#i love local drag project

[justaknightdrag]

4. JUNO WATT (he/him) He's a drag king sent from heaven, you lucky things! He's also just learned how to drive but I'm not sure he should get behind the wheel with his heights all wuthered like that.

---

ID. A cartoon drawing of Juno Watt on a yellow background with a lighter yellow diamond pattern. Juno has light skin and short brown hair styled in a quiff, with a little mullet at the back. He has big arched eyebrows and a full beard. The drawing cuts off at the shirt collar, which is orange with a palm tree pattern, and open so you can see his necklaces.

[facefullofsadness]

pussy-drunk!purinz relieve your stress

roommate!purinz x reader, university!au

smut, 1.4k wc

for the lovely @strawbsj whose bday is todayyy!!! sorry if it's not that great jwannie bestie, it's VERY MUCH RUSHED n barely proofread (might fix later on), but I wanted to give u something today and what's better than purinz eating u out as a gift! (and I'm so sorry it's late ajhfsjgd)

your finals are coming up and wow, is it stressful. I mean it's evident in the distressed faces of your fellow classmates roaming the campus, rushing to the local cafes and library to squeeze in every single bit of study time they can so they don't fail. and you've been no different, hiding away in your room, slaving away at ur notebook with your head in your textbooks and a laptop in front of you.

your roommates yunjin and chaewon are completely chill honestly, they're already done with their projects they need to turn in and have no written exams, having chosen arts majors. they pity you, feeling bad sitting on the living room couch, staring at your closed door, wondering if you're even alive since they can barely hear any noise coming from your room.

having chosen a more studious major than your roommates always meant you were working hard at all times while they were js kinda there? they would always try to help you by making u food, getting you water, doing the chores for you, checking up on you, being sweet and all that. but after hours, 12 to be exact, of you studying, they thought that was enough, you desperately needed A FUCKING BREAK.

you were so zoned in on your work that u didn't hear the door creak open. ur study playlist played softly in the background as u jump, feeling hands land on ur bare shoulders. you blink away from your notes and look up at the concerned looking chaewon looking down at you.

"y/n-ie, that's enough..." her voice was almost a whisper, laced with worry.

"seriously, you've been at this for the entire day, take a break, eat properly, SLEEP?" yunjin reiterates behind her, form slowly coming into view.

you sigh out, leaning back against chaewon's relaxing massage on your shoulders. u didn't realize how exhausted you were until you stopped what u were doing, legs restless, eyes twitching, fingers sore, back hurting.

"I'm just really stressed and worried about this guys," you reply back.

"we know, but killing yourself over this isn't gonna help cutie," the taller girl shifts to move in front of you, closing your laptop and books, holding your worn out hands with her own.

"I don't know how to NOT overwork myself, you guys know that..."

the two girls exchange a look before looking back down at you.

"yeah, so let us help you," chaewon leans into your ear and sighs against it.

you feel a chill run down your spine and suddenly your hands turn clammy in yunjin's hold, the girl in front of you looking down at you with sweet but dark eyes.

"w-what?" you nervously ask.

"shhhh, let us do the work baby," chaewon's lips ghost the skin on your neck before placing deep wet kisses on them.

you immediately whimper at the sensation, throwing your head back against her shoulder. you grip yunjin's hands tighter, eyes closing at how good the short haired girl's mouth felt on you. u didn't even continue to question what was happening anymore, everything feeling too good to care and the exhaustion hitting you too hard to resist.

you hear rustling from in front of you amidst the wet noises next to your ear, feeling your bottoms fall to the ground and legs shift apart. u widen your eyes at the girl between your legs, placing sweet kisses against your thighs.

"jen-" you begin before she interrupts you.

"don't try to stop it, just relax," yunjin mumbles against your skin before dragging her tongue across your already leaking slit.

"fuckkkkkk," you moan out, the sensations tingling against your body intensely.

you lace both your hands into their hair separately, holding chaewon's head against your neck and yunjin's head against your pussy. their mouths moved so deliciously against your body, making your back arch in your shitty uncomfy dorm room chair.

you feel yunjin's strong hands grip your thighs apart firmly, making sure u couldn't close them, forcing you to take all of her pleasure. chaewon's hands occupied themselves as well, slipping up your tight-fitting tank top, thumbs circling your hardened nipples.

"you like that, sweet thing? does yunnie's tongue feel good lapping at your pussy? like how I just pincchhhh your little nips?" she emphasizes her words as her actions obeyed her command.

"chaewonnie ahh~!" you mewl, thrashing your head around at the stimulation.

yunjin's tongue was so deep inside of you, moving extremely expertly against your clenching walls, her nose rubbing your clit rhythmically. chaewon's mouth kept leaving sloppy kisses all over your neck, shoulders, jaw, and chest, even leaning over to reach it and leave marks. her fingers were so aggressive, never letting your nipples take a break.

it felt so fucking good. your mind was completely clouded with lust as the two girls fucked you for their own pleasure, addicted to the way your body reacted to each and every one of their touches. your grips on them tightened as every thrust of yunjin's tongue hit that delicious spot within you, chaewon's panting against your ear heightening your already overwhelming pleasure.

with the deep groan of yunjin's mouth against your cunt, the vibrations sent you into a blinding orgasm, a series of high pitched whines and whimpers leaking from your lips, back arching off the chair completely. your moans filled the girls' ears, filling them with more lust and desire than ever.

your body collapsed against the chair again as you released deep breaths through the aftermath of your climax. suddenly, you're being pulled up and thrown gently against your plush mattress, feeling your legs forced open once again.

you panic and pry your eyes wide open, looking down at chaewon now between your trembling thighs. "chae, wait wait- fuck!"

she ignores your cries as her tongue laps at the cum you released from your last orgasm, sucking and slurping your sensitive pussy lips. whimpers leak from you as her mouth forces her way around your cunt. you try pushing her head away from your center but your efforts fail as yunjin comes behind you, resting your body against her chest and effectively holding your hands behind your back.

"nuh-uh babe, don't even think about stopping this. just relax..." she breathes out against your ear before turning to capture your mouth with her own.

she kisses you breathlessly, taking the oxygen from your lungs. your whines are completely drowned out by the tongue being shoved down your throat, choking on yunjin's and your own combined spit, the sounds of chaewon's slurping under you making your eyes roll back.

your abused clit throbs and hole clenches around chaewon's greedy tongue, unable to thrash really at all due to the two girls forcing your body to move as they want. the pleasure was way too much, your body couldn't stop jerking at every single swipe of the girls' tongues against you. it almost hurt, how much arousal brewed in your stomach, just anticipating exploding.

yunjin finally releases your mouth and you immediately let out heaving breaths against her lips, tears welling up in your eyes at the sensations crawling across your body.

"fuck fuck fuck fuck..." you chant against yunjin, her holding you against her chest, caressing your skin.

"shhhh, you're okay doll," she coos.

"I... can't, no more," you start sobbing.

"don't resist, just feel..." yunjin kisses across your face.

"cumming, cumming!" you announce with an incomplete cry, ur voice cracking as you yelp helplessly, legs and body shaking uncontrollably.

chaewon doesn't stop her eating, continuing to devour you between your legs. you scream in sobs at her mercilessness, unable to handle anymore, your sensitive cunt red and worn out.

"okay chaewonnie, that's enough," yunjin sighs, grabbing the short-haired girl by her bob and pulling her back, away from your pussy.

your silent sobs don't wipe the lust-filled stare chaewon has in her eyes. you feel small against yunjin's grasp and chaewon's warm hands on your inner thighs.

"we're not fucking done, not even close..." chaewon heaves.

yunjin chuckles sinisterly in your ear, "mm-mm, no we're not."

you tremble and stiffen, the taller girl behind you swiping her long digits across your sloppy slit, gathering slick and dragging her tongue along it.

"y/n's way too fucking sweet and delicious to stop."

[scoutofmymind]

can u please write something about how like reader felt while luigi was missing for 6 months. like would he reach out, would she go with him etc. also i love ur stories 🤍🤍🤍🤍

Run — { Luigi x Reader }

Content: sfw, angst, friends to lovers, slight situationship vibe, reader is an artist, kissing, heartbreak, explores ideas of guilty Luigi.

Wc: 2,345

Notes; Luigi vanishes - no warning, no footprints, just the sudden hollow where your life used to fit against his, opening to six months of silence before his letter appears under your door, bearing coordinates to a payphone five blocks away.

You didn't know where you'd be six months later when Luigi drove you down to the lake in his old Bronco, your spot shotgun worn from all those midnight trips for ice cream, the two of you off-roading through patches of corn fields out in the boonies — afterward he'd drop you off at home in the city, then drive himself back to the suburbs, unless he fell asleep in your room despite insisting he couldn't stay because of morning classes.

He always found it hard to leave you.

June warmed the brown leather beneath you, the window cracked to let in the summer air sweetened with hay as Luigi sped down the winding back roads of the countryside, rambling about his sister's new donkey they'd keep at the farm — the Mangione's second, more humble mansion with its livestock and respectable Christmas tree operation.

"You know you're my best friend, don't you?" He'd turned to look at you, the old truck thrown into park at the Dairy Queen after you'd convinced him the donkey could wait.

"Yeah." You nodded, cheeks full of ice cream, brows furrowed. You didn't notice then how his face had flushed red, embarrassed at blurting something so obvious it had never needed questioning. "Who else would you have time for?"

School, tech clubs, part-time job, and you.

Those were the pillars Luigi had built his life around, and for years, it had worked.

You and Luigi could fill a room with laughter —obnoxious howls and high-pitched giggle fits that echoed off walls — or sink into comfortable silence, Luigi drifting toward sleep while you lost yourself in whatever new book he'd brought for you to borrow from the university library.

Your own schedule mirrored his in its fullness, though school took a backseat to your collection of side hustles, your primary source of income selling art pieces at local markets where you'd drag Luigi along to showcase your most treasured works.

"That's a good point." He shot you a grin, spoon dangling upside down from his mouth as he finally broke his gaze from yours to stare out at the tall grass swaying beyond the windshield. "I just hope you know that."

You shift to pull your knees up in the passenger seat, turning to face him with your back against the door. "Feeling sappy again, are you?" Your foot stretches to nudge his knee, the leather creaking beneath you. "S'alright. I like when you get all soft."

Just the week before, Luigi's heart had been sitting too close to the surface, everything managing to touch a nerve — the way his mother spoke about his future over Sunday dinner, how his professor had dismissed his latest project idea, and even the changing spring weather that threatened the saplings he planted last fall.

Eventually, he recalibrated, but that raw tenderness still surfaced in waves.

