#he probably doesn't even know there is a cellar

[charlie-pippin-faraday]

Okay, question, because I can't remember: Did Mick Campbell ever once step foot in the cellar?

[theheadlessgroom]

https://www.tumblr.com/beatingheart-bride/707405965270614016/theheadlessgroom-beatingheart-bride

@beatingheart-bride

“Uh-huh,” Randall grinned playfully as he leaned back in his seat, kind of enjoying this brief bit of banter between them: Here she was, commenting that maybe he should consider getting a little sleep, while she was yawning herself and refusing to do the same! Like student, like tutor, he supposed, given how she was encouraging him to get some sleep the previous night like she was, only for him to stay up all hours, doing the exact opposite of what she suggested...

He snickered a little to himself as he cradled his empty coffee mug, still smiling a little: When was the last time he’d been able to joke so easily with someone, affectionately ribbing each other for silly little matters such as these? So far, he could only think of doing so with Emily, and it made his chest feel warm-he enjoyed how at ease he felt with her, knowing he could be so...relaxed with her. She was a true friend, and he was grateful for that.

“Well, if you say so,” he continued, tone still amused as he set aside his mug for the moment, shrugging a little: He supposed he would just refresh his coffee here and a bit while she rested her feet...

In fact, he could kill two birds with one stone, as he suggested, “Well, why don’t I get you that tea? I was just about to get myself some fresh coffee before you arrived-that might help us both!”

[dcxdpdabbles]

DC X DP Fanfic idea: It's all Fun and Games Kids!

Danny Fenton moves to Gotham.

He moved there not because his parents ran him out of the house. His dad was bawling and begging him to stay while his mother spent three full days writing up different graphs to show how much safer was by nearing by so they could protect him.

(It's not like he still lived with them. Danny had moved out to his own place in amity when he was twenty-five. Moving clear across state lines wasn't much of a difference in his eyes)

He moved there, not because the ectoplasm was high. Ectoplasm is everywhere on Earth, and quite frankly, Gotham's was as polluted as its water was. It made the air spicy.

He moved there not because he was offered an amazing job or a life-changing opportunity. Danny's full-time job was writing novels. They were all based on his adventures in the Ghost Zone -with changed names of course- and were a hit online. He also had all of the Ghost King's gold.

He moved there simply because Danny wanted to.

Something about the city called to him, in a way that said "Hey this could be your home." He visited once for a Humpty Dumpty concert and fell in love with the sights, the people, and the life of Gotham.

Now some people would accuse him of being mad. Those people probably had a rebellious teenage stage where they had done crazy things like sneak out of the house, underage drink, sleeping around, or smoke something.

Danny, when he was a teenager, was fighting for his life and the lives of the ungrateful townspeople.

He didn't get to his rebellious stage. He didn't get his rush of doing something stupid because he was young and thought himself bigger than life.

So here Danny is, living his life as he pleases to make up for it.

He doesn't have to sneak out of his house since he owns it, he rather not drink or smoke (would they even affect him? His healing factor has never been tested against it) and Danny would like to be emotionally attached if he decided to sleep with someone.

What then does a man with too much time, too much power, and not enough bad young person decisions do?

He flirts with Death.

Death just so happens to be Batman-shaped.

Now it's all fun and games. He knows he doesn't have a real chance with Batman- it's Batman. Way out of Danny's league.- but that doesn't mean he can allow himself to fall into stupid situations and be dramatically rescued by the crime fighter.

Now if only his kids weren't so good at their jobs.

"You really should be more careful, Mr. Fenton. This is the third time this week" Nightwing says while untieing him. Danny does his best not to pout at the other. He had been having fun finding the answers to the riddles.

He wasn't at all worried about the fact he was placed over a pool of burning chemicals. He had been tried to a chair that was carefully balanced on overlapping ropes. It wire would snap with each correct answer, until he would fall his demise unless they could outsmart the Riddler.

Danny had gotten five out of ten correct before Nightwing burst through the ceiling.

"I don't mind," Danny says rubbing his wrists. "Better me than someone innocent."

Nightwing's lips purse "You are innocent."

"Yes, but I hardly matter in the grand scheme of things." Danny waves his hand missing the look of distress on the hero's face. He looks around the darkness of the ceiling hoping to spot a certain crouching figure.

"Is Tall Dark and Daddy here with you?" He asks Nightwing when he fails to see him.

"Please don't call him that."

Danny shrugs, suppressing his smile. He twirls back around to Nightwing pulling out a piece of paper from his jean's pocket. "By the way, I found the other victims, hid them in the cellar, and drew a of map of Riddle's bombs for you. You're welcome."

Nightwing stares before carefully taking the map. He taps his ear twice, muttering in a code- for that may be English but sounded like gibberish that it can not be anything else but code- and only after he hears a voice respond back does the hero give a strained smile. "Thank you, Mr. Fenton. This helps a lot."

"You're welcome!" He repeats with a bright smile. It's so odd for his efforts to be appreciated. Odd but nice.

Danny waits for the other to do his Bat-trained disappearing act- sometimes he wonders if Gotham gave her Knights a form of invisibility- but the man remains.

He shuffles his feet uncomfortable and Danny's eyes light up. Oh! Another attempt to get him to stop flirting with his father. What fun~!

"Mr. Fenton.....last week Red Robin rescued you from the Joker. Do you remember?"

"Yes. Red Robin is a great kid."

"A kid....weird for you to call him that when he's only a few years younger than you." Nightwing starts but Danny holds up a hand.

"I'm older than you"

There is a tight frown on the other man's face now. "You are not."

"I am." Danny pulls out his wallet flashing his ID card. The downside to his Ghostly powers is that he seems to be aging at a slower rate- at least physically. His parents theorized that he would take two years instead of the one that his aging required. Not an accurate number but the closest they had especially since both his parents were late bloomers and had baby face.

While Danny might be thirty-eight he appeared to be no older than nineteen.

"Mr. Fenton I don't think you should be carrying a fake-"

"Stay away from my father Harlot!" Robin screeches falling down from the shadows above. He points a very sharp sword at Danny's neck, sneering the whole time. "He has better things to do than rescue a love-struck worthless fool!"

Danny, leans on the top of the sword, eyes drinking into Robin's slight flinch when it cuts his skin a little. This is it. The Rush he had been craving for.

