,” Alastor began, his voice velvety smooth. 

“Ugh!” You cut him off by flopping back onto the bed, starfishing as the towel wrapped around you started to loosen. “This suuuucks!” you groaned, lightly kicking your heels against the bed in an attempt to release your growing frustration. 

“Darl-” 

“I don’t understand! I tried everything.” You rolled onto your stomach and shut your eyes tightly. “I was such a terrible insomniac back when I was alive, and now I have to deal with this for the rest of eternity?” 

“Dar-” 

“What kind of crappy hellhole is this? This seems petty, even for the big guy upstairs, don’t you think?” you continued, oblivious to your surroundings. 

“Darling!” Alastor finally raised his voice, and at that moment, tentacles erupted from the bed, grasping your limbs. 

Your arms and legs twisted at awkward angles as your body hovered over the bed. The towel slipped free, landing quietly on the bed and baring your form before Alastor. 

"Thirteen times," Alastor murmured, his voice dripping with unrestrained amusement, his crimson eyes glinting as they pinned you in place. His hands tucked neatly behind his back, he seemed perfectly composed, though the smirk curling at the edges of his mouth betrayed a darker intent. 

Confused, you blinked up at him—only to yelp as the cool, silken press of his shadow tendrils began to glide over your bare skin, teasingly slow. One snaked its way between the cleft of your ass, trailing with lazy patience, the tip wriggling just at your entrance, coaxing a sharp intake of breath from you as pleasure rippled up your spine. Every nerve felt alive, electric, your skin flushing under his unwavering gaze. 

"Thirteen times you’ve been acting like a spoiled child today, darling," Alastor’s voice was smooth, chiding, though his eyes were lit with something wicked, ravenous. 

Another shadowy tendril traced up your neck, its soft, almost squishy texture making your skin prickle. Then, with one swift movement, it pressed into your mouth, muffling any protest you might’ve made as it filled you. Another tendril wrapped its gentle, pulsing form around your heated skin as it circled down around your breasts, caressing and teasing. 

“Mhm…” You tried to respond, your voice muffled, a low hum of pleasure vibrating through you as the tendrils toyed with you. When the tendril in your mouth finally pulled back to let you gasp for air, another tendril plunged deep into your slick core, sliding in with one smooth, tantalizing stroke, filling you completely. A gasp escaped your lips, mingling with a moan as the feeling of fullness set every inch of you aflame, your body helplessly arching into his touch. 

“Thirteen times, I’ll help you,” Alastor drawled, his voice low and edged with dark delight. His eyes narrowed to glittering crescents as his grin grew, sharp and almost feral. "Relax," he whispered, his tone smooth as honey as the tendrils inside you began to move, slow and steady, drawing out every inch of pleasure. Each movement left you wanting, needing, as he drew out every moment, teasing you with that maddening slowness. 

Your body began to melt under his control, a soft moan spilling from you as your muscles, once taut with frustration, relaxed into his grip. “Does it feel good, darling?” Alastor’s voice dropped to a husky murmur, another shadow tendril swirling around one of your nipples, tightening into a small, deliciously snug loop that squeezed and teased. 

“Ah!” Your eyes fell shut, hips rocking as your chest arched forward, giving him everything to see, to touch. “Y-yes,” you gasped, your words coming out in soft, breathless sounds, the tendril inside you quickening, its movements slick, rhythmic, filling the air with soft, lewd sounds as it thrust deeper, harder. "Oh, Alastor, it’s… hah… oh," you panted, your voice breaking into needy little cries as he guided you to the edge, the tendrils driving you further and further until pleasure crashed over you in waves. 

Your stomach muscles quivered as your whole body tightened, a cry escaping as your walls clenched around the tendril inside, shuddering through every inch of you. 

"One," Alastor murmured, his grin never wavering, his gaze searing into you with that dark promise. 

In the hazy bliss of release, realization dawned, sending another thrill of anticipation through you—he intended to count each of your climaxes, to draw out every peak, never stopping until he reached thirteen. 