"Yeah, maybe." Luigi shrugged, leaning over to dig his spoon into your ice cream, stealing a taste. "I just think it's worth saying. A reminder never hurts."

You'd never wanted to invalidate Luigi's feelings — and while you loved to tease him, you'd never dismiss what he shared. He was a natural at expressing himself when he chose to, and you knew if he voiced something, it meant those feelings ran deep.

"You're right, Lu." You say softly, letting your knees drop as you lean toward him, patting his thigh. "Thank you for telling me." He turns to you, his lips curling into that familiar grin. "You're my best friend too. Obviously."

"I know it's obvious," he groans, stealing yet another spoonful of your ice cream, your reflexes failing you when you jerk the cup away. "Let me just fuckin' say it." The late afternoon sun catches in his dark curls, the sun setting over the field.

You wave your hands in surrender, "Alright, alright." A laugh spills from your lips as you lean forward, spoon stretching toward his cup, missing entirely when he pulls it just out of reach. The melting ice cream drips onto the weathered console between you. "C'mon, lemme try."

He shoves a heaping spoonful into his mouth, eyebrows lifting in that familiar challenge, dimples deepening as a muffled "Come get it" drifts across the console, and the invitation draws you across the seat into his lap, the old leather protesting beneath your shifting weight while his free hand automatically found its place at your waist to steady you.

It wasn't the first time you'd tasted ice cream from his mouth, sweet and cold and mingled with laughter — but it would be the last.

And by some cruel twist of fate, that sun-drenched afternoon in his car, with melting ice cream and shared breaths, would be the final time you'd see Luigi's face in person.

After that day, he'd only exist in grainy security footage and missing person flyers.

It's a specific kind of agony, one that lives beneath your ribs.

You searched every corner of his life — the obvious hiding spots and the secret ones only you knew about. The Bronco yielded nothing but old receipts and a forgotten hoodie that still smelled like him.

You harassed mutual friends until they stopped answering, reached out to people who barely knew him, desperate for any trace.

"If Luigi doesn't want to be found, he won't be," Andrew told you, defeated after failing to track any of his devices that had sat abandoned in his room, right there on his desk to be found. Wiped clean. Stranger-cold.

Even your face was gone from his lock screen, erased like everything else.

Sometimes you wondered if you imagined him entirely.

It would be easier than accepting how methodically he vanished, how carefully he erased himself from your world. But then you'll find evidence — a movie ticket stub, a photo booth strip tucked into an old book. The careful progression from strangers to friends to best friends to that unnamed thing you became.

The way you'd end up tangled in his sheets, his hand gentle at your throat, or how you'd hang up on him three seconds into a call because he knew exactly how to push your buttons.

It couldn't have been real — how could someone who claimed to love every scattered piece of you leave without taking any of them with him?

Therapy wasn't optional anymore.

Your friends watched you spiral into something darker than even middle school heartbreak, something that wrapped around your organs and threaded itself through your bones.

This wasn't the kind of pain that faded; it evolved, grew thorns, made itself at home in your marrow.

But talking helped.

Six months without Luigi became possible, then probable, then real — not because you wanted it, but because the alternative was letting yourself disappear, too.

The letter arrives alone on a Tuesday, no bills or wedding invitations to keep it company, just your name in that familiar scrawl that makes your stomach drop. "What do you think?" you whisper to Mario, who's wagging his tail like he knows something you don't, nudging the envelope across the hardwood with his nose.

Luigi named Mario when you got him as a puppy six years ago; Mario, because he thought they’d become more of a duo than the two of you had been.

And that, they did.

"Mar, quit it," you mutter, wrestling the envelope from under his paw where he's planted himself like a furry anchor. The paper is damp from his nose, and it takes four tries to open it without destroying whatever's inside. Your hands won't stop shaking. "The fuck is this."

Eight words stare back at you.

December 3rd, 8:15PM. Pay phone outside of Murphy's on 12th.

Mario presses his cold nose against the back of the paper as you stare down at it, inhaling deeply like he's trying to memorize something. His tail wags so hard his whole body sways, but then a whine escapes him — low and confused.

You know that sound; It's the same one he makes when he finds one of Luigi's old shirts in the back of your closet, when he can smell what he's looking for but can't find it.

The paper crumples in your fist as Mario leans against your legs, still whining softly. Six months of therapy, of learning to breathe around the hollow space Luigi left behind, of convincing yourself that moving forward meant letting go — and here he is, eight words dropping into your life like a lit match.

Still, you march yourself there.

Mario decided somewhere in these six months that he needed to be more than just a wagging tail and sloppy kisses. He took Luigi's place as protector, navigator, watchful eyes scanning every shadow as you cut through familiar alleyways to Murphy's corner.

Your phone reads

8:20

"Shit." You glance down at Mario, who's pressed against your leg, his head tilted back to study your face with those knowing brown eyes. "Fuck this." The words taste like surrender as you pocket your phone, but Mario plants himself like a furry statue, refusing to let you move.

"Mar, c'mon." Your voice cracks, but he stays rooted until that first metallic ring cuts through the night air. The payphone looks ancient, probably witness to a thousand desperate conversations, a thousand promises made and broken against its scratched plastic shell, and whatever the fuck this is going to be.

Mario's ears prick forward at the second ring.

His tail, which hasn't stopped moving since you left the apartment, goes suddenly still.

The third ring echoes off brick walls, and you realize your hand is already reaching for the receiver, and before you can even press the phone to your ear, his name escapes like a prayer: "Lu — Luigi?" Your voice wavers between accusation and hope, sharp but fragile at the edges.

Through the static, you hear breathing — that familiar rhythm you could still map in your sleep.

"You know you're my best friend, don't you?"

The words hit like a physical force.

You squeeze your eyes shut, tilting your head back against tears that threaten to spill. "Where are you, Lu?" The receiver trembles in your white-knuckled grip like it might hold some piece of him. "I'm sorry I showed up late."

"I knew you would." His voice is soft, almost lost beneath a symphony of distant horns and city life —sounds too big, too foreign for the quiet streets you both grew up in. "8:15 is an odd time, hm? Figured more like 8:30 would be when you actually showed. Surprised you answered this one."

"How are you?" You keep your question careful, safe — one that won't send him running back into silence, into six more months of nothing; and now this strange urban backdrop paints him somewhere far beyond your reach.

“I miss you.” Luigi says softly, words he’d said plenty before, but they had never carried this sort of weight. “That’s how I am, I guess.”

Why did you leave me, then?

Please tell me where you are.

Whatever it is, Lu, we can fix it.

“I miss you too.” Is what you say instead, the line keeping him here with you feeling much like a fading spirit, destined to disappear any moment if you didn’t watch your step. “Mario is lost without you.”

“Ah, he’s a big boy.” Luigi sniffles softly, and you can tell he’s trying to hide it. “Been taking care of you, hasn’t he?”

Your head bobs in a nod he'll never see, and suddenly grief hits like a physical blow, doubling you over in the cracked vinyl booth. A sob tears through you, raw and feral, ripping up those poisoned vines of betrayal that have wound themselves through every hollow space he left behind.

"Please come back, Lu. I can't—" The words strangle in your throat as you curl deeper into the booth's shadow, pressing your forehead against the phone hook.

You're trying to fold yourself smaller, to disappear from the fluorescent exposure of Murphy's front windows, from the pitying glances of late-night sidewalk wanderers who pretend not to notice the spectacle of your breakdown.

"I can't, baby." Luigi's whisper barely exists, a breath caught between static and silence, but you strain toward it like a dying plant toward light. "It can't work that way — there's nothing either of us can do about it."

Questions bloom like bruises under your skin.

Is he sleeping in a real bed?

Has he shaved?

Who's making sure he remembers to eat?

You bite down on your lip until you taste copper, trying to dam the flood of 'why's' threatening to spill out. Each suppressed question burns like bile in your throat. He's already thrust the blade in deep — watching him twist it with such gentle hands makes it somehow worse.

"I just needed you to know I was safe." His voice shifts, crystallizing into something harder, something that sounds less like your Luigi and more like whoever he's becoming. "And that I love you. I needed you to know that."

"I love you." The words fall into a sudden void as the city sounds cut out on the other line, replaced by a sharp fizz of static, and then nothing.

You press the receiver harder against your ear, as if you could force his voice back through sheer desperation, and the tone eventually starts its monotonous song, but you can't make yourself hang up.

You wait in that phone booth for an hour, then two.

The neon signs paint wet streaks of color across the glass, and your legs go numb from standing, but you wait for a call back.

It never comes.

Monday morning's headlines make everything brutally clear.

His name in bold print.

The investigation.

The evidence trail leading nowhere and everywhere at once.

And suddenly you understand why he couldn't stay, why he had to hear your voice one last time, and you wish to God you didn't.

Because now you know he wasn't running from something.

He was running toward it.

[spoiledblogif]

Join the Patreon for chapter demos, shorts, and early chapter releases.

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This is the development blog for the interactive fiction called "The Second Sight", which you can find on itch.io at the link above!

This is my first IF project, although I've been writing original stories and fanfiction for years.

I've included the story description and character profiles from the itch page below the cut.

This blog will be a combination of development info, images and music that I associate with the story, and other musings.

Fair warning, there might be spoilers from the latest chapters here, so I recommend catching up before reading too far.

Asks and submissions are always open.

You’re an urban legend in a county full of them.  When you were thirteen, you were found passed out in the road by one of the local cops. No missing persons report. No fingerprints on file. No memories. Just a name.

Oh, and some bizarre psychic powers.  You're content with simplicity. You like your isolated cabin and helping Carter track down missing persons.  You know that in theory there are more people like you out there, but you've never wanted to look behind the curtain to find out.

However, with the disappearance of a local teen named Casey Powell and a recent attempt on your foster father's life, your serene, isolated life comes abruptly to its end and a new chapter begins.

✤✤✤

The Second Sight is an urban fantasy story, where you step into the role of a psychic whose strange powers have always separated them from others. Those same powers will drag you down the rabbit hole and into a world that is both the familiar and foreign to everything you know. A world filled with magic, witches, fae, demons, and the unknown.

You can immerse yourself in the story by customizing your protagonist's general appearance, choosing how they interact with others, and whether you lean on logic or intuition to problem solve. There are three love interests planned (more may be added depending on player reception and feedback), the genders of which will be selected by the player upon meeting them.

Characters

Jacob Carter

Age: Late forties

Race: Human. Definitely.

Gender: Male

Temperament: Carter radiates grizzled, old bastard energy and despite being the least paternal person in the world, he is your adoptive father. While harsh and aloof on the surface, he is also fiercely protective of you and has bent over backwards to give a decent life to a kid that isn't even his. He doesn't talk about his life before coming to Herman County and you haven't asked him, though that might change soon enough...