"I don't mean to be kidnapped Robin honest. It just sort of happens in Gotham." He makes his voice and body innocent in a way even Orphan can not tell he is lying. He knows because Clockwork confirmed the last time they met that the girl read his body language just as he wanted her to.

The two ghosts met up regularly to watch his overly "sweet" eyes fluttering and cheerful "Oh Batman you rescued me~!" performances together for a good laugh.

"You lie! You plan for this to happen to try and seduce my Father!"

Huh. The kid was smarter then his foul mouth and snobby behavior looked. Still Danny only had to twist his face into confusion for Nightwing to step in. The other vigilantes pulled the scowling child away, scolding him for harassing frightened civilians.

It was fun to see but nothing beat making polite come-ons to Batman- nothing gross like catcalling but more of overly thankful and dreamy sighs. Maybe he should see what Two-face is up to?

Surely the man would take him hostage and Batman's many children would be too busy to save him thus leading the Dark Knight himself to come to his aid.

Or in a world where Danny Fenton decides that it would be hilarious if he took on a Brucie Wayne persona in Gotham. Complete with a Heart-eyes-it's-beefy-Batman mentality that tricks the Batfam into thinking he is a Himbo who has bad luck for always getting caught up in villain schemes for being at the wrong place and wrong time.

Also, the Bat kids make it their life goal to keep Bruce from rescuing Danny since they do not like watching Fenton flirt with their dad. Even if Bruce himself ignores the boy they can't really threaten him.

Danny Fenton isn't being malicious or anything. He's just a boy with a crush who doesn't know better.

Clockwork is cackling, recording his favorite parts of Danny's interactions with the Bats.

[casuallyanidiot]

Yandere dollmaker who bases all his work on you.

You run deliveries for a few businesses in the bustling city his workshop resides in, so he sees you quite frequently. He hardly speaks to you when you come each morning to collect his wares, but you smile and chat with him despite his lack of words.

Yandere dollmaker thinks your smile is like sunshine. You're the only person he speaks to really. He holes himself up in his studio, firing porcelain in burning kilns and stabbing needles into his fingers from the little dresses and suits he crafts. Each doll is made with meticulous care, and he's grown to be renowned for the quality of his products. He accepts commission only by letter, and even then he insists that every doll he makes, he will make to his liking.

Yandere dollmaker who wonders what you'd look like in the frilly, elaborate, and impractical outfits he designs for his figurines. You're dressed so plainly, so practically, and he thinks that you'd be suited better in the outfits he's sketched out. He sits at night and drafts up ideas for the dolls, and after a while of knowing you, he realized that all his portfolio resembled you in an almost uncanny sense.

Yandere dollmaker who wishes he could make a mold of your face, or even your delicate hands. He wants to have you still and pliant so he can study you better. He sits on his workbench and sculpts what he imagines your features to be. He thinks he's getting better, but he'd like for you to let him touch you.

Yandere dollmaker who wishes that for once, you'd take a peek at the packages he hands you each morning. He's sure if you ever noticed how often he made things that look like you, you'd probably never want to see him again. He of course, doesn't want that, but he can't help but lick his lips at the thought of you acknowledging his devotion.

In the darkness of night, Yandere doll maker sits at his bench. His unsettling eyes bore into a borderline featureless porcelain face. He gently touches it and sighs. He can't help but wonder if he'll be satisfied with just this. The lifeless creations on his shelves stare back at him, and he hums. Another doll sits neatly packaged in a box nearby, and he sighs. He's jealous of his customers. They all got their little versions of you, but he'd have the real thing very soon

The prepared cellar underneath the floorboards said so anyways.

[shmalk]

OKAY IM CURRENTLY WRITING THIS SO DON'T EVEN WORRY YOUR PRETTY LITTLE HEADS <3

afab!reader x poly?141

bartender!reader who maybe works at the pub, or runs it, or maybe second in command, whose tall and lanky, and kind of clumsy but still the best rollerskater around (maybe the bar makes its employees use skates, maybe not)

and then the first person to meet reader is ghost, whose instantly obsessed, and you're not sure how, but eventually you're finding yourself stuck under him while he plows into you, hands tangled in your hair as he pulls you back just to fuck more of his cum into your poor, spent cunt-

next is probably roach, such a poor boy, and he's so touch starved that you can't help but tug him into your office, settling on your knees infront of him to take him into your mouth until he has tears in the corner of his eyes and his hands are practically ripping threads of your hair out as he begs in overstimulation please, god, fuck, please - i can't - i need to - wanna cum so bad f'you-

soap doesn't even bother trying to be slick about it, walking in when the bar isnt even opened just to tell you that he knows what youve been doing with the lieutenant and his sergeant, how he's going to tell everyone unless you bend him over the bar - just like that - plowing your hips against his as your strap reaches every goey spot that makes his legs shake and his eyes roll into the back of his head-

and gaz! such a sweet boy who offers to help when he sees you lugging kegs around, so you hand him one, and show him the way to the cellar until he's on his knees, you bent over one of the empty kegs and his face pressed between your folds, his tongue coated in you and your sticky sweetness, desperate to swallow everything you can give him.

john price is different, he's the one you have to look out for, coming in with his boys after a mission - you've not seen any of them for a few weeks and you're worried they've up and left you - when all five of them come in, the boys just wanting to show off their pretty little bartender whose so sweet and soft-

it's not long until he has you bouncing in his lap, despite being taller than him, one hand wrapped around your throat and the other holding a cigar. he doesn't care if the bar is crowded and anyone could turn around and see him tear a hole through the crotch of your jeans, if they could see him line himself up at your entrance, maybe shoving two fingers down your throat as he bounces you up and down.

