#it would've been roughly easier if i did

[t-lostinworlds]

nothing like the self-hatred you feel when you want to reread a WIP so you can freshen up your mind to be able to continue it only to see the word count and you just. who even has the time and patience for this @ author why have you given future me 45k words of jumbled mess to proofread and edit. just why.

[mischievousmoony]

hello !! it is again almost 3am where i am but i cannot stop thinking at nerdy james before he gets buff from quidditch.

headcanon time; first or second year, before he knew his friends, he was like this wimpy little kid that got bullied a whole lot (especially by slytherin kids) and that's why he plays pranks on people.

but but! a request maybe of reader liking james before he got popular, but they never made it known because they're the quiet type. but as james became popular, reader stayed the same and they never really really crossed paths again. but there was a time where reader did something small for james back then which he remembered all those years and then they kiss kiss fall in love.

you can you whatever pronouns you want again for reader !!

- 🌱

took the liberty of making the reader a gryffindor hope thats ok

𝚒 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞

⟢ james potter x reader ⊹ 2.8k ⟢ warnings/tags: intoxication (not reader or james), unsolicited flirting from random guy, james is taller than r, gryffindor!reader, introvert!reader, no specific pronouns for reader used

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Secluded in a quiet corner is where you feel most comfortable at parties. Your fellow Gryffindors are a boisterous bunch, and that's never been your style, making it much easier to watch events like these from the sidelines.

This doesn't make you the most popular student in your house. It's not as though people don't like you, but they don't really know you. If they had to, the vocabulary they would use to describe you would be limited to quiet, nice, and… quiet.

You’ve always wondered if you would've fit in better in another house. Ravenclaw always seemed appealing. Or Hufflepuff maybe. But for reasons you don't understand, the sorting hat put you here. With the daring, self-assured, unreserved students that you couldn't be anymore like. But, you never really minded. As different as they are, at least they're nice.

For the most part.

"Hey, baby," one of your housemates drawls, emerging from the lively crowd and invading your corner. You can't say you remember his name as he cozies up next to you, unceremoniously situating himself against the wall. His shoulder crashes against it roughly as he says, "You look lonely over here."

His warm, beer-scented breath invades your senses and you scrunch your nose in discomfort, veering away from him as you reply, "I'm fine."

"Want some company?" he presses, surging forward to make up for the space you created and then some.

"No, thank you." It's almost annoying that your instinct is to be polite as this guy invades your personal space.

"Cos I could make for some real nice company," he adds, a sinister smirk working its way onto his face as you cringe away from him.

You're wracking your brain for a way out of this situation, when a familiar voice sounds from behind you, saving you the trouble.

"Hey, ready to head out?" James Potter says, and you have no idea what he's talking about, but at least it makes the other guy back away from you slightly.

"James," you blurt, rather dumbly, surprised at his sudden closeness.

Truthfully, you have been eyeing him from your corner; admiring the boy from afar as you have for years. Most of Gryffindor fancies him, and you're no exception. But who wouldn't have a thing for Gryffindor's valiant captain and ever confident head boy? Especially when that boy looks the way James does: standing over six feet tall with a chiseled, muscular physique (thank you, Quidditch). He seems to know it too, the way he carries himself with confidence.

His most captivating feature, though, is his bright, infectious smile. It's always been your favorite thing about him, even when it was still the shy, hesitant grin of a boy who wasn’t yet confident in himself.

"It's about time for us to get out of here, don't you think?" James smiles, baring all of his pearly whites, and he looks like something out of a dream. His eyes flick from you to the boy to your left. "Oh, hey Callaghan, didn't see you there."

"Potter," Callaghan nods in greeting. "You, uh, you know..." he trails off, gesturing aimlessly to you. You're not surprised that he doesn't know your name.

"Y/N? Course I do," James says, stepping closer to you.

But that. That's a surprise.

James towers over both of you, making Callaghan take another step back in intimidation. You're too busy being surprised to feel relieved over the space. James knows your name?

Callaghan gestures between the two of you, trying the gauge your relationship. "And you two are...?"

"Leaving," James says, offering you his hand, “Right?”

You stare at his hand, momentarily dumbfounded, before you take it, “Right.”

You feel kind of hazy as you let James lead you away from Callaghan, away from the lively party, and out into the corridor. The situation is so surreal that you wouldn't be surprised if you suddenly woke up to find it was all a dream. When was the last time you even spoke to James Potter?

"You alright?" James' voice cuts through the silence of Hogwarts' halls. Your eyes meet his concerned ones as he leans against the stone wall, tucking his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

"Yeah, I'm alright," you say, still a little muddled. You snap out of it with a shake of your head, remembering your manners, "Thank you, by the way."

"Psh," he waves his hand through the air, brushing it off, "You don't need to thank me. Any person with eyes could see Callaghan was being... off putting." James scrunches his nose in judgement, pausing as if to bite his tongue, like has more to say about Callaghan but better not. "Any decent person would've stepped in. No thank you necessary."

"Well I'm thankful anyway," you say quietly, the corner of your mouth tugging upward into a small smile.

James' eyes dart to your lips, your gesture conjuring a wide smile on James' own lips. You're momentarily distracted as his tongue runs across his teeth, barely hearing him as he says, "Well, I may be reluctant to accept your gratitude because I may have had some selfish reasons behind my method."

Your lips part, twitching into the shape of various words that never leave your lips. You feel very warm all of a sudden.

James does a rubbish job of hiding the amusement in his eyes, but he is kind enough to put you out of your misery with an explanation, "I need a walking buddy. Was hoping you'd like to join me?"

You're not any less dumfounded but you manage to get the words out this time. "You want me to go on a walk with you?"

"Yeah," James says, like it's not strange at all.

"Why didn't you ask one of your friends to go?"