✤✤✤

Zander/Zora

Age: Late twenties.

Race: Human.

Appearance: Umber brown skin, black locs, grey eyes

Temperament: Gentle and resolute, Z isn't what you imagine when you think of an agent of the mysterious Magic and Anomalies Bureau. Kind, soft-spoken, and exceedingly polite, Z is Carter's former apprentice and something about them puts the old man on edge.

✤✤✤ Renard/Rowan

Age: Appears to be in their late twenties or early thirties

Race: Human. Maybe.

Appearance: Tall and slender, white-blonde hair, and gold eyes.

Temperament: Playful and flirtatious, talking to R always feels like a game of cat and mouse and you can never be sure which role is yours. Part sad clown, part trickster, and always maddening to work with, the only things you can be certain of with R is that they probably know what they're doing. Everything else is up in the air.

✤✤✤

Unknown aka "The Kestrel"

Age: ???

Race: Definitely not human.

Appearance: Tall, beautiful, elegant, with black hair and black eyes.

Temperament: The Kestrel is a complete unknown. It's impossible to say whether they are a lethal ally or deadly enemy, but either way they are a powerful dreamwalker. You don't know how long they've been watching you, but you're willing to bet that it's been longer than you're comfortable with.

[ebodebo]

Peaches & Cream

—oh, just thinking about simon taking you to go peach picking while on vacation… suggestive

His eyes nearly bug out of his head at the sight of you in a cute little sun dress. Long enough to be considered modest, short enough for his mind to conjure up the unholiest of thoughts.

Your eyes light up as you pull up to the peach orchard. As you enter, you chirp about how some locals told you this particular orchard had the sweetest peaches in the entire city. And how it was a family business run by a nice, older couple and their grandchildren.

You hadn’t expected Simon to know so much about how to tell if a peach was ripe. You also didn’t realize so many semantics were involved in picking the perfect peach.

“Gotta��� have some give to it.” He harped, reaching above your head to grab a lovely, plump peach to give a gentle squeeze, careful not to bruise its soft skin.

“Give it a smell.” He brought it up to your nose, letting you take a nice wif of the sweet scent emitting from the fruit.

“Nice and sweet.” You say before taking a bite of the fruit in his hand. Its juices trailing down not only your jaw but his hand as well. You don’t even notice the wicked smile growing on his lips as you stick your tongue out to lick the peach juice around your lips.

“Good. Eh?” His eyes focused on your tongue, lapsing your plump lips. You nod, taking the peach from his hand and bringing it to his unmasked lips.

“Try it, baby.” You press the peach against his lips, and he takes a big bite, the juice dripping down his jaw and your arm.

“Juicy one.” He wipes the juice off with the back of his hand.

“Ya… juicy one.” You mindlessly agree, staring at the way he licks his lips to get the remaining juice off. Just as he did to you.

“Should we…” You trail off as he takes another bite of the peach in your hand before cocking a brow.

“Take a break.” You lightly sway from side to side as you tug on your bottom lip with your teeth.

“Sweetheart, we just started pickin’ em’. ” He laughs, crossing his arms. “But, if you’re tired—” He starts before you interrupt him.

“Oh, no. I’m not tired.” You bring the peach up to your lips, sticking your tongue out to give it a long lick, the juice coating your tongue, all while staring into his eyes.

His hungry eyes dart from your eyes to your tongue, licking the peach’s juices back to your eyes.

“Let’s get to the truck.” He abruptly grabbed your wrist, causing you to drop the peach, and dragged you to the truck. His swiftness made you giggle all the way back to the car.

Let’s just say you tasted more than just peach juice at the orchard that day…

a/n: guys i’m projecting because i was supposed to go peach picking yesterday, but didn’t😓😓

reblogs & comments are encouraged!

[cassowariess]

Look, I'm not a Gaiman fan, I've just been keeping up with the tag for updates about the allegations, and I have to say I'm deeply disturbed at how many young people I've seen say things like: "I want to kill myself" over the possibility of Good Omens 3 being cancelled.

I'm not going to scold you, but I cannot stress enough that this is not a normal response to have about a tv show, let alone any form of media. So as someone who lost a family member to suicide last year(for reasons unrelated to fandom) here is some advice I hope you will heed. Some of this advice is geared towards people with hyperfixations as I know the neurodivergent brain works differently.

First of all, for the future:

Do not put all your eggs in one basket.

It's going to become more and more likely in the future that you will be disappointed in someone who created something you loved. That's why it's important to have multiple things going in your life that keep you tethered instead of projecting all your emotional well being on the status of one thing. I know hyperfixations cannot be chosen, but extra interests can, so you need to cultivate a bunch of them. Go for walks and keep a nature journal, learn a new skill with free videos online (there are also communities built around certain hobbies like knitting etc so there's the possibility of making new friends too). You might not feel better right away, which is why it's important you do these things as a routine (such as once a week or more). It will flex and strengthen your emotional muscles.

It's not always possible, but have at least one of these interests be something that has nothing to do with being online. Maybe there's a book group in your town. Check local boards or listings for activities. Once again, there's the opportunity to make friends.

If you're stuck online, watch a movie with your online friends in Hyperbeam. Do this every week and pick a movie from a list of films everyone has chosen. Pick entertainment that has nothing to do with your fandom. Roll a dice for each week's movie.

If it is available to you, access therapy.

I realize this is not always possible due to costs or waiting lists depending on what part of the world you live in. Sometimes there are free groups that talk about depression. I live in the UK so unfortunately I don't know how prevalent this stuff is in the USA or other parts of the world, but your local council might have leaflets about community services and activities that are good for your mental health too, like community gardening once a week.

You don't need to tell the groups about why you are specifically upset, but you can tell them "life feels dull and pointless" which is why you're reading this, right? But the more you talk to people and try to do activities around other people, the less dull and pointless it will feel. I know it's hard to drag yourself outside, but it becomes easier the more you do it.

Talk to friends in your fandom, but also talk to friends that have nothing to do with it. I've been in enough fandom spaces to know how insular fandom can get and maladpative coping mechanisms some people can share that actually make things worse, not better. Go talk to some normies once in a while. Your fandom friends will still be there.

Finally, some suicide prevention hotlines, should you need them.

Link to international phone numbers and resources.

Look after yourself, remember people love you and remember, it's just a TV show. There will be other TV shows and other joyous things in your life, and next time you will have more of them. <3

Signed,

A fandom old who is not in your fandom.

[thefollow-spot]

'Merlin' and 'Lancelot' by Edwin Arlington Robinson

This is the first full book I've typeset and bound that is not fanfiction—which means I finally have something to show off to the normies in my life LMAO!

'Twas a Christmas gift for my lovely Misery (@whoawhataconcept), who has dragged me right after her into a fascination with Arthuriana ❤️

✨ Details below the cut! ✨

🤍 NEW METHODS 🤍

Printing at home: In the past, I've sent my typeset PDFs off to a local print shop to be printed, but with access to a home printer for the first time, I battled the fucking thing to print it entirely at home. I had a lot of trouble getting my printer to do the whole thing (I think it was so long that the printer's memory started giving up), so I eventually ended up sending the PDF to print in smaller signature groups at a time. Due to misprinting, I ended up with many good glue sheets & pages to protect drying boards and such

Leather-core for endbands: I finally splurged and bought some leather jewellery cord to use as the core in my sewn endbands and it was FANTASTIC!

Ribbon bookmark: 🤍🤍🤍

Backed papers: I purchased two large sheets of artisan paper for the endpages and the cover material. Both were too flimsy for my comfort, so on the advice of some folks at @renegadeguild, I backed some cut-down sheets with regular printer paper using a mix of 50/50 PVA and rice paste. I pressed them flat between protective sheets and they came out perfect!

Paste mix: I enjoyed working with the PVA-paste mix so much that I used it for the rest of the project for pretty much all of my gluing :)

Using an actual book press: Not much to say here except that I finally have an actual press and it made everything 100% easier haha!

Cricut stencil: My sister donated her time and cricut to help me title my cover and spine (under the dust jacket). We cut out stencils with cricut's stencil material & with stick-on vinyl (when we ran out of stencil material LOL). The spine turned out lovely but with some bleed; the cover was a bit of a mess since the stencil material started peeling up the fibres of the cover paper (which I had somehow not thought to seal). But live and learn!

🤍 BOOK INTERIOR 🤍

Copy-editing: Done by they lifesaving and gracious @highlynerdy, who saved me from agonizing over if the raw text source I took from had typos or mistakes. Thank you again, Gracie 💛

Typeset: I was inspired by the original typesets from when these poems were first published, updated to my own aesthetic sensibilities (as much as I had patience for)! The main body-text font is 'Lancelot' which seemed the only appropriate font to use for this project <3

Art: (Not pictured) I included some art by Edward Burne-Jones, "The Beguiling of Merlin", and "The Failure of Sir Lancelot"

🤍 EXTERIOR DESIGN 🤍

Cover: I originally wanted to do this book in blue, but when I went to the paper store, I could not find any marbled blue paper that wasn't wildly over-budget, so I ended up doing another red book. I tried to stick to a colour scheme of white-heavy monochrome + red + metallics.

Dust jacket: Much to my dismay, I realized that I've been lucky in the past, with access to a small nonprofit print shop where their ordering process involves emailing them and describing what you need. To print a dust jacket, one needs access to a print service with "large format" printing, and as I've discovered, that usually means an industrial printing service. Sorely missing my usual nonprofit print shop, I ended up going with a custom photo printing service, requesting a large photo print on their thinnest paper. Due to my special instructions, the cover came back almost-perfect. The edges were jagged, and the paper was a bit too thick, but it is perfectly serviceable and I'm overall happy with how it came out.

[delicatebarness]

cry baby | chapter seven

Summary: Baby, bye bye bye?

Warning: Mentions of John Walker.

Word Count: 1252

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A/N: The NSYNC gif tho. I love Sam Wilson. Please feel free to leave feedback or let me know where and how you want the story to continue, this is just as much yours as it is mine. - B

Tags: @buckys0whore | @thezombieprostitute | @lanabuckybarnes | @mishkatelwarriorgoddess | @softieekayy | @noonespecial90 | @hello-therree | @randomawesomeperson102 | @whoreforbarnes | @thejutvtsupport | @somnorvos | @thetorturedbuckydepartment

By the time Sunday evening came, you felt rejuvenated. Thanks to your family and friends, and some relaxation, has worked wonders on your frayed nerves. 

Yet, as Monday approached, the familiar anxiety crept back. You knew you had to face him again. The thought gnawed at the edges of your peace, like a shadow lingering in the background. 

