#demons HATE him! with this one weird trick--

[satsumadraws]

direct action

[ID: a two-panel comic of Arthur Lester from Malevolent. The background of the first panel consists of scribbled black strokes, on which John’s yellow dialogue is written. It is largely obscured by Arthur, but visible pieces say, “Oh, God, Arthur, they’ve skinned--” “Blood--” “Rotten--” In speech bubbles that further hide this text, Arthur is saying, “All right, that’s-- JOHN, stop, that’s enough!”

In the second panel, Arthur has slapped his right hand firmly over his eyes. The black background has been reduced to a small, angry shape looming over Arthur’s shoulder, with slitted yellow eyes and a sharp-toothed open mouth. John is shouting, “HEY!” /end ID]

[nostalgia-tblr]

*me, reading fanfic*: "Oh no, this seems like a really complicated and difficult situation they're in. But I bet they can resolve it by having sex with each other."

[slasherstories123]

Hello!! Can I please get some period comfort fluff with Jason, Thomas, RZ micheal and Art (whoever else you'd like to add) thank you xoxo

Slashers helping their S/O on their period

Pairing: Jason Voorhees, RZ! Michael Myers, Thomas Hewitt, and Art the Clown x GN! Reader

Tags list: @dootys @callmemeelah @fluffy-little-demon @mehidktbh @the-anxious-youth @beanbagbitch @mrs-heelshire @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better @oneofvincentscandles @sleepypersonblog @alexxavicry @vexeliers-breakroom @l0sercat @naxxsstuff @beel-mcburger @pink-apollo @charliedawn @emychan @slasherscrybaby @callsignwidow @endomishy

Jason Voorhees

Jason will do anything you ask just to help out, he hates seeing you in pain. Especially from cramps and will grab the biggest pain killer bottle he can find just to give to you.

He doesn’t understand the concept so it’s best to sit him down and talk about it just before the time comes just so he could help out.

Sadly. He isn’t a walking heating pad, if he were to place his hand on your stomach to try and soothe your cramps you’ll feel a cold sensation, ice cold to be exact.

He’ll put you in you a warm bath if he sees that your cramps are getting worse

He’s trying his best just to make sure you’re okay and will give you space if you need it.

He’ll cuddle you as long as you want if you want to given his cold body, if you don’t mind it, he’s never letting you go unless you say so just to be there as company and support.

RZ!Michael Myers

Michael doesn’t know much about periods, but he did have an older sister, even then, that wasn’t enough for him, all he knew was that it was a monthly thing women go through.

He knew you were going through it when he saw you curled up in a ball in bed from the excruciating cramps, he doesn’t know what to do until you tell him want your needs were.

He’s trying…for you at least, the best he can do is provide you medicine. All the while staring at your pained figure. If you want him to stay he will.

Michaels hands are warm, he always have something in his hands and will squeeze relentlessly. He’ll even let you place his hand on your stomach as your own heating pad just to help you (after your slight begging of course).

He’ll steal candy from the critters houses to give to you too, you’ll sometimes find them by your night stand or right by your pillow whenever you wake up from a nap.

Thomas Hewitt

He gets help from Luda Mae mostly. He’s clueless and ran straight to her when he saw you curled up in bed.

She’ll tell him everything you might need just so he can be a better help for you.

Thomas will find a way to cool you down since being hot AND on your period isn’t a good mix. He’ll do the smallest things, even if it’s a massage he’ll do it.

Even if you protest he’ll make you rest and will do any small tasks that were assigned for you.

In the night he’ll meekness you to take medicine before bed just so you won’t be in pain throughout the nights

Thomas skin is hot from the Texas heat. His hand makes the perfect heating pad for you too. Whatever cuddling position you’re in his hand will be on your stomach through the night.

Art the Clown

Art is definitely trying his best, and since his actions are different, he’ll go through extreme measures just to get the products you need for your period.

He’ll still pull rather weird tricks just to get a laugh out of you or to distract you from the pain in your stomach.

Most tricks involve weird tactics or disturbing ones, which are in his nature that you’ve gotten used to and you yourself even got to laugh at a few of them

Art is an affectionate guy who will squeeze you tight while cuddling if you ask him to. If it’s a small hug he’ll take it to the next level just to squeeze you in his arms like a stress toy.

Art will also govern you small twinkles he stole or found just to give to you to cheer you up if you’re having your period mood swings. Sometimes he’ll play along if you’re upset and cross his arms with a fake angry expression just to try and mock you.

It’s all harmless in the end.

[strawberrymochin]

(in which you enter the demon slayer realm)

Sanemi eyed you for a while, his hands gripping tight on his sword, as blood slowly trickled down to its tip, dripping on the mud, tainting it red.

Well, the lower rank 6 demon, he was supposed to slay, laid dead on the ground, a little far from you, growling on anger as his body disintegrated into ashes, blown by the slow breezes, dispersing into thin air.

Killed by you. Barehanded.

The moon glowed big and bright, over your heads. "Who are you?" Sanemi shinazugawa said in a horrifying tone, "Or shall I rephrase my question....what are you?".

Shit.

You mentally smack yourself for acting like that infront of him, well that's totally not your fault though, you didn't knew, sanemi was going to make his appearance, moreover it's a background plot, not mentioned once in the manga. You open your mouth but close it again, not sure what to answer.

"Definately not a human."

"I am." You can't help but defend yourself, feeling triggered at his question. Having a mere charecter question your existence is quite disrespectful.

"Is it? I haven't seen a 'human' girl ripping off a demon head barehanded." He comes a bit closer, placing the tip of his sword on your neck, pressing it lightly. "Quiet a sight huh!.......you know I hate lies and surprisingly your aura doesn't resemble humans. What shall I do with that pretty girl?"

Wait. Sanemi shinazugawa called you pretty.

"Pretty....? You think I'm pretty? Oh my god, sanemi shinazugawa called me pretty...." You keep on mumbling to yourself, not being able to contain the excitement. Even though you liked the ever sadistic giyu tomioka more, sanemi was still hot. I repeat fucking hot and feral.

You didn't exactly like ending up in the demon slayer realm but didn't particularly hate it. You have, somehow, the ability to enter manga realms. And, this was your second time, accidentally entering one. The first realm you ended up entering was jujutsu kaisen's, and that was pretty messed up, considering that demon slayer was a heck more peaceful. Atleast you believe so.

Meanwhile sanemi was dumbstruck, first of all, according to his point of view, a girl looking weird creature, who claims to be human but ripped down a lower moon without a nichirin sword, was just impossible. You have to be a demon. And you should fear a sword pressed firmly on your neck, however you were there being giggling flustered mess.

"Stop trying to trick me you demon! It's time for you to join your troops in hell.....and how do you even know my name?"

"Yeah yeah whatever, but you called me pretty and I just....ahhh I love you—"

"S-shut up!" And this time, it's sanemi who's getting flustered. "How the heck you know my name? Forget it, I will just finish off you right here."

"Yeah yeah, whatever, but let's first get those kids home. It's quite traumatic for them to be here."

"Kids?"

"What you didn't know?"

The kids peeked out from the broken house, with eyes clouded in fear, tears stained cheeks, shaking. Sanemi gave a look from the side of his eye as he tilts down his swords rushing to the kids, "i won't let you harm them," shielding them from your vision.

"wouldn't it be better if you take them home rather than wasting time?" You say lazily, "you know what I take back what I said— i don't love you."

"Who wants to be in love with you anyway, filthy blood thirsty demon!" Sanemi fumed, sprinting from his position, "wind breathing: first form- dust whirling cutter."

That's it. You would be dead by now.

Sanemi turned around with a shit eating smile; which dropped in a sec. Lol. You were standing there intact. Ofcourse nothing would make you bleed after all you were a real human, unlike them.

You went to the kids, sighing, bending to their level, "hey it's fine, I know the scene over here was quite terrifying and this uncle over here is terrifying too, but it's fine. I will take you two home. Hmm? Come out."

The kids slowly came out, hesitating a bit.

By the time you took the kids home, its dawn, sanemi followed you suspiciously, grabbing the hilt of his sword tight. 'How did she even survived that? I cut right through her neck... moreover she ain't hurting the kids?' he thought.

The sun is about to rise still you show no sign of panic. What exactly is she? He thought

A demon who could walk under the sun?

"Hey sanemi, I'm hungry, can you buy me something to eat, I promise I will pay you later."

Part 2 ?

[cryptidghostgirl]

Can I request a part 3 to "unrequited"?

A/N I honestly was not planning another part to this story. I'm just gonna... leave this here. (Pls don't hate me guys. This is so genuinely the only path I could think of for this story that I liked.)

Unrequited pt. 3 (Alastor x Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Warnings: Um. Alastor is dark/yandere in this part. Uh. Unhealthy relationship. Yeah.