As you struggled to catch your breath, the tendrils began their slow, relentless dance once again. They curled against your still-sensitive walls, pressing and stretching you as warmth and pleasure bloomed anew. 

"F-fuck," you exhaled, as the shadow tendril that once entered your mouth slipped between your parted lips once more, moving slowly in and out, coaxing yet another trembling moan from deep within. 

Once more, that searing pleasure began to build, crashing into the remnants of your last release. It was a mere matter of minutes before another wave surged through you, and this time, the heat seemed endless, a delicious agony of pleasure that took over completely. 

With each wave, your mind grew hazier, lost in the raw, pulsing need that Alastor seemed to stoke with every touch. The world became a blur of pleasure, each second stretching, lingering. At one point, you found your head thrown back, legs stretched out and quivering, your body suspended just above the floor. Alastor’s mouth was buried between your thighs, his deep hums reverberating through you as his tongue explored every sensitive inch of your core, slow and pleasing, dragging out every moment. 

Drool escaped from the corner of your parted lips, trailing down your cheek as shadowy tendrils wrapped around you, coaxing your mouth open wider, sliding between your lips and wiggling against your tongue. Every inch of your body burned under his gaze, his presence radiating a heady power that made your pulse quicken.

“Mhm,” Alastor hummed in satisfaction, the dark glint in his eyes making your heart race. In the haze, you heard the metallic clink of his belt buckle loosening, followed by the sharp whisper of his zipper. His hot tongue continued to lap at you, his lips wrapping around your folds as he sucked your clit, firm and lingering, the touch like fire against your swollen, oversensitive skin. 

“MMPH,” you gasped, the sound muffled by the tendril holding your mouth open, but the helpless, desperate sound escaped all the same. Your eyes widened as his fingers began circling your tight entrance of your ass, the slick warmth of his touch teasing, coaxing as he eased one finger inside, withdrawing, then pressing deeper with each slow stroke. 

His tongue thrust deeper, finding every hidden spot, his finger pressing against that thin sensitive wall between your two entrances. The dual sensation was too much, the pressure building and consuming you, your walls clenching helplessly around his tongue as another wave crashed through you, leaving you breathless, your abdomen tightening with the force of release. 

Every lick, every draw of his lips against your clit left you trembling, lost in the sweet torture he inflicted with such calm, focused precision. Each stroke was perfectly timed, drawing out each moment, extending your pleasure as though he revelled in the sounds you made, the way your body arched and jolted beneath him. 

In the fog of pleasure, you heard him murmur, “Seven.” 

When you came to your senses again, you found yourself bent over, your body limp and pliant, the tendrils holding you aloft in midair as though you were a doll, utterly at his mercy. A bead of drool stretched from your parted lips, joined by tears of pleasure as your mouth let out soft, pleading moans. The two tendrils were thrusting into you now, each movement synchronized, the slick, wet sounds filling the air as they moved with a steady, unrelenting rhythm. 

Your gaze drifted up, finding Alastor seated at the edge of the bed, his hand wrapped around his own hardened length. He stroked himself as he watched you, a look of dark satisfaction glinting in his crimson eyes. 

It was only when one tendril hit that perfect spot within you, pressing firmly against your G-spot while the other filled your other tight entrance completely, that you finally broke, a scream tearing from you as the overstimulation shattered something deep within. The tendril at your lips pulled away, only to be replaced by something hotter, thicker, its weight heavy on your tongue, the taste of salt and musk filling your senses as Alastor’s cock pressed between your lips, sliding deep. 

A warm rush of arousal trickled down your thighs as your voice was muffled by his length, the taste and heft of him only heightening the fiery pleasure rippling through your body. Endless waves crashed over you, each movement of the tendril against your G-spot triggering new jolts of ecstasy that seemed boundless, unending, leaving you helpless to the pleasure he so expertly, mercilessly gave. 