The office was gradually coming to life with the hum of morning conversations and the clacking of keyboards. Settling at your desk, you took a deep breath to steady yourself. A mix of anticipation and uncase grew as the minutes ticked by. Your gaze kept darting to the entrance, waiting for his inevitable arrival.

But, as the clock struck 9:00 AM, he had not walked through the doors. By 9:30, whispers began to ripple through the conference room as your colleagues glanced at each other. Puzzled by his absence, catching snippets of their conversations - questions about his whereabouts, if anyone had heard from him.

You couldn’t help but feel relieved, but, you couldn’t help but wonder: had something happened? Was this just temporary? Was someone more intense to come?

As the morning dragged on, his absence was both a blessing and a cause of concern. The office turned into full-blown speculation by lunchtime. Theories were being exchanged in hush tones, their curiosity spiking. You tried to focus on your mind, yet your mind kept drifting back to him, especially after the mumbled accusations aimed at your brother. 

~

It wasn’t until late that afternoon that you finally got some answers. Your phone buzzed with a notification from the local news app. Out of habit, you took a glance at the screen, your heart stopping as you read the headline: Police department asks for help in locating a missing man. 

Your pulse quickened as you clicked the notification, bringing up the article. The picture accompanying the story confirmed your speculations - it was John. According to the report, his wife reported him missing after not being seen or heard from since Saturday evening. 

The article mentioned the police were investigating, specifically, Officer Fury would be leading the case. He was appealing to the public for any information. Your mind began to race with questions. Had he simply vanished? Despite everything he had put you through, the news of his disappearance left you with an uncomfortable mix of emotions. 

Sitting back in your chair, you tried to process the revelation. As the office continued to buzz with the news, you decided to share the article in the Avengers group chat: Have you heard about this? - you asked, with the link attached. 

Within minutes, you received replies:

Nat: “Why am I not surprised he was a cheater too?”

Wanda: “Yeah, it just came on the news at the bar. Everyone is talking about it.”

Sam: “*NSYNC ‘Bye bye bye’ GIF*”

Stevie: “Sam, no! 🤣 Yeah, I’m with Wanda and EVERYONE is talking about it, had to tell them at least 10 times we had nothing to do with it.”

Bucky ❤️‍🩹 : “Good.”

~

The usual office chatter was overshadowed by the unfolding mystery as the rest of the day passed. Whispers in corners, and gazes fixed on his empty cubicle. As much as you tried to focus on your new project, your thoughts kept returning to him and the article. 

By the time you returned home, the sky darkened, and a cool breeze swept through the city streets. Unlocking your apartment door, you felt a shiver run down your spine. The weight of the day pressed down on you as you settled on your couch, your thoughts drifting back to Saturday morning, cuddling with Bucky.

Turning on the TV, you caught the last few moments of another news report about him, the anchor repeating details you already knew. Seeing it on the screen made it feel even more real. Leaning back, your mind swirled with possibilities. 

The buzz of your phone interrupted your thoughts. Glancing at the screen, you expected another report about John, but instead, it was a message from Bucky: “Want some company? I’ve got pizza… and cola.” 

You felt your cheeks flush as you smiled down at your phone. “You know the way to my heart. Doors open for you,” you replied as you stood from the couch, heading to your apartment door to unlock the latch. 

Within minutes, the door opened, and your gaze snapped to it. You managed a smile as you watched Bucky enter your apartment with a pizza box and a small crate of cola bottles. You noticed the first thing he did after closing the door was put the latch back into lock. 

“I don’t like you having that unlocked, even for me,” he mumbled as he set the food and drink aside on the dining table. 

~

After dinner, the two of you settled on the couch, the aroma of takeout filling the apartment. Bucky had kept the conversation light throughout the early evening, you recounted funny stories from the bar and shared the latest gossip from your friend's lives. He was a welcomed and comfortable distraction. 

The TV played in the background, and the same news article from earlier began to play once again, snapping you out of your Bucky-induced haze. His jaw tensed as he reached for the remote, swiftly turning it off just as they showed a photo of John. Bucky turned to you, his expression serious. “How are you feeling about all this?” 

Sighing, you put your cola back on the coffee table. “It’s strange,” you admitted as you brought your knees up to your chest. “I should be relieved that he’s not, you know, around, but instead, I feel… unsettled.” 

Bucky nodded, his eyes thoughtful. “I get that, Sweetheart, it’s hard for you to switch off your feelings,” he reached out, wiping a tear you hadn’t realized had spilled. “Even if the person who caused them was… well, him.” He sighed, pulling you into him. 

A sniffle escaped as you rested your forehead against his, “Thank you, Bucky. I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t here.” you mumbled, trying to steady your breathing. 

He smiled, his thumb still wiping the tears. “You don’t have to find out.” 

~

Bucky stood in your doorway, making sure you were truly asleep before, he glanced down at his phone, dialing a number. Once he was positive you weren’t going to wake up, he closed your bedroom door and quietly slipped back into the living room. 

Keeping his voice low, “Fury,” he said as the line connected. “Yeah, she’s asleep,”

There was a pause as Fury spoke on the other end of the line. Bucky’s jaw tensed as he listened intently. “She’s doing alright,” he continued, keeping his voice steady. Another pause, during which Bucky glanced toward your bedroom again, ensuring you were still asleep. “You got any updates?” 

Bucky nodded slightly at Fury’s response, keeping a calm demeanor. Listening as Fury outlined the state of the investigation his responses were brief and measured as he reached for another slice of pizza.

“Got it. I’ll keep an ear out,” he spoke before giving Fury another moment to speak, his eyes narrowed. “Sure, I get it.”

Bucky ended the call, finishing the pizza. He turned the TV back on, the news report still covering John’s disappearance, the same details they’d had all day replaying. 

Sitting back on the couch, his thoughts churned, the weight of the situation pressing down. Yet, his resolve to protect you was tireless.

---

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[koolades-world]

one bed troupe w/ Satan

Satan had the perfect idea. He had heard you rave about the city you had grown up in and all the precious memories it held. You told him often whenever you were reminded of familiar faces, the local bookstores, the bakeries, and most importantly, the beaches. He felt as if he could listen to you talk about your childhood forever. That's when he got the grand idea to take you to see that city again for a day. That way, you could see it all again and he might get the chance to make precious memories with his favorite person.

Upon suggesting this idea to you, you practically began bouncing off the walls, shaking him, asking when you would be able to go. When he told you he could arrange for the both of you to leave that weekend, you began jumping for joy. "I'll be able to show you everything! You're a genius." You hugged him tightly. After pressing a kiss on his cheek, you disappeared, presumably to tell someone else. You hadn't even stuck around to hear the rest of the details.

He laughed to himself, and called Barbatos to let him know they planned to leave that Saturday. Barbatos was more than happy to help them, and glad to hear you were so excited. Saturday came quickly. You gripped Satan's hand tightly and skipped to the palace, dragging him behind you. You had on a small backpack filled with essentials that Satan knew he would inevitably end up carrying at some point, but he didn’t mind. He was just happy that you were happy. Once you reach the palace, and made it to the human world, you were quick to take Satan to all of your favorite places.

First, you took him to your favorite bookstore growing up. You knew he'd be just as obsessed as you were and still was. There were book stacked up to the ceiling, and were somewhat categorized. The tights aisles forced you to walk one behind the other, but you still never let go of his hand. The two of you easily spend an hour along in the section with Sherlock Holmes. Once you were done in there, you took him to your favorite ice cream place. The beach you often watched the sunset on with your family was nearby, and while it wasn't sunset quite yet, you figured the two of you could still get something and enjoy the view.

After a little more wandering around, you were getting hungry since ice cream isn't really filling, so you took him to a cafe that held more memories as a teenager to you. After school, you'd meet up with friends there for projects, or for just in general when you weren't quite ready to go home yet. While the two of you were chatting, cuddled up side by side, enjoying a coffee each, you happened to see a familiar face.

"Mc?" You turned after hearing a familiar voice.

"Mom! What a surprise seeing you!" You got up to hug her. Satan looked at the woman you'd happily greeted. He could see the resemblance. The two of you chatted for a bit, standing beside your table. Evenutally, she turned to him.

"Who's this? Sorry for ignoring you, dear." The tenderness she addressed him with hit him like a brick. He was almost certain that Mc's immediate family knew about the exchange program, but he still looked to them to check. After they gave him a little nod, he introduced himself.

"I'm Satan, ma'am. It's a pleasure to meet you. Your child is lovely." He stood up to shake her hand, the small backpack falling over since he stood up so fast. She hugged him instead, ignoring his outstretched hand.

"No need to be so formal. Anyone who's good enough for Mc is good enough for me. Besides, demon or not, you're one of the family. That reminds me, the two of you need to spend the night, if you can extend your day trip. The rest of the family hasn't seen you in a while and they'll be excited to meet you, dear." She pulled back so she could hold both of your hands in hers.

Mc looked at Satan, imploring him to agree. "I think I can make that happen." He nodded with a smile. He had never felt so welcome somewhere he'd never been. Mc began squealing and almost jumping on the spot. Satan got his second hug from Mc that day, and his third total. After agreeing to meet up at Mc's childhood home at five pm, you parted ways. The both of you sat back down, and as you began chattering about your family, Satan sent a few messages to Barbatos letting him know they'd be back tomorrow at some time.

Before he knew it, five rolled around and they made the short walk to the place Mc grew up. They skipped up to the doorstep, and he followed at a little bit of a slower pace. He couldn't help but be nervous. But, as soon as that door swung open, he immediately knew he would always be welcome there. After being greeted by a hoard of people that look like Mc at the door, they were ushered in. After being briefly separated to chat with different people, they were reunited at the dinner table when it was time to eat. It was heartwarming to see Mc in their element, surrounded by their family. He felt almost bad to have taken them away from something like this. He got to see his family everyday, but they didn't. It seemed, unfair, in a way. Before they knew it, it was time to head to bed.

"Night guys! See you all tomorrow morning." You waved to the crowd in the living room, and grabbed Satan by the hand to free him from the gaggle of uncles surrounding him. A few of them chuckled at how easily he went with you. Your mom passed you two towels and waved you both after her up the stairs.

"You should still have clothing in your drawers since you didn't take everything with you, and if you need something for him, let me know. I can borrow something from your father's wardrobe. Sweet dreams, angel. It truly feels like a miracal being able to see you today." She kissed Mc's forehead. That simple act warmed him. Sometimes, he considered Mc to be his angel too, someone he didn’t deserve.

"Night, Mom." They smiled.

"Good night, ma'am. Thank you for your hospitality." Satan chimed in, not wanting to seem rude.

"No need for the formalities. You're practically family. Now, go get some rest." She walked off after leaving them in front of a shut door together. Satan had almost assumed he would be walked to a different door.