Word Count: 2,094

Previous Parts:

Unrequited (Alastor x Reader)

Unrequited Pt. 2

Master Lists:

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List

Alastor had cornered her in the hall. The years, the games, the challenges, none of it was fun anymore. It all came to an end tonight. There was no other option, not when she could die tomorrow. The angels were coming, and they were coming for the hotel.

"I don't want you here tomorrow."

"What!?" Y/n exclaimed in utter shock.

She hadn't known what to expect when Alastor had stopped her as she made her way downstairs to the bar. Everyone was supposed to be having a drink together, celebrating their afterlives that there was a chance they might loose. She didn't know what to expect but, she certainly hadn't expected this.

Alastor had been acting weird lately. He was always weird but ever since the day with Husk in the hallway, he'd been weird even by those standards. He was always finding something for Y/n to do that put her near him, always watching. It was irritating. They had been fighting a lot and Alastor still had yet to apologize to Husk.

"I don't want you at the hotel tomorrow. You are not coming near this fight."

"What the fuck, Alastor?" Y/n nearly stamped her foot on the floor, she crossed her arms and glared at the demon, "I... these are my friends. This is my home. I will do what I can to protect it."

"No, you wont. You wont be here." he paused, "I will use our little deal to make sure of that, if need be."

Y/n scoffed. Her anger was a fiery, radiant thing. Alastor found himself thinking she had always reminded him quite a bit of a lioness when she got like this. The thought had been an accident, he couldn't afford to be distracted. Not when these were the stakes. Alastor pushed it away.

"You fucking... literally why? Like, what? I... sorry, just taking me a bit to process this: the demon who tricked me into selling my soul to them is now going to use that contract to take me, a valuable asset, out of a war which we cannot afford to loose?"

"Yes." Alastor nodded.

"Because?" Y/n prompted in irritation after a moment.

Alastor sighed.

"Y/n, think about what could happen if you are here."

"The same thing that could happen to any one here!" Y/n threw her arms up in exasperation, gesticulating her frustration as she spoke, "The same thing you're forcing on Husk and Nifty, have you had this chat with either of them?"

Alastor didn't respond. It was all the answer she needed.

"Yeah, I didn't fucking think so!" she scoffed, "So it's okay for everyone to risk their lives -- it's okay for you to risk your life even, but not me? Its okay for you to force my friends to risk their lives, but you're going to force me to stay out of it? Listen to yourself, you sound ridiculous."

"We don't need your help. You're slow, you will only hold us back."

The comment he had hope would dampen Y/n's spirit, bend her will into submission, only added to her fire.

"I'm... that's bullshit and we both know it. I might be small, but so is Nifty. Everyone has skills they can offer. I know how to fight, how to survive, and we will have angelic weapons for Christ's sake. Like, I really don't understand what the issue your having is here."

"Y/n, just... no." Alastor shook his head, a hand to his temples, "No. You will not be here tomorrow. I forbid it. I'm sending you to stay with Rosie."

"What am I, your kid?" Y/n sneered.

Alastor looked over at her, his hand falling from his forehead.

"Just please, Y/n." he took a step forward, pulling her hands into his. Alastor took a deep breath. "For me."

Y/n's eyes went wide. Alastor could see the conflict, the swirling emotions. Anger turned to grief, mixed with gratitude, and became anger again. A never ending cycle.

His heart pounded against his chest, it fought him valiantly for release. It had been so long. So long since she'd looked at him with anything other than disgust, so long since she had let him touch her like this.

Y/n settled on confusion as her dominant emotion and pulled her hands from his grasp. Alastor mourned the contact, his hands still held up in the air where hers had met them as Y/n took a step away.

"Why."

It wasn't a question. Y/n commanded information and at the end of the day, he may own her soul but she owned his heart. Alastor felt like in some way, she always had. He couldn't bear the thought of loosing her but, he didn't know if he could handle the rejection either. There was no way, no chance, she would believe him if he told her too much of the truth but, lying wouldn't work either. It would have to be a careful balance, a calculated withholding of information. Too much was riding on tomorrow, on tonight, on this very moment.

"Because I don't want you to die."

Y/n's brow furrowed even further, their eyes growing wider still as she stumbled another step back. Her back was nearly against the wall now, there wasn't anywhere else she could go.

Her eyes flitted around the space fervently. Her lips formed words that never left her mouth. Alastor watched, stress eating him alive. At last, Y/n did something. She brought her hands to her head and sunk to the floor, her knees pulled into her chest.

"What are you doing to me." she muttered softly, just barely loud enough for him to hear.

For what felt like the thousandth time, Alastor felt a little piece of his heart fracture off. He didn't know how much more he could take of this before there was nothing left to break, nothing left to loose. She looked up at him, her hands still holding either side of her head and her eyes wet with tears.

"Why do you care?"

Alastor's breath caught in his throat. There was an insistence in her voice, a pleading. He stood in indecision for a moment, frozen by want, by need, by fear. His body took over as he took a step towards Y/n. Alastor kneeled down in front of her.

With great care, with a familiarity and gentleness Y/n hadn't felt from him in years, Alastor untangled her fingers from her hair. He held her hands in his once again and this time, he wasn't going to let go.

"Because I care about you."

Shock at his own bravery emanated from his chest. Alastor held his breath.

"You..." Y/n's eyes hardened, "I wish you'd stop messing with my head like this. Its not funny."

"Y/n, I'm not messing. I am not playing a game, I'm not..." Alastor sighed, letting go of one of Y/n's hands and running his hand through his hair as he looked to the side.

Taking a deep breath, he turned back to face her, grabbing her free hand once again.

"I don't know what I can do to prove it to you, that I'm not. But I will keep you safe. No matter what, you will not be here tomorrow."

"Please, Alastor."

His heart stopped. He couldn't recall the last time she'd asked him for anything that wasn't to leave her, Husk, and Nifty, alone. He couldn't recall the last time she'd seemed to fragile in his arms.

"Please, they're... they're my family. I can't..." a single tear rolled down Y/n's cheek, "I can't just leave them."

"I..."

There was a moment, a split second where he almost agreed. Alastor's eyes narrowed. He dropped Y/n's hands and got back to his feet. She adjusted her position in response, nearly kneeling before him.

"Please, Alastor. Let me help them. Let me do what I can to protect my family. Please. I'll do anything you want... I'll..."

It almost worked. Alastor felt his purpose waver again. Then the fear came back. He had already lost so much. His mother, his humanity, his own soul and free will. Alastor refused to add Y/n to the list of things that were so far out of his reach. He just couldn't. He didn't care if she hated him for the rest of eternity, as long as it meant she was safe at his side.

"No." he shook his head, his heart hardening, "You forget, you already have to do whatever I want. You forget, I own you."

Y/n's scream of anger as the shadows took her was muffled as she was sucked into their portal. Alastor stood, watching the spot she had been in for a few moments and then, he doubled over in pain. It shot through him in spikes, in daggers. It was the first time he had told her that. Not once before had Alastor ever said those three words to Y/n, not even when they had first made their deal. I own you.

The guilt, the regret, all of it underpinned by the overwhelming love. It had been trapped for so long, so sheltered and pushed back in the recesses of his mind that it had twisted. The love had become obsessive, dangerous, hungry.

With a breath, Alastor stood straight once again. Pushing his composure back to the surface, he smoothed his hair and went down to the bar to inform everyone of his decision. He may have forced Y/n to do something she didn't want to, fracturing things further than he'd believed possible, but he wasn't going to blame her for it. Alastor was used to being the villain and hopefully, in this case, he wouldn't have to be. Hopefully, they would understand.

Y/n gasped for breath as she was let out of the shadow portal. Panting on all fours, slowly she brought herself back together. Y/n had met Rosie before, once or twice. She knew she was a kind soul at heart, a reasonable person, and she knew that Rosie's cannibals were the main force of their army tomorrow. All she had to do was convince the overlord to let her join them, and it would be okay.

Taking a deep breath to restore her confidence, Y/n looked up. Her heart dropped.

"No."

She got to her feet, looking carefully around the decrepit old radio tower.

"No. Nonono."

Her breaths becoming panicked, she ran to the door. It was locked. Taking a step back, she kicked it harshly. The firm wood didn't budge.

Driven by adrenaline alone, Y/n ran to the windows and began to hit them with all her might. None of them so much as trembled.

"No!"

She looked wildly around the space and, spotting Alastor's chair, picked it up. Y/n hurled it at the window. There was a crash and for a split second, there was hope. That was until she realized it was the chair that had broken, not the window.

"No! No!"

Turning back to the door, she hurled her body repeatedly against it. Each time, she got the biggest running start she could. Each time, there was no change at all, nothing happened. Fresh tears pooled in her eyes, she was long past panicked now.

"NO!"

After about twenty minutes, Y/n was out of breath and exhausted. Her whole body hurt and her face was sticky with tears. She sat at the door, her back pressed against it and her knees pulled into her chest. Burying her face in her legs, she sobbed.

