#i really hope this fandom isn’t dying

[super-nova5045]

okay with all seriousness maybe im delusional but i genuinely DO believe snowjanus is implicitly homoerotic like…not necessarily requited or canon which is why its homoerotic but like betraying your devoted best friend (who you secretly hate because you’re extremely envious of him but you also adore him but you can’t ever admit to that) because he was beginning to pay attention to someone else and then once he’s dead you eat one of HIS COOKIES while MOURNING HIM and it calms you down because it’s sweet JUST LIKE HIM and then practically becoming his widower and stealing his identity and life entirely (which is what’ve you always wanted isn’t it) is like. Extraordinarily queer like this is “top ten biggest queerbaits” shit.

you could never tell if you wanted to be him or be WITH him because why else would you be jealous and angry when he’s talking to other people. why else would you eat and consume the last remnant of him that was sweet just like the rest of him. why else would you be written as a snake and him as a rabbit which naturally have a predator-prey relationship. why else would you continue to profit from consuming him and his identity even after he died because of YOU and your hunger for power in any form. you eat and he delivers. Anyway

[purple-plum-petals]

Hi!! I really love your homicipher content!! Could I ask you for Mr Machete headcanons in a relationship?

This man needs love please, I can't find any of it anywhere!!! 😩 And by the way, you write very beautifully! Never stop :D!

If your requests are already closed you can ignore this. Thank you and have a nice day!

⊱ Being in a Relationship with Him ⊰ || Mr. Machete Headcanons

╭─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╮ Character(s): Mr. Machete (Homicipher/文字化化) Reader Type: Human (Gender-Neutral Pronouns) Warning(s): Spoilers for Homicipher (specifically Mr. Machete’s Route), Canon-typical Mentions of Violence (and horror-elements), Cultural Barriers (Mr. Machete Doesn’t Fully Comprehend Certain Emotions/Expresses Them Differently Than a Human Would – He Also Will Fight You™ Which Is Obviously Not Healhy IRL), Brief Mention of Blood Consumption. Genre: Headcanons, Fluff(?), Romantic Relationship (It’s Complicated, honestly). Word Count: ~1,100 words. Request: “Hi!! I really love your homicipher content!! Could I ask you for Mr Machete headcanons in a relationship?” Author’s Note: Of course, and thank you for your kind words! While Mr. Machete isn’t one of my top picks, I can certainly see his appeal. Plus, if I’m being 100% honest with everyone, he’s actually really fun to write for (which I was not expecting at all when I started writing for this fandom). This type of character usually isn’t my favorite, but I’m starting to understand the Mr. Machete fans the more I write for him… 😳 I kind of focused on the traits that Mr. Machete would look for in a partner, and what being in a relationship with him would be like. Of course, I do my best to stay as canon-compliant as possible, which means that this is not a cute list of sweet/fluffy headcanons, so just be warned (there’s nothing too horrible or crazy, just… don’t date anyone who would spear you with a huge sword irl haha). Anyway, I hope you enjoy! I had a really fun time thinking about/writing this one. 

→ If you enjoyed my work, please reblog it if you can! Exposure on Tumblr is based on reblogging content rather than liking it, so your support would be much appreciated!  ♡

╰─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╯

🔪: Honestly, being in a relationship with Mr. Machete can be challenging sometimes or simply impossible, especially if you’re expecting him to be a perfect gentleman who treats you like a delicate flower (spoiler alert: he won’t and he never will). He’s a rough and rugged resident of the other world, someone who is constantly on the search for exhilaration – he’s looking for someone who will give him a challenge in battle and someone who will bring stimulation into his existence that he has increasingly grown bored with. If you cannot do either, then he wants nothing to do with you. He has no problem driving his sword into your back if you do not bring him any sense of excitement and overstay your welcome. 

🔪: To first catch the attention of someone like Mr. Machete, you need to be strong. Now, this doesn’t necessarily mean physical strength (even though that certainly is a bonus and he would prefer someone who is bigger or someone who is physically the same size as he is), but being strong can also be mental fortitude – someone who doesn’t let their mind and emotions take control of their life. He’s not an emotionally available type of person, not seeing the point in discussing emotions or lingering on past mistakes or sorrows, instead choosing to express himself in the only way he knows how to – violence. If there’s any stirring within him, feelings he cannot put a label on, he gets his frustrations and confusion out by slaughtering others or dueling with someone who he feels can stand toe-to-toe with him. So, if you’re in a relationship with him, you have to be okay with battling him and accepting the possibility of being injured (or even dying) as a result. It's kind of his go-to way of communicating things he cannot find the words for.

🔪: He also wants a partner he doesn’t need to babysit or look after, someone who can take care of and protect themselves if danger were to arise. He wants an equal, not someone who is fully dependent on him for physical security or emotional support. He wants someone who he can rely on and who he knows will watch his back. Mr. Machete doesn’t mind someone simply following him around (even if he’ll constantly ask you why you’re doing that despite the fact he does find it somewhat annoying) but, if you’re planning on staying with him for the long term, he prefers someone who can pull their own weight, especially so in a fight. 

🔪: If you manage to meet his standards and earn his respect in either physical or verbal battles, congratulations! You now have yourself an emotionally unavailable partner who loves violence and is constantly looking for excitement to fill the aching void inside his chest! He’ll frequently do things in your relationship that go against what you tell him (the primary example being when he just threw the MC across the chasm despite her yelling for him to stop), and he doesn’t understand why it makes you upset, especially since everything usually works out in the end. He doesn’t pick up on context clues either so if you need him to do something specific, you’ll need to tell him that since he doesn’t read between the lines. If you try and explain it to him, though, there’s about a 50/50 chance he’s actually listening to what you’re saying – it depends on his mood. 

🔪: However, after the two of you spend more time together, he does find himself (albeit begrudgingly) enjoying your company. He’s always traveled alone, looking for a home he cannot remember yet a deep part of him longs for. He’s never been one to have companions or appreciate another's company… yet here you were – still following him around despite everything, and he actually found himself liking it (maybe, just maybe, you could find a home in one another).

🔪: He would need a partner who was quick-witted and not afraid to bite back at his complaints with snide or snippy remarks. Mr. Machete finds bantering with you surprisingly enjoyable, and he often tries to guess what you’ll say to him before you even have the chance to think of a good comeback. You can tell when his feelings start shifting a bit, too, finding that he criticizes your weapon and stature less frequently and instead praises you on things you do well, such as your improvements in battle (even though he’ll still remark that you move too slow). That’s fine, though – he doesn’t mind training with you more to give you an opportunity to enhance your skills. 

🔪: Mr. Machete will never really be soft with you no matter how much time passes, and that’s just something you’ll have to accept if you want to be in a relationship with him. Once you have won him over, though, he will stick by your side through thick and thin, and he finds himself fleeing from battles less often, almost as if he’s trying to impress you (however, if both of you do need to flee, he’ll fling you over his shoulder and leave while carrying you instead of leaving you behind in the dust, so that’s an improvement at least). He’ll also keep you healthy, willingly cutting open his palm without you asking him to do so, placing it above your mouth while his blood trickles down your throat – he’ll give you as much of his blood as you need if it means getting your body to work again. He doesn’t want you to be weak, so he’ll help you stay strong. 

🔪: Not big on most typical ways of displaying affection, instead finding the best way to show you his respect and endearment by challenging you to duels. It’s almost like a dance between the two of you, an opportunity to see how much the other has improved while the sound of your weapons clashing echoes through the concrete corridors of the other world in a haunting song of bloodlust and complicated feelings of love. After battle, though, sometimes he’ll just… hold you. It feels surprisingly normal – you sitting in his lap, head resting against his chest while you close your eyes and catch your breath, and his arm flung around your shoulder while he holds you close. The moments when you two aren’t searching for your home or fighting something (or each other) are rare and eerily calm, yet they’re also relaxing and bring you both a sense of peace in each other's presence. Mr. Machete doesn’t find these brief instances boring, either, even though he knows he should detest them... he doesn't mind sharing the occasional moment of quiet with you.

[thewinchestah]

"Good things come for those who wait" - Alastor x reader fic

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader

Tags: ,18+, Smut, NSFW, edging, BDSM, Alastor does what he wants, there's plot if you squint really hard, alastor in heat, breeding kink, Possesive! Alastor, Jealous!Alastor, Protective!Alastor, spanking,degradation kink, praise kink, Angst with a happy ending, fluff, I didn't proof read this, english isn't my first language, no beta we die like men here, etc etc etc

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Word Count: there's no point guys. I can't stop talking.

A/N: WOAH!! Hello everyone!! What the fuck?? I wasn't expecting my "debut fic" to blow up like that! Thank you so so much to everyone who took the time to read it and leave a comment! I'm truly flattered by your praise. So, I hope this sequel to "PREY" does it justice! (but it can also be read as a standalone). Let me know if you guys like it, and if you have anymore ideas/suggestions! I'm tagging everyone who asked me to, so if you want to be tagged on my next fics let me know! Without further due, here comes that mostrosity of a fic! Hope you like it <3! (UPDATE: PART 3 IS NOW UP!!)

Part I  | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Taglist: @smallershorteranduncut @markster666 @jyoongim @stygianoir  @pepperycookie @fraspent @aether-th3-enby 

It all started, as many things do, with a joke and a simple misunderstanding. Dying and instantly going to hell is not easy. Being in hell and not understanding why the FUCK you are in hell is confusing, frustrating and sometimes drawright ridiculous. There’s no guidebook for the hellish afterlife, and more often than not you felt lost at sea, drowning. Until you found your questionable lifeline, the Radio Demon. 

Somehow said demon clocked really early on that you were completely infatuated with him, but too scared to act on it. And oh, how he gave you enough reason to be infatuated, enough reason to be scared. Luring you into the most delicious trap, Alastor had claimed you as his. His to breed during the height of his heat, his to care for, his to inflict the most heavenly torture. 

Being caught up in the middle of the living myth that was the Radio Demon was a dangerous thing, you had been warned over and over again. So of course that you had to almost fuck everything up in the silliest way possible.

The obnoxious TV set, also known as Vox, had just started another round of his futile attempts to win Alastor’s attention by airing the most absurd reality tv character assassination ever. You would put money on the fact that the obsessive flat screen was a deceased TLC producer. Usually, any of his pompous i-hate-alastor-so-so-much!!! fits would be met with enthusiasm around the Hotel. Everyone would cramp in front of the TV and make fun of the entire ordeal. Even Alastor would tag along and make a private edition of his radio show while he counter-narrated that nonsense. It became a fun bonding activity for everyone involved, it was a nice thing. But there’s a reason why you can’t have nice things.

Today the Hotel was mostly empty:, only you, Angel and a very on edge, sexually frustrated, irritated Alastor haunted its posh walls. Still, you and Angel carried on with the little tradition sitting side by side in front of the tv not knowing what to expect from today’s “My Strange Addiction - Alastor’s Version” episode. It was truly a laughable attempt of a character assassination, actors who could not act saying things like “Alastor isn’t even as bad as everyone says, his torture tactics are not that special either. My mom’s aunt was tortured by him and was going to work 10 hours later”, “i walked down the street today and alastor didn’t even try to kill me when he saw me crossing the street, he’s all talk” “i have video footage of the self-proclaimed cannibal eating a chocolate covered strawberry. He’s cannibalbaiting.”

“no self-respecting overlord would go out wearing those ridiculous out-of fashion clothes”. 

Angel was having the time of his life leading the daily Vox roast session, the spider was funny and you couldn’t hold the laughs. The camera cut to a close-up of Vox, babbling on about technology and the anti-Radio Demon speech you knew by heart at this point. As if on cue, Alastor entered the room. But the pair of you remained oblivious to his presence. 