Alastor groaned above you, his breath warm and rough as he slowly pushed his thick, heated cock in and out of your mouth, holding you steady, savouring every inch of movement. His pace was unhurried, each slow thrust teasing, almost torturous, as his gaze locked onto yours, intense and devouring. Your arousal dripped down your thighs, tracing warm, wet trails along your skin, each drop pooling and slipping from the tips of your toes. 

“Twelve, darling,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth, edged with delight. “Let’s make the last one count.” 

The world around you swirled as he lowered you back onto the bed, your body sinking into its soft warmth. Breath ragged, eyes misted, you lay sprawled out, hips trembling from the relentless pleasure that still pulsed through you. Your skin felt hot, nerves buzzing, and each lingering touch of his fingers traced over your sensitized flesh like fire. 

Your eyelids grew heavy with exhaustion, every inch of your body both sated and aching. Alastor moved above you, the rough fabric of his suit brushing against your sensitive skin, heightening every touch. His face hovered just inches from yours, close enough that his breath ghosted over your lips as he let the length of his cock trail along your soaked folds, the friction sending sparks of pleasure that left you breathless. 

“This one’s mostly for me,” he murmured, a wicked grin spreading as he gently brushed damp strands of hair from your forehead, his fingers warm against your skin. 

Your body arched in response, anticipation building as his thick cock finally pressed against you, the heat of him molten as he slowly entered, stretching you inch by inch. Your breath hitched, a hoarse, needy sound escaping as he filled you, the sensation overwhelming. He didn’t stop until he was buried to the hilt, his belt buckle pressing sharply against your heated skin, a rough contrast that only heightened the feeling of fullness. 

Every muscle in your body clenched as waves of pleasure rippled outward, your nerves raw and hypersensitive, ready for another release that you could feel building within. Your lips parted, words caught in your throat as a helpless whimper slipped out, each slight twitch in response to his touch making you tremble. 

With one hand, he held the top of your head, his fingers threading into your hair as he grinned, dark eyes gleaming. Alastor drew back slowly, then snapped his hips forward, and your back arched as your breasts bounced, his rough pace jolting your body with each thrust, his grip on your head keeping you steady as his cock found every sensitive spot within. 

“Al—” you gasped, voice breaking, your eyes rolling back, lids heavy with exhaustion and pleasure, each blink longer as your mind swam in the intensity. 

He drew back and drove forward again, hips pressing hard against you, each impact a sinful contrast against the throbbing heat of your body. The sensation was overwhelming, each strike pressing into your sensitive clit, bringing you higher. His grunts mingled with your soft moans, and the rhythmic creaking of the bed was all you could hear, each movement pushing you to the edge, again and again. 

The relentless rhythm sent you deeper into bliss, every thrust pressing you into the mattress, each slick sound growing louder as he moved faster, harder. His cock rubbed against your inner walls, hitting all your sensitive spots, while the front of his pelvis struck your swollen clit with every thrust, sending a sharp, electrifying pleasure through you. 

Your mouth opened in a silent scream, pleasure breaking over you in a blinding rush, your body writhing as the release washed through you. Darkness tinged the edges of your vision, and you cried out, guttural and raw, as another flood of arousal spilled from you, leaving you trembling, body spent in the aftermath of pure ecstasy. 

You couldn’t open your eyes, let alone move your body. A dull heaviness clung to you, making every part of you feel like lead. Vaguely, you felt a twitch in your leg, a reminder of the overwhelming sensation that had consumed you earlier, leaving you utterly exposed. Your body lay wide open, but at that moment, you felt a delicious thrill rather than shame, too intoxicated by the aftershocks of pleasure to care. Gradually, the world around you faded into a blissful oblivion, and you drifted into unconsciousness. 

When you finally woke up, the first sensation was the softness of the sheets against your skin. You blinked blearily, realizing you were curled up in your pyjamas, holding on to your pillow. Every muscle ached, a pleasant reminder of the night’s indulgence, but your mind felt clearer now. As you looked around, confusion settled in; you were alone in the vast expanse of Alastor’s bed, surrounded by the lingering scent of him.