I AM !!! RAVENNOUS !!! FOR THIS !>!>!>!>

[starbunii]

Can I get Baizhu, Venti, Scara, Ei, and Tenko Chabashira with a gf who's deathly terrified of storms/thunder and lightning? Like, every t8me she sees/hears it, her breath audibly hitches but she tries to pretend it's fine? I think I'm not ok, bestie 😭

# . storms 𓂃 ♥︎

𝜗𝜚 ┈ baizhu, venti, scara, ei, tenko x reader (seperate) ! ｡

notes: dude im the exact same way, thunder is litrally so scary it makes me cry everytime lasjfsf

headcanons ノ fluffノfem! reader ノcanon universe

second person pov !! please enjoy! ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶

-- ♡ --

baizhu

he's immediately taking you to the kitchen, making a calming tea as you're wrapped up in a little blanket

changsheng is waiting there with you, gently licking the tears off your cheeks, slithering on your shoulders in a way that tells you everything is ok

he'll take you to the living room after, making sure everything is well-light as he gently soothes you while you drink your tea

he's brushing your hair out of your face, telling you it's ok as he squeezes you tight, ensuring that you're safe and as close as possible

venti

he doesn't really realize what's wrong at first, only waking up once he realizes you're out of bed

he finds you down in the cellar, huddled up by wine barrels in a little blanket. you're shaking and crying and his heart just can't take it

venti will sit with you, nuzzling close as he whispers sweet nothings in your ear. he'll even pull out the lyre if you want him to, singing soft songs to get you to relax

the two of you will be found sound asleep long after the storm is over, snuggled up together. at long last, you're calm and restful

scara

scara gets it. he's terrified of the sound of thunder too. it reminds him of his mother; of every single thing he's gone through. he hates it; he hates how it reminds him of his past behavior, of who he once was..

the two of you are stuck in bed, clinging together, whimpering at every strike of lightning and clap of thunder. you're on the verge of tears, and so is he

he's practically gripping at your waist while you tug at his hair, the two of you ensuring that you stay together

eventually, you two finally talk things out, fighting through tears. after a long, anxious conversation about the weather, you're both able to fall back asleep

raiden ei

if it's thundering, she's probably upset about something. does that add another layer of fear? i don't know, you tell me

obviously, she's upset about something. something big. but once she sees that look on your face...the tears streaming down your face, the shaky hands, the way your lip trembles ever so slightly...oh, she just can't take it

the weather clears up almost immediately as she rushes to your side, hugging you tightly as her fingers card through your hair. she's fussing over you as though you've just been terribly injured

even when you're not scared anymore, she's still clinging to your side the rest of the night, even (attempting) to make dinner as an apology. it's not edible, but...it's the thought that counts?

tenko

when she sees you crying, she is immediately trying to pick a fight with whoever made you upset (yes, even if it is the sky)

upon realizing it's just the thunder and lightning outside, she quickly pulls you into bed, holding you close and rocking you gently

she's not very good at comforting people, and being so close to a girl (even if she is her girlfriend) makes her just oh-so nervous. but she's more than happy to be your knight in shining armor, protecting you from the scary storm outside

she'll yelp a bit at particularly loud strikes of thunder, but will immediately giggle after, both because of her own silliness and to make you feel a little better about being scared

starbunii 2024 — all rights reserved. do not redistribute or translate to any other platforms

[hurthermore]

What would being locked up in your Humam Al’s cellar be like? I would assume that’s his ‘second’ kitchen like where he chops up victims so would you be down there with body parts? Or would be make it a comfortable living space for you? Maybe he doesn’t need to do that because similar to a time out chair it’s not for an extended period time. How would he respond if the reader escaped?

OOO NOW THIS IS AN ASK… maybe spoilers ahead for Misconduct? Idk… maybe, this is just a what if the reader was combative scenario.

Warning for heavy yandere themes

It’s dark and gloomy, due to how zero natural light can leak in the room, you wouldn't be able to see the remnants of blood that seeped through the cracks in the floorboards.

It smells like a rotting corpse; extremely repugnant. How he had made it so the smell couldn't exude into the rest of the cabin, you didn't know.

It doesn't take a second glance into the cellar to know that this is where he preps his victims for consumption. Whether they're dead or alive whilst he preps their flesh is a whole other story.

Alastor doesn't plan on throwing you down into his human-butchering cellar, but if you attempt to leave him, or start to become combative? Well, you're not giving him much choice on the matter now, are you?

It's the perfect place to lock you away for your bad behaviour; it has a strong lock for a reason.

But fret not, Alastor loves you, he wouldn't just leave you down there all alone. No, he would spend all his free time with you; he craves for your presence, regardless of any punishment you may need to go through.

He will still chop up his victims in the cellar with you there, so prepare to hold your stomach if that makes you feel queasy.

If by chance you started banging on the door or yelling for someone to help you whilst Alastor wasn't in the room with you, he will know about it, no matter how discrete you attempted to be.

He didn't want to chain you against the metal pipe in the corner of the room, but you wouldn't stop begging for him to let you out. It broke his heart, made him feel so guilty; an emotion he never thought he'd experience before.

He wouldn't be able to mentally stand it if you kept screaming, kept begging. He feared he might let you out if he had to hear your cries any longer, so he had to resort to shoving something in your mouth; what is up to you.

If by chance, you escaped, (which you wouldn't, this is Alastor, so bffr) you would break his heart into a million pieces. He thought you loved him, loved him like he loves you. So why are you running?

Ensue a chase scene, like a poorly made horror movie. Alastors place of residency is far into the bayous; so far you wondered if it was even legal to have property there. Luckily, theres a dirt road to follow, but even so, you would most likely get lost and probably eaten by some type of wild animal before you found your way out.

Luckily for you, or not, Alastor will always find you; he has a natural knack for finding his prey. So regardless of the potential hazards ahead, Alastor will get to you first. And despite how disturbing his stance may look, how sinisterly unhinged his facial expression is as he walks toward you, he will hold you with such gentleness thats more frightening than his deranged physical demeanour.

If you try shoving him off you, he won't threaten you; no, no, no, he could never threaten you. But his hold on you will get tighter, rougher, it may cause bruises depending on how combative you decide to be. Eventually you'll be hoisted over his shoulder as he takes you back home.

He'll ask you why, why you ran, why you wanted to leave him; and if the crack in his voice doesn't break your heart as he asks you those words, you must be more evil than him.

Depending on how apologetic you are, he might contemplate letting you stay up on the first floor and not the cellar. He will know if you're faking your apology though, so don't even try it, or you'll be put right back into the place you just tried escaping from.

If you want the best life with Alastor, to never see that cellar again, you need to love him, shower him in love, treat him like he treats you, pamper him in your presence and so forth.

Try escaping one more time, and Alastor will make sure you won't be able to walk again. Period.

»»------► 𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

[bcacstuff]

A Thank You

To start with a thank you to all the people in the comments on my previous post, and all the Anons, all the kind words, showing your support and appreciation for my blog. I received some very sweet and lovely messages which I will cherish and look again at when things get so negative that I start to question myself why am I doing this.