“Toots, you totally should apply for this show! I mean it!. I’m sure Vox will buy literally anything you say. Anything! If you say Alastor likes to eat red nail polish cause it looks like blood he would believe it! You laughed at his words, what a ridiculous thing to say. You loved red nail polish, alastor drinking it because it looks like blood is absurd. “I mean, look at you!! Look at this face, these eyes!! This body!!!” Angel gave your thighs a playful slap. “If you say hell is actually cold using all that i would eat it right up. Vox will be too busy staring at your boobs to notice you dropping that even the oldest radio looks better than that fucking flat face”. The thought that you were the mind-numbing type of beautiful made you laugh. Sometimes you felt like your friends were being way too kind with the flattery about you. You were nothing special at all. It was nice of them to be kind to you, adapting to your new lifestyle was taking a visible tool, anyone could tell. Their efforts were honorable and sweet, but you just couldn’t let yourself believe what in your heart, you knew was a lie. A beautiful, comfortable lie, but still a lie. You weren’t much, you were just lucky. You started to laugh even harder, out of pure nervousness as your brain started to snowball into all the things you weren’t. 

“ Seriously Angel, you have the strangest ideas ever!” you tried to sound normal, putting up a confident facade. That helped, a lot. You had picked that up during your days with Alastor. 

Speaking of the devil, Alastor wasn’t amused by your little display. Standing on the corner of the room as you laughed, he made himself known by walking out of the room, in hurried steps. If it were anyone else, they wouldn’t think much of it. But you weren’t anyone else. You were Alastor’s. 

And that’s why he was seething with rage. His rut always drove him, an already unpredictable man, to the brink of true, pure instinctual insanity. He had to grip his marvelous constructed self control painfully hard. Since your paths crossed, the most chaotic part of his existence seemed in control, your pretty little body always ready to take him, your eyes always holding his gaze in a maddening  comfortable way, the way you would push your limits just for him. 

Only for him.

And the worst part was your softness when it was all done. Alastor would fuck you rentless, for hours, making you take all the mess of his most animalistic desires without a second thought. Both of you would be spent, bathing in the afterglow, room smelling like sex, and you would ask him if he needed anything. Him, that just fucked you so hard so won’t walk straight for a week, that feasted on the blood of the love bites he inflicted, him that covered you in a painting of bruises. 

How could he not want to just lock you inside his lavish room and give you all the rings of hell? to carve his name deep into your soul? to dote on you? to make him the only thing on your mind as he makes you his time and time again in the most sinful ways?

It was simple really, why he was shaking with anger: how you, who was his, was even thinking of being in the same vicinity of that scum of creation?  LAUGHING AT THIS ABSURD CONCEPT. Vox thinking of you was already a crime punishable by painful death, but Vox looking at you was heresy, and the entirety of hell would pay for his transgressions. 

As Alastor stormed off towards the Hotel’s large room corridors, he took several calming breaths. Losing control like this wouldn’t do anyone any favors. In the troubled waters of his mind, Alastor could only think of 3 things: you, fucking you and murdering someone.

 So he didn’t even realize your hurried steps trying to catch up with his long strides.

“Hey sugartits! Don’t take too long doing whatever you need to do! there’s a woman going live after the break saying she saw Alastor eating an entire packet of PAPER TOWELS!!! HAHA! This shit is too good to be true!” you heard angel scream.

Adding insult to injury, nice.

Trying desperately to reach your demon lover gait, you could only think about how bad you had messed up. Alastor was your only true respite in hell. He was a blessing in a mist of the worst humankind could offer. He made you feel hope, more than making you feel alive, he made you feel glad you’re dead. The Radio Demon felt like coming home. You just wanted to make it up to him. You could not lose this, lose him. You were not sure you would survive it. And who knew where you went after dying in hell? 

It doesn’t matter where you go after hell, it doesn’t matter at all if Alastor is not there. Your brain added to your inner monologue. True.

“Alastor! Wait” you shouted. He stops dead on his feet.

Finally, those long long legs of his do not make chasing after your love any easier.

“Alastor, I'm so so sorry. Angel gets way out of line sometimes and I was nervous” he is perfectly still, ears pinned back, listening. But doesn’t say anything back.

“Al I’m truly sorry. I didn’t mean it like that, at all. Look, let’s try to do something to make your day better. I know how hard this season is on you, I know you feel like you are losing contr-

Uh oh.

oh shit.

You used the two forbidden words together. The temperature in the room drops, Alastor snaps towards you. You feel something gripping your throat mercilessly, as you fall to the ground. Looking at the other end of the corridor Alastor has you on a leash of his magic. Eyes burning red, forehead marked “x” he grips your chains hard, pushing you towards him.

“That was a brilliant speech, little doe. Truly marvelous! I’m sure your television debut will be quite the show you were planning!”

His antlers were growing, his demon form showing itself as he becomes taller and taller over you. All bared teeth and flashing red eyes. This is what everyone warned you about. Don’t get in the Radio Demon’s way, he is dangerous and insane. You will regret it.

Hot. your brain thinks. He pulls your leash even tighter, and you feel wetness pooling on your core.

“Do you have any idea what I was about to do before I heard you so selflessly offer your services to that pathetic excuse of a demon?” Dragging you by the magic chains, his towering frame comes down to meet you at eye level. You can’t say anything back, your brain short circuits and goes AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

“You know better than leaving me waiting for an answer at this point, pet” He grips your face using his sharp claws,the pressure threatening to break skin. “But you seem so hellbent on being a bad girl today, I shouldn’t expect your usually good girl’s behavior, should I?”

You are, once again nothing but a doe caught in the headlights of his eyes

“One should always know better than expecting their fantasies to be true”

His sclera goes black, only the tiny blazing red radio dials devouring you as he stares so deep into you, you feel feverish. 

“But since we are already here. I. Will. Tell. You.” static picks up around the room and surrounds you both, the corridor is illuminated by an eerie green light. You start to kinda fear for your life, but Alastor has you completely hypnotized by the radio dials on his eyes. You shiver in anticipation. 

 “I was coming to ask you, to please, spare me a part of your day, away from you friends. Because the only thing on my mind has been you. Fucking you. Sinking my cock so deep into your tight, wet cunt it would mark your soul. Because you are the only one who can take me like this, who deserves being bred by me, who deserves every drop of my seed”

You feel the wetness on your panties grow until it runs down your thighs. There’s nothing right about this, but your dear Alastor showed you long ago how the concepts of right and wrong are meant to be skewed.

“But oh well, you seem to have your affections directed elsewhere…” he tsks at you using that delicious mocking tone. “But, you can’t blame a desperate man for trying” he goes from 100 to 0 really fast, his voice softens so much in a way that’s almost too heavy to hear after all that. Even with his demon form still very much present  “Do you still want to make my day better, pet?”

you are at a loss of words, but you manage to nod desperately. The anticipation of what he is going to do to you makes you giddy. 

He manhandles your leash until you are on your knees in front of him, tugging on the chains so you look up towards his crotch. He makes quick work of his pants, pulling his cock out. Hard, angry hot red coloured. Angry because of you, angry for you. 

“Open wide, little one” and without much more warning, Alastor is fucking your face, hard and fast. 

You position your arms behind your back as quickly as you can.  You know how hard it is for him to be touched when his rut is peaking. The overwhelming need for relief mixing with his ever present desire for control. This is about him asserting his dominance over you, making sure you don’t ever forget where you belong: In the warmth of his burning gaze, under him, on your knees, while he merciless fucks your throat into compliance. He’s taking it out on you, and you fucking love it.

He’s not saying anything, only growling like he’s about to murder someone. He grabs fistfuls of your velvety hair, but never leaves the white knuckle grip on your chains. You can only resist the urge of playing with your pussy while he thrusts so deep you feel his monster cock. hitting the back of your throat. This is about him, and you want to give him this so badly your cunt is throbbing with desire

Tears wet your cheeks, your lips around his cock are the definition of renaissance art to Alastor. He’s almost over the edge now, the head of his cock twitches on top of your tongue as a warning of his approaching orgasm. It’s hard, it’s hot, it’s fast and it’s angry.

Alastor cums, you swallow as much as you can, but he takes his cock out and spills everywhere, coating your hair,  your face. It’s so deliciously erotic Alastor can’t resist catching some of his cum and running his hands throughout your velvet locks, bathing you in his essence, marking you once more. There’s still a bit of cum on the tip of his claw, he feeds it to you, and your lips wrap around his fingers as you take as much of him you can take, gladly. 

“Oh how beautiful you are when you ruin yourself like this for me, my little doe” You look up at him with adoration and a lustful gaze, his eyes hold an equally lustful gaze and… something more. Something that you are sure will drive you insane. 

Alastor notices the pooling mess underneath your tights, he knows how desperate you are for relief, but he still wants to self indulge on you. He’s certain you still don’t understand the reality of what he is feeling. Swiftly he topples you down the corridor’s carpet and places himself between your legs, his crawled finger tearing your lacy panties away. 

Then, he feasts on you like a starving man, and he might be, because you taste like the ambrosia of the gods and he can’t get enough of it. Of how you make a mess of yourself for him and there’s still something for him to take. You just taste so sweet, what a perfect meal your nectar makes. His wicked silver tongue polishes you, aided by your whispered sighs, his name moaned like a prayer on your lips. You are so so close, alastor sucks on your throbbing clit you are already seeing stars, all you need is a gentle push.

 Grinning like a devil, Alastor looks up, tilts his head, gives you the most wicked-and-douchey look in existence. He gets up, your leash dissipating into the air and walks away in perfect composure, like nothing happened. Nothing at all.

“Well, I think that’s my cue!!” he says in his usually chirpy tone. You just stay there, flabbergasted. “I just remembered I still have a lot to do today! Work never stops when you maintain a facility like this in tip-top condition!” Already halfway across the corridor, Alastor’s head turns towards you “Still want to make my day good my dear? Be a doll and clean this mess up, will you?” you just stare at him, too fucking stunned to speak. You can’t believe it. That fucking devil. He’s about to make the turn towards the elevator and disappear when his eyes flash red as he warns you “Oh! and don’t you dare make yourself cum without my permission. If you cum before I say so, you won’t be cumming for a week. Choose wisely!Let’s see who loses control first Ha Ha! This will be fun!”

 Alastor can be a psychopathic demon in heat, but before all that he still is a psychopathic demon who loves torture. 

And he just left you all hot and bothered. 

–

Alastor knew better than believing in such things as heaven or holiness. In fact, Alastor was positively sure nothing was sacred. The concept of sacredness was non-existent in his book.

But his skeptic mind danced on the edge of belief when he touched you. To be inside you felt heavenly, heavenly in a type of way that should not even be allowed in this place. The way your lush body burned underneath his wicked gaze was sacred.The way you always presented yourself to him, with selfless abandon was sacred. Somehow, someone allowed him, of all people, access to a soul he frankly didn’t understand what was doing in hell in the first place. He never was the better man. He was never giving that up.

In all of his nature, Alastor felt the most sinful pleasure in defiling your sacredness. He wanted nothing but to take the heavenly thing you were and taint it with his darkness. 

He was well acquainted to torture and had no shame in inflicting the most delicious and depraved type of it on you ,until all of your holiness was irrevocably marked by him, down to the core of your soul.  Of course Alastor didn’t buy your soul. He didn’t need to use those means to completely own you. He did it effortlessly, because you craved it. Because he craved it.

That’s why the thought of Vox even looking in your way was heretic, and not in a good way. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing you to Vox. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing you. Period. You were his.

 But adding that man into the equation just made everything more intolerable. The things he would do if he found out about you… Found out that not only you were his but how you could make someone feel. How precious and undeserving of anything less than good you were… 

You were made to be cherished and protected. Protected by him.

 In fact, it took all of the Radio Demon’s willpower to restrain from walking to the Vees building, and kill Vox for something he didn’t do. Because Alastor wouldn’t allow the thought to even cross his mind. All that, a messy display of his desperation and loss of control. Giving that prick the smug satisfaction of knowing somehow he got to him, in his last moments. 

Damn, his rut truly did make him on edge.

Suppressing his murderous thoughts, Alastor focused his mind into something he as actually good at: torture. Yours specifically. He still wanted to punish you for making him feel like this. He still wanted to make you understand.