"You are my friend," James insists, and you cock and eyebrow.

"I was surprised that you even knew my name."

"Of course I know you! We're friends," he emphasizes.

You look at him skeptically, not sure what you did to make a friend out of him. Not that you wouldn't like to be his friend, but friends usually talk to each other. The last time James spoke to you was last year to ask if you had an extra roll of parchment. And he was more so asking the entire class, you just so happened to be the one with the parchment.

"Do you not want to be my friend?" He asks in a teasing tone, having let you stare in silent skepticism for long enough.

He's not being serious, but you panic anyway. "What!? No! I mean no I don't not want to be friends!"

He chuckles as he pushes himself up from wall. "Then walk with me, would'ya?" He nods his head off in the same direction he starts walking, expecting that you'll follow.

You do, your feet moving faster than your brain can overthink your way into a no. But as you walk next to him your thoughts catch up with you.

What are you supposed to talk about? What do you know about him? Quidditch. What do you know about Quidditch? You know lots about Quidditch. Quick, say something about Quidditch before this silence gets awkward. Why do you suddenly not know anything about Quidditch?

The effects of your racing mind are written across face, your features contorted in worry and a lasting skepticism as you glance up at James every so often.

James is glancing at you too, finding every little crease and contour from your worried look endearing as silent laughter bubbles in his chest.

"Alright, what's that face?" James finally asks, his tone as gentle as possible as not to make you uncomfortable.

Your expression softens into sheepishness. James looks at you with such kindness that you find yourself voicing your concerns.

"We're friends?" you ask in a small, hesitant voice.

James is quick to defend his claim, "I've known you since we were kids!"

"We haven't spoken since we were kids," you say.

He seems to deflate at your words, faltering as he experiences a moment of speechlessness.

"Besides," you go on, a hint of smugness creeping up on you, "we've known everyone at this school since we were kids. Does that make us friends with everyone?"

James is quick to shake his head. "Not everyone was as kind as you back then."

Any trace of smugness has been quickly expunged and replaced by a fluttering in your stomach as his eyes fill with what you would call admiration if you didn't know any better.

"And you were exceptionally kind," he adds on, not helping ease the butterflies in your stomach. "Though you're right. I should've talked to you. I don't know why I didn't talk to you more."

"It's okay," you say in a small voice, prompting you to clear your throat before you continue, "We're talking now."

James smiles that radiant, charming smile that makes you swoon. Before silence can settle over you James' face lights up as an idea pops into his head.

"Have you even been on the Quidditch Pitch at night? I mean, when there's no game going on?"

You shake your head, your eyebrows creasing as you find his question rather random. Before you've fully grasped what he's implying, he's grabbing your hand and dragging you out of the castle.

A gasp escapes your lips as he tugs you along, his enthusiasm and long strides causing him to race ahead without realizing how fast he’s moving. It's only when you're outside that you find your voice again.

"James!"

He slows his pace and drops your hand. For a moment, he looks almost embarrassed, shrugging his shoulders as he lacks an excuse for his sudden burst of energy.

You shake your head with a smile. “Some things never change. Do you ever take a deep breath and just mellow out?” you ask, noticing with amusement that he’s just as hyperactive now as he was when you were kids.

James makes a big show of taking a long, deep breath as he falls into step with you at a much more leisurely pace than before.

You shake your head again, chuckling.

"Some things do change, by the way. For example, you were taller than me back then," he says, resting his elbow on the top of your head to emphasize the difference.

You jerk your head away, playfully retorting, "Everyone was taller than you."

"Shut up!" he laughs, letting his arm fall to his side. He's close enough that his arm brushes against yours as you walk. You feel the shake of his laughs against your skin and you can't help but giggle along.

It doesn't take long to walk to the quidditch pitch. The walk felt shorter than it does on game days, but maybe that's because you didn't have James to walk with.

You follow James out to the very center of the field, where he wastes no time to plop down into the grass. "Lay with me," he says, crossing his arms behind his head. "You can see all the stars from out here," he says to convince you.

"You come out here a lot?" you ask as you sink down beside him. The grass tickles your skin as you lay down.

"I've been coming out here since I was a first year," James reveals. "I used to lay in the grass, just like this, and imagine what I would look like flying above dodging bludgers and scoring winning goals."

"Yeah?"

James hums affirmatively. "I've always loved Quidditch. Wanted to play for as long as I can remember. And then I came to Hogwarts, and Merlin, I thought the Quidditch players were so cool. Wanted to be like them so bad."

"What does it feel like?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you’re the one first years are looking up to now."

"No, they're not," James scoffs in complete disbelief.

"James," you deadpan, thinking he can't be serious. "You're the Gryffindor captain and rightfully so. One of the best chasers Hogwarts has probably ever seen. I mean, way you escaped that bludger last weekend?” you muse. “Not to mention the Chudley Chop Down you pulled off. You looked just like the professionals, it was incredible!"

James is caught at a loss for words again, a rare occurrence for him, but you've managed to make it happen twice now.

You clear your throat, realizing how you've just raved on about him to his face. You excuse yourself with, "I, um, I really like Quidditch."

James blinks away the awestricken glint in his eyes, responding, "Figured as much. Don't think I've ever played a game I haven't seen you in the crowd of. But enough about me," he continues. "What about you and your achievements, eh?”

“What are you talking about?”

"Don't be coy. You have to be the brightest witch at Hogwarts."

"No, that's–"

"C'mon I've seen the marks you get. And no one gets Gryffindor more house points in class than you do. All the professors love you; Slughorn always seats you to his right at Slug Club meetings. And I thought Minnie had a soft spot for me but then I saw how she talks to you."

"Maybe if you called her Professor McGonagall once in a while," you tease, trying to distract him from showering you with anymore compliments to spare your heart from racing any longer.