Everyone was at the hotel, except for her. Everyone was preparing to fight for and protect what they loved, except for her. What would they think? What would they say? Much more importantly, would they make it out?

A sudden fear gripped her, a fist around her heart. Would she ever see any of them again? Y/n's sobs redoubled.

"Fucking..."

She sniffed, her panic and grief quickly fixing itself back in the shape of the familiar anger. She could see him in her minds eye, that moment his eyes had softened, that moment she thought that maybe he had been telling the truth all along, that they really had been friends, that he really did care.

"I hate you Alastor!" she screamed to herself, alone in the dark, "I hate you and I will continue to hate you until the day I fucking die again!"

----

A/N I love an irredeemable villain and doomed, misshapen love. I'm sorry to anyone who wanted this to end up happy.

[lizardbraining]

Forgive my overindulgence but do you know what this means??? Do you??? Can you even conceive of the potential????

Say Wukong didn’t kill Macaque.

What if he doesn’t know?? What if he just thinks they had their fallout under the mountain, Macaque disappeared for hundreds of years, and when he showed back up again he hated him? What if they never spoke of it, because obviously not even Wukong would forget something as awful as murder-betrayal. What if both their images of each other are twisted, Macaque thinking Wukong is a violent monster who turned on him the second he didn’t serve his purpose and Wukong thinking Macaque is a coward who had one argument and abandoned him for a hundred years, coming back only to start fights and target his student? What if everyone’s perception of Wukong is a little skewed due to some celestial influence? What if the Lady Bone Demon, did a lot more damage than anyone ever knew?

Most importantly, what would they do if they realized they were tricked? If Macaque digs up his unaltered memories and realizes he abandoned his best friend for next to nothing? If Wukong realizes someone made Macaque think he killed him? If they could even make up after centuries of fighting under false memories, or, alternatively, how quickly they reconcile even after so long?

In conclusion, Shadowpeaches is my lifeblood but I stopped doing art because the canon implications of their murder-betrayal relationship made me feel kinda weird but now, with this new headcanon, I suddenly have a lot more material :)

[aennasan]

You are odd.

He knows that his girlfriend is very odd.

The taste you have in men is very particular. You love ikemen with a beautiful voice. Yet, up until now that description made him wonder.

Sugishita is very quiet. Not sure about the pretty because most girls his age are scared of his presence and face. They even called his reaction demon once.

You love giving compliments out loud. You love calling everything that made your heart flutter as cute and adorable. And he would often receive your cute and adorable compliments— even if his reaction was just a blank face of him.

Although, your reactions to his “adorableness” made him confused and questioned if you truly know the meaning of that word, he doesn't appreciate his classmates' whispers of doubts whenever you call him that in front of them.

How dare they question your claims? If you say his poker face is cute, then it is cute!

You hate tall and muscular men. You claimed they are always so scary and intimidating. The idea of being towered by men gives you an ick. And yet—

He is one of the tallest freshmen standing in 6’3. You would often lean on his chest as a pillow, claiming small girlfriend privileges. And you would often wrap your arm around his arm or waist and chirp saying he is very warm and comfy. Although lean, he is muscular.

Yet, in all of your oddness, he doesn't like it when someone calls you weird. You hated that word and so does he.

When Sakura, on your fifth meeting in the cafe, called you weird, a slip of his tongue, when you squealed and called Sugishita cute after he frowned and gave you a stink eye, for looking at you with pure confusion, after you asked him one of your daily odd questions.

“Would you love me if I became a worm?”

He cannot hide his surprise, and was thinking if it was a trick question when suddenly you laughed out loud and claimed his reaction was so cute, and you cannot help but tease him.

Sakura, who cannot hide his own confusion, blurted out, “You're weird.” and the silence was so loud and suffocating. Everyone knows he did not appreciate that you called his girlfriend weird, and it will surely end in a fight.

Kotoha’s eyes were wide. Kiryuu let out an “uh oh”. Nirei and Suo were already on high alert, especially, when they saw Sugishita push his chair out of the way, when suddenly you spoke and it immediately dissipated the tension.

“Don't you dare call me that, Tsundere.”

There were seconds before everyone boomed in laughter. And Sakura was red and sputtering nonsense as he tried to defend himself.

Sugishita looks smugly at Sakura before he sits back down, chest up and proud of you. He grabbed your hand, and kissed the back of it.

That's my girl.

There it goes. The reason why he likes you so much.

He is so lucky to have a very odd girlfriend.

[mioakem]

Sometimes I remember that nico lost his mother and then was put in a hotel for seventy years and finally get let out and then found out that his dad was a Greek god and he was so excited but then his sister decided to join the hunters of Artemis and he’s happy for her but also scared once he finds out that she’s going on a quest so he makes the cute guy who saved him earlier promise to keep her safe only for him to return after the quest and tell him that his sister had died and then everyone hated him because of who his father was and he realized he was in love with the guy who he blames for his sisters death and hates himself for it and then he goes on a side quest with Percy and brings him to his fathers palace under the impression that hades just wanted to talk with Percy because he said that it he brought Percy to him then he would tell him more about his family but then hades tricks the both of them and imprisons Percy and Nico goes to save him but Percy doesn’t trust him anymore and then he single handedly brought three gods to help with the battle of manhattan only to still not feel welcomed and then he learned that there might be a way to bring back his dead sister only to find out that she had chosen rebirth and then found his other sister and brought her back from the fields of asphodel and then found another camp and started to actually heal and then Percy shows up with no memory and he lies to him and promptly dips and ends up completely alone in Tartarus only to get kidnapped by two giants and get stuffed in a jar with only a limited supply of pomegranates and then when the seven finally come to save him he finds out that most of them didn’t even want to save him and thought it would just be better to leave him in the jar to die and then he had to watch the guy who he’s not rlly in love with anymore fall into Tartarus but not before making him promise to lead a group of people that hate him to the house of hades and he agrees to it and then everyone except for his sister stay away from him because they think he’s creepy and weird until he has to go on a side quest with Jason to retrieve something from Cupid and he is forced to admit that he was gay and in love with Percy to a guy he barely knows let alone trusts and then realizes that no one would hate him because of that and he makes his first actual friend and then he volunteers himself to go on a deadly quest to take a ginormous statue back to camp via shadow travel and he nearly dies from it but he also developed a strong friendship with Reyna along the way and after the war he finally allows himself to be loved by his friends and tells Percy how he used to feel about him and meets Will and is finally happy for the first time in a while and then his boyfriends dad shows up as a mortal but he doesn’t think much of it until one day he feels the same feeling he felt when Bianca died and realized that Jason had died and goes into a deep depression and then Reyna also joined the hunters and everything just sucks again but at least he has Will and people at camp don’t really hate him anymore but then he starts getting plagued with nightmares and it gets so bad to the point where he finally gives in and goes down into Tartarus again but with Will this time and is forced to face his demons but ends up embracing them and freeing his friend and everything is now kind of okay again and he starts kinda developing a friendship with Piper and he’s actually happy but who knows how long that’s gonna last cause he’s been happy before and look where that got him

[amethysttribble]

If You Hold a Silmaril-

Things might get a little weird.

On the night which Thingol first held the Silmaril, he dreamed of Finwe.

He saw his friend standing beneath Laurelin and Telperion, laughing in wonder. 'Elwe!' he called, 'Elwe, isn't it beautiful?'

Thingol didn't get the chance to reply, because the seasons of Valinor which he had never seen passed them by swiftly, and the light of the Trees which had so touched him changed and Finwe changed, too. His features softened, his stature lessened, the gleam in his eyes grew brighter.

In a soft voice, he asked, "Isn't it beautiful?" Laurelin and Telperion winter-dead behind him and a Silmaril cupped in his palms, presenting.

"Yes," Thingol agreed with a smile.

---

Beren never held the Silmaril for long; at least, not outside the wolf's stomach. He took the stone in hand once, twice, thrice, always just trying to convey it to its next location, it's new owner. He was fine with this.

He would never forget how his own hand had look in Carcharoth's stomach- first perfectly preserved, and then naught but dust once disturbed. Felagund had once recounted the Sons of Feanor's oath to him, and the line about 'mortal hands' had stuck out.

Beren did not trust the thing. He did not trust the lullaby that had teased his ears since he first pried the burning thing from the crown of darkness. Never could he hear the words clearly, but when he tried to provide reason to that sweet, haunting melody, he ascribed that Oath of Feanor. He was pretty sure he was wrong, though.

He was especially sure he was wrong about the lullaby when he draped the Nauglamir over his fingers and pondered what to do with it.

___

Earendil sang with the Silmaril. Old songs and new songs, Quenya songs and Sindarin songs; Elvish songs, Mannish songs, and songs from before either of their times. There was little else to do while sailing on the rim of the world.

They'd become friends, the two of them.

___

Melkor held three Silmarils, for a time. Even at his poorest, he possessed two. That voice and light was hewn into his very being. So much so that his eyes and ears- which were constructions, falsehoods, empty veneers- tricked him.