And he just thought of the sweetest way to do it.

-

After cleaning up the mess on the corridor, and yourself (you did it all on autopilot, still trying to understand what the FUCK happened) you still had to give Angel a satisfaction about why you didn’t come back. You must’ve looked really miserable cause Angel just hugged you really tight and ordered you to bed. When in reality all of your efforts were now focused on masking your humiliating arousal. So you find yourself lying in your bed, trying not to think anything Radio Demon related. You’re totally not thinking about the way he looked at you while he fucked you. The way his eyes would search yours in a crowded room, winking playfully at you. An inside joke. A promise.The way you both playfully banter at the dinner table over silly things. You are also totally not thinking about how he takes you, how you love to hear him saying “good girl” to you after you push your limits again, only for him. Not thinking at all about how his cock fills you so perfectly, you truly feel empty without it. Who’s thinking about what hides behind his eyes when he his voice goes all soft in the middle of a rough fucking? Ha ha!! Definitely not you. 

You punch yourself with your pillow. 

C’mon don’t think thoughts of Alastor now…

You are so fucked, and not in a sexy way. The worst part is that you want to endure it, you want to be good for him. Your pussy is aching to be touched, your mind begging you to have thoughts of Alastor while your pussy is being touched. But right now you would give everything in this world to hear him praise you again. You know how hard his rut is on him… He already carries a lot alone, the Hotel, the doomsday clock of extermination ticking closer and closer everyday. Plus the other things… You know there’s something more, something that haunts his nights, but it’s not your place to ask. Hell, you are too scared to ask. You just hope, you just pray that when it happens you are beside him. You don’t ever expect the Radio Demon to ever ask for help, or open up. Or seek comfort. Oh, he’s anything but comfortable. But you like to think that in time, he would feel comfortable enough around you he could let something slip, a tiny detail to add to your “The Mystery of the Radio Demon” clue board. Something that would let you show him he doesn’t need to pick himself apart, carry all these burdens alone.

Great, you are doing amazing at the “not thinking any Alastor thoughts” game. 

You hug your pillow closer and look across you window as you start saying out loud a list of things you need to do around the Hotel. Maybe this will take your mind off the devil.

Tend to the Venus Fly traps of the gardens. (You could ask Nifty for the bugs)

Write the thank you letters to the new guests that agreed to help with hotel chores.

Tell charlie about your book club idea using cool flashcards 

It’s your turn to organize “Theme nights”, maybe Alastor would enjoy a “great gatsby” theme, right?

Great, Alastor again. You sighed. 

Suddenly a red note written with perfect penmanship flies next to your spot on the bed.

“My darling doe, I’m waiting for you in my chambers.

Don’t take your time, we have much to discuss.-

Yours, Alastor.

You take your time, though, to thank anyone who’s listening as you sprint towards Alastor’s lavish room. You feel dizzy, anticipation like butterflies in your stomach. You don’t have to knock more than once for him to let you in. 

He’s on the edge of the bed, looking like his normal self (as normal as it gets for Alastor)

The taps the spot next to him on the the bed

“Come here, you darling thing!”

you don’t waste a second, and as quickly as you are sitting on his bed, you are sitting on lap. Holding you close, in a vice like grip with one of his arms, Alastor starts talking 

“How was the rest of your day, my dear?” you open your mouth to start talking, you have so much to say to him. That you were a good girl, that you were ready to do anything to make up for laughing at Angel’s stupid idea of seducing Vox. You are ready to beg for your release. to ask how his day was. But you don’t get to utter a word. 

Alastor quickly and swiftly maneuvers you: now your feet are dangling from the bed, your ass and  legs sprawled out across his lap. A powerful arm locking you to him by the small of your back.

Holy fuck.

“Well my day was downright awful! You see I overheard my pretty pet laughing at the prospect of seducing one of my most infuriating enemies. I’m in the peak of my unforgiving rut ,and all I wanted was the shared pleasure of our bodies as I fuck the darling thing senseless!” he pinches the back of your thigh, hard. You blur out a soft, desperate sigh. 

“Of course, the good girl she is, she went begging for my forgiveness. I didn’t fully give it, of course. That was a harsh offense, what my little doe did. But I did have my fill with her” You try to spea-

Alastor audibly shushes you.

“I did leave her all hot and bothered after spilling my cum all over her maddening little body, of course. I contenplated murdering the bastard demon so he wouldn’t get a chance of even knowing about her existence and what she does to me. But I still suffered with the hellish need of fucking her into oblivion, and pondered a lot about divine justice. So, if I had to suffer this entire day because of her offenses I think it’s only right for that darling doe to get her fill of suffering and punishment hmmmm?

 You try to look back to his face, but you feel the familiar sensation of magic wrapping around your throat. The leash, you are so so fucked. You couldn’t be happier about it.

He tugs at the chain, so your skirt rides up and your ass is totally bare for him and your head is buried in one of his fluffy pillows. With a snap of his fingers your panties disintegrate.

You shiver at the thought of what’s happening next, a delicious sensation that flows across your back and ends up inside your cunt, beginning to turn into a wet mess. He’s gonna spank you like the bad girl you were. He’s not going to be gentle about it either. You can’t wait. It’s gonna hurt, it’s gonna sting, it will leave you bruised. It will be deliciously wicked, like all of Alastor’s punishments. 

You feel another surge of magic, behind the powerful green glow something materializes.

Your horsegirl days back on earth don’t let you down. You recognise it instantly. On his previous free hand he’s holding a riding crop. A big, leather pointed riding crop. 

He’s going to literally whip you into submission. You squirm inside his arm. You can’t fucking wait. You’ve made yourself come a few times after the thought of being literally tamed, broke by alastor. 

You whimper. Alastor’s laugh fills the room.

“So this is how this is going to go, pet. I’m going to whip you lovely ass like the ungrateful slut you are and you are going to thank me for it after every crack of the whip. I’m gonna do this as many times as I see fit. Until your ass is as red as my hair. Until you understand what you did. By the time I’m done you will be begging to be punished more. Are we clear?

You can’t look back at him, but you can feel how his red irises make your skin burn. You like to imagine that his eyes did the thing where they soften for a heartbeat, if you blink you miss it. Waiting for your permission, even now. You are able to muffle a “yes, oh please Alastor, yes”. 

“Lovely.” 

crack.

He didn’t even gave you time to process. The whip lands hard on the back of your left thigh. You let out a scream.

“Well?” he asks impatiently as he waits for your “thank you”. Seeing the way the spot where the whip landed turn a lovely shade of scarlet isn’t helping him hold his resolve either.

You wanna do this right, you need this as much as he needs it.

“thank-”

crack. the whip lands on your right thigh, a little lower.

“tha-” 

crack.crack.

 He whips you even harder, cutting the wind as it lands twice on your left buttcheek. Only four cracks down and you are a whimpering mess. You wiggle instinctively on his lap, seeking some friction, some relief. It hurts so bad, but it feels so good. You don’t know if you can take more. You want it anyway. “thank you, thank you” you whimper. Tears wet your face, arousal wets your core adding to the mess from before he even started.

crack. crack.

 He mirrors his movements to your right buttcheek. “thank yo- Holy fuck Alastor”

one more hit, now hitting both of your buttcheks. 

“I’ve told you many times before pet, there’s nothing holy about what I do to you. I’m gonna break you and then breed you. I won’t give you a moment of respite. And maybe by the end, when your legs are shaking from holding that orgasm you have been desperately chasing since this afternoon, I will be merciful and let you find your release. And we will know who’s really losing control here”

How can he do this to you with only his voice? You are not sure you’ve ever been so aroused in your entire life. You’re so wet, you’re staining Alastor’s pants. As close as you will get to marking him.

There’s a draft coming from the forest of his room, it softly kisses your abused skin, making it sting. You want to see the state of your lower body so badly. The way you’re submitting to him right now, the most sweet form degradation possible. Your eyes are clouded with tears, that line between pain and pleasure being blurred in ways only someone like the Radio Demon could cross. He tugs on your leash, to attract your attention from the sinful, unholy sensations you are feeling so openly, back to him.

Alastor drags the leather point of the whip across your throbbing cunt, collecting the obscene amount of wetness there. “By the 7 rings of hell, what do you have here? Are you such a slut that you are creaming at being whipped into compliance? I could do this all night long. Your ass is already red with regret for your actions but I’m not sure you learned your lesson yet.”

crack. The whip this time lands on your juicy cunt. Your hips trash with the sensation, your demon lover’s name escaping your lips like a prayer.You forget to thank him this time, despite your best efforts. 

“Are you so big of an ungrateful brat that you want this sinful punishment to continue? Not even bothering to thank me, in hopes it will end sooner. You know what you are. Nothing but a hungry greedy whore for the Radio Demon” 

crack, crack. One hit on each cheek. “But I already knew that” and with that mocking tone Alastor lands a  masterful final hit on both of your cheeks. He does have a way of proving his point.

You are fucking sobbing now. Tears coat your cheeks, now a colour so vibrant as the rich scarlet the covers your ass. Alastor knows everything that makes you tick. He knows how close you are to cumming. Cumming for only his masterfully inflicted punishment and his voice. Incoherent whimpers leave your lips “please please please” and soft “ohh and aaah, alastor”

He tugs on your leash again, he knows your body like the palm of his hand, and that you are probably entering the mind numbing phase of the pain and the pleasure. But he still wants your undivided attention. He has whipped you into submission, he still needs to fuck you into submission. 

“And you even made the mess of yourself stain my pants! My god, you are pathetic. Delightfully pathetic” 

Alastor gently runs his clawed hands across your ass, the sharp edges making you hiss. He looks in adoration at the masterpiece he inflicted on you. Your ass and thighs a shade of scarlet to rival his hair, the wetness between your thighs a heavenly invitation. Beautiful. Sinful.  Sacred. He will never forget this, and he will make sure that you never forget it too.

“Now, now, we are done with this my little doe” his voice goes extra soft because you can’t see him with your face buried in a soft pillow. “you were so good for me, you always are” 

The softness and sweetness of his praise makes you sob even harder. It’s maddening. 

He gently maneuvers you further into the bed, making space for himself. 

“But now I’m painfully hard, and I still need to bury myself inside that tight throbbing cunt of yours, so deep it will mark. your. soul.” static picks up around you, a delicious omen of what is about to happen. 

Alastor positions himself behind you, immediately entering you and bottoming out. 

His first thrusts are sharp and deep, as to make his promise of marking yourself from the inside real. He pulls your chains so your scarlet ass is presenting itself to him like the most sinful gift. 

Alastor picks up that breakneck pace of fucking, common to him, specially during his rut. He fucks you like he hates you. As hard as he possibly can, to make you know that you are his and his only. That even thinking of someone else, even as a joke, will not be tolerated. You wanted all of him didn’t you? You’ve made that clear, with words, with actions, with the things your body endures for him. So he makes sure to give you that. 

Moans drip from your lips in a crescendo, you are screaming now, you don’t know how long you will last. It feels so good. That delayed gratification drowning you in maddening pleasure. 

“Who do you think is losing control here?” he asks after a painfully sharp thrust. “Me, or the mess of a slut underneath me? That is screaming my name loud enough for the entire pride ring to know how she loves being fucked like a common whore for the Radio Demon,hmm?” 

One hand pulls your leash upwards, the other your hips. He’s even deeper now, you can feel him in your core.

You don’t reply to the question even though you want to, even though you know the answer. 

“Again, since you like being bred like that so much you are not hearing me” he takes all of his cock out and enters you at once. “Who’s losing control here? Me, or my little plaything with the scarlet ass from being whipped into compliance like the pretty little brat she is?” 

You don’t forget to answer him now, you need to cum, desperately. You withheld your building orgasm  for an entire day, you wanted to be good for Alastor. You wanted to be able to take everything he gives you. The pleasure, the pain, the sinful, delicious depraved torture. “Me, I am!” you scream out. 