"Wouldn't matter. She likes you because you're smart. Driven too. She knows you’ll do great things after school. Everyone knows you'll be one of the most successful in our class."

"I hardly think anyone notices me,” you say, nervously ripping up blades of grass from the ground.

"I have," he says, looking at you with so much fondness it takes your breath away.

Your eyes widen, sparkling with warm astonishment at all his kind words. James notices the way your parted lips curve into a small, shy smile. Slowly, it grows into a grin.

He nudges you, "Now what's that look for?"

"This is just... unexpected."

"Unexpected?"

"I mean I didn't realize you remembered by name, let alone knew anything about me."

James' expression is tinted with disbelief. He removes his arms from behind his head as he angles his body slightly toward you, gearing towards something serious. "Of course I did. When I said you were kind to me back then, you were really the only one who was. How could I forget you?"

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise as James sighs deeply.

"Merlin, I really should have talked to you more," he says, shaking his head.

"It's okay–"

"No," he insists, "I should have talked to you more. I don't know why I didn't– I mean I do know why I just..."

You swallow hard, giving yourself time to find your voice. "There's a reason?" you ask.

James turns his head, shifting back against the grass as his gaze finding the stars above him. You can see the moon reflecting in his eyes as he bathes in its light. He looks ethereal like this.

"You make me nervous," he's able to admit in the comfort of not having to see your reaction, pretending it’s just him and the moon out here.

Your jaw goes slack. You'd sooner think you're being pranked or he's under some kind of spell than to believe his words.

"What?" you finally utter. Your hand freezes with a chunk of freshly ripped up grass held hostage between your fingertips.

James chuckles, "You were so nice to me. And I always thought you were so pretty I– every time you said something kind to me I would get so red in the face."

You're silent, at a loss for words as you try to wrap your mind around his admission. If the tips of his ears hadn't turned red, you'd think he's lying.

"I mean everything made me nervous back then," he continues. "Thank Merlin I grew out of that, but you..."

James finally looks at you again, his eyes darting across your face as he absorbs your reaction. Carefully, he takes hold of your wrist, placing your palm flat on his chest, over his heart.

"You still make my heart race," he says quietly, and you can feel the proof under your fingertips.

Words make their way past your lips almost instinctively, driven by a desire to reassure him. "I... I was too nervous to talk to you too."

The fondness in his eyes grows even warmer, and he begins tracing gentle lines on the back of your wrist with the pad of his thumb. "It's alright," he says. His tone is genuine and hopeful as he continues, "We're talking now," he repeats your words from earlier with newfound affection. "And I'd really like it if we could keep talking."

"Yeah," you say. A wave of courage washes over you, and you adjust your hand to intertwine your fingers with his. "Me too."

After that, you find yourself out here a lot more often, staring at the stars with James, your fingers intertwined. You're both much more comfortable around each other now, but from time to time, you still make each other's heart race.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

[liveontelevision]

Sweet Radio Demon Alastor x Reader

As promised, here she is -

It's inspired by Living Tombstone's song Alastor's Game!

CW: Reader is a cannibal and it's a p big part of the story so mentions and details of cannibalistic intent and murder

♡♡♡

Some people just don't belong in Hell. The structure of divine judgment must be rigged, punishing any poor soul who commits sin without realizing it. Those individuals don't belong.

Then there are those who do. Those who realize there's an afterlife and instantly come to terms with their placement. That's when all the Oh, I'm definitely going to Hell for this jokes start to bite back.

It's always easier for those who choose to be sinners to adapt to Hell's settings. The job market for porn stars and actors is extensive, and protection is almost guaranteed despite the souls owed or deals made.

But, what interested you the most, you depraved sinner you, was the loveliness of Cannibal Town. Not only was it the nicest part of Pentagram City, but you felt right at home considering your appetite when you were living.

It was immense. Some kind of craving that you could never satisfy, no matter how many callers you invited into your home and how many of them never left. You got creative, playing with recipes, spices, and cooking methods, but it was never, never, enough.

Sometimes, you'd wonder how you got to this point. You were a normal enough kid, went to school, had a nuclear home life, and you were comfortable financially, the works.

You remember it feeling like a stomach ache.

A stomach ache that brought you to tears and kept you from school some days. You almost assumed it was something every child went through until you learned what subdued the pain.

Meat.

It was the solution. You ate like a carnivore at first, then the food became increasingly rare as you aged up. Until you stumbled upon some strange forums online (There's something online for everyone, I suppose). You gave in to the cryptid suggestions. You tried rodents at first, only after thorough mental and food preparation, but fuck did it do the job. It made your body shutter and your mind hazy, momentarily melting any thoughts of guilt you might still have.

As time went on, you grew hungrier. Animals weren't cutting it.. but maybe he could.

You found him online, chatted for a while over some messenger, then discovered how much of a dirtbag he truly was. That seemed to disarm you from the whole idea.

Poor thing.

Maybe if he was kind enough, he would have been spared.

You invited him over.

As you watch him approach your door, you tussle your hair, and adjust your clothes that leave little to the imagination. With a continuous, you can do this, you can do this, you're drawn to the knocking of the door.

"Damn, babe, if I knew you actually looked like this, I would've come over sooner." He props his arm on the doorframe as he speaks.

Is.. is that supposed to be a compliment?

Your eye only twitches a bit before you cover your expression with a cute giggle. Holding your hands behind your back, you lean forward.

"Not too bad yourself, big guy. How's a movie sound?"

One thing leads to another, you're seated on your couch, and his hands are immediately on you. For someone who acts so big and tough, his touch is awkward and uncomfortable. Like he doesn't know what he's doing.. probably because he doesn't know what he's doing.

The inexperience helps.