Holding the pillow tightly to your chest, a cold wash of loneliness hit you, heavy and suffocating. How could he have fucked you into unconsciousness and just left? The least he could do was stay, to wrap his arms around you and share the warmth after such an intense experience. A sigh escaped your lips, a mix of frustration and yearning. Perhaps he had cuddled you while you were lost in sleep, but the emptiness in the bed felt cold, and you craved his presence. 

Contemplating, you tried to settle back down, hoping to find solace in sleep again, but the silence of the room felt stifling. With a huff of irritation, you realized you were back at square one—restless and alone. Sitting up, you pulled the pillow against your chest, desperate for a sense of comfort. 

A sudden spark of determination flickered within you, and you decided to check the Radio Tower. It was his usual point of interest, and you hoped he might still be there. Climbing the stairs, excitement bubbled in your chest. Peering through the door window, you caught sight of Alastor’s back, his smooth voice floating through the air like music, wrapping around you and bringing an involuntary smile to your lips. 

Perhaps you could wait for him to finish his business, and then the two of you could go for a stroll. Settling onto the weathered couch, you tucked your knees in and hugged the pillow tighter. Resting your head back, you closed your eyes, focusing on the sound of his voice. 

“One might say they were quite bone dry by the time they left Cannibal Town, hahaha,” Alastor laughed, his transatlantic accent rolling over you like a warm caress. 

You couldn’t help but snort at his silly word play, the sound bubbling up despite the heaviness in your heart. You leaned into his words, letting them wash over you, wrapping you in a cocoon of warmth and familiarity. As he continued to speak, you felt yourself begin to relax, the tension in your body melting away. 

But before you knew it, his voice began to fade, the room darkening around you, pulling you into its depths. The warmth of the couch enveloped you, and soon, your consciousness slowly slipped away once more, leaving behind a lingering ache for his presence. 

Alastor let out a soft sigh, brushing off invisible dust from his arm as he stepped outside, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. He felt a swell of happiness, not only because he had pleased his darling, but also because he had managed to broadcast his show right on time. Yet, as his eyes adjusted to the dim light, they caught sight of you curled up on the couch, fast asleep. 

A flicker of concern crossed his face, his brows knitting together as he wondered why you were sleeping in such an uncomfortable spot instead of the cozy bed he had prepared for you. He opened his mouth, ready to chastise you for choosing the couch over the warmth of your own bedding, but as he got closer, his breath hitched. The soft, gentle expression on your face silenced him. 

Alastor paused, his hand hovering just above your shoulder, a mix of irritation and affection coursing through him. Should he really wake you? But before he could make up his mind, a smirk tugged at his lips, and with a snap of his fingers, a plush blanket materialized, draping softly over your body. He couldn’t help but soften the jagged edge of his smile when he heard the lovely sigh that escaped your lips as you instinctively snuggled deeper into the pillow, blissfully unaware of his presence. 

He stood there, captivated, his eyes locked onto your serene face. A warmth spread through his chest as he observed you, unblinking and utterly entranced. The urge to simply leave and let you rest was his first thought, but instead, his fingers betrayed him. They reached out, tracing the strands of your hair, lifting a lock gently before placing a tender kiss upon it. His heart swelled as he watched you, his typically sharp demeanour softening in the glow of your innocence. 

But then, as if splashed with icy water, reality struck. He quickly dropped your hair as if it had burned him, a flicker of panic dancing in his eyes. He darted a furtive glance around, ensuring no one had witnessed this moment of vulnerability. Alastor, the ever-composed radio demon, was suddenly aware of how uncharacteristic his actions had been. 

The sensible thing would be to let you sleep, especially after the struggles you had faced throughout the week. Yet, against his better judgment, he summoned a chair next to you, settling down with a resigned huff. 

As he waited, a swirl of emotions churned inside him—anticipation, affection, and a strange sense of longing. He found himself drawn to the idea of spending the rest of eternity by your side, watching you awaken to a world painted in shades of endless amusement, delight, and his presence. 

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