He grew used to the shadows haunting every corner of his eyes. The whispers which came from every direction.

For him, there was no singing, no memories.

There were taunts, jeers, and laughter, because he and dear Feanaro were cut from the same cloth, and there was nothing spirits like them hated more than being mocked. Melkor knew this well, had used this well, and so he did not react. Did not provide the satisfaction to Feanaro.

Because he had been the one to bring Feanaro low, he was the one who won.

So even when his feet were cut from under him, and that little fey thing that only he could see looked down at him, smirk split over his unreal face, triumph in those eyes, Melkor didn't care.

He didn't care, he didn't care, he didn't CARE-

Feanor laughed and all of Morgoth's screams couldn't drown it out.

---

The first time Luthien held the Silmaril was when her husband, brow knit in worry, handed her the Nauglamir.

"Interesting," she said.

"I think there is some fairy within it," Beren said, quoting the legends of his youth. "When your father and the Dwarves of Nogrod were moved to madness, I thought it a demon, but after holding it myself for a time... Perhaps not. Perhaps it has ensorcelled me as well."

"So not evil?" she asked, though already well-sure of her assumptions. No, not evil, just-

"Not good either," Beren grumbled, crossing his arms. "But, no. That's why I now think it to be a fairy."

"I agree," Luthien said, bringing the pretty thing up meet her eyes. She had never understood the allure while hearing tales or while retrieving this creation, but holding him, feeling him, she felt she might understand.

He was very warm, and very bright, and the scope of him was so very wide and colorful and varied. And this was just one Silmaril? Luthien was starting to understand how love for such a father could turn a son to such evil. This could also inspire greatness.

"Not evil, not good, just very strong in who he is. Quite the fairy, indeed. I think, if minded correctly, a great blessing."

___

Silmaril in hand, Maedhros heard only one thing: a call of recognition, wreathed in infinite sorrow and regret.

My son!

He wanted to hear no more.

___

Carcharoth burned. He cried. He wanted this to end.

There was something within that hated him. Furious and heated. It tasted like the sky at first, like the slight sting of stars except worse, and then it grew worse still.

At once, the fire within was both hot and cold, tasting of his master's Ainur fury and the slaps of the Orcs which fed him as a pup. Both his spirit and his flesh burned. It hurt so badly.

He wanted it to stop, why wouldn't it stop, wouldn't master return and make it stop?

What was this crystallized flame he'd swallowed, where had it come from, why would anyone make such a thing? Carcharoth could not understand, would never understand, especially when it cried, Foul imitation.

His bane rejoiced when the puny wolfhound appeared again, and Carcharoth's last joy was killing that holy lapdog. Then the pain flared even brighter, all heat and fury and hatred, and he faltered. He, the Red Maw. He howled in pain around the Man in his mouth, and his Elven prey struck.

He was almost grateful to the Elves.

___

Varda, completely taken with her own designs and creations, happily humming to herself, actually didn't notice anything of note.

___

Dior grew up on stories of the Silmaril.

Hearing of wicked Feanorions and the massive wolf and the Great Enemy's palace. The eagles and horseback duels and the hand. On rare occasions, his grandfather had showed the treasure to him, but it wasn't often and never for very long.

So, suffice to say, when he and his father recovered the Nauglamir bound Silmaril, he was awe-struck.

For the last year of her life, his mother wore that necklace, and he often told her that she was beautiful, and looked healthier in that light, and she seemed to keep laughing at private jokes. She'd wink at him. Luthien was very lively in that last year, especially for an old Woman, but it did not stop her from lying in bed with Beren as he died, and slipping away in the same heartbeat.

The Silmaril lay forgotten in a drawer when they went.

Dior retrieved it as he packed up their house, their life, and prepared to make for Doriath. This was the first time he'd ever held it, because his father was wary of the thing, his grandfather possessive of the thing, and his mother a funny kind of person. As he trailed his fingers over the warm, glowing gem, he did not think it deserved all the fuss.

His mother once said there was a fairy within that gave advice that was not strictly good or bad, just mad, mad, mad. And grand. As Dior entered beautiful, wild, Elvish Doriath, he felt he could use a little madness and grandness both.

He put it on.

And there was the lullaby his father spoke of, and there was the tricksy warmth his mother traded japes with, and there was the strength of will that always kept his revered grandfather's countenance so tall and straight. Dior smiled, and asked Nimloth how he looked, breathing a little bit easier. Feeling a little more confident.

Dior felt like a real Elf-king when he wore the Silmaril.

___

Mablung held the Silmaril for the briefest of moments, and still felt the world shift.

Or maybe the world did not shift. Maybe he shifted. Moved slightly to the left on the plane of Arda. Drawn slightly closer to his spirit, the world's; spirit of an Ainu.

Because after that brief moment of possession, the colors of the world were brighter. The sounds sharper. The smells richer. The tastes deeper. Was this how it was in Valinor, he wondered.

Or was this something unique. Was it the appeal of the Silmarils? Why they were so coveted?

He still did not understand why they were worth the death and blood and suffering of so many. So the world was greater and vaster and there was now a taste in his mouth that urged him to seek that world and understand it and bend it.

No, he would not do that. He was loyal to his king and home. And he would fight for the Silmaril if heeded, but it was with great reluctance. The Silmaril had touched him and he did not like it.

Mablung supposed some would feel blessed, but he just felt tainted. Violated. Who would want such a thing?

___

Hanar was a craftsman of Nogrod, a disciple of Gamil Zirak. Not as renowned as Telchar was he, but still respected, still well-known, still good enough to receive the invitation to King Thingol's court. He was given a special job.

Though his heart pounded with envy at seeing all his people had wrought occupied and hoarded by Elves, especially the Nauglamir- which bore that foul name for his people though they made that beautiful thing- he was a reasonable person. An honorable dwarflord. He accepted the terms of the deal and got to work. He accepted the Silmaril.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

This was delicate work, his hammer remained stored away, but his pounding heart filled the void. He evaluated the shape of the Silmaril, turned it over in his hands and contemplated how to hold such beautifully wrought facets without defacing it.

Hanar felt that the gem in his hands understood his task. His care in fulfilling it. As he unwound the Nauglamir and nestled the Silmaril within, it offered advice, as if from one craftsman to another.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Into the silver and steel, the twinkling gems and the burning Silmaril, he poured himself. He slaved over this project for many weeks, scarcely sleeping, eating. The Silmaril rejoiced with him, crying, So long its been since I helped make something! So much I have missed it! Thank you, thank you!

Together, they worked.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

When complete, Hanar held their new creation and wept. Such a masterpiece he created in the merging of two previous masterpieces. It surpassed the work of Telchar. Why, it might even have surpassed his master.

And his masterpiece, it had helped him bring itself to fruition. It thanked him for giving it life. They were friends now.

How could anyone ask Hanar to give this up to unappreciative hands? How?

No smith of any artistry could.

___

When Finwe first beheld the Silmarils, cupping each reverently in his hands one-by-one, he knew what he had been gifted immediately.

He kissed his beloved son and smiled sadly as he said, "Are you still so scared of your mother's fate?"

Feanaro denied it, but Finwe knew the truth.

___

If Mairon could grind the Silmarils down into dust, he would.

His beloved master returned home with them in hand, burning in hand, burning down to the soul so that the wound could not be wiped away. They were beautiful and powerful. At the time, the prospect excited Mairon. His master tasked him with forging a crown for his prizes, and he'd grinned in excitement.

What creations, what strange creations, smithed by an Elf? Mairon could not wait to break them down and build them back better and recieve praise for his genius.

Except... Except.

Except, that proved... difficult. Difficult, at first, it was just +difficult. Why couldn't he cut into them? Alter them with temperature? Remove that pesky burning? Why could Mairon not peer inside and break down the molecular structure and understand?

He didn't understand. What was he working with? He couldn't understand!

His master issued a warning when he took too long to make the crown, and Mairon was forced to retreat.

It wasn't a defeat. It wasn't impossible for him to alter, to better the Silmarils, it wasn't. He would recreate them.

Then master would see that he was the better smith than this Elf. Maybe the first try didn't work. Maybe the second didn't either. And the third, fourth, fifth-

Mairon screamed and raged and razed his smithy to the ground, taking a dozen servants with it.

He tried again. Not light, but darkness. Something more fitting for his master's reign! And then he'd give up on the Silmarils. He only had two now, why did he even still care?

He would keep trying and trying and trying and trying-

Mairon would dissect Curufinwe Tyelperinquar as many times as it took, physically, mentally, alive or dead, as many times as it took to understand.

___

Elwing really knew nothing of the Silmaril but what she learned herself.

There was no one to tell her what the Silmaril had whispered to them, shown them. Many hands it had gone through, and not one was around to impart any wisdom. She wasn't frightened of this gift, though.