Alastor’s pace is becoming erratic, you feel the shadows of his growing antlers cover you.

“Again” he tugs at your collars. Another sharp, deep thrust. 

“Me, i’m losing control” 

“And what are you?” his voice is filled with static now, he’s close too.

“Yours! I’m yours Alastor, yours to fuck, to break, to punish” you cry out in sweet pain and pleasure. 

Another tug, Another painfully sharp thrust 

“I’m only yours Alastor” you finish. 

“Good. girl.” he spaces the words out between thrusts, knowing how you relish in them. 

“You can come now” 

Your orgasm comes crashing down. You grip the sheets like a maniac, your legs shaking so hard Alastor needs to hold them in place. You scream so loud you are sure they can hear you in heaven. You hope they can, so they know. So they know this man owns you. So they know you love him. 

Alastor is not far behind, your cunt tightening around him like a vice. He fucks you specially hard and deep know, delayed gratification hitting all at once. He cums so hard inside you, he’s sure he finally marked your soul. The feeling of his cock twitching and spilling inside you, adding to the indescriptible sensation. You are completely over the edge now, you feel weightless, free falling. 

You know Alastor will catch you.

“Ah! There she is” you open your eyes and feel a soft kiss on your cheek. You are lying on top of Alastor’s chest, he cuddles you gently, making lazy circles on your hipbone but still buried to the hilt inside you. He still plans to give you all of his cum, all he has during his rut,after all. 

“woah, that was… amazing” you say after a while.

“Well, I did whip and fuck you to the brink of insanity my dear. And you came so beautifully for me, you passed out. You’re such a sight pet. I will never forget it.” you blush at his words. You feel so happy. 

Alastor kisses your cheek again, and with a final thrust he leaves you with a obscenely wet noise. You are dripping with his cum, it’s running down your thighs, staining the sheets. 

You whimper in complaint. 

“Ah ,don’t be like that” he laughs, is a genuinely happy laugh. “There’s still plenty of where that came from, but I need my darling doe to rest first” he says. He’s lying you gently on the bed as he gets up. “Don’t leave” you whisper. 

He’s out of the bed anyways, and seems to be on his way to do something. You don’t care, you want him back here, holding you. You don't want him to ever let you go.

“Al, i’m truly sorry about today. You know that, right?” You know that I love you, right?  You want to say, but you are scared that confession is a little much for today. You see where he’s headed now. He opens the bathroom door.

“Don’t even think about it, my dear. It’s all water under the bridge” he says in his usual chirpy tone, louder than the noise of the bath running. “Now you just need to promise me that you will never even let the thought of that pathetic demon cross your mind, my love”

my love.

“And if he ever does, you will let me know. So I can fuck those wretched ideas out of your mind” Alastor is walking back to the bed now. He picks you up bridal style and carries you across the room. You can’t help the hiss that escape your lips as your irritated skin touches him. “I know, I know my dear. We will fix that right up. I can’t have my favourite doe hurting. We still have a long way to go until the end of my rut, dearest” you don’t reply, you are just happy. perfectly happy. You could hear Alastor’s voice for days without complaining. “But you did look so perfect with that scarlet ass on my lap. Crying from how much you love what I do to you. I hope you never forget that” 

You both reach the bathtub, he drops you with all the care in the world inside the water.

“I’m so proud of you. I truly am” the water is warm. The soap smells so nice. He lit candles too. You give in to the soothing sensations. You might have tuned out for a bit, cause you hear alastor calling your name so softly… He says it again, slow, soft, gentle, pleading. As to catch your attention, he has something important to say. “You know how precious you are to me, don’t you my little doe?” “yes” you respond, trying to fight the tears that begin to spill down your face ‘

“Oh my darling girl, why are you crying? There’s nothing to cry about. You are here, safe with me. As you will always be, as is your place.”

“Alastor I-I-” your heart swells, you want to say something. You want to say everything you are feeling. How consuming, in the best way possible, your feelings are for him.

But Alastor is always 10 steps ahead. 

“I know, I know darling” he kisses your hand “I feel it too.” he says. It feels like a confession, it sounds like a confession. The look on his eyes is the one of that mystery that hides there every time his voice in the midst of your passion. 

When you,know you know. your mind reiterates. 

“Let me help you dry those tears. Save them for another day” He holds your face and kiss your lips. “The only thing you need to worry about right now is resting and recovering that luscious body of yours, as well as your brilliant, witty mind”

He hands you a sparkly fancy pink soap, and gets up to find the softest sponge he has stored. 

“Now, I hope you like the smell of these candles, cause I’m not letting you out of my sight for at least the next four days!” 

Alastor continues to chat away sweet nothings as he helps you bathe. Maybe it will take a while for the Radio Demon to say those 4 words out loud. He has enough reason for that, inside that beautiful, complicated mind of his. His actions always speak louder than words, your relationship was proof of that. 

Until then, you will always have sacred moments in crowded rooms, you will always have jokes that only the both of you understand. He will always keep sweeping you off your feet in the most deliciously wicked ways possible. 

Right now, you have him by your side after everything that happened, you have his heart too. You are sure of that. So you don’t mind waiting for him.

Good things come for those who wait.

[maybeiwasjustjade]

The amount of morons I’ve seen on twitter that insist ‘a son for a son’ is still owed because Jaehaerys wasn’t Alicent’s son, so Rhaenyra somehow has rights to Aegon’s head is baffling.

Actually, scratch that. It’s not baffling at all, because this isn’t the first time I’ve seen such braindead takes from that side of the fandom.

Last I checked, Aemond killed Luke. Not Aegon. Alicent served up Aegon’s head on a platter, without even once considering that should Aemond live then Rhaenyra will come for his head too. And not only did she betray Aegon, Alicent’s actions may very well lead to both Gwayne and Criston’s deaths. And Daeron, who has done nothing but be born to her.

As for the stupidity of the insistence on ‘a son for a son’, maybe Condal and Hess should remember that the last time Rhaenyra sought revenge for Luke, a toddler was beheaded in his bed because of her husband!!! And if that son wasn’t enough—the poor, innocent baby son of Helaena—and a debt still needs to be repaid, does that mean Aegon now has rights to kill one of Daemon’s children then?

Same logic right? Rhaenyra didn’t get Alicent’s son’s head for Luke, but Aegon lost a son. So if Rhaenyra has rights to Aegon’s head, then Aegon has the exact same right to murder one of her remaining children yes? Baela maybe, when Aegon claims Dragonstone. Or Joffrey even, should he survive till the end. Maybe Rhaenyra can even choose and then watch, like Daemon made Helaena.

But that’s not right is it. Aegon would be a monster if he did that. No sane person would do that. No good person should want that kind of revenge.

But when it comes to Rhaenyra, TB will justify anything right? She indirectly yet directly causes the deaths of nearly 100 dragonseeds—oh that’s fine, they consented to being in the pit knowing they could die! She’s not responsible at all! It’s not as if she ensured they couldn’t escape right? The death of a toddler wasn’t enough because it wasn’t the right son, so of course she gets to ask for another too.

As if Jaehaerys wasn’t worth a life at all. Then again, what can be expected when even after his death, in a fight about his murder, she only ever refers to him as ‘boy’, ‘child’, and my favorite: ‘it’.

Rhaenyra was always going to have to kill Aegon for the throne. And that was at minimum, unless she went for Aemond too. Daeron I could see being spared by being given to the Faith or the Maesters. It was very, very, very obvious to anyone with even a shred of media comprehension (which seems to be very little given the amount of stupid comments I’ve seen). The issue is that she had to go on and make it very clear that Aegon will die, not for taking her throne or whatnot, but as penance for Luke dying. That is where she crosses the line. She can’t and won’t spare Aegon, but the least she could do was not be a lying liar about it.

Also: I never subscribed to the theory that Alicent will be the one to poison Aegon in the end, because I never considered that a mother would be so cruel to do so. She ruined his life; placed him on this goddawful path to war that he never wanted. The least she could do was not betray her own son that way. But after today? Not a chance in hell she won’t be the one to kill him for her precious Rhaenyra. I hope when all is said and done, and she’s locked in a tower for the rest of her life, she knows that it was all her fault.

Because F&B made it clear that Aegon had a legitimate claim. Is it a usurpation if by all laws and tradition he’s the rightful heir? The show decided to go the idiotic route of making it an outright usurpation. The Dance was inevitable in F&B. Here, it seems to have been caused purposely, with one of its leading causes becoming a major turncloak. And it’s sad really, because the Dance has barely even started. HOTD could’ve waited to make Alicent a traitor. Wait until the Gullet and Jace and Rhaenyra’s inevitable fall to madness, to make Alicent’s plea more realistic because it happens when the Greens look like they are losing. Instead, they did this. Unbelievable.

[madockisser]

thought dump on new tfota book:

i think the reason that there’s going to be another jurdan book (supposedly) is mostly because Jude and cardan both have very unfinished stories.

you know that deleted scene at the end of qon where Jude and cardan are all sweet laying on the grass together? it was cut for a reason, and replaced w the epilogue in the mortal world.

In that epilogue, Jude herself hopes in her head that cardan won’t lash out at any humans. i always hated that part in her monologue, because it shows that Jude still doesn’t even really know the man before her.

it’s bittersweet that in their time outside of the series after qon, that maybe Jude learned why cardan wouldn’t lash out at humans. or maybe she’s yet to learn it in the new book.

but while i feel like there’s potential for them to do more, not just politically but with their relationship, some things are better left unsaid.

also, i don’t see the series being very romantically focused on Jurdan, only because miss black hasn’t really done that when it comes to her folk of the air series before. it’ll def be more politically driven.

i dreaded the publishing of the stolen heir and the prisoners throne because i worried that it would ruin Jude and cardan for me, and while that wasn’t the case, i still found myself unsatisfied with their story and how the entire family doesn’t really know each other.

don’t get me wrong, i do love family drama, but at the same time, Jude and cardan and oak and vivienne and Taryn have all endured so much trauma, I’d die for them to just be happy.

i assume the political problem will be the one i vaguely remember from the prisoners throne, the croin guy who hates orlagh and nicasia (can we blame him) and his evil sea buddies who attacked that ship oak and suren were on

Anyway i def think madocs dying in the next books, since it’s undersea based, and he had the queen of the undersea shot and whatnot, and while the ghost payed the price for that (sorta but not intentionally) i still think madoc is kicking the bucket.

Someone important is gonna die and i dread it.

on a lighter note, i really wish that miss black would pick up some of her older characters, not just for cameos. (Not gonna happen but i can HOPE)

i want to see Ben and severin, corny and Luis, Kaye and roiben, Val and ravus and their cute little troll babies. i want more info on the greenbriar line, on Val moren, on Locke even, his parents, on Jude’s parents, oriana, grima mog, anyone.

I’d especially like to see oriana and madoc finally have a relationship that isn’t based on obligation, one where there isn’t cute little Oakey pokey to take care of now that he’s grown. especially if it’s like scraps, like random interactions they have from someone else’s pov (idk i just think that’s so cute)

Lastly, all the hate im seeing abt jurdan potentially being the main focus for the next book is halfway understandable but also pretty sucky, as if oak and suren didn’t have their own duology after tcp trilogy. i can understand ofc not wanting them to be the main focus but slandering miss black over it is just rude, let her lock in and create another beautifully written fantasy world with complex characters.

also we know pretty much nothing. what the author said doesn’t even automatically confirm it’s going to be a jurdan book, but conclusions have already been jumped to and half the fandom is super excited and the other half hates the thought of jurdan getting another story.

edit for whoever sent that ask: of course it’s fine to not want them to be the center of the book! i agree, but yknow what they say: “you get what you get and you don’t get upset!” so maybe let’s not say mean things abt the author because that’s not very nice, if you’re gonna criticize, criticize the work and not the creator?

anyway idk i have 0 motivation to post anything decent hence why i haven’t posted an analysis in about 162948392 years only because I’m basing it on my reread and that’s going super poorly bc I’m taking a torturous precalc class

[blueteller]

Hi, dear person! Do you happen to know around how old Bud was when he used the cup or if he was already mercenary king? I feel like he probably became that afterwards but cannot remember if it was mentioned for the life of me or even what did bro have that he was dying TT

Sorry for bothering you with this but idk who'd be able to answer. The fandom wiki didn't mention it.