You didn't take into account how large he was. Assuming this would go as planned, you'd be set for weeks, but the actual action of getting him down still worries you.

You're barely an hour into the movie, which you can hardly remember, before his sloppy lips are on yours, which you respond to with a grimace. He doesn't seem to take into account your reactions, grunting against your very unresponsive lips.

Disgusting.

Pig.

He places a large hand on your waist, pulling you roughly to him.

Strong.

Muscular.

You need more. You need to evaluate your prey. You place your hand on his wrist, delicately running your fingers up the entirety of his forearm, tracing and digging into each vein and muscle you can find. That continues up to his chest. Before long, you find yourself straddling him, his wide hips forcing your legs apart a decent amount. Despite his build, his composure clearly shows he's nearly at your mercy. While you're running your hands along his body continuously, occasionally kissing him or letting out fake moans to his ear, you're feeling his ever-growing length pressing into your leg.

You'd be disgusted by the sensation if you weren't planning your next move internally.

You hid weapons everywhere. If you remember correctly, there should be a knife sitting in the crevice between the couch’s armrest and the side table. You just have to reach -

"Take this off." You command with a breathy voice, tugging at his t-shirt that had some unknown stain on it. You almost regret putting so much effort into your appearance.

Oh, well. You're taking notes in the back of your mind for any future endeavors.

You guide his desperate hands to pull the shirt over his head. In one movement, you drop the shirt and take the hidden knife into your hand. You hadn't realized until just now, but -

You're shaking.

You let out a deep breath. With your arms reaching over the arm of the couch, you're essentially caging him in. Nothing looks suspicious yet. Not to him, at least.

You lean in to give him one final kiss. You aren't exactly sure why. It's not doing anything for you. Maybe some sort of sympathy is crossing your mind?

… You'll have to work on that.

You pull away slowly, giving yourself time to examine the state he's in. His eyes are glazed over, his breath shallow.

Now.

Do it now.

You're ready. You've studied anatomy, disarmed yourself to the idea, and prepared for the worst.

You have to do it now.

You straighten your back, the knife now visible to him. He doesn't seem to notice at first until your arms are in the air, hoping to find some momentum in the stab. With your eyes still open, you find the spot where it should end this without too much pain for either party. You dive as fast as you can, but you made a fatal error.

You shut your eyes.

The moment was immediately silenced by the tension of his hand fisting the blade of the knife. He caught it. He stopped it just before it could pierce his chest, only bleeding from his palm. You both sit silently, in disbelief, perhaps.

A silent curse slips from your lips, and that seems to snap him back to this failure of a hook-up.

"You fucking psychopath!" He screeches. He stands, effectively throwing you off his lap as he does so. The action forces a small yelp out of you, and your grip on the knife is immediately taken from you. You stare up at him from the ground.

The tables seem to have turned. He's looking down at you, stumbling and struggling to find his grounding, all the while holding the knife. Despite this, despite his large build and his newfound advantage, he bolts for the door.

Was this better than him attacking you? Will he go to the police? You almost hope he's fragile enough to not admit he was attacked by a frail creature, or that he'll use this as a story to brag to his friends over, I escaped a psycho bitch last night.

You start cursing again. They become more frantic and louder as you follow him out. You watch him stumble off your patio and back to his car. You manage to find reality when a previous thought hits you.

You hid weapons everywhere.

A shotgun sits by your front door. It wasn't the most hidden, but in your defense, it was dark enough outside that it went unnoticed. And you're in a rural enough area that some wouldn't bat an eye at the sight of it.

With shaky hands, you pick it up, already loaded, and aim it at him. He's already in the driver's seat, but you're too exposed to let him just drive off at this point.

You didn't really know much about guns. But in an emergency such as this, it seemed like it would come in handy. So when you took your shot, you never considered the consequences of shooting bullets at a running car, especially with your poor aim.

You come to moments later, fire and pieces of metal surround you. You try to take in your surroundings, but your ears are ringing, and your senses are overwhelmed by the severe burns covering most of your body. You manage to find your home, still mostly intact. The car, on the other hand, is completely decimated.

In the corner of your eye, you think you can spot some resemblance of your date sprawled along the asphalt. With a heavy breath, which you consider might be your last, you let your head drop onto the pavement.

-

"My my, what a predicament you've got yourself into!"

A voice?

It echoes through your head. You can still only see the crackling of the fire surrounding you, and your ears still ring, but the voice seems clear as day. There's a bit of a static to it, but still it's clearnes startles you. You attempt to respond through the pain.

"W-Who-"

"Save your strength, my dear. I'll be quick since it seems you won't be with us much longer." The voice says. You can hear footsteps, a clear clicking of heels that echo in this ethereal space you find yourself. You struggle to lift your head, only catching a glimpse of the stranger kneeling in front of you.

"I'll clean up this little mess of yours, and we can discuss my repayment once you're in less of a.. scorched state. Deal?"

How could you consider the consequences? Or even comprehend his words while you’re like this? You aren't sure what he means, and you have no time to question. Your consciousness seems to be honing in on the burns.

You let out a horrific scream, clutching your arms, only intensifies the pain. If you could see the stranger, you'd see a disturbingly unphased smile.

"Help me - H-Help me! Please!" You beg and cry out, finally reaching out your hand to him.

"So? Do we have a deal?"

"Deal - Deal! Fuck- I-It hurts..!" You sob, biting your blood-dampened lip to prevent any more screams.

He takes your hand, gripping onto the raw skin of your burns. Your next scream comes out silently. You feel your vision blur before your body finally comes to terms with its seemingly sealed fate.

-

You shoot up from your bed, your face running with tears. They feel cool, running down your heated cheeks. You quickly wipe your face, leaving a wet smudge of makeup and sweat across your fingers.

Right.. make-up from the date.