"This is my childhood bedroom. Promise not to laugh?" Mc put their hand on the doorknob.

"The fact that you had to ask makes me curious, but yes." They swung open the door to be greeted by a colorful, cute room that had been designed for what looks like a toddler. The decor looked like it was for a teenager, but the walls were painted like a forest, with forest creatures scattered. "It's cute in here." He took in the entire room. Mc glanced away, bashful.

"You should go shower quickly, before everyone downstairs moves up to bed." They opened one of the dresser drawers, and passed him a large hoodie and pair of sweatpants. He chuckled, but let you push him towards the bathroom. Once both of you had showered and changed, you were in your room again together.

You pulled back the covers of your bedspread, wiggling under it, and avoiding Satan's gaze. "I can sleep on the floor, if that makes you more comfortable." He said.

"No, no. It's fine. That would be unfair to you." You wave him off and pat the bed softly.

"You could've told them we weren't dating. I wouldn't have been offended, Mc." He tried his best to hide the smile on his face.

"Well, they seemed to really love you. I just couldn't break their hearts like that. Besides, I actually don't mind that idea..." You trailed off shyly.

"Hmm, what was that?" He decided to tease you a little.

"Nothing! Nothing, 'tan." You laugh a little.

“Well, seeing as everything is usually about me, and my dysfunctional family, tell me all about yours.” That seemed to do the trick to ease you. As he settled into bed next to you, you began to talk about family member he’d met downstairs. It was no wonder you fit in with his family so well. You knew each member of both of your families like the back of your hand, down to every detail. It really showed how much you payed attention to detail and cared.

As you fell asleep with a quick apology and a yawn, he remained awake. You were facing each other, so he was able to see your facial features and the awkward way your arms rested. He moved the blanket up higher over your shoulders, studying your features with a small smile.

Despite being a demon, he couldn’t help but feel blessed by some divine power out there to be graced with someone as sweet, and caring as you. Watching your chest rise and fall, he brushed your hair aside a little. The domesticity of this, and of everything that day had entailed made him fall more and more for you. Just being in your presence was enchanting.

He could get used to this. The next morning would be even more fun, since he knew you weren’t exactly an early riser. With a sigh, he shut his own eyes, but not before he put one of his arms around you. He was so grateful for you.

[justaknightdrag]

1. JUSTA KNIGHT (he/they) Justa emerged fully formed from a manhole on Burleigh Street in 2022 after a rabid sewer-ratking performed his clown-affirming surgeries. He believes creativity is a muscle which means you can bench press it.

1st in a long series of drawings of local drag artists by me! Justa Knight! Started with myself because I'm easy 😌

---

ID. A cartoon drawing of Justa Knight on a yellow background with a lighter yellow diamond pattern. Justa has pale clown white skin and is drawn with big eyes, a heart shaped smile and rosy cheeks. He has one big elf ear visible with a few piercings in and a gray ruff.

[drabblesandimagines]

Home

Leon Kennedy x female reader I just wanted to write some damsel in distress nonsense with Death Island Leon, but imagine whoever you like! Fluff - though mentions of blood, smatter of death.

Coming to, you feel as if you’re hungover - disorientated, nauseous and a sore head - but that can’t be right, you didn’t drink last night.

It takes a moment to localize the throbbing pain only to the side of your head rather than all over and, as you catch sight of blood smeared against the white tiles of the kitchen floor – something you were desperate to change as white shows up everything­ - you remember.

You’d been working in the home office. Leon had set it up for himself originally – you’d never been brave enough to research what the price of the beautiful mahogany desk must’ve been, but you’re always sure to use a coaster to avoid marking it. He used a laptop, so he’d insisted you utilize the space instead for your desktop when you moved in over a year ago. It was a nice house, on a quiet, suburban street – he’d bought it as a fixer-upper, a bit of a passion project. The rooms were all in various states of completion but he wanted your opinion and input.

“This is our home,” he’d stressed, before pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Plus, you’ll be here more than me…”

You’d heard of the conspiracy theories surrounding the Raccoon City incident. Who hadn’t stumbled down that rabbit hole before? Leon had confirmed it in vague, half-told recollections of the night a few months into your relationship after an argument about his commitment issues, and you hadn’t pressed further than that since. He told you the bare minimum so you were aware of what his work now entailed, why he had to go away for weeks at a time, why he was so desperate to keep his work and personal life separate for your safety and protection.

He accompanied you when he could to family and friends’ celebrations, charmed them all into forgiving him for his flaky appearances, but they could all see how happy you were since the two of you had got together.  

You’d been wearing noise-cancelling headphones as you worked to drown out the next door neighbour’s relentless building works that had started on Monday – a basement leak meant the foundations were being fixed and the noise was horrendous - and had gone to the kitchen to make an ill-advised afternoon coffee and…

Nothing.

Well, the building works have stopped which is a positive, but that doesn’t negate the blood on the floor and your thudding head.

“Mrs Kennedy, I presume.” A man, well-dressed in an awful tight-fitting suit kneels down in front of you. He doesn’t look familiar - blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, a bit of stubble, looking tired, mid-40s, you guessed. You’re confused by the way he’s addressed you – you’re not married, there’s no ring there - and he clocks the bemused expression at once. “Or perhaps you’re his whore, waiting for him to return to your little love nest, hm?”

There’s no good answer or witty comeback so you keep silent, instead trying to raise your hand to feel your head, gage how bad it is – head wounds bleed a lot, you knew that much – but your arm doesn’t comply. Your gaze finds the plastic of the zip-tie cutting into your wrist, holding it snugly against the arm of the chair you’re now seated in - dragged in from the dining room.

“Ah, yes.” He cups your chin, tilting your face back towards him in an effort to get you to focus on him. “A necessary measure. I need you to play the damsel in distress.”

“Leon’s not here,” you reply, quietly, words feeling thick on your tongue though it’s not a lie. “He’s away with work - I don’t know when he’s going to be back.”

“Oh, he’s due home very soon. I couldn’t make such a pretty thing wait for days on end.” He lets go of your chin only to place his hand on your thigh, giving it a light squeeze. You try to jerk away from his touch but find your ankles have received the same treatment as your wrists, though tethered together as if to stop you standing.

“I apologize about your head,” he stands up then, a smug look on his face as he towers over you. “I did tell my men to be gentle, but it appears one misunderstood.”

You shuffle in the chair in a pitiful attempt of relieving the pressure on your wrists. “Who are you?”

He clucks his tongue. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

“Kennedy’s ETA is four minutes, sir.” A gruff voice states from behind you.

“Excellent.” Your captor smiles. “I suppose he was hoping to surprise you with his arrival, hm? Nice that we can turn the surprise around on him.” He snaps his fingers at one of his subordinates, “You can gag her now.”

A hand yanks your hair, forcing your head back and you gasp only for a wad of fabric to be stuffed behind your teeth. You try and push it out with your tongue on instinct but another bit of fabric is forced between your lips, keeping it snugly in place as it’s knotted at the back of your head, causing you to whimper – or at least attempt - when he brushes up against your head wound.

There’s a hive of activity around you – the three grunts getting into position, checking their ammo. They can’t just plan to shoot Leon outright, surely. Why would he need a damsel otherwise? Your captor grabs the back of your chair and drags it, positioning it in line with the hallway door, meaning that you will be the first thing he sees. He places his hands on your shoulders and squeezes.

“Showtime.”

Your heart is pounding so loud it’s all you can now hear – maybe it’s so loud Leon will hear with that incredibly sensitive hearing he has before he opens the door, know something’s wrong and get the hell out of here.

No such luck, though. The building work next door hasn’t resumed, so you can hear him cut the engine in the driveway, hear when the Jeep door opens and closes, hear the jingle of his keys in the door. He has his eyes cast down when he enters, immediately turning to the lock the door behind him out of both security and habit.

“Sweetpea?” He sounds upbeat, happy as he calls for you and it breaks your heart all the more when he turns, eyes meeting yours. “Fuck.” He breathes out, taking a hurried step forward, hand automatically reaching for his pistol still holstered on his belt. A loud click pierces through your left ear, cold metal prods into the side of your temple and Leon freezes in place.

“Uh-uh, Kennedy. Unless you wanna see your lovely lady’s brains splattered all over the floor, I’d drop that right now.”

Leon doesn’t hesitate, holding his hands above his head and dropping the pistol to the ground, hitting the wooden floorboards with a thunk.

“Keep those hands up and kick it over.”

Leon complies, kicking the pistol so it skids down the hallway, swiftly collected by one of the grunts.

“Dante.”

“Oh, I’m flattered you remember little ol’ me. Come - join us.” The gun leaves your temple but the fear remains as Leon slowly strides up the hallway, hands still in the air. “Pull Kennedy up a chair and make sure he’s comfortable.” A grunt ducks into the dining room and emerges with one the armless chairs, placing it down heavily on the kitchen tile as Leon enters. He’s swiftly smacked across the face with the butt of a gun, followed up by a punch to the stomach, causing him to double over. Another grunt grabs his arms, yanking them behind his back and you know by the way his biceps tense that he could break out of that hold easily enough, but he’s choosing not to.

You feel horrible that you’re the reason why he’s not.

He’s pushed down onto the chair and his wrists are quickly secured behind his back with a zip tie through the wooden slats. He lifts his head up to reveal a bloodied lip, but his eyes are immediately on you as he speaks.

“She has nothing to do with me and you, Dante.”

“Oh, I know that.” He scoffs, digging his fingernails into your shoulder once more. “But your little sweetpea is so useful in making sure that you remain on your very best behaviour.”

“You’ve got me now, okay?” Leon shrugs his shoulders in demonstration. “Let her go.”

“Aw,” Dante tuts. “Did you think you had her out of harm’s way, Kennedy? Kept your personal life underwraps? Granted I couldn’t quite confirm her name, but here we are all the same. Pretty little thing – shame she had to get wrapped up with you.”

“What do you want?” You can tell Leon’s annoyed, though he keeps his voice measured.

“The Apollo files.”

Leon raises an eyebrow, scoffing. “I don’t ha- Ugh!” The grunt in front of him had pistol-whipped him once more, his nose now bleeding a little in consequence.

“Next time you tell a lie, your woman is going to get the same treatment.” You grip the armrests in apprehension and Leon once again tenses as he notes your discomfort.

“Okay, okay! They’re in the attic. One of the storage boxes up there – there’s not many. Against the south wall.”

“Good boy.” Dante chuckles, ruffling his hand through the agent’s hair condescendingly. “You two - with me,” he points at two of his men, before turning to the third. “You, keep an eye on the lovebirds.”