On her twentieth birthday, her people draped the Nauglamir, Silmaril front and center- around her neck and named her queen. Elwing took on the Silmaril and was struck with familiarity.

It sung her a song that she recognized. It was the one that soothed her as she was spirited away from Menegroth, silver and diamond necklace weighing down her little body, family dead. A song that told her not to cry, to not be scared. Oh, how the Silmaril hated the sound of crying children.

She started to wear the Nauglamir often, more the sign of her queenship than any crown. It gave her people hope. It made her feel stronger. More... connected to something.

That night and many thereafter, she dreamed of shores she'd never been to, and started to recognize traits of Idril's as belonging to people she'd never met, and learned which songs Finwe would use to sing his children to sleep. Strange treasure, curious relic. It had life and memories of its own, and it communicated feelings.

The Silmaril was fond of her. Sometimes, in snatches, it told her of what it'd seen of her own family. That made Elwing happy. Their connection made her own soul brighter.

She told Earendil of all this and only him. At least, only her husband until-

Elwing sneered in the face of Maedhros, and said, "Why do you even want it? He would hate you as you are."

___

"You are not my father," Maglor said, holding the Silmaril before his face, collapsed upon the shore, defeated. His hand was still burning, though his flesh was long since ruined. At once, he wanted nothing more than to hold on and let go.

"You are a shadow. A remnant. An echo. But a piece of him, capable of communicating memories and the basest of feelings and impulses, but no higher thought. My father, distilled. But not him.

"Which is a shame, I- I never believed Curufin's theory about my father's spirit only being recoverable with the Silmarils, but I'm disappointed now that it is not him speaking to me. I have so much to say, but I find myself mourning only one lost opportunity thing: it would have been nice to debate poetry movements with him again.

"You're not my father. You're a will-o-wisp, a taunt. A false light, guiding us to our doom. Our fault. Our stupidity. Our end."

He ambled to his feet.

"Yet, I feel your love for me, and I'm glad. I feel your horror, and I'm ashamed. To sadness, I respond with anger, and to regret- Do you feel regret? Are you capable, strange little reflection? Am I seeing what I want to see or disregarding what I cannot stand? I don't know. I don't know. I wish I didn't know. To have died in pursuit and not know would be preferable."

Fury gripped Maglor's heart and hot tears came to his eyes. He pulled his arm back.

"You are not worth what has been done in your name!"

He screamed, and the Silmaril was gone. All was silent. Then, Maglor started to weep. He had not realized until this moment how much he had forgotten about who his father was, beyond the last words he said.

How much the world had forgotten about Feanor, beyond the scope of a Silmaril.

___

If you hold a Silmaril, you're going to get to know Feanor. When you get to know him, you're soul will brush up against his. When you possess his soul and he stains yours, you might just start to understand him.

[fizziepopangel]

"This face was made for radio!"

Alastor is aro/ace but his love language is touch. Having been abused by his father as a child caused him to have a deep seeded anxiety around touch, and now being a demon most fear being in the presence of, let alone close enough to touch in any way, he often ends up being touch starved since most refuse to be around the demon long enough to build any sort of trust that would lead to any sort of touch.

Despite his lone wolf attitude, Alastor has grown quite attached to Husk and Niffty his closest friends. Although Husk hates the fact that this relationship is based in the fact that he is quite literally bound to the radio demon and Alastor has threatened him on multiple occasions, Alastor still considers himself closest to the gambling man.

He views Niffty as a daughter which is why he seems to be just a bit softer with her in a way in comparison to how he is with the others.

Charlie made the decision that they would all have a ‘family dinner’ every friday night where everyone would take turns cooking, she even made a little chart to remind everyone whose turn it was to cook….. Alastor, was quite upset to find that he was the only one excluded from this chart because everyone was afraid his… “unique” taste was a bit too different from theirs given his cannibalistic tendencies.

Although Husk has a deep anger toward the man who owns his soul, he gave Alastor his night to cook for this family dinner after seeing how upset he was given that he was excluded from the cooking chart. Alastor was absolutely over the moon when he got the chance to cook for everyone.

He gravitates toward women that remind him of his mother. Even as an aroace man, he finds that they have a comforting aura and they remind him a lot of home, though he would never admit that to anyone.

Rosie was his first friend in hell and he hated being away from her during his seven year “sabbatical”. The second he came back, he went straight to Cannibal Town to see her, bringing flowers and dinner for the both of them so they could catch up over a nice meal.

Alastor has Husk contracted to him to serve drinks mostly…. But funnily enough, Alastor doesn’t drink very much anymore. A glass of wine or two every now and then, but he’s put most of his drinking days behind him and prefers tea for the most part.

Being quite the mama’s boy when he was living, he still celebrates his mother’s birthday and mothers day despite the fact that his mom isn’t in hell with him. On her birthday, he bakes her favorite cake, and on mothers day, he makes her a card like he used to as a kid even though he knows that he can’t give it to her, while he allows the cake to be eaten, he has a box full of cards he’s made for her over the years in his room hidden in his closet.

Husk, Niffty, and Rosie are the only people who he’s ever talked to about his parents. The radio demon has spent nights crying to Rosie about missing his mother and the home he grew up in, and he’s shown Niffty the photo he keeps of his mother and him from his time in the human world and shown her cleaning tricks his mother taught him… 

Though when he’s spoken to Husk about his parents, it was more like the two of them comparing how shitty their fathers were rather than Alastor talking about how he always thought his mother was a saint. Truthfully, he feels bad about it since he knows his mother was better to him than Husks’s was in most instances and Alastor’s mother always taught him not to brag.

Alastor and Vox used to be friends, but Vox misread their friendship and wanted more. Despite Alastor not wanting to end their friendship, it got weird after he rejected Vox’s advances and Vox got pissy because he hadn’t realized that the rejection had nothing to do with him but rather that Alastor just didn’t really have those feelings for anyone.Vox chose violence, and Alastor didn’t turn down the fight, leading to a feud that just continued to spiral into their current rivalry.

Although he hates the “noisy picture box”, Alastor and Rosie have little sleepovers at Rosie’s home in Cannibal Town where they often watch Hella Novelas together and trash talk the characters.

Alastor became a radio host before he became a cannibal.

His first cannibal meal was a horribly cooked rack of ribs that was served to him at a party after befriending a man who he thought jokingly said he ate other people….. But despite being overly cooked in the worst ways, it was still the best rack of ribs he had ever tasted.

Soon after his arrival in hell, Alastor published the #1 best selling cannibal cookbook in Hell by the title of “Friends For Dinner”. followed soon after by his other three cannibal cookbooks “Nice to (M)Eat You”, “101 Bloody Good Dessert Recipes”, and “Eat Your Heart Out: Valentines Recipes & Breakup Pick Me Ups”. And yes, Rosie has signed copies of each book displayed in her store.

[flower-boi16]

My opinion on Stolas might be a bit different from most people who openly voiced their hatred towards him.

Honestly I wouldn't say he's evil, but I also won't say he's a saint either. The guy just honestly needs a bit of a wake up call that yeah, he kind of was looking down on Blitz by calling him his little imp plaything and what happened in Ozzie's. To truly think about how the way he treated him and being called those things would lead Blitz to thinking that he doesn't love him.

And to be blunt... it seems more like he in love with falling in love. Let me in explain. The guy was trapped in an unhappy marriage where the only light in it was his daughter, so of course he might wanna look for an escape of sorts. Something akin to a knight in shining armor saving a princess from an evil witch, taking her on his steed and living happily ever after.

But the problem here that in pursuit of that fantasy, he's also neglecting Octavia. So what I'm hoping for is for the call out to come from her and that would be the breaking point for Stolas, that he really wasn't the innocent party in this as he thought to be and take the steps to truly improve and find a way to make it up to Blitz.

The thing is, that is exactly what Season 1 was trying to do. Season 1 Stolas was a man who made many mistakes that ended up hurting others, he was consumed by his own lustful desires and in the process he hurt the ones he cared about.

Part of what makes Loo Loo Land such a fantastic episode is that Stolas goes through some level of character development in that episode; he realizes that he made a mistake that hurt his daughter and, he decides to fix it by taking her to a place that she likes, even if he probably doesn't care for it.

It shows that he has more dimension beyond being a horny twink. Season 1 knew that Stolas wasn't a great person but it still gave him redeeming qualities to make him at least reedamable. I don't Season 2 Stolas (as a person) is irredeemable, but Season 2 really took everything that made Stolas interesting and threw it out the window.

The fundemental problem with how Season 2 is handling Stolas is the season's insistance of painting him as the vitcim in every situation he's in; I've said this many times before but it bares repeating; anyone who was hurt by Stolas' past actions is demonized by the narrative. Stella is turned into a one-dimensional bitch so Stolas cheating on her could make him look sympathetic. Octavia is told to cut her father some slack because he's "trying his best" even when the series shows us the exact opposite. And Blitz is told that he just hates Stolas for being a prince and is frammed as jaded and biased by the narrative even when he has no reason to think Stolas loves him given everything Stolas did to him in Season 1.