You scan your bed, no man in sight. It’s a relief to wake up in your bed alone. Shifting out from under the covers, you look to your hands, waving them in front of your eyes and running your hands across your own skin.

Smooth.

Maybe even softer than you remember previously.

Some sort of calming amenity seems to be sweeping over your body. With glazed eyes, you examine your body that should be severely burned, yet you feel nothing.

Still, in a state of shock, you rise and wrap yourself in your blanket before leaving your bedroom looking a mess. You roam your home, looking around with still-damp eyes. You feel like a tourist. Like none of this is yours.

Not anymore.

You find yourself standing by your front door, opening it without hesitation. It's a clear sunny day. The grass is just as green, if not greener, and there were flowers there that you don't recall ever planting.

Suddenly, your bare feet against the heated pavement sends a slight panic through you, as the more gruesome details of the previous night conjured in your mind.

That's why nothing looks right. You were sure your porch was blackened by the fire. The grass was a flame, and there was a car - and that man and the voice -

You approach where his car was parked, only to find a torn-up strip of rubber, assumingly from its tire.

"What the.." unable to even complete a thought, a familiar voice only brings up more questions.

"Ah, my apologies! I assure you it is quite out of character for me to miss a spot." You see a disturbingly tall figure come from behind, swooping down to pick up the rubber scrap. He examines it within his red talons, turning it back and forth. You stand dumbfounded, but he goes on anyway.

"So, what exactly caused your date to ..implode? Was he not to your liking? Too handsy? Too-"

...

You're too tired for this.

You rub the sleep from your eyes, turning on your heels and letting the blanket drag across the rugged pavement behind you as you head back inside. You almost expect some sort of resistance from him, a qwip on how rude it is to walk off in the middle of a conversation, but there is none. Maybe you just imagined that little interaction. Maybe there wasn't really anyone there, and you're still tired or still sleeping.

You open the door, and that same bright smile greets you from inside your own home.

That seems to wake you up.

Your wide eyes scan his face, then peek inside your home behind him. You turn back around to see where he previously was, and obviously there's no sign of his travels. You slowly turn back.

"May I speak now?" His voice is laced with a radio filter, and it hits your ears in the strangest way. The reality of the situation turns your exhaustion into apprehension, yet you nod your head anyway.

"I may have caught you in the midst of your disarray, but I must admit, I'm curious about what led to it." He steps aside and gestures for you to come inside. To your own house.

"H-He got the upper hand is all." You decide not to comment, moving inside sluggishly. As far as you know, this strange being has no idea of the sins you've committed. You quickly fib.

"He attacked me, actually."

"Oh, how devastating!" He lets out a saddened sigh, a hand over his heart with fake sympathy. "Now, was that before or after you attempted to drive a knife through his chest?"

With a defeated groan, you flop onto the couch.

"What are you? A sleep paralysis demon? A.. nightmare? Am I still asleep?" You grumble, running the possibilities out loud and not expecting a true answer. You actually hoped that it would all go away. That this voice in your head, this hallucination, is just that.

In your head.

"Ooh, I like the sound of that.. A nightmare~ has a nice ring to it wouldn't you say?" He stands in front of you, his hands folded formally behind his back.

"Now. Enough with the compliments. What truly happened, my dear?” When his voice suddenly turns sympathetic, you find yourself actually in need of someone to vent to.

“Well, since you're clearly just a nightmare - or.. something - ” You sit up, take in a deep breath, and with its release, you reveal yourself.

All of you.

Every single animal you've killed to curb your pain, what seems to work and what doesn't, and the previous nights failure. You talk about the number of friends and family you've scared off throughout the years, everything.

“I.. was gonna eat.. him…” You squeak out your final sentence. You've never really said it out loud before. And never in front of someone else. It made your own blood run cold. Not the thought of the act itself, but just sharing it aloud. your eyes stay fixed on your fidgeting hands in your lap when a loud cackle interrupts your anxiousness.

“My word, aren’t you just the cutest basket case? You're lucky to be dealing with a demon of similar tastes.” He hisses his final words, all with a sly smile. He sounds prideful in his admission. His words seem like they're meant to disarm you, and even though he essentially admitted to being a cannibalistic demon, it works.

“Well.. since we have sooo much in common-” Your voice drags, the notion of being similar to this demon feeling strange to mention out loud, “-would you.. help me? With all this..?”

Expecting another laugh, maybe some more teasing, you're met with a confusing expression. His smile is still there, unmoving, but you catch the smallest twinkle in his eye. He stands and faces away. The hope of finding an outlet for your cannibalistic intent starts to dwindle.

Your misplaced disappointment is overtaken by the flickering of lights and the soft tunes of a radio nearby, one that you recognized but were sure had been broken for decades. He turns his head unnaturally, looking over his shoulder to meet you with blackened eyes.

“I would be absolutely delighted.”

-

“Lucky for you, some of your late-night delivery seemed to withstand the flames!”

You follow that transatlantic accent to your kitchen, unamused by his continuous puns and casual speech. This big scary demon friend of yours presents a commically large plate, with a very familiar carcass sitting atop.

He did nothing to make it look any less disturbing than it truly was. the skin was nearly burned off, the smell was just awful, and the shirt was somehow still recognizable through it all.

You cover your mouth in response. The fact that it doesn't smell much different than some of the other carnivorous meals you’ve prepared nauseates you more than the sight of the corpse itself.

“Quite a specimen, very good choice! But, you needed tips, correct?”

All you can think of to respond is a simple nod of your head.

“Then let's get started!” With a snap of his clawed fingers, a sleek black apron covers his suit.

The next few hours were grueling, but.. fun? If you're allowed to call it that. You were given multiple pointers, and sure, they were all quite helpful, but they were in excruciating detail. What certain parts of the body you should pick or avoid was one thing, but discussing what wine pairs with what organs? It's not a conversation you ever thought you'd have.