Hello, dear person!

I honestly did not recall whether Bud ever used the jar himself or not at first. So I searched for any mention of it. Here's what I found:

‘Based on the history left with my family, the jar has been used three times until now.’

-TCF Part 1 Chapter 347

And:

‘Is it fine to just bring that jar out? Isn’t it an ancient artifact?’ ‘Yes.’ The Mercenary King then continued in a serious tone. ‘You just need to return it within three days.’ […] ‘…Does that mean Eruhaben-nim can’t break it when he uses it?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Why?’ Bud Illis had looked down. ‘The curse of the wind blades around Wind Island will chase after the person who took the artifact and destroyed it.’ One of the gatekeepers in the Mercenary King’s household had tried to steal the ancient artifact and run. However, that gatekeeper was killed like the other corpses of Wind Island three days later. Even the gatekeeper’s family members were all killed except one person to continue the line. They were killed even though they were not at Wind Island. The wind was said to have chased after them no matter where they were. As for the ancient artifact, it was swept up by a whirlwind and returned to its proper spot. ‘Nobody dared to desire that ancient artifact after that. Many gatekeepers never even went into the temple because they were afraid of the curse.’ They were worried that they might get greedy and try to run with the ancient artifact. They were also worried that they would use it to heal someone and the jar would reach its limit. Many different fears prevented the gatekeepers from taking it. ‘But you were a gatekeeper who went in and used it?’ ‘You’re right. I am a bit brave. Thanks to that, I was able to determine the approximate number of remaining times it could be used, as well as its limits. What do you think? Friend, don’t you think you’re going to lose this drinking bet?’

-TCF Part 1 Chapter 349

Bud Illis said that the jar had been used three times, according to his family's history. Which means there were two before himself, with additional one who tried to steal the jar. Making Eruhaben the fourth and last person to use it.

Bud's age isn't specified, but since Adin's men found out a rumor about an aritfact that could "give a person a new life", I assume it was old news; there is quite big distance between the two continents and international information flow is slow, even taking Arm into account. And the jar was supposed to be a secret, so. So the events when Bud used it took place probably quite some time before canon timeline.

Bud is a regular human, he can't be REALLY old like Beast People or Elves or Dragons; his age is never specified, but the fact that he's never described as very young or very old makes me believe he's somewhere in his 30's. Personally, my headcanon is that Bud found Glenn Poeff injured when they were both young (I imagine them as teenagers, maybe around 14-18, it would fit with the timeline of when the Eastern Assassin Households fell) and used the jar to save his life. It's exactly the sort of thing Bud would do, "being a bit brave" and all, and it would make sense how the rumor would start. It would also explain the bond between the two and the sort of dynamic they have, with Glenn not being surprised when Bud acted reckless. It would fit well with how TCF friendships work in general.

I couldn't find any more information about Bud and the jar in the novel, but I might have missed something. Remember, most of that are my personal speculations. In any case, I hope it can be useful :)

[gonzo-rella]

Headcanons: Charlie Dalton, Neil Perry and Todd Anderson Taking Care of Their Sick S/O

MASTERLIST | AO3 | KO-FI

Relationship(s): Charlie Dalton x sick!gn!reader (romantic), Neil Perry x sick!gn!reader , Todd Anderson x sick!gn!reader (romantic)

Warnings: The reader has a cold so... yeah. Also, since I'm sick myself, my brain isn't really working at it's normal level so apologies for any mistakes! (Let me know if I need to add any)

(A/N: Unfortunately I'm still sick (it's only been a few days). Fortunately, I'm still motivated to write headcanons to get me through this relatively mild illness (and I'm starting to feel better)! I've got a Todd one-shot draft that I started a year ago and never got around to finishing, so here's my first offering to the Dead Poets Society fandom. I'd love to write more for it, both reader-insert and not. I'm not sure if I'll end up writing any more sick fics (I've already written hcs for Yellowjackets and Abed Nadir and Annie Edison from Community) since I should be better soon, but if you're still interested check out my fandom list and requesting info and feel free to send an ask!)

CHARLIE

Charlie will jokingly tell you that you’re disgusting.

If you’re not amused by that, he’ll awkwardly but sincerely apologise, his mortification thinly veiled.

He isn’t entirely sure what the hell to do to make you less sick.

(He'll have to consult his more medically knowledgeable friends for advice)

He will ask you if you want him to kiss it all better.

(And he will not hesitate to kiss you when you give him the go ahead)

Suffice it to say, he does not care all that much about getting sick himself.

(A small part of him hopes that he does get sick so you'll have to take care of him)

He will spend so much time with you, you’d think you were dying.

He will also get you anything you ask for (even if it has no clear use in making you physically better- he just wants to make you happy).

If his earlier attempt at joking doesn't work, he'll still persist in cracking jokes and making you laugh to make you feel better.

(If your laughter causes you to break out into a coughing fit, though, he will feel awful).

NEIL

Neil knows exactly what to do.

He may not like his dad's dream of him becoming a doctor, but damn he has such a knack for looking after you.

He makes sure you’re drinking enough fluids and taking any medicine you need to take.

No matter how disgusting you might get, Neil is completely unfazed the whole time.

If anything, he'll find it funny and try to keep you in as high spirits as possible.

If he does mind getting sick, he certainly doesn't show it.

For example, he doesn't hesitate when kissing you on the cheek or forehead.

He loves you so much that it really won’t matter to him if you can- or do- get him sick.

He’ll regularly ask you if there’s anything that you want or need, and if you’re comfortable, and if you’re too hot or cold.

It’s evident that he cares about you getting better.

He’ll sit at your bedside and try to take your mind off of how you’re feeling.

But, he will insist that you need to rest up, so when you’re asleep or trying to fall asleep he’ll be as quiet as humanly possible to make sure he doesn’t wake you up.

If he does end up waking you, he’ll feel terrible about it.

He’s so loving and caring anyway, but especially when you’re sick.

TODD

This guy is fucking terrified.

He assumes that anything he does will only make you sicker.

A small part of him is convinced you will die under his care.

So, he begs Neil for advice, and Neil humours him so that Todd doesn’t drive himself nuts.

Todd will regularly ask you if you need something, and he’ll repeatedly offer you whatever Neil advised him about.

He’s also completely torn between his innate desire not to get himself sick, and his deep love and affection for you.

So, please don’t get upset with him if he recoils almost every time you cough and sneeze, because he does spend as much time as he possibly can at your bedside.

Speaking of which, Todd sits at your bedside like a loyal golden retriever.

He’ll hold your hand (internally panicking about your high temperature, of course) and place the occasional kiss on the back of it.

He’ll also read some of his poems, works in progress and completed, out to you, and he’ll make sure to pick plenty that are about you specifically.

Sure, he’s nervous, but you love his poetry and all he wants to do is reduce how terrible you feel.

[psalacanthea]

Are we going to talk about how scary being the Inquisitor is for a Lavellan or…?

I mean, the more and more I have played this game, the more the Chantry shit is terrifying. Over and over again, you see painful and irrefutable evidence about the shit humans did to elves in the name of the Maker. The Exalted Plains is an obvious example.  (I consistently call it Dirthavaren you don’t like it fight me bitch) 

Like I think the entire fandom can agree on fuck that bitch sister Amity. The Chantry crusades destroyed what was left of the elves, destroyed them. Culture, body and spirit. Like be honest, there aren’t many Dalish clans left and each time a new game/book comes around, another one bites the dust. It’s so easy to lose your clan in Inquisiton and even easier to accidentally kill off Marethari’s. Hell, you can choose to kill Zathrian’s. 

The Dalish are dying out, any way you slice it.

Then suddenly a hole rips open in the sky and everybody thinks Lavellan did it. It destroys the Conclave…don’t tell me for one second that the humans didn’t immediately start developing an ‘elves and vengeance and antiMaker’ conspiracy theory. The ‘remain silent’ dialogue option in that first interaction isn’t a stoic ‘I don’t give a fuck’ to me, it’s more of a ‘whatever I say doesn’t matter I’m already dead’ for a Dalish Inquisitor. 

The true horror is knowing that they wont just kill you, they’ll call for a bloodbath on elves across Thedas.

“For the elves were guilty of the greatest sin, of turning from the Maker.”

You’ve damned them all and you can’t even remember how or why. For a First, it must be terrifying to realize even if you try to diplomatically talk your way out of it, they’ll never believe you. As a hunter or warrior, you know it’s hopeless. All you can do is throw yourself forward as the villain, claim that whatever happens you acted alone and take as many of these shems out with you as you can.  As a mage you know if they take pity on you, you’re condemned to their mage-slavery prisons.

“Whatever you think I did, I’m innocent!”

But then they believe you (barely, like thank the Creators the Lavellan clan taught you how to talk to humans civilly and not panic) but it’s basically a hostage situation. There’s one other elf with you and even if he’s not Dalish thank Mythal because shit you were scared and you’re still scared but at least it’s something. His name is ‘Pride’. You take it as a sign from the Creators that it’s not time to give up yet. Suledin, you think.

There is an orb, a weapon that caused this. Solas tells you it’s elven and your heart sinks.

“Eventually, the humans will find a way to blame elves…”

You become Inquisitor and things are a little better but the humans call you Herald of Andraste. You don’t believe in their Maker but none of them care. You know your clan would feel betrayed, think you’ve given up your gods. You haven’t of course but the terror is there…what if the gods think you’ve given up them? You talk to Cassandra and Leliana, trying to understand the human chantry and maybe figure out a way for your two beliefs to coexist. 

 But no.

You realize it wont help. Cassandra talks about spreading the Maker’s word to all corners of Thedas…you remember the lonely howls of the wolves across Dirthavaren. You know what ‘spreading the Makers word’ means. Leliana at least acknowledges what the Chantry did, but she dismisses it with words. All those lives and hopes and dreams dismissed with the words ‘that hate won’t just go away if you dissolve the Chantry’. You understand what she really means, though. 

She’s saying that the hate will never go away, not until the elves are just like humans. The Chantry will never stop.  She says she wants elves to be part of the chantry so they survive and you try not to taste bile in the back of your throat when you think of what that means.

“My father says humans are like weeds that choke out the grass…”’

Slowly, slowly, slowly...they consume you.