Every problem Stolas has as a character began in The Circus, where it decides to add in that "Stolas just wanted genuine affection and thought he had that with Blitz" thing, which came out of nowhere and directly contradicts what Season 1 first established, it's such a weird change in his character and feels completely different to what Season 1 gave us. It's a retcon because it doesn't line up with what was set up in the first season.

And this, in a vaccume, isn't even a terrible idea for a character, it could be interesting on it's own, but it contridicts what was previously established and turns Stolas into an UwU soft sad boy.

I don't really think that they are going to call Stolas out, at all. From what I've heard there are leaks that say that Octavia was tricked by Andre and Stella into hating Stolas, so he is now being frammed as a victim again.

Stolas had the groundwork for being the best character in the show but bad writting turned him into the worst. And at this point I don't think there's any fixing him at this point, it'll just come across and as too little too late.

[aliceattheart]

Vox with a new an uprising tech demon threatening to take his spot that turns into a hate fuck situation with like an enemies to lovers troupe (also I figured out how to request yayyy)

You're making me short circuit

18+

When clicking the read more you consent that you are 18 I guess. I never followed this when I was younger 🤭 but for real this is adult content so viewer discretion advised ᕙ⁠(⁠＠⁠°⁠▽⁠°⁠＠⁠)⁠ᕗ

Also drak themes(You have been warned)

Vox x AFAB Reader

Heyyy y'all Alice here

I thought of the perfect idea for this I hope you enjoy. I'm a bit new to writing smut 😼

You weren't shocked after your unfashionable death did you find yourself spiraling straight down to hell. After countless amounts of murdering of the masses. You're crimes never caught up to you until you died of liver failure due to your obsessive drinking problem.

Your interesting new body that also accompanied you was strange. Your body has a luscious glow from the weird skin like sheet metal. With a small monitor on your wrist that showed you your vitals.

Having no foundation and a slight craft of making something out of nothing. You got yourself a business making Android assistance bots. Who needs Demons and Sinners when you have ready made bots willing to do almost anything. You're still working on somethings but none the less from perfection.

You were a spit fire that's for sure. Finding your place fairly easy. Being the Mastermind behind an Electric business in your recent past. You've learned a few dirty tricks at getting what you want.

Having frequent battles to aquire a turf to call your own. Even if I meant trying to brutally murder other low life's. Who cares? You're in hell and you only live once. Well twice in every Sinners case.

But as of late some asshole of a Poor functioning monitor company wanted to get in your way. He was "Big time" but all of his accomplishments were mediocre at best. Your Android assistance bots gravely out weighted his TV Empire beyond comparison. And he was "friends" with that loser Valentino. Good golly do you hate him and his disgusting business.

He once wanting to combine your business with his. Wanting you to work under him. He honestly thought he was smart. You're not that dumb, he wants the publicity of you joining. You have been the talk of the whole realm. It was truly an honor to the single flower that stuck out. Quite the eye catcher.

Which honestly you would have if he'd ask nicer than just say, "Join my fucking Empire and lavish in all it's charm."

You gently got up from your sit and said this on your way out. "As if I'd join the Three Musketeer and work under your pitiful display of power." Walking out of the door slamming it.

He came up with a brilliant idea. "I'm tired of playing nice with that bitch." Vox took to anger before rationally thinking. He was proud of himself when telling his subordinates to put a tracking device in your car. And it surely didn't take long for him to locate you.

You weren't one to mess around with. Having a zero tolerance for idioc and rambunctious losers who would waste your time. And unfortunately for Vox he fit both categories.

Stepping out of the car. The service bot held your hand to help you out. Closing the door behind you. Without a chance to catch view of the bustling only to see Vox. "What do you want from me? I thought I made it clear that I wanted no part in that bogus deal." Snapping at him as he followed this long strides behind you. "Don't be like that, can't you just see how much more you'll gain working under me? You can't be so stupid to think I won't use force did you?" "Oh no! Whatever shall I do? You know I'm not helpless, correct?" He scoffed at you. Unfortunately for him he recently learned of your alliance with Alastor.

Picking up your pace as you walked into the booming establishment. Hoping to loosen up after your truly eventful week. Quickly finding yourself to the bar. Only to have that insufferable TV sit right next to you.

"What would you like Y/L?" "Take the strongest things you have and mix them together. I want the strongest hangover tomorrow." "Give me what's she's having."

After a few drinks you both shared a unspoken mood. You couldn't quite put your finger on it but the desire you felt at the moment for the very distasteful yet Handsome TV. Perhaps it was the lights, or maybe the music but most definitely the drinks. Checking your arm monitor. [Hammered] That's all you needed to know to put your almost finished drink down.

After putting the money on the table with a nice tip, you turned and started up another conversation with Vox. "Why are you still here? I've already said no to the deal, get it through that think screen of yours."

"Someone is feeling that Martini. I just thought that you might want some company. I've seen the way you've been staring at me all night." "Hop off your high horse. Though you aren't mistaken. Just be warned that I don't play sweetly." "Don't worry sweetheart. I like to play rough."

After that short but sweet conversation you can't even remember how you ended up in your room. But that's a problem for tomorrow.

Imagine

Your elaborate outfit was long gone, making conversation with the carpet. You knew Vox wasn't a kind man but some decency wouldn't hurt. He littered your skin with sharp nips.

His slick fingers found it's way to your chest. "Remember what you said, what happened to all that bite?" Vox smirked down at you while he pinched at your oh so sensitive nipples. "Oh shut up. You should be greatful that I'm allowing you the pleasure of pleasing me tonight. Many souls have fought for this pleasure." Your legs clamped around his waist, successful flipping both of you over. "But since you asked so nicely, I'll show you some bite "

You made quick work of his tattered clothes. Throwing the button up and pants on the floor to join the conversation with yours. You decided to leave his undergarments on. You being in no rush. You had nothing to do in the morning.

Slowly you started to grind your hips down to meet his. You were quick to make your hands busy with raking them up and down his chest. Feeling naughty you started to traced his cute nipples. He started to look slightly displeased.

"Oh what's wrong cupcake? Is this too much for you already?" He scoffed at you while grinding his hip up to yours. "It's not that it's too much, I've never had someone--Ah !" He cut himself off with a airy moan. You don't spare him any glances as you started to toy with his nipples.

You gave him the same rough treatment he gave you. Pulling and twisting them. Tonight shall be an interesting night. Was all you could think about. While your hands were busy you started to lean down and bite at his shoulders. Leaving deep bite marks in it's wake. Slowly dragging your tongue around the craters. Trailing your tongue to meet your hands. Latching onto his left nipple and gently sucking.

You could tell that Vox was getting impatient with the lack of friction between his legs. Looking him in his eyes he had a deep flush on his monitor. He was cute.

Suddenly out of nowhere he decided that he wanted to take charge again. Mostly likely because he felt humiliated that he was being dominated by you. "I've had enough play time. Let's get the real party started." He snatched your beautiful decorated panties off without a second thought. He were quick to follow.

"Like I've said, I'm not gonna go easy on you." Flashing his pearly sharp teeth at you again. Precisely lining himself up with you soaking wet entrance. Just the tip felt heavy and he had even inserted yet. What have you've gotten yourself into. Too late to back out now.

He slammed his throbbing hard dick into you. All you could do was hold your mouth open as all the air rushed out of you. The sting of the stretch was orgasmic. Your legs pulled him in closer, not wanted to let him go.

His pace was slightly unbearable. The jack ass didn't even give you a change to catch your breath. He was thrusting in so hard and deep. It was the deepest someone has gotten. He grabbed your legs and pulled them down to your chest. "Waait! Slow DOwn!" "What ah happened to you don't play nice? So take what I givve you." He was groaning as he picked his pace up.

You didn't know about him but you were about to cum. He was just being so rough. It was a major turn on for you. "I'm... I'm CUMMING!" The orgasm shook through you. Vox on the other hand did not slow down for a second. He worked you through your first orgasm into your second. It was becoming too much, your legs started to shake. Vox finally emptied himself into your warm cavern. "Ahhh, that was great. But don't think that we're finished yet."

He pulled out. And turned you over flat on your stomach. Pulling your hips up towards his. He reinserted himself into you with on strong thrust. He picked back up his brutal pace again. Your face went straight into the pillows to hide your loud moans. As he slammed his hips into the back of your ass it stung oh so good. Vox pulled at your scalp and yanked your head back. "Don't go quiet on me now. I wanna he your screams." And boy did you not let him down. "AhhaaA, I'm CUMMING AGAIN!"