Snapped

Yes something snapped, after a long time ignoring all the harassment, negativity, toxicity, name calling and recently even threats in my inbox. Telling me, oh we all know how toxic this fandom is, isn't realistic. Logging on here and first being confronted with it personally as it is in my inbox, takes the fun and pleasure out of things. It's like getting home, but you first have to clean out your doorway because the neighbours dumped all their trash on it. At some point you will address your neighbours with this bad behaviour, wont you? (and probably not in the nicest way)

I ignored them all the time, trashed them right away stopped even reading them, as the content had not any substance. I wondered often, why do people do this? Does it make you feel better? Do you feel a hero hiding behind an Anon? Do you go tell your friends what you just sent to a person you clearly don't know the first thing about. Do you think it is justified because you don't like what I post or what doesn't fit your narrative?

It is never justified, no matter what, to do these kind of things to another human being. Never!

There are people that call me obsessed. When I see multiple harassment messages all similar, simply recognizable coming from the same person(s) on a daily basis in my inbox, lurking around on my blog just to get off on every post I publish, the second after I post it. Running to the Anon button to mock every word and purposely give a false interpretation of the things I write, or write on a daily basis on your blog about it, that is not obsession? But when I do what everyone does here, look at some IG accounts is obsession?

You know, posts on IG accounts stay there forever (most of the time), no matter when you look. Stories are published for 24 hours, and even forever when an account also puts them in their highlights. You surely know about that don't you? There is no need for me to watch every minute of the day an IG account, I don't refresh it every minute to see if there is something new. It's your biased imagination that makes you unable to see it in a normal way. I do not sit 24/7 in a cellar with 5 screens around me watching people. I also do not sit in my car for hours and hours in front of someone's house to wait till someone comes out of the house or arrives. That is stalking, watching someone's IG account isn't.

And perhaps I look at a few things more related to an IG account, like the analytics, as an interest because of my marketing background, using a simple tool available for everyone, doesn't make me obsessed or a stalker either. There is no need to watch it every minute of the day either, I can refresh it whenever I like, the numbers from a whole month (and more) are still there.

Saying I keep track of every move he does is a false interpretation. I don't know what he ate for breakfast this morning, or what color socks he wears today. I don't know all the time where he hangs out, what he is doing or whom he is with. I don't know, I know as much as you all! I simply use my logic, can see like you all can at what times he posts, and as he has his habits and patterns (which you learn easily over a bit of time) it is no rocket science to see when these times shift and he likely traveled to a place in another timezone. That doesn't justify calling someone obsessed or a stalker neither.

And then, on top of it all, I learned some things about his activity last weekend, which was perhaps the last drop. Yes I added that part, because it was part of why something snapped in me at that moment. Perhaps my reaction would have been different if it didn't came on top of all this negativity and toxicity I already deal with for a long time and only got more. Oh yes, I could've simply stayed quiet about it and perhaps I would have if not for above reasons. People that like to say I did mention it because I was just seeking attention, are just ignorant. Gosh the (negative) attention in my inbox is overwhelming, I don't need it and actually wish it wasn't so OTT. But since I mentioned it, I will address it in a separate post, but don't get too excited. I will share how I learned about it but wont elaborate on my personal thoughts which I choose to keep to myself. I also will not share any name or any other details.

If you don't like my blog, don't like to read about some things I post, don't like me as a person; Remember instead of running to the Anon button to lecture me and give me unwanted (and very unneeded) advise about how I should run my blog or live my life after you called me out, you also have the option to scroll on or move to another blog. You don't need to read my blog, I don't force you to come to my blog, you are here on your own free will and can leave whenever you want.

Anon

As a result of all this bad behaviour, I have switched off the Anon option. It's a bit with a heavy heart, as I prefer to keep my blog open and accessible to everyone who wants to be here and send messages to me. You still can send a message, but only with an account which will be visible to me. You can of course ask me to hide it when I choose to post your message, I will absolutely do so. For me it is just a way to finally prevent the cowards to send hateful messages to me.

I feel sorry for the ones that do not have an account on here and always gave me useful tips, and sent constructive messages. I hope you'll understand and consider to create an account. I don't mind if there is nothing on it, I don't see empty blogs necessarily as a sockaccount like some do.

I have to say, since switching the Anon option off, I received 0 messages. (that tells you a lot about how brave the Anons are) I enjoy the calm, the positive feeling instead of the negative feeling that I first need to clean out all this crap when I log on. So I will keep it this way at least for a while, and perhaps even forever.

Let's just try to keep the good and positive atmosphere here again, have some fun, some good discussions in a respectful way and exchange our thoughts on things.

[syb-rooks]

The children of the kingdom love Prince Gerard of Greenleigh. He might not be brave, or responsible, or taking care of any of the country's multiple urgent problems but he always, always looks out for the kids.

He is never too busy to play with them, to tell them jokes, and silly anecdotes, give them candy and gifts. And his advices are not always good, and his stories mostly revolve around the Princess, and perhaps he always scolds the children when they talk about exploring the forest. No, children shouldn't stay outside the walls of the castle, especially not alone, especially not in the woods.

When he sees a small child sitting alone, he always tries to comfort them, make them laugh, orders the cooks to bake tons of biscuits and bring mugs of the sweetest hot chocolate.

And when a child is curt, when they are rude, or angry and hurting, the Prince keeps a hand on his sword, even though he has never used it. He keeps the kid in his sights, and looks around for any fairies who seek to teach a cruel lesson. He is probably too much of a coward to go against a fairy, he knows that. And he would probably stab himself trying to use his sword. But he'll wait until the child calms, until they dry their tears, and mumble apologies munching on scones.

It's the only thing he can do.

Then the war comes.

The Prince doesn't fight with the soldiers, with the parents, with the princess. He hides with the children in the cellar of the castle. He still tells stories but his voice is strained, and when he talks about the Princess and her adventures, he stops midsentence and stares at the castle walls. He hides in the shadows and doesn't allow anyone near him. He snaps and orders at the staff and some children whisper that he has a tongue as long and agile as a whip. He is never rude to the children though. Even when they cry, or scream or complain, he has endless patience, and tries to comfort them, even if his attempts at advice never work anymore.