By the time the meal looks normal, all decorated with spices in a baking pan and in the oven, you instinctively go to do dishes. As you fill the sink and start bringing things over, a little creature has you nearly tripping. You look down, seeing a strange little stitched doll carrying most of the dishes to the sink. No matter how strange it looked, you respond with a curious hum, fully desensitized to it at this point.

“Huh..” is all you can say. You take any remaining dishes and follow suit, plopping it all into the water. The little doll seems to be tugging at your leg when you try to walk off. It's holding its arms up to you, letting out little murmurs that sound restrained by the stitches across its mouth. You hesitate at first, but scoop it up in your arms and place it aside the sink. And it gets to work scrubbing away.

“Damn, you're cute, and you clean? Can I keep you?” You ask it quietly, giving it a quick pat on the head. It seems to smile.

“Quite a delightful little thing, one of my better creations, I must admit.” The response from him seems to scare the poor thing straight. It immediately lowers its head and focuses on cleaning. You scoff at the interaction between the two. if his own toy is scared of him, should you be as well? “That being said, I simply can not part with it. My apologies.”

“Oh, I was kidding. Mostly.” You reply quietly. You hear the first chuckle from him that seems genuine. No ill intent, just a joyous response to your little quip. It felt kinda.. Nice.

-

“So, Mr. Scary Demon Man-” You clear your throat before you speak. “-why are you here, exactly? did I do something to summon you? Or-” He cocks his head to the side at the title, a little twitch to his eye.

“Not at all, my dear. I simply wanted to help you in your little endeavors, from one cannibal to another, Haha!” His tone goes back to that of a salesman. Like he’s trying to convince you he’s something he’s not.

“Well.. thank you, I guess. I don't really understand why you’d want to help me without wanting something in return, though. You don't seem like-”

“-A charitable man? I suppose that’s fair.” He doesn’t give you a chance to reply. “If you’re so desperate to return the favor, why don’t we strike a deal? Just a little one. Between friends.”

You weren’t stupid. His words made it clear that this was his intention from the moment he chose to save your life. You shrunk a bit.

“Sure, between friends.” You let out a sigh, your somewhat chipper attitude immediately fading. He takes no time to be empathetic.

“Good! Now, you seem to have an eye for food. This meal was ideal considering your poor execution.” You can’t stop your eyes from rolling. “And you can’t get meals quite like this where I’m from. How about you keep providing, with my assistance, and I’ll make sure it’s prepared to the best of my abilities. In exchange for all my hard and generous work, I get half the spoils! Seems far more favorable on your end, but I’m feeling rather generous today.”

Where he’s from? You want to question it. You want to know more about him, you want to know -

“What’s your name?” Your sudden questioning leaves him speechless for a moment, but he’s quick to recover his charming smile. “You never told me.”

“Well, considering you won’t need my name if you don’t agree to this little game, how about I throw that in as well? You provide the living flesh, and I’ll handle the rest. And, you’ll get my name.” He stands before you, a bit too close for your comfort, as he reaches his hand out to you. “Call it a deal?”

An ominous green glow surrounds the two of you. It sends some kind of wind through your clothes and hair. His hand is especially bright, and his eyes go back to that frightening black that you experienced previously.

At the end of the day, if this is what you have to do to stifle those damned pains, it doesn't seem all that bad. You extend your hand, instinctively flinching at the seemingly impending danger. But that still doesn't stop you.

“O-Okay.. Deal.” With the touch of his palm against yours, the glow flashes, forcing your body to tense and your eyes to squeeze shut. It only lasts for a moment, though. When you open your eyes, you first examine your connected hands. His hand is huge compared to yours. From this proximity, you can truly take in how unnaturally tall he is.

Attempting to tug your hand back, his grip tightens, forcing your hand to his lips for a quick kiss to your knuckles. An outdated and surprisingly intimate action leaves you a bit flustered.

“My name is Alastor. It’s been a pleasure, my dear~”

-

And so, your transactional deal went on, right until your demise. You used a similar tactic to bring more meals to your doorstep, finding a handful of poor saps online. You weren’t exactly sure what he meant when he offered his assistance, but when the time came, a strength took over your body that you never experienced before. There were no more shaky hands or sympathy. Your aim was always true, and it was just so easy. Any impending dangers or possible retaliations were alerted to you by a subtle whisper, a voice, coming from just behind you. It was startling at first, but quickly became a comfort.

When it came to preparing the food, which Alastor said he’d handle, you’d essentially leave your victim's remains in the kitchen and would come back to a meal ready for the oven. Sometimes, you’d leave the body as is, limp on the couch, or sprawled on the floor, only when you were too exhausted to deal with the clean-up. On nights like that, you’d wake up to a completed meal the next morning. You liked to picture him going through your home, rolling up his sleeves and wearing that apron, cleaning things up, and cooking in your kitchen how he did that first night.

That being said, you didn't normally see his physical form. There was the lent strength and whispers during your hunts, but other than that, contact seemed to nearly cease. Why was that upsetting you? You cursed yourself for being too much of a romantic - for making this seem like anything more than a delusion you conjured up to make this whole action easier for you.

And that pain? That constant hunger that was never sufficed nearly went away. In fact, you’ve never felt fuller.

He did return on especially rare occasions. You never complained, and you attempted to hide your excitement when you'd catch him lurking in the corner of your eye.

Sometimes, it was to cook for you again. Despite the deal being in full swing, you would ask him to show you some of the recipes. Normally, it would just appear, looking delicious and homemade as always, yet you still pestered him to show you how to prepare some things. He always acted burdened by it, but seeing him cooking felt.. Domestic. Like, when he was cooking, he was truly in his element. It made it easy to forget what he was, which you found yourself questioning less and less. It simply didn't matter anymore.