You couldn't take anymore, he was being so mean. You looked at your arm monitor it said [Error]!? What does that mean? Vox slid his fingers down to meet your painfully throbbing clit and started to play with it. "You like that don't you?" He said proud of himself for successful.aking you cum three times non-stop. Your fourth orgasm was coming in fast. "Give me one more." "I CAN'T!" "YOU CAN." Your vitals started to say"Short circuit!" Along with "ERROR"

Before you knew it you blacked out for a few seconds. When you came to you realized between your legs was a gushing stream of liquid. You were beyond embarrassed. Vox grunted on last time as he slowed his pace down. Having reaching his limit. With you milking his cock just right. His orgasm was trying blissful.

"God we should do this more often." He smiled at your oh so tired body. "Maybe another time when I'm under the influence of a sharp Martini." You chuckled. The rest of your night was quite peaceful as you quickly feel asleep. Who would have thought Vox loves to cuddle.

[ckret2]

What would be Bill's hobbies in the nightmare realm? Like ok he's been there for a million years, what would he do? Aside from partying, ruling and planning world domination?

Hate to nitpick—but one trillion years. To me the difference isn't a trivial "okay they're both impossibly big numbers" if we're considering what Bill's life must have been like; because one million years ago, humans had already evolved. One TRILLION years is 72 times longer than our entire universe has existed. We're talking about a life where for most of his existence, the universe he would ultimately try to conquer—much less the species that would help him do it—didn't even exist yet.

But to the actual question:

Genuinely I think partying took up most of his free time lmao. Maybe not at the start; but over time, getting absolutely smashed and "having fun" would have become an essential strategy to hold on to what was left of his fraying mental health, so it probably became more and more of his schedule while he waited for an in to a universe. And it combines several of his top hobbies: socializing, meeting people, dancing, substance abuse... But even something that takes "most of his free time" could leave billions of years unaccounted for, SO:

I mentioned yesterday that meditation is one of his unexpected hobbies. It's useful for refining his dream demon skills & various other psychic tricks; but mostly it's just, if you can drop into a trance for a thousand, a million, a billion years, then that's a lot of waiting & boredom you can just skip.

He's got a lot of eyes in other dimensions. It's like television to him.

He's unable to visit other dimensions before his portal is built, but he is able to visit other dimensions' mindscapes. He can't interact with things, but he can look around like an invisible tourist, and he can invade people's dreams.

We see what looks like weirdness bubbles scattered all around the Nightmare Realm in Don't Dimension It. I headcanon that Bill didn't just invent them on the spot in Weirdmageddon, he made them ahead of time in the Nightmare Realm; and thus that they probably take some time and skill to create. He doesn't control the end result but he can influence it based on what materials he puts in and how he creates it, kind of like an acrylic dirty pour painting. It's like art to him. He's proud of it.

He's never had higher education but he's book-read and self-taught on a wide variety of subjects. At bare minimum, every time he sees a new universe and goes "maybe I can conquer this," he has to teach himself that universe's rules of physics (often before a species in that universe has evolved enough to study it themselves), and one of the intelligent species's available engineering capabilities and native languages, all so that he can translate his portal blueprints into a form someone in that universe can build. That adds up to learning a LOT of languages, engineering, and physics. Ours is far from the first dimension he tried to conquer. Plus throw in all the other stuff he's probably learning on the side while trying to get something going with a new species: local politics, religion, chemistry, biology, pop culture...

He DID pick up piano at some point. Probably not the only instrument he's learned. I headcanon piano is conceptually similar to an instrument in his home dimension.

He likes playing games. Sometimes games of skill, because dice rolls and card draws would be easy to manipulate & cheat in a dreamscape; but sometimes games of chance, because he wants to cheat lol. He's not athletically inclined, so his preference is board games, card games, word games, pen-and-paper games, video games, etc.

Any time something falls into the Nightmare Realm, he can sense it; sometimes he goes and checks out the new arrival. It can be anything from objects (new stuff to scavenge through) to people (new friends and/or torture toys and/or networking opportunities) to whole worlds (there's a LOT of fun you can have with a planet—especially a populated one).

He spends a lot of time cultivating mini-cults and pockets of worship toward him amongst alien species. He claims this is all in service to his ultimate conquest plans, but honestly, he just really likes being worshiped.

There were a few survivors of Bill's home dimension. Not many, with a starting population of billions (and that's not even counting alien life); but a few thousand. Most of them ultimately moved to other dimensions and tried to start new societies. Early on, Bill tried to keep in contact with them, and that took up a fair amount of his time; but as they rejected him or he rejected them, he cut them off. Now the only people from or descended from his universe that he still talks to are the shapes in the Henchmaniacs.

Imagine if all the oceans on Earth were ruled over by a single pirate king, and also he knows any time something—from a cargo ship to a surfer—enters his domain, and he COULD just teleport to where they are and wreck their day if he wants to; so any nation that wants to safely ship goods or maintain a navy has to bargain with the pirate king; but also the pirate king is an immature clown who's easily flattered and distracted by shiny toys. That's the relationship Bill has to other dimensions. For cultures that have discovered interdimensional travel, transit through the Nightmare Realm COULD be very useful... if it weren't for this one guy who's somehow borderline omnipotent within the NR but can't leave it. So Bill spends a lot of time politicking and bartering with neighboring dimensions that don't trust him, know he'll violate treaties on a whim, but nevertheless need access to his realm.

There's also some uneasy politicking and socializing with the few powerful entities that Bill thinks might be able to wreck his day but isn't quite foolhardy enough to test, like the Axolotl.

Sometimes he just makes stuff that sounds cool. He made the Quadrangle of Qonfusion. (Amorphous Shape helped, they're better at the architecture side of things.) He also sometimes just goes and gets stuff that strikes his fancy, like his throne made of optical illusions. The Nightmare Realm is riddled with unfinished projects and impulse purchases.

[inconspicious-random-thoughts]

How do you think Alastor will react to the realization that it is actually possible for Sinners to be redeemed if and/or when word of Pentious's ascension gets back to the Hotel? He seemed sincere in his desire to watch demons struggle and fail to better themselves when he first hired himself into the position of facility manager, but since S1 it seems more likely he's really only there to get his hooks into Charlie and doesn't actually care if the Hotel succeeds or fails as long as he gets what he wants out of the princess.

"The world's a stage, and a stage is a world of entertainment" -Alastor

Hello my pal,

Pilot Alastor does seem more motivated by his whims and wanting entertainment. (I mean, if you have to all eternity...Things get mundane...) But with Amazon picking up the show, he clearly has more motives beside being at the hotel for funsies. I'm sure, he always meant to have a lot of plot around him before Amazon but we actually get content and episodes to feed us.

Side note: I love both versions of Alastor. But I like pilot slightly more. I think his voice is more fitting for the transatlantic radio host voice (no offence of the current one at all. He doing great and probably done a better job on delivery...I mean that Fuck you was perfect.) Also, I really miss Alastor boots/hoofs click clacking around the hotel when he walked. I wish they kept that sound effect.

I think his reaction would really depend on who he contracted to and what his real hidden objective is with the hotel. Like...is he chained to Lilith and he not there for the hotel but to protect and help Charlie?

Or is he there to make sure the hotel fails to prevent an uprising, and forcing Heavens hand?

Is he placed there to get close and keep on eye on things and trick Charlie?

Is he there to make sure it succeeds so Heaven foundations begin to crumble and plants seeds of doubt amongst other things.

Overall, I think Alastor believe redemption was a loss cause. Even, if he was told my his contractor that it was possible he always doubted it. He made his point in the pilot. Paraphrase: Sinners are past redemption. Their chance was the life they lived before, the punishment of their actions is Hell. I think Alastor truly believes that. Or at least wants it to be that way. We know Alastor was a serial killer with a weird moral code and killed people who deserved it. I think Alastor would hate the idea that his victims has a chance for a place in Heaven if he hadn't double dead them already. Alastor knows how terrible people can be...hes one of them. I think the idea sinners like him having a chance to share a space with his mother in heaven puts a foul taste in his mouth.

So when its proven Redemption is possible. I think he will be quite stunned and shocked. He'll act ecstatic for show and probably his generally happy for Charlie achieving her dream. But depending the reason why he there and how he owns him, he going to be strongly conflicted.

Possible panic/nervous if he failed his objective and had to deal with the person who owns his soul, as they will be very displeased with him because of that fact. Perhaps worried, because it furthers his master's objective *CoughCough Roo CoughCough* Which is something he personally against, but doesnt have a say in the matter. Or maybe he just painfully conflicted as he knows the playing field is nearly completed on being set up and the time to betray Charlie and the others is rapidly approaching. -He grew attached to them and he faltering on the idea to betray (destroy?) them. Panics as years of planning and effort to fulfilling his masters objective that would release him from his deal once completed...only to hesitate because of some fond feelings for naive weaklings? Afraid to incur his master wrath and lost of freedom if he failed because he was swayed by his pathetic feelings. Or maybe hes excited because his part of the deal is over...but still feel conflicted as it would place the hotel and its people in a bad and dangerous position.