One morning the children wake up and the Prince is gone. He took with him only the clothes on his back and a dusty book about fighting stances.

He leaves behind for the children books on fairy tales, tons of blankets and precious pillows from the royal bedchambers, and toys.

Between the pages of one of the fairy tale tomes, are some crinkled, yellowed, handwritten pages from a diary. A girl describing a meeting with a talking frog.

Those pages were left discarded. It didn't seem like a particularly interesting fairy tale after all.

[iamnmbr3]

Love how when they're all locked in the cellar in Malfoy Manor, Harry doesn't even think of attacking Draco when he comes down into the cellar. Even though he and the others are loose by then and they could probably have easily overpowered Draco and taken his wand - as they do immediately when Pettigrew comes in.

They could've overpowered Draco, Imperiused him with his own wand, and sent him back up to give some excuse while Dobby evacuated the others. But that would've put Draco in terrible danger. It would've meant attacking and potentially injuring him. It also would have meant that he would be blamed for the resultant escape, vastly increasing the likelihood that Voldemort would kill him. And Harry simply cannot bring himself to hurt Draco or put him in danger.

So when Draco comes down Harry does nothing. He doesn't even speak to him to try to shame or manipulate him as he does when he tells Pettigrew that he owes Harry his life. Even though Harry witnessed the scene on the Astronomy Tower and he knows that Draco isn't happy with his lot and is experiencing a lot more doubt and conflict than Pettigrew is, he says nothing to Draco and just complies with him. Thus keeping him out of a situation that could put him in danger.

And Draco, for his part, sees that Harry and Ron have already managed to escape from their bonds but doesn't report it when he goes upstairs. He takes Griphook, who confirms Hermione's story, thus saving her from being murdered on the spot or tortured more. And he says nothing about the fact that Harry is free, possibly planning an escape.

He didn't identify Harry. He turned his back on Ron and Hermione and refused to confirm their identities either, even though this behavior was very notable and suspicious given that they are not disguised and other recognize them. And when he sees that Ron and Harry are already loose in the cell, not still bound as they are meant to be, he says nothing.

He's probably sick with fear and horror, certain that there's no possibility of escape, and probably cursing himself for taking these risks and not simply doing everything he can to get his family back in Voldemort's good graces. But somehow he still hopes.

[ofrolysdogs]

jax boyfriend headcanons

me when i make a headcanon post every blue moon... anyways, i watched the amazing digital circus and its safe to say... i love me some jax lol, also, i usually do nsfw headcanons as well however i decided to keep this sfw until i get some inspo on what to do with him spicy wise ;)

now this won't be as detailed as my feitan one (if you like hxh and especially if you're a feitan enthusiast then you definitely might want to check this out!) also, if you're looking forward to comissioning me to write (or draw) anything, dm me for now (i'll link my prices here when i get the chance)

warnings: tadc spoilers obviously but overall none so far??? jax just being jax and a bit of angst at the end, abstracting and all, you knew it was coming.

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how you first met

well for starters, jax will treat you just like he does everyone else, he's kind of an asshole and you may not like him at first, his cheeky and sometimes insulting remarks kind of either catch you off guard or rub you the wrong way, you get used to this behavior when the two of you confirm the relationship.

realizing he likes you

he is very conflicted with his feeling about this, he can't lie, the more he hangs around you, gets used to your personality, he doesn't know exactly what to do, he hasn't really felt any romantic attraction towards anyone since he came in from the real world, but something about you caught his attention, the others point out how weird he acts when they mention you, or better yet, when you're around, he's less... well, himself! after some time he kind of treats you a bit different from everyone else, he doesn't realize it but everyone spots it big time! he isn't as rude with you as he is towards everyone else, he might even give you a cheesy little nickname depending on what you are or what you look like (if you're shorter than him he might just call you shorty or tiny, if you're taller he'll probably call you skyscraper or giant.)

eventually, he confesses...

on a very special day, jax had eventually gotten tired of hiding his feelings, he had truly came to the realization that he liked you, like, a lot, one day he would go on to find you, and pull you to the side, and tell you... vaguely, that he liked you, you weren't exactly getting the hint, until he spat it out: "i think you're cute, and i want you to be my (partner), alright!?"

he was surprised that you said yes, knowing at first, you weren't exactly a fan of him, you said yes, you wanted to go out with him.. he didn't show how flabbergasted he was, always with his cool, composed expression, that smile and all. "a deals a deal."

you're his lover... now what?

so, pretty much everyone knows that the two of you are a thing, and he confident enough to make it clear that he loves you, enough time has passed for him to tell you that he loves and adores you, very much so.

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miscellaneous things

jealousy

when it comes to him being jealous, or more accurately; territorial, he'll get quiet, scarily quiet, his face is blank as he watches the person flirt with you, when you're not around, or on that day he feels particularly playful, he'll pick on them, and not in the usual way, straight up insults masked as a joke, don't forget, he also holds grudges, sometimes..

you abstracting

that day came, one of his biggest fears came true, you abstracted, he stared in disbelief as he watched, you looked at him with those eyes, you were not the same, and it was hard to come to terms with that, when cane puts you in the cellar, he can't help but shed tears, he doesn't wail (he saves that for later when he's alone) but it's something new for the others to experience.

[nelyos-right-hand]

After Angband Maedhros was like really good at breaking out of things. Alright, he hadn't been good enough to break out of Angband itself, but that doesn't mean he hadn't tried and gotten exponentially better at it as he got more practiced over the years of his captivity, so anything that isn't the really-really-hard-to-break-out-of dungeon of the dark lord himself can't hold him for long.

Of course he decided to teach those skills to his brothers, because who knows when they might need it. If they ever got captured by orcs they should be able to free themselves before they even reached Angband.

And at some point someone (probably Celegorm) even had the great idea to practice those skills in real life, so the brothers actually started locking themselves up in the dungeons or cellars of their respective fortresses. As they got better at breaking out they sometimes even ordered the guards to play along and try to stop them, you know to make it more difficult.

(The guards thought that was slightly weird, but, you know, Fëanorians, they can be weird sometimes.)

Of course this could never not go wrong over a longer period of time, so one day it happened that Fingon came to a surprise visit to Himring. However, as he got near the fortress he got the feeling that something was wrong, so instead of announcing his presence, he sneaked around Himring to see if everything was normal.