One particular visit was late into the night. He actually woke you up from the racket, which had never happened before. Stumbling out of your bed, expecting to see police raiding your home or something worse, you’re instead met with a swaying radio demon and a shattered vase. Whenever he was around, soft music would play from your busted radio, a contrasting notion to the fumbling man in front of you now.

“Alastor?” You call out, a wave of relief hitting you and bringing the baseball bat from your hands to the floor. “What the hell are you doing? It’s like.. three in the morning..” The realization of the time makes the previous adrenaline seep out of you.

“Ha-ha! Isn’t that an interesting concept? The Devil’s Hour. Throw some religious implications, and it drives people mad! In reality, it’s just when your feeble body is at its most vulnerable.” He rambles on, spilling the drink from his bottle as he exaggerates his actions. He walks to you as he goes on, his body still swaying. “When your little fragile human heart reaches its lowest speed. When waking you would cause.. distress.” He goes on, his words suddenly sounding melancholic.

“Your breathing is erratic.” He adds, staring intensely at your heaving chest. “And you are hot to the touch-” The back of his claws trace the apple of your cheek, where even you can feel the heat radiating from your skin. Because his voice has no filter. You’ve never heard it like that before. You’ve never heard him sound so human.

His hand traces down your face to press against your chest. He’s feeling your heart. And it’s beating erratically.

“Your heart is fast. Are you distressed?” He leans in closer, to the point where you can smell the alcohol on his breath. “Do I make you distressed?”

In a flustered panic, you push him away. His closeness, his touch, it all threw you off guard.

“N-no, I’m just tired. You woke me up in the middle of the night, asshole.” You cross your arms over your chest, watching him laugh and struggle to find his bearings after being shoved. With a groan, you pull him by his slender arm over to the couch. He sits down with a thud, and you sit a careful distance next to him.

“That is what is so refreshing about you, my dear.” He lets out a dreamy sigh, and you pull the whiskey from his hand before he can break anything else. “Why - you have no idea who you’re dealing with, I could be a powerful demon overlord,” He slurs his words. “But, to you, I’m just your sweet radio demon~” He sings out.

Alastor leans into you, uncharacteristically tapping your nose. You swat his hand away, forcing another loud chuckle from him. He stays leaning forward, even seated beside you, he towers over you. Your wide eyes meet his.

“Even your eyes show no sign of fear. How curious.” You stay like this a little longer. His breath still reeks of expensive whiskey, but you can’t seem to tear your eyes from him. You’re terribly focused on keeping your distance, but he doesn't seem to have the same concern.

With a sly smile, he removes his coat and flips to his back, laying his head in your lap. With his long legs crossed over each other and hanging very much off the couch, you’re almost nervous to touch him. He wasn’t especially touchy, only doing so when necessary; fingers brushing against fingers, a hand on the shoulder for a mere second- why can you remember each moment so vividly? Why is it so fresh in your mind?

“Alastor, what are you doing here? Why aren’t you at home? or.. wherever you are when you're not here?” That’s still something you’ve questioned. You weren’t one to pester him so insistently, wery on losing the good thing you have going on.

“Unfortunately, I’m not sure! Be careful with your alcohol, my dear! Ha-haa!” He slurs out with a grin. “I suppose.. I prefer to be here.”

“What? Why? If you’re some powerful overlord, don’t you have somewhere better to be getting sloshed?” You scoff, keeping your eyes away from his head that was still perched comfortably in your lap. He seems to even nuzzle into your thighs a bit, and it only flushes you more. You take an unpermitted swig of his confiscated drink.

“Hm! Well, I can’t exactly get meat this fresh in Hell-” He taps his chin in thought to your rhetorical question that clearly went right over his head. “-besides! It’s not nearly as nice without you.” He sounds so matter of fact, so sure of his words. You hold your breath, suddenly reliving every moment together before this.

You’d chat and joke around in the kitchen, but you’ve really learned more about him than you thought. How he sews together those strange little creatures. And he seems so proud of them, despite their clear fear of his presence. You noticed he always puts some sort of spice in the meals he cooks, and that even if it's too much, you eat it anyway. How he simply hates getting dirty despite his occupation. He rolls up his sleeves, has that dumb apron, and uses those little toys of his to keep clean.

You loved it.

You’ve done nothing but enjoy every moment with him. You don’t need to know what he is to know that.

Wait, did he say Hell?

“You’re from Hell? There’s a Hell??” With a more shocked exclamation than feared, you finally look down at him. He’s too far gone, humming along to the music, he barely hears your questions. With a clearly defeated sigh, you brush his hair from his face. He winces from the action, his smile wavering but not breaking under your touch.

“Ah, I wish I knew how you survive this cozy little life.” His voice is quiet and mumbled.

You.

I can live this way because of you.

He manages to finish off the bottle with one more swig - when did he take that back?

Your thoughts begin to wander, absent-mindedly twirling strands of hair through your fingers, raking your fingers down his scalp, only to startle yourself with the sensation of animalistic ears. And they’re twitching. Whether it be your reaction or his, it seems to force a little yelp from you, so you reel your hand away.

“I didn’t mean to alarm you, darling.. Could you - or.. You can.. Continue. If you’d like.” His voice had dropped that strange filter again. You feel woozy. That whiskey you had shared, maybe it was strong. Or.. it was the middle of the night, you were sure you were just tired. You spiraled to come up with any reasonable excuse other than developing feelings for a Hellbound demon. You wonder if you-

Oh, you’re definitely going to Hell.

But, could it be something to look forward to?