“Be careful where you step up there – I haven’t put in a permanent floor. Been busy.” Leon retorts.

“Aw, boys, he’s worried we’ll hurt ourselves.” He grabs Leon by the chin then, squeezing his cheeks. “We’ll be right back. I wouldn’t want to keep this lovely lady waiting any more than she has to.”

He shoves Leon’s face to the side and heads out to the hallway, the two grunts following as the third remains in position to the side, gun in hand.

“I’m so sorry, sweetpea, but I’ll get you out of this – I swear.“ Leon says softly, turning his head to the side to look at you. “Okay?”

You nod – there’s little else you can do – but you know you’re shaking. You hate yourself for doubting him, but you can’t see how the two of you are getting out of this in one piece. He doesn’t say anything more, his eyes flitting from one direction to another as he calculates his moves for what feels like hours.

The building work next door resumes – a loud drilling echoing around the kitchen. The grunt winces at the sound and Leon gets to his feet, arms still bound around the dining chair and headbutts him, sending him stumbling back, blood gushing from a broken nose. Leon spins then, slamming the chair against the marble countertops, splintering the wood and releasing himself from the chair. He then jumps again, tucking his legs impressively close to his chin, though letting out a strangled grunt and his bound hands are now in front of him. He lifts up his knee, tenses his biceps and slams it down, the zip-tie splintering across the floor – all in the time it takes the grunt to come to his senses and aims his gun blindly, sending bullets thankfully in every direction but yours.

Leon ducks and dives, swiftly grabbing the grunt around the neck with an arm and holding it tight, cutting off his air supply until he goes limp in his arms and he grabs hold of the man’s gun, quickly checking the cartridge with one smooth downward motion.

A bullet sails over his shoulder as one of the grunts returns from upstairs and Leon quickly takes him out with a headshot. You divert your eyes then, not wanting to see. It’s them or you – you know that – but it doesn’t make the act easier to witness.

It is barely a second before another gunshot rings out, followed by a second - Dante and the remaining man at the kitchen doorway, though the grunt goes down as quickly as he entered due to Leon’s return fire.

Dante’s face is furious, his gun aimed squarely at your head and he pulls the trigger. Leon sidesweeps the chair legs from under you, sending the chair toppling backwards and you with it, your head smacking once more against the tile and making your ears ring and vision dance with black. The bullet soars over your head and into the kitchen cabinet.

There’s another gunshot, a horrible, squelching sound, and then a series of grunts and groans – flesh on flesh – but you can’t look up, can’t see what’s going on as a succession of gunshots ring out and there’s the sound of a body hitting the floor.

There’s the clatter of a drawer being opened frantically and then, suddenly, Leon is above you – his shoulder bloody – and a knife in his hand. He lifts your head up gently, cutting through the back of the gag and pulls it away from your mouth, fishing out the fabric that had been making you feel close to choking.

“You’re okay, I’ve got you.” He says softly as you catch your breath, taking glorious mouthfuls of air. “Stay still, okay? I’ll get these off you.” He presses the blade against your wrist with a careful flick and you’re released from the first of your restraints. He makes quick work of your other wrist and the ones around your ankles, pulling you up into his arms, cradling you in his lap.

“I’m so sorry,” he mumbles, rocking you back and forth. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

“Leon, it’s-”

“Don’t say it’s okay. It’s not okay. I promised to never get you mixed up in this. I don’t know how they found this place, how they found you. I’ve been so fucking careful, baby.” His voice breaks, along with your heart.

“I know you have.” You try and soothe. “It’s not fair, but it’s not your fault, sweetheart. I love you.”

He presses his lips to yours then, kissing you softly. “Love you too – so much. Feel so selfish.”

“Uh-uh, no – you deserve to be happy. I want to make you happy.”

“You do, sweetpea, but-“

“If I can’t say it’s okay, you can’t go down this road either and we both can’t pout about it.”

He sniffs, rolls his eyes and you finally remember the blood patch on his shoulder.

“Did you get shot?” He shakes his head. “Grazed me. I’m fine. You, however, need a full check-up.”

“If I’m having one, you’re having one too. We can have a date to the emergency room.”

He laughs – it’s nice to hear, to see the smile reaching his eyes. “I owe you a much better date than that.”

“Nah – maybe they’ll put you in a hospital gown.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“What?” You bite your lip.

“The ones that don’t tie at the back?”

“Oh, don’t they? Interesting.”

He kisses you again then, with a bit more passion than before. “Baby, you do not have to get me in a hospital gown to see my ass.”

“Who said anything about seeing your ass? Get your head out the gutter, Mr Kennedy.”

Leon rolls his eyes once more, getting to his feet with ease with you still in his arms. He pushes your face into his chest as he walks towards the front door.

“Leon, no, you need to rest your shoulder. Put me down - I can walk.”

“Don’t want you to see.” He murmurs. “I’m gonna get you in the Jeep, call work quickly – they’ll come sort this mess – then straight to the hospital.”

You keep quiet then, closing your eyes and inhaling his scent as you nuzzle your head against his chest, a realisation hitting you.

“We won’t be coming back here, will we?”

He pauses, fiddling with the keys in lock.

“I’m sorry. I know you were finally feeling at home here and-”

“No.” You cut him off. “Home is us together – wherever. Okay?”

“Yeah.” He opens the door. “You’re right. Home is with you, sweetpea.”

--

Comments, likes and reblogs make my whole day x

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Ko-fi

[thehistoriangirl]

Since ur doing blurbs too👀 TRICK OR TREAT! SURPRISE ME🤍🩶🖤

Yesssss, okay bestie, this is ur trick and treat :3

Hope you like it!

The Sweeter Trick

Viktor x gn!Reader----626 words---SFW

Summary: You have more than one trick under your sleeve to convince Viktor to go to bed.

Tags: Established Relationship | Domestic Fluff |

The clock had chimed midnight by now, its ticking the only company Viktor had while working on his new project.

Between the scribble of his pencil dragging among calculations and messy blueprints filled with fragments of eraser, Viktor heard the muffled rhythm of your feet against the wooden floor of the hallway. 

“Vitya…” you said, voice groggy; your figure almost shapeless with the oversized fluffy robe of your pajamas, almost like a cloak.

Viktor hummed turning to fully see you after settling his pen down, still comparing two equations to localize where the calculation had gone wrong. “Yes, my love?”

You sat in the armrest of the couch, leaning your body against the outline of the couch to rest your head against his. “Can you stay with me until I fall asleep?” you uttered, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. “I’m scared.”

He sighed, pretending to be annoyed for the interruption, though you could hear the smile in his voice. “I told you not to watch that horror movie at night, dove.”

“But today’s the day to watch them!”

“It was,” he pointed out, always the smarty-pants. “It’s past midnight now. You should be in bed.”

“Please, Vikky, Vikky,” you said, pouting and giving him your best puppy eyes. "I'll fall asleep quick."

You saw his eyes flickering as he pondered his options; for once, the crouched position in the couch had given him a sore back, though he also wanted to keep going with his project before any idea could slip off his mind.

“I suppose I can take a small break,” he said, his muscles protesting when he stood up, a groan accompanying his stretches. 

He took the cane, pushing the four empty coffee cups at the center of the table to not knock them over as he passed from the living room to where you were standing in the middle of the dim hallway.

“Come, my love, let’s get you to bed,” he said, going straight to the bedroom where you had already prepared the bed in case Viktor went to sleep with you in his own will, unsuccessfully. Until now, that is.

Your boyfriend tucked you into bed, using your reflexes before he could scoop away, pulling him by the lapel of his shirt so he had no choice but to lay next to you with a sigh. 

Viktor called your name, almost naggingly. Though the sound stopped when you hugged him, making him the little spoon.

“Alright, you have your teddy bear, now go to sleep,” you heard him mumble, his breath drawing goosebumps in the crook of your neck. 

“A very handsome teddy bear,” you said, and he chuckled. 

“Goodnight, my love,” Viktor answered, his lips brushing your neck though his tone was more like a memorandum about you falling asleep than a proper goodbye. 

You looked down at him, his pale skin from days to not have gone to a walk outside, the purple eyebags under those striking golden eyes. 

Taking in his scent, of coffee and ink and citric, you kissed his forehead, bathing him in your warmth and dimming the lamp so the room was barely lit enough to see the pale skin peeking under his baggy night shirt, the hollow ends of his hipbone under the hem of his pajamas. 

When you finished taking him in, you heard Viktor’s snores filling the room, his chest moving a soothing and even motion. 

Smiling that your tactic worked, you slipped one hand toward the end of the blanket, wrapping it around his body as he scooped closer to you, his right leg climbing to rest in your thigh. 

“Goodnight, my love,” you said against his hair, nuzzling into his presence as you too, fell asleep. 

[karatekels]

KarateKels Story Masterlist

Hi everyone! I’ve decided to (finally) get my act together and make a masterlist post for all the requests/stories I’ve done so far. I’m going first by character, then adding Dark Desires October and TIGmas posts for if you’re looking for a ~vibe~. Links that have a * indicate the presence of smut, for if you just want to get to the good stuff! 😉

(I'll be going through these posts and updating them slowly when I can't bring myself to write, so if you see anything that needs fixing or you want to suggest ways to make this... less of a clusterfuck, please feel free to let me know!)

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Currently Writing:

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1. Cold Outside (a Jack Blaylock x Reader fic for TIGmas #12 - sorry for taking FOREVER, @babylonianqueenie; I'm really struggling to make this good!)

2. Solar Flare (a Jan Valek x OC fic)

Note: I am taking requests, but seeing that some of them are around a year old at this point, note that it may be awhile! I'm not planning on starting any of my own projects or theme-months until I clear out most of what I have, and thank you all for your patience!

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Terry Silver:

Silver Seduction: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3* | Part 4* | Part 5* | Part 6*

(KK3 Terry x Reader) Reader is the older sister of Jessica Andrews and has taken it upon herself to make sure young Daniel LaRusso stays safe after Jessica returns to Ohio. This includes accompanying him to seek out the training offered by Sensei Terry Silver and learning a few moves yourself from the handsome older man. When his true intentions are discovered, you completely cut him off, but he isn’t willing to let you go so easily. (Reader is in her 20s)

Chef’s Kiss: Part 1 | Part 2*

(KK3 Terry x Reader) Reader is dragged to a charity event by her parents where she meets Terry Silver. They discover that they have a mutual acquaintance, Daniel LaRusso, and Reader joins Danny at the dojo as she grows closer to Terry. Wanting to surprise him one day, she catches Terry relishing Daniel’s torture – now Terry has to make her see reason. (Reader is in her 20s)

Deluge: Part 1

(KK3 Terry x Reader) You get stranded in the rain trying to make your way to Terry’s place for Valentine’s Day, but Terry comes to your rescue, professing his love for you and taking you to his home where you belong.