[fitsofdespair]

i have hesitated to say anything before now. in part because i removed myself from fandom discourse and really from actively discussing iwtv a year ago. i consider it all a lose-lose situation.

but also because i’m generally of the opinion that black fans don’t need people to be their white saviors, least of all me. black people have never been saved by white people. they were never just given anything when it comes to strides in equality, they fought for it and still fight for it, against constant violent pushback every step of the way. only instead of the good ole’ days when racists just called those fighting for equality uppity, they’re now “bullies” for daring to call you out on your shit after the repeated condescension and the resulting harassment you’ve exhibited towards them.

in this day and age the word bully has zero meaning anymore. i mean come on, melania trump calls people mean about her husband bullies. elon musk thinks he’s being bullied by twitter users, though he clearly holds all the power and is absolutely the problem. its become a meaningless word that goliaths use to call davids because they won’t use the real word they actually want to say. some of these popular blogs are not being bullied, they’re being held accountable for their own actions.

it’s pretty disgusting the number of you who decided to identify strongly with these users that not only fail to question their own racial biases but have gone so far as to suggest black people don’t face racism anymore. this is so fucked. tbh it can be argued in many ways white people, especially in the deep south where i’m from, are inherently raised steeped in racism, even if its not direct. just because your family aren’t ostensibly racist doesn’t mean they didn’t bake their own little prejudices into your upbringing and being raised in your environment didn’t encourage them. even if you don’t see yourself as racist, you have to unlearn all this shit, even if it never once occurred to you that you are part of it. just cause you believe in equality and don’t hate people for their color or cultural background does not make you free of perpetuating microaggressions against them. this applies to fans across the world of course. (like for you white euro iwtv fans, you may say you have no problem with black people but i’ve heard some wild things some of yall have to say about the turks.)

i understand that probably half or more of you are not usamericans. but no matter what environment you live in, no matter where you were raised, there is no excuse for your behavior. just because YOU don’t see racism in your day to day life or are in the more likely situation, too blindly comfortable in your place in society to notice it right in front of your face, doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist as a constant presence in other parts of the world or isn’t deeply ensconced in online rhetoric.

so for you white iwtv fans who can’t be fucked to mention let alone defend people you, in many cases once called friend, against the absolute horseshit your current comrades are spewing wrapped up in their nice safe cocoons of victimhood, i hope you do some serious soul searching to figure out if this is who you are, a person too cowardly to call out a friend because it might cost you their friendship. a person quick to condemn others on hearsay because you couldn’t be fucked to wonder am i on the right side of this? and if you do manage to get wise and change your mind, remember its not unforgivable to say, you know what? i was wrong. i wrote in an old post that the hallmark of being a functional adult is changing your views accordingly when you learn new information or even just ruminate on what you know (i myself was a little bitch about ep 5 when it first dropped until i had to sit down and ask myself why i was actually feeling some kind of way about it). dying on a hill is not all its cracked up to be. being told you’re wrong is not always a personal attack and its often an opportunity for improvement if you can be bothered to genuinely hear other people out. an alarming number from all walks of life never figure that out. for my part, i am still learning and hope i never stop learning.

while that sentiments all nice and gooey (i mean them, but i understand its still sacharine to put out there), i am still guilty for not having directly written anything about this until now. and thats on me and i earned any flack i get for that. again, i am more of the mindset that black people don’t need white spokespeople, but that doesn’t mean they'll mind allies. and as a sidebar, going out of your way to say you are rising “above the noise” or “ignoring the drama” is absolutely your right, but it does not make you superior. it just makes you complacent with the status quo. i mean as long as you get to squee!! about anything and everything who cares about other people, right?

[fairy-writes]

Hello!! If requests are still open (if not, please ignore) can I ask for a Louis Moriarty x reader like the Mycroft “regret” one you wrote? Where he says something mean and they get into a fight and it’s dramatic with a fluffy ending? I would appreciate it very much! ♥️

SWEET APOLOGIES

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Fandom(s): Moriarty the Patriot

Pairing(s): Louis James Moriarty x Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Genre(s)/Tag(s): Gender Neutral!Reader, Angst to Fluff, Arguments, Injuries

Notes: I really hope this is alright! I was second-guessing myself the entire time 😭

__________________________________________________________________________

Your name being shouted makes you prick your finger on your sewing needle. You curse and drop the thing onto your current project which happened to be a pair of Moran’s trousers. You were often asked to sew various things, whether that was an injury or socks. You were the Moriarty’s tailor or seamster and makeshift doctor. 

The voice shouts your name again. Moran maybe? But wasn’t he out with Bonde and Louis?

You make it to the top of the stairs and stop dead in your tracks.

Louis hangs limp between Sebastian Moran and James Bonde. Blood drips from his forehead, and he’s clearly unconscious and missing his glasses.

You’re down the stairs in an instant. 

You direct them to the sitting room, where you have them leave Louis while you retrieve your stitching needles and threads, as well as some medical supplies like bandages and whiskey.

Because you know he’s going to need it when he wakes up.

“What happened to him?” You ask as you gently work his suit coat from his shoulders. Moran favors his right side, and you make a mental note to take a look at him after Louis. Bonde has a scratch above his left eye but otherwise looks unharmed.

“We were jumped,” Moran says, voice strained with pain, and if you had to guess, he has a couple of cracked or broken ribs. You end up handing him the bottle of whiskey to which he takes several long swigs. 

Soon enough, you dismiss Moran and Bonde, promising them you’ll look at their injuries later, leaving you and Louis alone in the sitting room. He lets out a pained moan as you agitate his injuries in your attempt to remove his shirt but doesn’t awaken.

It isn’t until you are threading your needle that he stirs. By that time, you had bandaged his lesser wounds and were working on what looked like a knife cut on his collarbone. It’s awkward and long, and you’re fairly certain that his shirt is partially shredded because of it. 

But your rage has started to grow. Tiny and hot like a dying ember, but slowly fed by your worry and panic at seeing him so injured. 

His already darkened maroon eyes are even darker because of the pain. He grits his teeth and tries to sit up but is stopped by you putting a gentle hand on his chest.

“Don’t get up. You’re hurt.” You say quietly, keeping a tight leash on your anger so as to not anger him. 

The last thing you needed was for him to get angry back and start an argument. 

“I’m fine.” He tries, but you glare and show him your bloody fingers where you had been stitching for the last twenty minutes. 

“Clearly you aren’t. So be quiet and let me finish.” You snap, the leash on your temper fraying just the tiniest bit. 

Thankfully, Louis catches your slip and doesn’t say anything. Instead, he bites his tongue and leans back against the couch arm. You’ll likely have to throw the couch out or burn it after you’re done. It’s stained in blood and grime from his injuries.

As soon as you finish the last stitch, Louis is sitting up and pushing your hands away. 

“I promise I’m fine.” He says quickly, and that’s when your patience snaps. 

“What do you mean you’re fine?! THIS IS NOT FINE!” You shout, and he stops where he’s shrugging on his button-down and suit coat. His movements are painfully slow, and it’s clear that he’s suffering. 

But that doesn’t stop his temper from flaring up to meet yours like two bucks charging each other. 

“Can you stop it for a moment?!” He snaps back and yanks on his suit coat, ignoring how it pulls his stitches. You toss the dirty needle back into your bag and feel tears burn in your eyes. 

“You promised me you weren’t going to be reckless! You promised!” You exclaim, and he grits his teeth,

“Well, promises can be broken, so just leave me alone, yeah?” He says, and you flinch back. 

Then, with tears threatening to overflow down your cheeks, you pack up your things and leave with a slam of the sitting room door. It rattles the chandelier above you as you wander the mansion halls in search of Bonde and Moran. 

You find Moran in his chambers, smoking a cigarette and shuffling a deck of cards. 

“Those’ll kill you, y’know.” You say as a way of entrance and he looks up, clearly unimpressed. 

“Then I’ll die doing somethin’ I like.” He retorts, and you roll your eyes, shuffling inside to take a seat across from him. 

“Take your shirt off.” You say curtly, and he huffs out a laugh, 

“At least buy me a drink first.” You look up to the ceiling and pray for patience. Because after Louis, you don’t have any left. 

Did he really want you to leave him alone? 

“I need to see if you broke anything dumbass.” You say eventually, and his eyebrows shoot up into his hairline.

“What’d Louis do t’ you t’ get your knickers in a twist?” He says, clearly picking up on your foul mood. You set your bag down and reach inside for bandages in case he’s bleeding. 

“Nothing. Louis just wants me to leave him alone, is all.” You say and swallow down the lump in your throat. 

If he was so willing to break this promise what others was he going to break?

Thankfully, Moran doesn’t say anything else and instead sheds his shirt so you can take a look at his side. It’s mottled in purples and blues and slightly swollen. You don’t have to touch it to know it’s tender. So, you prescribe him rest and the occasional shot of whiskey to dull the pain. 

“No missions for you for a while. Take it easy, alright?” You instruct and he nods, waving you off as he starts playing a card game with himself.

“Yeah, yeah, go check on Blondie, will ya? He took a pretty good look to the head.” 

You are about to say something when you see Louis hobbling down the hallway, favoring his stitches. He stops, looks at you, scowls, and continues down toward his bedroom. You huff and brush past him toward where you guessed Bonde would be.

Two can play that game. 

The tension between you is palpable by day four of not speaking to each other. Perhaps it was day two, but you didn’t really care to count—not when Louis was still being so touchy.

But it wasn’t long before everyone else came to you, asking you to make things right.

“He’s so mopey! Not at all like himself!” That was Bonde. You grunted to acknowledge his words but didn’t respond past that. 

“He’s got a stick up his ass. You should talk to him.” Moran. At that, you roll your eyes and stab your needle into your embroidery. Perhaps more aggressively than you meant to, but it got your point across. 

“He said he wanted me to leave him alone. So that’s what I’m doing.” You snap, and he relents and doesn’t push the issue anymore. 

Soon, everyone has come to you, complaining about Louis’s sour behavior. And every single time, you turn them away with the same excuse. It isn’t until you stumble upon Louis nursing a clearly infected injury that you relent and talk to him. 

You enter the library to find Louis hunched over himself, taking a long pull from a whiskey bottle as he tries to remove his stitches. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” You snap, hurrying to his side to stop him before stopping yourself. 

The injury on his collarbone is infected—that much is obvious. The wound has an unpleasant odor emanating from it and is red and inflamed. He’s successfully removed a handful of stitches, but a few remain. 

“What does it look like?” Louis retorts and sets down the whiskey bottle. It’s clear he’s in pain, his nose scrunched and his eyes tight. 

Despite your anger, you’re gentle in helping Louis. After some back and forth, he eventually sits back and lets you work. 

Pus oozes from the gash, and you work to clean it out and apply a poultice of your own design to help fight infection. Then, you leave the wound open to breathe. 

“I’ll restitch it later if it starts bleeding again.” You say and begin cleaning up the mess that Louis had made.

He stops you by saying your name oh so softly. You sigh, stop what you’re doing, and look at him. He looks sad. Broken. And hurt. 

“I don’t want to keep fighting.” He says, and you scoff,

“You told me to leave you alone. So I am.” You say and go to leave but he catches your wrist as you stand to leave.

“I’m sorry.” He blurts, and you stop, raising an eyebrow at him, and he continues. 

“It was never my intention to hurt you. I want you to know that. It’s no excuse, but I was in pain and upset that the mission went so badly. But I took it out on you, and I’m sorry.” He finishes, and with each word, you feel your anger dissipating. You lean down and press your mouth to his hairline in a soft kiss. 

“I accept your apology. Thank you, Louis.” You whisper, and he smiles.

[ninadove]

I’m an outsider to the miraculous fandom, generally because of anxiety stuff but I have this silly little Felix idea I think you would really like. (Or maybe I’m just dumb and this has been done before)

So I’m a bit obsessed with flower symbolism, right? My favorite being roses. For Felix, (and sentis in general) I think the two types of blue roses are perfect symbolism.

1.) Classic Royal Blue Rose

I’m not sure how common this fact is, but bright blue roses aren’t real. They’re artificial. White Roses dyed blue. Symbolically, They represent royalty, mystery and that which is unobtainable. Theres also some folk lore that they can grant wishes.

2.) Genetically Altered “Blue” Roses

So, in the early 2000’s (coincidentally around when Adrien and Felix would have been born?) Scientists wanted to find a way to make “naturally” occurring blue roses. Their attempts to create these roses was technically successful, but they aren’t actually blue. They are more of a pinky-purple-blue, it’s a fairly wide range, but almost all of the photos of them that I’ve seen are either the color of Argos’ eyes or his skin.

So basically I think both types of “blue” roses serve as a baller senti allegory…..

Specifically, Colt Fathom would be the “scientist” in search of creating the elusive royal blue rose. Something that doesn’t occur in nature, representing desire (yk peacock miraculous moment) and what is unobtainable. Yet, all he manages to make is the mauve-colored blue rose, Felix.

Or, Alternatively, Adrien could be the Royal blue rose to Felix’s genetically altered rose.

Adrien was molded for mass appeal by his father, meant to be widely adored by the people. Like the genetically altered rose, it is artificial, but it’s also considered to be beautiful, elegant and desired. People want the royal blue rose, just as Emilie and Gabe wanted him.