And he couldn't believe what he found there! By eavesdropping on some guards he figured out that the people of Himring had turned on their lord and locked him into the dungeons! Unbelievable, how could they? They had always been so loyal! Fingon had to find a way to break into Himring to save him!

Anyway, the entire thing ended with a very confused Maedhros, a highly amused Maglor and a barley averted one-man-kinslaying.

[linddzz]

In Which Hob, a Shitty Wizard, Meets a Supposed Demon

Last week or so I made too many posts about what if Hob, still immortal, trying out occultism but kinda crap at it (which is some bullshit considering that Death is his drinking buddy), first meets Dream as the devil in the basement of The Magus Burgess. I called it "the shit-wizard Hob AU"

I still don't know if I'll finish it. But I couldn't stop it from starting.

No editing no betas we post on Tumblr like idiots.

EDIT: very mild editing still no betas we still stupid

********

In August of 1923, Hob Gadling - currently Rob Gedlen- is introduced to a demon.

It is, he has to admit, rather impressive. Or at least, the bonds keeping it tamed are. The prison space is everything a magus cellar should be. All arched, ancient stone and dim lighting that only barely illuminates the painted ceiling. Shadows so deep that even the electric bulbs only give the dark textures of colour. Green algae, the saturated grays and browns of rock, the faded blue and gold of the artificial night sky.

The oily glint of black iron chains. The sweeping ooze of the light over the curved iron scaffolding the chains held up, and the dizzying reflection off of the glass orb held within the iron like a gem clasped in dragon claws suspended over a small, mirror flat moat and an intricate golden circle.

Very impressive. Forboding even. The sort of thing a magus should have in his cellar.

The man inside of it looks for all the world like an ordinary naked man. Right number of limbs, hair and skin natural colors, everything in place where it should be. That's if one ignored the fact that he was sitting calm and clean in a fully airtight sphere of glass. Ordinary, if you were a dimwit and took human shape as a sign of humanity.

“This,” Burgess says with a wicked, bitter sort of pride, “is the Order’s secret of success.”

Hob whistles, because he thinks he should show some sort of appreciation. He's been working for Burgess for a few years now after all, and knows when to look suitably impressed. It is impressive, so he doesn't need to play it up too much when he follows Burgess past the wrought iron gate.

The man in the glass looks less like a mystical secret and more like he needs a coat. He's even sitting with his knees tucked to his chest, delicate ankles crossed in front of him, arms loosely draped forward and black haired head bowed down as if in deep thought.

With his nakedness, the curled position would look painfully vulnerable, were it not for the overwhelming sense that he's waiting.

“He's a demon of dreams. Or close enough to a demon.” Burgess explains. His cane tapping on the stone is the only other sound in that strange space. “I was attempting to summon Death itself, and failed at my task. But I did not come away empty handed.”

Yeah, that's probably for the best. If Hob had sauntered down here and seen Her displayed in a glass cage like a bauble, he would have done something stupid and violent. Best case scenario; She would just laugh at him for overreacting. Worst case; She'd do it with that sad little twist to Her mouth.

The entity Burgess did nab seems miniscule compared to the apparatus around him, to the manor towering over their heads. Yet even Hob and his absolute shit senses for magic can feel how everything is circling the center point of the man. They're all little marbles, orbiting the sphere and the mass within it.

“An incubus?” Hob asks, walking around the perimeter of the moat. His tone is mild, curious, intrigued. It's a talent of his to not exactly lie, but to use some of his feelings to mask others.

It’s a horrible thing, to take the freedom of another for your own benefit.

Her voice echoes in his head. That moment is never far from his head. The sad sweetness of her voice turned sour. The hard disappointment in her dark eyes. He will never forget the horrid, sickening twist of guilt of that meeting, and he feels it when he looks at the demon in the magus’ cellar.

The lights reflect oddly in the sphere, making it seem as if the man himself were the source of illumination. His skin is the sort of gleaming white that poets would froth over. Hob isn't a poet, but even he can tell that “white” hardly does it justice. The alabaster statues a floor above are going to appear dull and crude now when compared to the snow-under-moonlight of the man down here. The shadows of him are blue, violet, deepest velvet black.

Maybe not snow under moonlight, Hob thinks, reminded of the multi-hued winter twilight.

Now that he's closer, Hob can make out the sharply sculpted features of him. His curled body is a lean, hungry twist of muscle that reminds one less of actual flesh than of a tangled metal chord. His cheekbones are sharp and high, his eyes cast down with a sweep of raven wing lashes. The only hints of life are the faint flushes of seashell pink at his ears, his fingers, the still and plush lips.

“If you like.” Burgess says, which means the man isn't an incubus and Burgess thinks he's fucking clever again. The magus is watching Hob now, who is examining the circle, the iron chains, anything that will keep him from thinking too much about the thin form trapped within it.

“I attempted first to gain favors from it.” Burgess continues when Hob says nothing. “But it is stubbornly silent. No matter.”

Burgess has stepped past the moat, past the circle, to stand with his nose nearly touching the round glass wall. Hob stays outside of the barriers, but he is close enough that he can see the hate that always sits beneath his boss’ manners.

“No matter.” Burgess repeats, sneering at his captive. “Found a use for you anyway, didn't I? Just its presence brings power to this place. It amplifies the magic here, makes the spells wrought near it more solid.”

“Not much hope for me then, if I'm already by some magic booster.” Hob grins, and his boss chuckles almost fondly. It had been a whim that had Hob joining the Order. He’d never tried being a magician before, though he had gone to a few seances when they were at their peak. Occultism wasn't too fashionable anymore, so Hob thought it was best to try it out now before it got truly passe.

He's glad he's only been at it for a few years, because he's crap at it. All the costumes and chanting and intricate rituals seem silly, even when he's seen the true results of it. It was just a bunch of nonsense cobbled together from bad translations and old frauds that everyone knew were frauds back in the day! But if you followed the stupid made up rubbish perfectly, sometimes it would result in some actual magic.

That's one of the stupid things about magic. If all you can think about while doing a spell is that you must look like an utter berk, it won't work.

“We all have our talents, Mr. Gedlen.” Burgess says mildly, indulgently. “It's why I have brought you here, actually. You may not have the Gift,” he always referred to magic like that, you could hear the self important capitalized letters in it, “but you’re measured. Resilient. Notably unshakable.