An Honest Man: Part 1 | Part 2* | To be continued…

(KK3 Terry x Reader) You meet Terry at a party and aren’t impressed by his smarmy exterior, making him determined to win you over. Colluding with your easily wooed coworker, he talks you into a date and slowly seduces his way past your timid, untrusting nature.

Payment Plan: Part 1*

(KK3 Terry x Reader) Reader sees Terry training in the Cobra Kai dojo while on her way to work and develops a crush on him. They finally meet face-to-face and Terry invites her inside for a free lesson.

Bath Toy: Part 1*

(KK3 Terry x Reader) Terry takes a business call while playing with you in the bath but is interrupted by you not being able to keep quiet. To make up for the inconvenience, you let him use you underwater while he goes about his business.

Cat & Mouse: Part 1*

(KK3 Terry x Reader) Reader is a rising star at Dynatox and has caught the eye of the boss himself. Despite being the Terry Silver, however, you adamantly reject his advances, forcing him to take more drastic measures to help you see reason. The two of you engage in a game of cat and mouse that culminates the night of a gala celebrating Dynatox’s successes.

Discipline Training: Part 1* | Part 2* | To be continued…

(KK3 Terry x Reader) Terry comes home early from a work trip and catches you touching yourself without his permission. He decides to punish train you in the third 'D': Discipline.

All's Fair: Part 1 | Part 2* | Part 3*

(KK3 Terry x Reader) Reader has been dating Terry for awhile, and he's been patient. When she surprises him with a date at their local funfair, he thinks she'll be willing to finally make their relationship physical. At the top of the ferris wheel, he makes his move. Dubcon.

Unjust Reward:Part 1 | Part 2*

(KK3 Terry x Reader) Daniel warns Reader that Terry is nothing but trouble, and she tries to avoid him, but when she's being chased by a group of men she turns to Terry's dojo for help. He swoops in to save the day, but it turns out he was just saving her for himself. Non-con.

Clear as Mud: Part 1*

(KK3 Terry x Reader) You’ve tried to get Terry to open up about his time in Vietnam on more than one occasion, and while he’s been doing his best to help you understand, he ultimately decides that the best way to help you is to put you through something similar, hunting you in the middle of a forest at sunset.

What You Do To Me: Part 1*

(KK3 Terry x Reader) You and Terry have been together for quite awhile now and he is crazy about you. Before he can tell you that he loves you, he decides to test your loyalty by seeing how you respond to another man trying to seduce you at a gala. Once you pass his test with flying colours, he sneaks away with you to confess his love, and shows you just what it’s like to have his full devotion…

Turtle Doves: Part 1 | Part 2

(KK3 Cobra Husbands - Terry/Reader/John) It’s your first Christmas spent with both Terry and John, and everyone is nervous about what to give the others. While you’re confident in Terry’s (often overwhelming) love for both you and John, as well as your own feelings for both men, you’re still unsure of John’s feelings for you with the spirit of Betsy still a looming presence in everyone’s mind.

Songbird: Part 1*

(Terry through the ages) A series of snippets of Terry and his wife in the 90s, 00s and the present. Reader is a singer at the bar that Terry frequents as he hits rock bottom, and the two of you fall in love. Years later, the return of John Kreese into your husband’s live threatens to tear your marriage apart.

Lesson Learned: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3*

(CK Terry x Reader) Reader is a student in Cobra Kai’s adult class and you and Sensei Silver are both clearly attracted to one another. After a month of teasing, Terry decides you’ve both waited long enough.

Strike First: Part 1 | Part 2*

(CK Terry x Reader) Reader and Sensei Silver have been eyeing each other during the dojo’s adult class for awhile now. While you never think it would escalate past flirting, Terry has had other plans, luring you to the dojo when no one is around so you two can get to know each other.

Prized Possession: Part 1*

(CK Terry x Reader) You accompany Terry to a charity event for the first time as a couple and he doesn’t appreciate the attention you receive from the other men in attendance. Upon returning home, he needs to make sure that you both know who you belong to.

As I Am: Part 1*

(CK Terry x Reader) You witness Terry and Daniel’s fight in Stingray’s apartment and desperately want him to lose control with you. Upon making you confess your desires, he gives you exactly what you need. Size kink.

A Better Offer: Part 1 | Part 2*

(CK Terry x Reader) You are Daniel’s assistant at the dealership and a close family friend. When Terry drops by to gather information for his schemes, he decides to scoop you up and make Danny-Boy regret his mistreatment of you, giving you a dream opportunity: organizing the charity auction for Eva Garcia. The two of you develop feelings for one another as you work closely together, and as the events of the auction unfold, the tension between you reaches its boiling point.

Legacy: Part 1*

(CK Terry x Reader) Terry has fallen for the most promising student in his adult class, though she remains oblivious. Though he desperately wants to have her for himself, he fears rejection and settles for privately training her just to be close to her and build a legacy. Eventually, he runs out of things to teach her.

Fresh Start: Days 4 & 5 | Day 6 | Day 7 | Days 8 & 9* | Days 10 & 11 | Day 12-A | Day 12-B | Day 13-A* | Day 13-B* | Day 13-C | Day 14-A* | Day 14-B | Day 14-C

(CK Terry x Reader) Reader is visiting LA for a few weeks and accidentally wanders onto the estate of Terry Silver, who immediately falls hard for the young woman. With only a few days to convince her to stay with him, he knows he has to pull out all the stops.

Scream for Me: Part 1 | Part 2*

(CK Terry x Reader) Part of the "Fresh Start" universe! Reader makes the mistake of telling Terry that she can't believe he was ever scary, and certainly isn't that way now. Terry decides to teach her a lesson, hunting her in their own home until she admits that he is still very much something to be feared.

Wrapped in Red: Part 1*

(CK Terry x Reader) Part of the “Fresh Start” universe! You and Terry are invited to a Christmas Eve charity gala by your rival for Terry’s affections, and you’re sick of having to endure her flirting with your man. Surprisingly, Victor has an idea that will make it certain who Terry Silver belongs to.

Eye of the Storm: Part 1* | To be continued…

(CK Terry x Reader) Trapped at the airport on Christmas Eve, Terry grows tired of seeing everyone around him with their families and loved ones, and impulsively decides to start a family of his own. Today. He sets his sights on you to get the job done, with you being none the wiser.

Guided Meditation: Part 1*

(CK Terry x Reader) Terry is fed up with your attitude lately, and decides to help you learn how to channel your pent up frustrations through more enjoyable pursuits... for him, anyway.

Party Favours: Part 1*

(CK Terry x Reader) You really don't want your birthday to be a big deal, but Terry is determined to strike the perfect balance, finding just the right way to spoil you...

Reunion: Part 1 | To be continued...

(CK Terry x Reader) Part of the "Fresh Start" universe! You return to Terry weeks after your initial departure to begin your life together.

The Steadfast Tin Soldier: Part 1*

(Twig Terry x Reader) Terry returns from Vietnam on Christmas Eve, and you are the first and only person he wants to see. After years without so much as a letter, you two try to get to know each other once again.

Cash Ewing (Black Friday/The Kidnapping):

Disorderly Conduct: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4* | Part 5 | Part 6

A dark, tragic fic. Reader is a cop who has been working at the same precinct as Cash for awhile, and gets the vibe that something is... off. Trusting her instinct, she follows him to an abandoned building one day and catches him in the act. Unfortunately, he also catches her, and keeps her as a hostage while he tries to figure out his next move. (Takes place before events of the movie)

Person of Interest: Part 1*

You and a friend attend your precinct's Christmas party; the first time you'll be seeing your coworkers since you went undercover almost a year ago. Rather than the happy reunion with your partner and friend Cash, he seems anything but happy to see you. Locked in the basement together, you call Cash out on his BS and finally confront him about his feelings and your own.

Jan Valek (Vampires):

Heirloom: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6*

An enemies to lovers fic with Jan Valek. Reader is Jack Crow's daughter and a vamp-hunter-in-training. When Valek attacks the old Catholic school where the Black Cross of Berziers is kept and discovers his nemesis’s daughter, he kidnaps her in hopes of using her to lure him out but finds himself falling for her instead.

Saturnalia: Part 1*

Valek catches your scent on the wind and plans to feed on you, but after a single conversation with you can’t bring himself to commit such an act. Instead, he plans to find you at your friend's Winter Solstice Masquerade to be close to you, even just for the night.

Solar Flare: Part 1 | In Progress...

As vampires become a growing problem and the number of Slayers dwindles, the Catholic Church decides to perform another ‘miracle’, attempting to create a weapon that will be able to find the despicable creatures in any and all shadows that they may hide. Similarly to the botched exorcism of Jan Valek, the experimental ceremony that Rose Hanlon undergoes doesn’t go exactly as intended, and she escapes the city with a set of abilities she doesn’t even understand.

Gus Travis (Black Point):

In Deep Water: Part 1 | Part 2* | Part 3*

A dark non-con with Gus Travis. Reader is an undercover cop who has gotten in with Gus's gang to get the dirt on him and Malcolm’s crime ring. Gus gets wind of your deception and decides to punish you - for lying, for making him fall for you, for everything.

Terry McCain (Excessive Force):

Yule-Tied: Part 1* | To be continued…

You manage to get Terry to swear off work for a whole week to come with you to visit your family in New York City for the holidays. He has (unsurprisingly) charmed his way into everyone’s good books, so you decide to reward him with an early Christmas present when you get back to your hotel room the night before Christmas Eve.

Jack Blaylock (Ulterior Motives):

Coming soon…

The TIGverse (stories with more than one TIG character):

The NSFW Alphabet: Part 1* | Part 2*

A character study for both KK3 Terry and CK Terry. (I want to do more requests like these, so feel free to send in requests for my thoughts/opinions rather than full on stories if you want!)

A Tale of Two Terrys: Part 1* | To be continued…

(KK3 Terry x Reader x CK Terry) You and your husband (CK Terry) are somehow joined in bed by his younger self, who had been wondering how his future would turn out. Initially protective, your husband talks you into letting his younger self have his way with you before joining in himself.

Mediation: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5* | Part 6* | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9* | To be continued…

(Terry McCain x Reader x Cash Ewing) You are assigned as Terry McCain’s new partner after his previous partner – Cash Ewing – goes to prison for the crimes he has committed. Cash returns to Chicago years later, after his release and rehabilitation, and while he can’t be a cop anymore, he wants to make amends to those he has disappointed with his actions, most of all his former close friend Terry. Terry isn’t receptive to Cash’s attempts at reconciliation, and warns you to stay away from him, having grown very protective of his “work wife.” But you find something of a kindred spirit in Cash and want to help him get a second chance at life, deciding to do what you can to support the man and bring the two friends back together.