This is why Alastor is such a fun character. He a wild card. He can go in any direction...Hell, he can go in all directions. He can rationally plan and think one way, his feelings going screw that and head in another direction, fulfilling his obligations as overlord and hotelier in another direction, and his chained soul can just flip off all the former force them to go in the direction directed by the master holding the chain.

I believe despite Alastor disbelieving in redemption in the beginning, or maybe slightly oppose it. He is slowly warming up (but still not even room temperature) to the idea as his fondness grows to the residents of the hotel. He observes how the residence became better. How some (Angel) gone through enough in Hell that perhaps his sins he committed in his short life has been overpaid. Eternity is long and can be harsh...as some sinners may already sin once to be damned for all of eternity.

[brainyrot]

I said I would and so I did

Part one

Part two

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"I just feel constantly watched, that's it. It's creeping me out!"

"Maybe it's just the anxiety."

"I mean, the mind can trick you in many ways, maybe no one is really here."

"But what about the footsteps you and Felix heard?"

"I.. don't know yet but this place looks more abandoned than anything. it's probable some homeless people are here."

if that was actually true.

and if this mug could stop dividing his food to share with the others, it would be great.

honestly, he doesn't care that much, there's easier ways to get food and fast, the problem is that he can't right now. There's a certain follower here, which is already unusual, these weird toons following him everywhere and there isn't a place Wilson hasn't placed his stupid technology to keep him stuck in this form.

it's just annoying, that's it. he could lead them around, sure, but it's more dangerous for him than anything right now, he really hates this stupid form.

and he has no idea how to respond, in general, to them.

One asks about why he's so quiet, he tries to explain but they think he's just tired or just had..an ink attack or.. whatever. "His clothes are all full of ink!"

"The whole place is full of ink."

"Yeah but he literally has ink dripping form his hair. And have you seen his eyebags?"

such a weird observation.

what even is an ink attack? Like when he turns into the ink demon?

He wouldn't call it an attack but, sure I guess. Everybody's creative in their own way.

He needs to start being more creative because if they keep up with the cans and the lunch break room, they'll be stuck here forever.

He could wait until they are asleep, but none of them seem to be wanting to sleep.

those two dishes keep mourning over a dead body they haven't truly met before.

The girl keeps analyzing everything, and she's way more close to the truth than anyone, but it'll only drive her mad, like everyone here.

and the cat, acting sweet and kind, acting fatherly towards this demon he doesn't even know.

Either he's dumb, or something else. nothing positive though.

"Are you okay?" Are you?

"Do you need to lay down? Food?"

"Look once you feel better we can start looking for Boris." We can look for Boris right now actually, wouldn't hurt to pay a visit to that silly anxious wolf. Maybe those two can stop crying, it's pathetic really.

they don't even say why, they don't even look for comfort through the rest of the group, truly some kind of masochists.

and since no one here is gonna do anything, unless he does anything, he just got up and left.

They'll follow him like if they are little ducklings anyway.

he is not here anyway, anymore. He left. he's probably thinking of some sacrifice.

it's useless and stupid, you're not gonna get saved or spared, you're just living in an illusion created by your own mind to have some sort of comfort in this place we're all stuck here day by day until the end of time.

but it's stupidly funny how big this place is, very amusing, especially the reactions.

They are all confused and wary, especially because he knows this place despite "being his first time here", the girl is intrigued too, her curiosity will get her killed, the cat is too but he keeps to himself. Not like her.

She asks questions. She analyzes, she talks. The thing no one does here.

she points things out, she tries to find logic and reasoning behind madness and Ink. That's why she's driving herself crazy.

You can't find logic behind something that has nothing but no sense at all.

but it's not much of a problem for him, the rule here is that you are either mute, to keep yourself safe mostly, or you go mad. No in-between.

sometimes you're both too. Depends.

the more they go down, the more they ask questions, which he could answer, but he can't.

"the pipes are broken, explains the ink."

"People were surely obsessed with this joey guy."

"And bendy."

"what is even the deal with the ink demon?"

"Maybe they are talking about the ink illness?"

"Whoever wrote all of this is probably mad."

"I mean, have you seen this place? Who wouldn't be?"

they are there just not quite.

"this is probably an old abandoned studio some crazy lunatics used for either protection or just to have a roof on their head. they probably had some experiences with the ink illness, it could explain why they keep talking about this "ink demon", they could have used the word demon as a substitute for illness."

"like, when people say you're possessed by a demon when you act crazy?"

"Kind of. They think the ink illness doing is because of a demon, or think the illness is a demon itself tormenting them."

If he could sigh loudly, he would.

"why are we even exploring this place. We should go." He's right. This tall smoking cup is right. You should go.

"Because bendy has no intention to stop, and frankly I'm not leaving him here with who knows who." this cat is going to die first.

"is he looking for Boris?"

"Obviously! he's the only one that we haven't found."

"What about the others? Like Alice or..black hat, I don't know." oh? They know Alice too?

well he could do her a favor then.

"Wasn't Alice in heaven? And what would hat even do here?"

"One of his weird stupid experiments?"

"You think this is one of his experiments to figure out the ink illness?"

"Probably. He had a guy with the ink illness caged up like some animal."

He can't even tell who is talking and who isn't, they all sound the same, say the same thing. and he isn't bothering to make a difference between all of them.

"Oh my Lord!" But for the life of him he can't tune out Sammy's annoying voice.

and those finger guns again. They aren't pointing at him so he's fine, they are pointing at Sammy.

"hey! Don't you dare get any closer, ya weirdo."

A man now made of ink, willingly turning himself into a monster to please a lord that didn't exist in the first place.

"Oh, I'm so pleased my Lord! A gift just for me! oh you flatter me." The man says, holding his axe like his newborn child. A faint laugh from his lips.

"I'll make sure this time the sacrifice will make you happy." Ready fo attack, ready to slice their heads off. But how can you go against toons who can bend reality? How can you against things that were built to not follow logic?

Sammy is only human, a man pretending to be ink, he can't compete. but neither can they, truly a show worth to watch if it wasn't for that grip on his shoulder from the older cup, holding him like if he was some fragile vase that was gonna break any time soon, a friend to protect, something defenseless.

Which he was, but he wasn't in danger at the moment, not when Sammy was here, not when hundreds of lost ones have heard the chaos. Not when so many souls floating and swimming in the dark, lurking and waiting to meet the new guests.

no one is going to hurt him though, no one is going to lay a finger on him.

They all worship him, they all love him, he doesn't get why, but in times like this, he's glad.

but he doesn't want to be at the center of attention. He needs a corner, a table, anything to hide and be ignored until he can make a run for it and be finally free from this cage of a body that he's stuck with.

"I said back off!" He hissed, he surely knows how to act brave. He is not. He is nervous, he is slightly shaking. He is scared of the unknown in front of him, on his head, on the floor, kind of everywhere but he doesn't know.

"If any of you get any closer imma start shootin' and it's all over for you." But it's not effective on people whose life matters no more.

[tswwwit]

What are some ideas you have floating around that you don't have any plans on writing but like to entertain as a thought?

Many of them, in fact! Though they sort of vanish from my memory if I don't make a record of them, here's a few ones I jotted down when they came to mind.

For a domestic one: Bill thought he'd hate a lot of being married! Even though he loves Dipper, he thought he'd rebel against the chains of domesticity - and in some ways he still does - but one major benefit he's found is not having to be 'on' all the time.

No need to be perfectly performing all the time! No shoving around for social influence, no intimidation, or clever tricks. No commanding attention or taking up the room. Hell, there's surprisingly little upkeep! Bill can undo his tie and pick his nose and bitch about his day to someone who isn't bending over backwards to agree with him on everything. Someone who doesn't give him a weird look and sneer if he, god forbid, actually wants to sit down, read a book, drop the grin for an hour or two.

The concept in question is Bill's very first moment of great surprise. That when he isn't being the most charming, terrifying, and exciting guy in the universe, and just chilling out for like, five minutes, Dipper comes over and snuggles up to him on the couch, or wraps his arms around his shoulders and kisses the top of his head. And when Bill asks 'what was that for?', Dipper shrugs and goes 'eh, just felt like it'. It's both baffling and extremely compelling.

A short where Reincarnated Dip is Definitely Sure he's Not Gay!!! Especially not for this Hot Demon Man who is getting so close and touchy with him with his big smile and horrible wiles. Yep. Just keeping an eye on him to make sure he's not up to something Nefarious ™.

A discussion between Dipper and Bill where Dipper insists that Bill should understand this, or not do that, because, like. Y'know, Bill's a guy! There are guy things! Making Bill stare at Dipper like he's an idiot. He proceeds to informs Dipper how that's stupid for multiple reasons! First, that Bill's Not Human to begin with, his gender can't be put into a little box! And frankly, he never filled out the paperwork for his original one, come to think of it. Sure, he/him's fine, but c'mon, sapling, thinking of the whole shebang like a binary is dumb as hell. Now Dipper has to do some mental readjustment re: his own issues with masculinity/gender.