Hob supposed that was true enough. Being in a house with a bunch of wizardy twats who were too busy going mad while practicing the perfect runes took a level head. Someone needed to have enough of a practical mindset to smother out all the fires that tended to happen, even if those fires had colors that gave you a headache.

“I've tried other magicians, promising acolytes, ruffian's from the street.” Burgess continues, sighing with remembered disappointment and gazing hard at the unmoving demon. “They would lose their nerve, complain of nightmares, or they would be too dimwitted to know the sorts of things to report on.”

Hob moves again, still keeping to the edges of the moat, until he is looking at Burgess’ back and into the lowered face of the demon. “You want me to be a guard?” He asks, voice mild because he isn't sure how he feels about that.

“An observer.” Burgess corrects. “You're sharp, though I've noticed that you try not to show it. You don't have a talent for magic, but you're quick to catch onto the supernatural.”

Hob should hope so, all things considered.

“I want you to take one of the guard shifts, yes. But I want to see what you observe compared to the thicker minds my son has hired. I want you to tell me when it moves, how it moved, if the light seemed different, if you felt tired despite the forced march pills you will be required to take. Any sign that it might be trying to wear away at the binds that hold it.

Do not be fooled by it's stillness or fair looks.” Burgess taps his cane on the sphere, making it ring like a perfect crystal. “This is a demon. If it ever breaks free, it will destroy all of us without a thought.”

The demon lifts its head then, and Hob wonders if his heart finally stops. The movement is slow, strange and dragged, a statue that can only mimic how a living thing would move. The raven wing lashes fly up. The demons eyes are shadowed. Far more deeply shadowed than they should be for the amount of light shining off his skin.

Within those shadows, the place where his eyes must be draw all the light in, refine it, refract it back in the distant twinkling of two dim, hateful, cold stars.

“Yeah. I don't doubt that.” Hob says quietly, and the demons eyes blaze in its beautiful, dead face.

[the-ineffable-dance]

A Companion to Owls is my favorite of the minisodes. Possibly my favorite story in the whole show. But more than it being just good fun and visually amazing, (plus, it gives us Bildad the Shuhite, I mean, come on..)

Job's story, really, is the beginning of "our side."

Before the Job story, Aziraphale and Crowley of course know each other, but I think it's still been a bit of feeling each other out. No one has really put themselves out where they could get into trouble. There's the chat on the walls of Eden, and then again at the Flood. In both of those, Crowley does a little pushing of Aziraphale's boundaries, but Aziraphale, regardless of his internal struggle, outwardly toes the party line... Heaven's plans, no matter how they might look, are in fact ineffable.

In Job, we see for the first time that they are beginning to really see each other. Aziraphale knows that Crowley doesn't want to kill off Job's goats or his children.

Though, of course, he's got to be a little smug about it.

And even when Crowley puts that to the test when he's setting the house on fire, Aziraphale remains confident in Crowley's innate goodness. And is again proven right when Crowley miracles them all into the cellar.

Crowley, for his part, knows that Aziraphale is starting to question the ineffable plan. God and Satan making bets, letting Job be tormented by demons, killing children... he sees the questions that Aziraphale is starting to have, and eases the path for him by being receptive to those questions.

Here we also have the start of Aziraphale's hedonism and love of human things. He's not quite ready to take the step of drinking alcohol, but he does accept Crowley's temptation to eating... and realizes that he's starving. It's his first bite in his entire existence, and he eats an entire ox! It's a small step from there to other things that we see him loving in the present... wine, music, books, clothes (I'm looking at you, 1793), all the things the other angels look down on him for, and Crowley probably introduced him to.

In 1941, they have the exchange, "You told me to trust you." "And you did." But I think that we have that here, too... for the very first time. When Sitis and Job are told that their children are dead, Aziraphale and Crowley put on quite the show with their cobbler/midwife and angel straight man performance. It's actually quite impressive... every time one of them leans on the other to keep up the charade, the other obliges...

It's important to remember just how dangerous this dance is for both of them. First of all, Crowley could not be in a worse place. Not only is there a host of angels here, Gabriel the Supreme Archangel is in the lead. To find a demon here, interfering in the ineffable plan, would certainly end in a smiting. His cleverness and the trust of Aziraphale are the only things that keep him one step ahead.

Secondly, Aziraphale himself is in great danger. Not only has he been collaborating with a demon, tempted into eating, and so on, but he is lying to Gabriel's face. We've seen him lie before. Most memorably to God when she asked where his sword went. But those were little white lies, with few ramifications. "These are his new children" is a direct contradiction to what the Plan is. He is for the first time, turning from the Heavenly Plan, and instead throwing in his lot with Crowley.

Which brings me to my final point...

Aziraphale is terrified of falling. But he was willing to do it to save the children. And that is something that means a lot to Crowley. When he realizes that Aziraphale thinks he's already fallen, he does tease him a little bit, but more importantly, he is soft and kind, talking him through this huge change in worldview.

The most touching moment is when Crowley admits that this path he is walking and Aziraphale now finds himself on is lonely. Crowley has been feeling it since the Garden... but now, it will be less lonely. Aziraphale doesn't have to face it alone, because Crowley will be there, too. Now, they have "us."

[colethewolf]

ON THE THEORY OF ELI BEING CREATED BY THE NEMETON:

This is something that I've been sitting here thinking about for the past couple weeks and I just saw a piece of fanart last night that made me think about it even more, because honestly, the idea that Eli was created by the Nemeton is such a cool idea and it fits with the canon.

So, I don't even care that Jeff Davis is an idiot and was probably too stupid to think of this idea. I feel like I'm in the mood to write some meta after years and years of not writing meta.

Let's talk about it anyways.

We know that the Nemeton was functional during the 1940's before the Nogitsune came into power. And then, sometime after the Nogitsune's first run wild through Beacon Hills, somebody cut it down and essentially rendered it completely powerless.

Now, it stayed powerless for decades UNTIL that one night in the root cellar with Derek and Paige. When Derek killed Paige, he unknowingly committed a virgin sacrifice and sparked the Nemeton back to life. Albeit, the nemeton remained in a weakened state, as it was not back to full power and not working as a beacon to draw in supernatural creatures.

Cut to a few years later, what happens next?

The parents of the teen wolf trio get kidnapped by Jennifer so that she can complete her "three-fold death" sacrifice by killing three guardians. However, she never gets to complete the ritual because Stiles, Allison, and Scott sacrifice themselves in their parents place as surrogates.