Meanwhile, the genetically altered blue rose is lowkey…, a little disappointing? It’s not what people were hoping for. It’s not what people envision when they think of blue roses, because dude it’s fricken purple. In a way, that could be how bitchass Mr Fathom saw his son. Unnatural, but without the charms of the dyed royal blue rose.

Or, double alternatively,

Adrien is already kinda associated with red roses anyway. He’s constantly giving them to LB, season 5 ends with him and Mari kissing in Emilie’s red rose garden.

Which would give Felix symbolism rights to both kind of blue roses.

Imagining a kiss scene to parallel adrinette kiss where it’s Felix and Kagami sharing a kiss in a garden of blue roses. Artificial but still beautiful

Oh Anon you know exactly what to say to make me experience Thoughts and Feelings. Pictures for reference (Classic Royal Blue on the left, genetically altered on the right):

Look at this blue. It’s literally peacock blue. And damn if this isn’t Argos lilac I don’t know what is

I can definitely see the symbolism working both ways! Felix being a more vibrant, but also harsher version of Adrien’s soft hues… The royal/religious symbolism associated with this shade of blue specifically… It works so well…

But I love Classic Royal Blue Adrien and genetically altered Felix even more, for all the reasons you listed. What is a monster, if not a deviation from the norm? I think I’ve written Kagami going heart eyes over Argos’ more “inhuman” features enough for everyone to know how beautiful she would find it… 💜

SPEAKING OF KAGAMI. I think we could go on a whole tangent about her association with red roses and passion — how she couldn’t find it in Adrien and Mari but eventually did in Felix. They SHOULD kiss in a rose garden and they SHOULD make it everyone’s problem! 🌹

[raycatzdraws]

I'm gonna put this here and then probably make it private but I want to say

There's discussion happening in the LU fandom so if you don't care for that scroll on:

But, I love creating with the LU fandom. I don't create in a void. My work is a conversation. I hope that it inspires you to create, to think, to chat with friends! Thank you to everyone who's shared their art and let me be a part of it, and to everyone who's played a part in mine!

to copy paste something I've said on my main:

isn’t it interesting that there’s Jojo’s LinkedUniverse and then also the LinkedUniverse fandom’s LinkedUniverse? That LU became a conduit through which to examine and compare and contrast Zelda games with this cast of characters as a base? That was their original intention and the fans went “heck yeah!” and ran with it? The LinkedUniverse fandom’s LinkedUniverse is a monster of the week story where everyone contributes, it has hundreds of authors and storytellers all working together and trading tales. It’s a scenario in which Jojo’s LinkedUniverse is both the source material and also just one instance in the larger weave. And the LinkedUniverse fandom’s LinkedUniverse lore deviates from (and is much deeper than imo) that of the original comic mainly because of that 1 person building a thing vs hundreds of people building a thing. And isn’t that so cool? But then also with the decline of the fandom I dunno I feel like the LinkedUniverse fandom’s LinkedUniverse has been dying. Updates would spawn a burst of creativity and multitudes of branching ideas and what-if scenarios explored through art and fic and discussion, building on it, adding it in to pre-existing stories. I feel that activity around updates has been ticking more towards exploring the comic within the context of the comic itself (or just reposting clips), and less within the fandom’s takes on it (not taking that step forward of “yes, and,” and “yes-anding” fanworks as well.) Or not updates in particular, but the state of the fandom is deviating from taking this base and running and sharing to something more controlled and wary? Isolated? The LinkedUniverse fandom is a phenomenon to me. And it’s not something I think should be replicated in regards to other LinkVerse comics but it’s also something beautiful and creative? Like, Jojo to a certain extent has or had lost control of the fandom’s versions of these characters. She made them and we respect her wishes for them but they no longer belong to her? The LU fandom’s LU is a collectively written LinkVerse and exploration of the loz games, using these characters and relationships as a base (which is why I think people mistag by accident so much.) Sure, you could use the characters directly from the games or make your own LinkVerse to explore the relationships between the loz games. However, within the context of the LU fandom, you get the advantage of the template already being there for the character’s personalities, meeting, secrets, and an open ended goal, and these things are understood by a large number of invested people, leading to this huge collaborative project. This is what’s so special about the LinkedUniverse fandom to me. Watching this thing be built and getting to be a contributing piece of it. Maybe it shouldn’t have happened. Like, if something like that were to happen to anything I’ve made I think that’d be really scary. But it’s also something incredible? It’s why I have a hard time accepting it when people say they hate the LU fandom. How could you hate the creativity? The shared stories? What’s been made? Isn’t it incredible? It’s another LinkVerse, in a way, one that belongs to many. I'm frustrated by the instances where people have tried to police the way the characters are written, both within the fandom and towards Jojo’s comic, and the issues in communication, and callout posts asjhfksdf Problems in reconciling the LU fandom’s LU, Jojo’s LU, other LinkVerses, and gen loz. But the phenomenon of the fandom itself, the shared collaborative LU fandom’s LinkedUniverse? I think it’s such a cool thing. I think it’s such a cool way to explore and examine the loz games and craft stories with so many other people. I really enjoy all the LinkVerses that are around now. I don’t think the fandom for LU is something that can be replicated. (or should?) (it’s both something odd and a loss of control for Jojo but also a conduit for an incredible amount of creativity and community.) It’s really interesting to me. It’s really interesting to witness. Or to have witnessed?

and now tired rambling, but,, aaa

What I love about the fandom is seeing ideas and headcanons and art and fic be shared and then built upon. The community projects! The LU Zine. The valentine's day cards! The artist and writer appreciation projects! The weekly polls and prompts from the main LU server! The master door post! Long haired Sky! Tick-tac-toe on Legend's forehead! Crop top Roolie! Cheer up buttercup! Seeing small headcanons being adopted into fanon lore and being able to watch that progression. Seeing these tropes develop and being a contributing part of it! It's something we're building together and watching that happen in real time is so special! Again, it's that 1 person building a thing vs hundreds of people building a thing that is so alluring to me.

The creators, and analysis folks, and people who leave comments and nice tags: I see you as my peers! I want to create with you! I'd love to participate in collabs and trades! I haven't been able to be involved as much as I want because of a lack of spoons. But, I admire so many of the people here. Thank you all so much for sharing what you've made! Thank you for allowing me to be a part of it! Thank you for supporting me and my silly ideas for these characters! My art is a conversation and I approach what the LU fandom's made in the same way. It's not content to be consumed. It's an open hand. I'm so grateful to those who have taken it. You've inspired me to create. It's the greatest honor if I'm able to do the same for you. I want to keep making things with you guys.

(To anyone who's made fanart for fic and vice-versa, to anyone's who's seen a headcanon and let the poster know that it's changed how you view the characters, to anyone who's contributed game information to analysis, to those answering asks and doing requests? ya'll are the best keep it up!)

[elizakai]

UH OKAY DUST X REAPER AND/OR SWAPFELL X NIGHTMARE? AHEUUEHA

omfg i love you i’m jumping at the chance to look at dust x reaper i better see some art somewhere in this fandom OUGH ok

well, dust’s died like how many times now, lets just assume they’ve ENCOUNTERED one another yeah?

⬇️⬇️⬇️

reaper feels bad for him. he isn’t even allowed to actually die, just experience death over and over, only to be thrust back into this torturous cycle.

imagine dust dying in the hall, he’s stumbling away and he just. sees the grim reaper. and he’s like oh shit. well then. *gets thrown back whenever they decide to reset*

reaper visiting a lot because, well, he’s dying a lot, he’s probably gotta. imagine a scenario where they actually get to talk. but its so so brief, dust is never dead very long, and reaper probably shouldn’t interfere otherwise…

(he’d also, be witnessing the deaths of the aus other residence, which. interesting. wonder what they have to say about things. and what reapers response may be.)

(of course this is assuming they interact after death, which i think makes sense with common depictions of the reaper at least)

dust probably chalks him up to a vision he’s having, or hallucination, when he dies, but maybe when he’s given more time, they can have broken up conversations.

like hey, mid sentence he gets thrown back into the land of the living, but HEY! next time he dies, just pick up the convo like nothing happened. “Anyways as i was sayin-“

Another thing to think about is just how SIMILAR dust is to geno. and most of us are afterdeath junkies i think💀

like, dust and geno have VERY similar motivations and go to similar lengths (think of error even)

i think of reaper could come to respect genos desires and motives, he’d feel the same towards dust. reaper always strikes me as a really lonely person, and dust is too for obvious reasons.

i’m imagining a scenario where reaper is just. real bored of just watching. so he starts like following dust around so he can see him. and dusts like ah. cool. fucking phantom ass to add to the list. i’m imagining reaper telling him like no, i’m very real dude, and dust is like haha ok, lemme touch you then

…for obvious reasons he can’t let him touch him💀💥 but that would probably make dust assume he is in fact a hallucination. but that’s ok. he’s an ODDLY nice hallucination.

maybe he even reminds him of the river person🤷🏽‍♀️

anyways, reaper just having convo, dust finding he likes it, it’s pleasant chatter to listen to, and then he’s like damn i really am sick, why am i so attached to this weird ass hallucination

(i’m just idea dumping so hard i apologize.)

reaper would find his conviction kinda cute, if not slightly frustrating. like bro, out here denying my existence, wtf💔

i wonder, if reaper can touch him when”” when he’s in the space of death, temporarily.

that would be cool :,))

if reaper doesn’t show up for a while and comes back dust just, getting happier, he’s got someone to talk to again that isn’t a dead friend or relative he’s killed multiple times.

i imagine dust has seen “death” enough times that, in life, he can “see death” (reaper)

they gain this weird little affection for eachother ok💔 a selfish part of reaper hopes dust will always get reset…so he can come talk to him

but part of him is also disgusted by the hope that he’s able to just. be laid to rest. what can be done yk?

YOU COULD MAKE THIS SO ANGSTY WHERE LIKE the anomaly suddenly

stops!

and dust is actually on his way to wherever you’d go when you die

imagine, reaper just. guiding him away to whatever afterlife or lack thereof, carrying his soul away and having to let him go. no more coming back.

cries

or yk, we can imagine a scenario where dust gets out of the loop, and they continue to see eachother and have their weird little friendship (?)

dust is like “i’ve seen death, he’s over my shoulder as i walk, whispers in my ear as i lie awake at night. death awaits my presence, and i deaths. i’ve felt the touch of death, and it was unbearably sweet , a feeling i will forever long for”

*horror from whoever he’s speaking to*

meanwhile reaper is just like, telling stupid jokes in his ear and giggling over someone’s stupid outfit, gossiping about the other gods and making dust look crazy laughing at stupid shit

i wonder if reaper could potentially see dusts phantoms, it’s a fun idea. they aren’t REALLY there, but dusts magic is kind of projecting them i imagine, and reaper has seen them when they die. i just imagine him shooing them away for dust, and he’s like naw man pay attention to me instead *slutty little strut*

you could interpret the way death even works a million different ways and have a bunch of different potential even. what if dust were to die and reaper…DOESNT guide his soul away. what if he keeps him. maybe dust wants that. they could “be together”.

maybe there’s an afterlife, and reaper is able to cross the gap. who knows. lots of potential.

they both have hoodies >:3 idc if that doesn’t mean anything

i feel like reapers dark humor would almost comfort dust lmao, it kinda lightens the load for him. reaper can assure dust that their souls are…ok. they’re at peace.

reaper is just happy to feel so validated and seen all the sudden

he can help dust understand how life really works

ironic huh. the essence of death being the thing that gives you a will to live.

just imagine in a time he’s died, reaper not being able to help himself. he just comes in for a hug. and both of them need it so badly. when dust is alive, he CANT touch him.

they both think about that hug a lot <//3

[warmhappycat]

Time for me to bang this drum again:

I’m pretty sure CALICO JACK IS STRAIGHT.

You wouldn’t say that a gay person having had straight sex in the past makes them less gay, right? You’re not out there saying that Stede is definitely, 100%, indisputably, canonically bisexual (as opposed to gay) for having had sex with Mary, right?

Ok. Fun fact: It works the other way too.