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Themes/Challenges

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Dark Desires October 2023:

Unjust Reward Disorderly Conduct Heirloom Scream for Me All's Fair In Deep Water

TIGmas 2023:

Person of Interest Saturnalia Clear as Mud Eye of the Storm The Steadfast Tin Soldier Wrapped in Red Yule-Tied What You Do To Me Mediation Guided Meditation Turtle Doves (Cobra Husbands) It’s Cold Outside (Jack Blaylock) Coming Soon...

Fresh Start Universe:

Fresh Start Scream for Me Wrapped in Red Reunion In progress More coming for Fresh Start February!

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AMAs (ask me anything):

Just in case you are, for some reason, interested in asking me about things or reading about what other people have asked me! (These are fun and I'm happy to answer pretty much any question you feel like asking!)

AMA1 | AMA2 |

[cinnamon-galaxies]

𝐆𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐊𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐲 𝐎𝐓𝐏 - 𝐑𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐨𝐠𝐚𝐳��𝐥𝐥𝐞

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

I’ve been shipping my OC Mara with Alastor ever since I joined the Hazbin fandom, and over time, their story has grown into a detailed lore.

There are two AUs where I ship them. The first is a Human AU, which covers their full story from life to afterlife. The second is a Hell AU, where they meet for the first time after their deaths. I mostly use the Hell AU for short stories and drabbles that often contradict each other. It's just for fun and doesn’t have lore as developed as the Human AU. Everything I post about this ship or my OC takes place in one of these two AUs.

Mara and Alastor first met while they were alive. Mara was a singer at a local jazz club in New Orleans, which drew the attention of Alastor, the city’s most popular and renowned radio host. Long story short, they fell in love, got "married"*, and after dying some time apart, both were dragged to Hell. They spent a long time searching for each other until they finally reunited. Not only defying the concept of ’Til death do us part’ but also to make their marriage finally officially on paper*, they remarried soon after and since then spend their afterlives together.

Mara and Alastor are both similar and completely different from each other, balancing each other out perfectly. You can imagine the shocked faces when Alastor introduced her to the other hotel residents. The Radio Demon? Married? To such a beautiful and kind woman? What sounds like a bad joke at first soon develops into a surprising dynamic, with Mara keeping Alastor at bay while she supports the Princess of Hell in her ambitious project. At the hotel, she finds a new home where she shares a space not only with her beloved husband (who's been away for seven long years) but also with a group of chaotic sinners who quickly take a special place in her heart.

Mara means a lot to me. She isn’t a self-insert, but she’s a multifaceted character with traits that might surprise you but that also reflect some of my own. May it be hobbies, personality traits, quirks or music taste...

Given how much her and Alastor’s story has evolved, I’m considering creating a long-fic that portrays their love story from life to death.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

*Due to Louisiana’s anti-miscegenation laws, interracial marriages were illegal until 1967, meaning couples faced severe legal and social consequences: criminal charges, fines, imprisonment, or forced annulments. The only way for a non-white person to avoid these discriminatory laws was to "pass as white," which besides having a "white" appearance, also means hiding their background to present a white public image. But I don’t want that for Alastor.

While we know little about his human life or appearance, I don’t want him to "pass as white", as it would erase the significance of his Creole heritage, reducing it to a convenient plot point without truly honoring his cultural identity. I don't want his identity as Creole to feel like an excuse to explain away a privileged existence, while still allowing him to draw on specific cultural ties. Instead, I like to imagine him with dark brown, wavy hair, brown eyes, and naturally tanned skin – especially since nothing is canon yet.

This means that Mara and Alastor, as an interracial couple, either had to marry out of state or informally within Alastor’s Creole community. But since these unions weren't recognized by Louisiana law, I refer to them as "married" rather than legally married. In Hell, they re-enacted their wedding not only to defy the standard of "til death do us part" but to finally make it official on paper. Even if that means exchanging rings a second time.

[threepandas]

Sun Burnt: Part 3

When a legendary hitman Eye Threatens to break both your fucking legs?

They Are Not Joking.

FUCKING OW.

Still! Jokes on HIM! I'm in to that sh-! Wait, no, not the time for memes! Or is it jokes? Irrelevant! I can still fuckin RUN, is the thing. Sucks to SUCK, Sun boy! Us Lightnings are BUILT DIFFERENT!

And I BETTER not hear any snide "yeah I BET they are" from the peanut gallery!

My Flame type ROCKS! I am a TAZER who can put my fist through WALLS. Stand dead center of a road and just? Fuckin TANK a speeding car! Can YOU? Didn't THINK so! Lightning supremacy! One of you fuckers gimme a highfive! HELL YEAH!

But also? Like... I take back EVERYTHING I ever said about the Carcassa.

ALL OF IT.

They are the GEMS of the Mafia. The SHINING HEARTS of raw compassion! Skull-sama's willingness to PERSONALLY piss off The "I AM The Dread God Lesser Deity's Fear" Reborn? An inspiration to us all. I... I would steal for this man. Like? For FREE. Not DIE for him or anything, God no, but? I would steal really REALLY expensive shit for him!

The man's an absolute mad lad. A LEGEND.

I will NEVER forget this... assuming I survive.

Because somehow HE already has my name, face, and multiple alias plastered OUT FOR THE WORLD TO SEE. Ha ha... oh god. Thaaaaat is a bounty. BIG bounty. Lots of zeros. G...gonna die.

My phone chimes.

"You know exactly who this is. Pick up." The screen reads, right before it rings.

HA HA, NOPE!

I stand, well more like shoot to my feet, from my seat on the ground. Quuuuick steps too the blimp windows. Wrench those open. Sim card out! Crush the phone. AND YEET!!! BeGONE DEMOOOON!

We shall NOT be engaging with The Devil today! No Sir!

.....Skull's phone starts ringing.

I whine like a cornered animal. So... this is what a real life horror movie feels like. NEAT. I hate it! I watch, probably shaking, as Skull-sama casually drags out his phone. Glances down at it. Then over his shoulder at me. He doesn't even fully turn his head. Just one Cloud flame purple eye that seems to light up from within.

He's a happy go lucky guy. Cool dude. But like all Clouds? Fucking HATES cages. Being or SEEING other imprisoned. Trapped. Cornered and forced to do something against their will. And as the planet's STRONGEST Cloud?

He's always had exactly zero problems telling Reborn to fuck off to his face. Even when it gets him shot at. Everyone knew that.

"Sempai! Calling the GREAT Skull De Mort just to CHAT~♡? I KNEW you loved me BESTEST!" He PROJECTS into the phone, his speaking cadence shifting.

He'd been gregarious, bombastic even, the whole time I'd been on board. The sort of guy you can't help but want to buy street food with and check out some weird local sight you heard about. The guy that turns an event into a PARTY. A get together into a memory you TREASURE. Larger then life and unashamedly so.

But this? THIS was the SHOWMAN.

And this was the Showman being Obnoxious and MEAN.

Loud, intentionally grating voice. No break in the endless flood of mind numbing chatter that went no where. Bellowing cackling that even the best of speakers would be hard pressed to handle. Standing near machines and windows so the background noise garbled EVERYTHING.

Let no one say Clouds are not PETTY.

"Hmmmmm~? Your WHAT? Sempai! Don't be SILLY! You can't OWN people! That's SLAVERY! It's against~...!" He turned, leaning like a rock star of old against some navigation compartment. Casually examining his nails with a MEAN and wolfish smile on his face. "Waaaaa! Don't be maaad~ Don't be MAAAAAD~!! You know I'd NEVER lie to YOU, Sempai! I'd never DARE! I promise I'll keep a look out, m'kay? What? Don't hang up? Sorry! Can-KRRRRSHK! n't quite KKKKKRRRRRSK! Heeeeear yoooouuuuu~☆!"

Click.

He casually tossed his phone to one of his men. Ignored it even as it rang and rang. With an excited clap of his hand, he hopped up, out of his loose legged splay to stride over. According to him? We should eat! Have I had Burmese food? It's delicious! One of his guys just got "into" the whole cooking thing! So everyone is being supportive!

I can't help but laugh. Everyone politely ignores how wet it is, as Skull-sama throws an arm over my shoulders and drags me from the cockpit.

I know I'm not safe. But for now? Fuck it. Good enough. Maybe Skull-sama knows someplace Reborn might not IMMEDIATELY find me. And who knows? When this all blows over? Maybe I should join up with his crew. Reborn can't be THAT obsessed. Right? It was just the initial harmony high. With no Sky to actually bind us, he'll lose interest.

Behind me... the phone rings.

And rings.

And RINGS.

[scrawnyghstts]

I'm going to a concert today, Aurora's tour to be precise, and the worms in my brain have me hang up on what type of concert goer each of the OUAW members is, so here are the headcanons I came up with:

Gricko: music festival veteran. there is no other way, like he probably has multiple Woodstock t-shirts, but also goes to Coachella, he is excited for the festival experience first and foremost. He also definitely goes to small, local bands performance in some random pubs, since he probably performed these type of shows with his goblin college band

Frost: prefers the seating sectors if the concert is in an arena, or is the type of person that would rather stand in the back and just vibe on his own, not paying much care if he's close to the stage (the crowd is too much for him). He also doesn't shy away from earmuffs of some kind if he knows the show will be intense, but he'd probably rather go to a philharmonic than a rock show (Gricko drags him along though)

Gideon: rather a casual concert goer, he's the friend that will always take up a spare ticket if you have one, even if he doesn't know the band he'll be excited to go and have fun with friends. Oh but if there's a moshpit he's a genuine health (and fire) hazard. He loves moshpits and goes full in every time, but is cautious of not actually hurting anyone and helps people get out if they need

Kremy: a menace. The type to be ready an hour before the tickets go on sale to get the best ones and likely the one to camp outside the venue too to be the first one to go in. He is dedicated, if there's a fan project for the show he definitely prepares, checks the setlist and always gets tour merch. Also likely buys extra tickets to resell them later lol. Additionally, since Kremy loves jazz, he is definitely close to the performers and pub/bar owners in Ougway (I hope I spelled it right)

Torbek: probably buys tickets from Kremy at an extra price- no I'm kidding (partially). Torbek is there for the vibes! He sometimes forgets there even was a show he was supposed to go to and listens to the artist's whole discography maybe a week before, but still is one of the loudest people in the arena, having the time of his life. Also a moshpit enjoyer and likely laughs while bouncing off people like a kid.

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yeah :) that's all I wanted to share, if you want to add to these please do!!