Now, the sacrifice that Stiles, Allison, and Scott make was the surrogate sacrifice ritual that Deaton knew how to perform. It put darkness around their hearts and gave them the ability to locate the Nemeton. But that was it, right?

It didn't also act as another virgin sacrifice, right?

Scott? Not a virgin.

Allison? Not a virgin.

Stiles? Not a vir—OH WAIT.

Stiles.

Unintentionally committing a virgin sacrifice by sacrificing himself and giving another spark of power to the Nemeton. And this time, it bumps the nemeton back up to full power after Derek had previously sparked it back to life.

Now, you might be saying:

"But what about Jennifer? She committed virgin sacrifices, too!"

She did. But not to the Nemeton. She was a druid emissary long before the Nemeton was brought back to life. And druids have the ability to perform rituals to basically earn themselves more powers. Those virgin sacrifices that she did in the first few episodes of 3A went straight to herself, not to the Nemeton.

Which means the next virgin sacrifice in the queue was the one that Stiles made by drowning himself, not knowing that he was technically committing two different sacrifices that night.

Derek commits a virgin sacrifice. Then Stiles commits a virgin sacrifice (albeit by sacrificing himself instead of another person). Two consecutive virgin sacrifices by Derek and Stiles, separated by years, and both totally unintentional. And yet both sacrifices powered back up the dead Nemeton.

We know the Nemeton is at least somewhat sentient as it can pick and choose who to let get close to it in the woods. So, who's to say that the Nemeton doesn't hold Derek and Stiles in high regard for bringing it back to life? Who's to say that the Nemeton isn't thankful?

Hmm?

Perhaps, even thankful enough to give Derek and Stiles the ultimate gift in its gratitude? The gift of a son? The gift of a son, born from the Nemeton?

Even Eli seems to have some random, totally strange connection to the Nemeton without really having an explanation for it. He just randomly sleepwalks in the middle of the night and ends up at the Nemeton.

Why?

Now, you could argue that Eli has been sleepwalking out to the Nemeton because of the whole Allison situation in the movie. But what sense does that make? Eli doesn't know Allison Argent. He never did. She was dead before he was even born.

But if we're getting meta in here, Eli just so happens to be 15 years old (the same age Derek was when he sacrificed Paige in the root cellar and woke the Nemeton up). Maybe the Nemeton thinks 15 is the perfect age to start dropping hints to Eli.

In my mind, Deaton was called out to the Nemeton in the middle of the night and found little Eli as a newborn in a little wicker basket made from Nemeton branches and soft leaves, just sitting there asleep in the middle of the Nemeton stump.

And Deaton, being a druid and the old Hale family emissary, knew exactly what the Nemeton was offering and why it was offering it. So, he dropped Eli in his basket onto Derek's doorstep, knocked real loud, and watched as Derek adopted the boy—totally unaware that Eli is 50/50 both his and Stiles'.

But that conversation comes much later.

So, there you have it.

Eli Stilinski-Hale. The son of the Nemeton. The son of Derek Hale and Stiles Stilinski.

🌱

[jungle-angel]

Baby's first Thanksgiving with rip wheeler! please and thank you <333

Rachel.....dahling.....why must you make me an offer I can't refuse??!!!! (lol).

Neither you nor Rip were awoken by the alarm on his phone that usually awoke the two of you during the work week, but rather, the cries of your four month old daughter, Evelyn.

"Relax sugar bear, I've got her," Rip groaned, leaning over to kiss your cheek.

You awoke again, maybe a few minutes or even a half hour, to the snow falling heavily outside and Rip re-entering your room with Baby Evie who had finally calmed down.

"You know young lady," he said, pretending to be stern with her. "Your momma needs her sleep too. We've got a big day ahead of us with all your aunts and uncles, your cousins and everybody coming over for dinner tonight."

You laughed and held out your arms to take Evelyn from your husband. "Did Rhett and the others call?" you asked him.

"Said they'd all be up from Wabang in the next hour if the snow doesn't get worse," Rip explained. "Gettin the house done's gonna be a pain in the royal ass."

You laughed as you sat back and let Evie feed for a little bit, knowing she was probably hungry. A savory smell coming from the kitchen caught you off guard. "Rip is somebody in the kitchen?"

Rip shook his head and shrugged. As soon as you could get out of bed and Evelyn had her fill, you took her right down to the kitchen to find Mo, Thomas Rainwater's right hand man, in your kitchen, peeling a rather large bag of potatoes Rip had gathered from the garden in the backyard.

"Well good morning sleepyheads," Mo greeted.

"Morning Mo," you chuckled. "How long have you been at those potatoes?"

"Been at'em for a good half hour," Mo answered. "Birds's all gutted and brining in the fridge. Don't know what the hell you want done with the corn though."

"Woah wait a sec, ya'll brought corn?" Rip asked him.

"And you mean to tell me you don't remember?" Mo questioned. "I got that shit from my neighbor."

"Wait, the old lady on the rez that owns the corn stand?"

"Of course it's the old lady you brain dead deer turd," Mo laughed. "She's the only owner of a roadside corn stand in the whole of Bozeman!"

Rip went down to the cellar pantry and came back up a few minutes later with the basket of corn, setting it beside the island counter in the kitchen. "Here's hopin we have enough."

"That shit'll feed a whole village for weeks," Mo told Rip as he peeled the potatoes. "Here, you take over the potatoes."

"Yes chef, anything you say chef," Rip chuckled.

"(Y/n) you want anything while I'm in here?" Mo asked you.

"Um just a coffee if you don't mind," you answered. It wasn't long before the coffee was brewed and Evelyn began making grabby hands for her uncle.

"Alright, alright sweetpea you come with me," Mo said, lifting Evelyn from your arms.

You slipped into the kitchen to help your husband peel the potatoes, shuck the corn and get everything ready for when the family arrived. "Well," Rip said as he began chopping the onions. "Not as chaotic as I thought her first Thanksgiving would be."

"Just you wait," you warned him. "John, Thomas, Kayce and Monica will all come traipsing through that door with something freshly dead and throw it on the counter."

Rip laughed before he kissed you. "Happy Thanksgiving sweet thing."

"Happy Thanksgiving you big weirdo," you answered.