Jack literally said the words, “anything goes at sea.”

I guess you can headcanon whatever you want. Sure. But to be honest, I find it kind of sus when someone is like, “well if he had gay sex then he must be queer!” That’s just. Not how that works, and seems kinda… idk, I don’t want to sling accusations, but it always makes me go 🤨 Because, why? Why can you accept that the kinds of sex people engage in don’t map exactly onto their identity when the “aberrant” sex is m/f, but not when it’s same-sex? I’m not inclined to think that anyone in this fandom is consciously thinking thoughts like this, but it really smacks of “well gay sex is gross, so no one would ever do that out of convenience or whatever. The only people who’d be willing to do that, under any circumstances, are people who really, innately want it.”

Plus - to get off my soapbox and be a bit less dramatic and moralistic about it, thank you for bearing with me through that - I don’t understand why you want, narratively, for the guy who tries to break up Ed and Stede, insults Stede, says “anything goes at sea,” is mean to Ed, and then dies, to be queer.

There’s no story to be had there about a self-loathing queer person learning to accept himself. If he was a self-loathing queer person, then he was still self-loathing when he died. That just feels, mean for this show? It’s depressing. I’ve seen enough shows about gay people hating themselves for their sexuality and then dying without ever finding peace. I don’t want that in my happy pirate show.

If he was straight, however, it’s an interesting story. It would mean he was a homophobic guy who used Ed for sex and consenting to being used in return, purely out of convenience, and the implication is that Ed was getting to have the kind of sex he wanted, but for his safety, had to pretend it wasn’t what he really wanted. Isn’t that so much more interesting!? Ed has had gay sex, probably a lot of it, but he’s never been safe to admit that he wants to be having gay sex! He’s probably had to stifle the signs of his pleasure, because if his partner thought he was having too good of a time, that could be dangerous for him!

I know a lot of people don’t want to be confronted with the threat of homophobic violence in their happy pirate show. I myself just said that I don’t want to see the tragic self-loathing gay trope in my happy pirate show. But, here’s the thing, one of those things is the case with Jack. I just don’t see a third option. Either he was queer and he behaved the way he did anyway, or he was straight, and that carries the implications it carries.

Personally, I find the second option both more plausible and more hopeful. We know Ed has been through terrible, traumatic things. That’s already true; adding the implication that having gay sex with straight men carried risks of violence for him doesn’t whumpify a character who was doing great before. It does, however, add a layer of meaning to his relationship with Stede! He’s been through that, and maybe he thought that was the only kind of sexual relationship he’d ever get to have! Maybe that’s part of why he thinks he’s unloveable! He’s surely heard that there are people out there “mAKiNg LoVe,” but none of the people he’s ever wanted to have sex with have loved him. It wasn’t even a possibility, and what’s more, he couldn’t even be honest about his own attraction to them lest they hurt him. But now!! Now! He’s attracted to Stede!! And he wants to have sex with Stede!!! And he loves Stede!!!!!!!!! And Stede!!!!!!! Feels! The! Same! Way!!!!!! They’re gonna have gay sex on purpose!!!

I mean, doesn’t that just seem nicer?

[zapreportsblog]

My power is out and it gave inspiration😌

Wolf pack X reader (any characters)

How would the wolf pack comfort the reader (who is afraid of the dark) when the power is out?

Awww I’m sorry this is happening, hopefully alls good and your power restarted back :) remember to be safe during this time even if it isn’t a life and def situation

❝checking in on you❞

✭ pairing : seth clearwater x reader

✭ fandom : twilight

✭ summary : after a power outage takes place Seth makes sure to check in on his bestfriend (y/n), he makes sure everything’s okay on her end especially since she’s scared of the dark and even keeps her company

✭ authors note : my mom and aunt just learnt my boyfriend bisexual and I’m pansexual and they find it weird, help I’m dying

✭ twilight masterlist

The city was plunged into darkness as the power outage swept through the neighborhood. Streetlights blinked out one by one, leaving only a soft glow from the moon and the distant twinkle of stars. Seth sighed, realizing he'd have to abandon his plans for the evening. But his concern wasn't just for himself; it was for his best friend, (Y/N).

(Y/N) had always been terrified of the dark. Even as children, she'd insist on having a nightlight and keeping her bedroom door cracked open. As they grew older, her fear didn't diminish. If anything, it had intensified. Seth had often teased her about it, but he understood that fear was irrational and deeply ingrained.

As the power outage persisted, Seth's worry for (Y/N) grew. He knew she lived alone, and he couldn't shake the feeling that she might be struggling in the complete darkness. Grabbing his phone and a small flashlight, he made his way to his front door. He wasn't going to let (Y/N) face this alone.

Seth's heart raced as he approached (Y/N)'s apartment building. He texted her to let her know he was coming up, hoping that she hadn't already fallen asleep in the pitch-black apartment. The hallway was dimly lit by emergency lights, casting an eerie glow on the walls. He knocked gently on her door, his heart pounding louder with each passing second.

The door cracked open, revealing (Y/N)'s wide eyes, illuminated by the weak light. "Seth?" she asked, surprise evident in her voice.

"Hey, it's me," Seth said, mustering a reassuring smile. "Just thought I'd check on you. Are you okay?"

(Y/N) hesitated for a moment before nodding. "I... I'm okay. It's just... really dark."

Seth understood her struggle. He stepped inside, pulling out his flashlight and casting a gentle beam around the room. "Well, lucky for you, I brought some extra light," he joked, trying to lighten the mood.

(Y/N) managed a small laugh, her tension easing a bit. "Thanks, Seth."

"No problem," he replied, scanning the apartment. "You know, I've got plenty of scary stories to keep us distracted from the darkness."

(Y/N) rolled her eyes playfully. "Oh, great. That's exactly what I need right now."

Seth chuckled and found a couple of candles in (Y/N)'s kitchen. After a bit of fumbling, he managed to light them, casting a warm and flickering glow around the room. (Y/N) visibly relaxed, her shoulders dropping as the darkness was pushed back.

They settled on the couch, talking and laughing like they always did. Seth made sure to keep an eye on the time, knowing that the power could come back on at any moment. But even when it did, he didn't rush to leave. (Y/N) seemed calmer now, and he was enjoying the company as much as she was.

As the hours passed, the power was eventually restored, filling the apartment with light once again. (Y/N) let out a relieved sigh, her fear subsiding completely.

"Thanks for staying with me, Seth," she said, giving him a grateful smile.

Seth shrugged, trying to play it cool. "No big deal. Friends look out for each other, right?"

(Y/N)'s smile grew wider, and she bumped her shoulder gently against his. "Right."

As Seth got up to leave, he realized that sometimes, being there for someone meant more than just words. It was the presence, the effort, and the willingness to stand by them in the darkest of times. And as he walked back to his own apartment, he couldn't help but feel grateful for the bond he shared with (Y/N), one that could weather any storm, even if it was just a power outage.

The memory of that night stuck with Seth, a reminder of the deep connection he shared with (Y/N). Days turned into weeks, and life resumed its usual pace. But Seth couldn't shake the feeling that (Y/N) might need him again, even without a power outage as an excuse.

One evening, as Seth was engrossed in a book, his phone buzzed with a message. It was from (Y/N).

Seth's heart skipped a beat. He quickly typed a response.

A few minutes later, they were seated in their favorite coffee shop, a cozy corner away from the bustling crowd.

Seth leaned in, his concern evident. "What happened?"

"I woke up in the middle of the night, and there was this noise. It sounded like... footsteps in my apartment."

Seth's brow furrowed. "Footsteps? Are you sure it wasn't just your imagination?"

(Y/N) replies, “No I know what I heard and seen.”

Seth's protective instincts kicked in. "Did you call the police?"

(Y/N) nodded. "Yes, but by the time they arrived, there was no one there. They said it might have been a false alarm, but Seth, I'm really scared."

Seth reached across the table, placing a comforting hand on hers. "I'm here for you, (Y/N). We'll figure this out together."

(Y/N) managed a small smile, her tension easing with his reassurance. "That's why I called you. I knew you'd understand."

Seth was determined to help her regain her sense of security. "Do you want me to stay over for a few nights? Just until you feel better?"

)Y/N)’s eyes filled with gratitude. "Would you? I don't want to impose, but..."

"No imposition at all," Seth insisted. "I'll be there for you, just like that night during the power outage."

Over the next few nights, Seth stayed at (Y/N)’s apartment. They spent evenings watching movies, playing board games, and talking about everything and nothing. The shadowy presence that had haunted (Y/N)’s thoughts seemed to fade in the face of their companionship.

One evening, while they were lounging on the couch, (Y/N) chuckled. "Remember how you used to tease me about being scared of the dark?"

Seth grinned. "Yeah, and now I'm the one keeping watch."

(Y/N) playfully nudged his arm. "Well, you're a good friend, Seth. I appreciate everything you're doing for me."

Seth shrugged, trying to play it cool. "It's what friends are for."

As time went on, (Y/N)’s unease gradually dissolved, replaced by a growing sense of safety. The apartment that had once been shrouded in shadows was now a place of comfort, thanks to Seth's unwavering support.

One night, as Seth was getting ready to head back to his own place, (Y/N) walked him to the door. "Thanks for staying with me, Seth. I really couldn't have done it without you."

Seth smiled warmly. "Anytime, (Y/N). You know I've got your back."

(Y/N) hesitated for a moment before standing on her tiptoes and giving Seth a quick hug. "You're the best."

Seth felt his heart swell with affection. "You're pretty amazing yourself."

As he walked back to his apartment, Seth couldn't help but feel grateful for the bond they shared. It was a bond that had weathered both literal and metaphorical darkness, and had only grown stronger as a result. And though the shadows of uncertainty might occasionally resurface, Seth knew he and (Y/N) could face them together, their friendship a beacon of light guiding the way.

[tsukasalvr]

can you do akane, kou, and hanako with a gn s/o with pain from braces? so sorry if you did this or was asked this before! just braces and rubber bands are painful as hell currently</3

AN: I’ve never had braces cus I actually have pretty good teeth (which sounds mean sorry😭😭) but they honestly look so cute and I remember an old friend of mine would always talk abt how it hurt when they first got theirs

s/o experiencing pain from braces

Anime/fandom: Tbhk

Characters: Akane Aoi, Kou Minamoto, Hanako

Warnings: I don’t proofread, veryyyyyy short

A/n: ate tacos and actually touched my eye so now my eye burns form the hot sauce😭😭

Tbhk masterlist | Main masterlist

Akane Aoi

Already treats you like royalty on a daily basis but hey prepared to be pampered even more with every minute now of him asking if you’re feeling okay

“Any pain, sweetheart? I’ve read online and have actually called some dentists how to lessen the pain!” He goes out and beyond for you

If you even hiss slightly or scrunch up your face, he’s rushing to you asking worriedly what’s wrong while you try to reassure him that you’re fine and it just hurts slightly

Feels horrible that you can’t eat some foods and will cry big crocodile tears for you, your pain is his pain as well

Kou Minamoto

Isn’t super overbearing unlike someone (Akane), he still gets very worried over you and if you look closer, you can see him starting to sweat a little from his nervousness when he sees you put your hand on your cheek in pain

“Do you need anything? Don’t be scared to to ask me, s/o! I’ll help you no matter what it is!”

Will look up online when he can to search up ways to lessen the pain, it feels horrible to him to see someone so special to him in pain!

Does a deep dive on what foods could help the pain and what foods you could eat as well

Hanako

He loves you dearly and seeing you in pain makes him worried and likes to be very dramatic about it with acting like you’re dying whenever you express any sort of pain to your braces just to tease you

“No, s/o! Stay with me and don’t go to the light! Please don’t die on me!” He pretends to fake cry hoping to make you laugh to distract you from the pain

He can’t really just go online to search it up and he’s not sure if there’s any books in school that will give him information to help you at least a little

Will annoy Tsuchigomori to help him and will say it’s a matter of life or death, and will even ask Yashiro or Kou for help as well