Your intimate thoughts cloud your mind, leaving your hand mindlessly petting a literal demon. Your fingers combed through his hair, delicately clawing up the ears and pinching the softness at the tip of each one. Despite your thorough and elaborate massage, your mind has wandered to how a relationship with a possible hallucination of a demon would work out. But that's ridiculous, isn’t it?

“Alastor, can I ask you-” your words are brought to a halt and your eyes drop. A quiet hum of satisfaction, leaving a barely conscious radio demon, who’s head still sat in your lap. With a curse under your breath you decide you're trapped.

There was absolutely no chance of escape. What, were you supposed to wake him? What if you upset a powerful overlord demon, or whatever he claimed to be? Albeit uncomfortable, you force yourself to sleep. Enjoy it while you can, who knows if it's even real?

You didn't see him for awhile after that.

-

Alastor was a poinient man. He never missed a pick up before. So when you realized the meat you've portioned off for him was still sitting in your fridge, you start to worry. You're not exactly sure why, you’ve pushed any and every intimate thought from your mind.

This is purely transactional.

Even though his portion had gone untouched for a few days.. A few weeks, if you really think about it, you already had a date set with another victim.

It went on as usual. A dumb hunk of meat thinks he’s all that until you’re straddling him. You decide to stick to what you know works; a knife to the heart.

You mapped exactly where to plant it, as he fiddles with your top, and with a raised arm, you go to claim your next victim.

There was no warning.

There was supposed to be a warning.

The next thing you know, you're pinned to the floor, your wrist being gripped so tightly you have no other option than to scream and lose your grip on the knife.

Your date took no time. No hesitation.

The last thing you see is the opposing view. A stranger straddling your body with a knife held high above his head.

It seems so quiet.

And it's awful.

Where was the warning?

If anything, you should've at least heard Alastor's voice telling you how to avoid this. You always do. A slight pang of worry hits you, but it's quickly overtaken by anger.

With a final yelp that's fueled with frustration, hurt, and a broken heart, you met your demise quickly and alone.

By the time you've come to, you're surrounded by a handful of black eyed children. You immediately scramble backward, hitting your back against a brick wall. You’d notice your surroundings if these little scavengers werent eyeing you with an innocent curioustity. You let out a hiss, holding a hand over your eye. A streak of blackened blood comes from it, your palm thoroughly stained with it.

“You must be new~”

“You’re very handsome!”

“How did you die?”

A bombard of tiny voices and questions go straight over your head, a ringing in your ears forcing your mind to go hazy.

“Alright, give ‘em some space, kids!” A sweet voice seems to bring you back. You look down to your seated body. Your skin is a deathly gray, and your top is stained with your own blood. It’s still red. “Don’t overwhelm the poor thing, I’m sure they’re quite shaken!”

Your eyes then trace up the silhouette of a vintage looking entourage, then to a sharp-toothed smile. The woman stands before you, a hand held out to you.

Her eyes are just as black and her skin is just as pale as those children that now whisper and giggle to eachother nearby.

It didn’t take you long to realize your misfortune.

You died.

You’re upset sure, but you find that you’re mostly angry. None of this wouldve happened if you- if he-

“Come on, cutie! Let’s get you cleaned up.” Her considerate smile clears your mind almost immediately. You don’t hesitate accepting her assistance.

-

“He was supposed to help me. He said he would be there for me! I died because of him..!”

A strained smile and a quick nod is the only response you get to your angered rambling. The kind face that scooped you off the streets was Rosie, one of the most powerful overlords in Hell, who just so happens to own most the souls in Cannibal town.

Lucky you.

She did exactly as she said, having her fun and playing a bit of dress up with you. It wasn't exactly your style, but there were more concerning things when it came to your appearance. Your eyes were just as black as Rosie’s. As those children who have been following you around.. In fact, most residents of cannibal town had this feature.

You really are in Hell.

Right where you belong.

Right along side people who are just like you. It almost felt.. Comfortable.

You confided in her, going on and on about some jerk of a demon who broke a promise that cost you your life. How he had been helping you in fights, saved your life a number of times, taught you how to cook, showed up drunk to simply sit in your lap, then just fucking disapeared when you needed him most. Your face was turning red, from anger or the way you gushed about him, Rosie couldn’t quite decipher.

What wasn’t comfortable was the period clothing you were put in. But according to Rosie, it’s Perfect! What a doll!

“Is Alastor. The radio demon?” She completes your sentence with a sigh, standing to tower over you and placing a hand on your shoulder. “I hate to break it to you, hun, but no one’s seen him in quite a while.. If i’m being entirely honest with you, he’s a dear friend of mine.” You instantly tense at her words. You just went on a rant about how shitty he was, only to find out he’s disapeared with no explanation. Maybe it was a good reason. A good enough reason to leverage your own life? You aren’t sure.

“I have to find him!” You finally say, as if a lightbulb switched in your head. He seemed so unattainable all these years, but now? You’re in his house. “Miss Rosie! Can you help me? His name-”

“I can’t say he didn’t wrong you, but he’s a man of his word, hun.. If he’s not holding up his promises, then he might be in some real trouble.. ” You hear her voice crack, yet she doesn't let her smile drop.

Another factor to consider that Alastor might have bitten more than he can chew, yet she still sympathises with you. You nearly knock the wind out of her with your arms encircling her small waist. Your head rests just at her chest. You can’t see her face, but her arms are around you almost instantly.

-

As you got settled in town, you did actually use the skills that Alastor had taught you throughout your lifetime. You understood why he made your previous deal. Demon flesh was just fine, but you really needed to spice it up to be anything special. And even then, it still couldn't compare to fresh, living, meat.

You started off just making and baking your own food. Then, when one cannibalistic child asked to try some, they told their friends, who told others.

After a while, you were cooking for half the town. You had a line every morning out of your own home. Once Rosie took notice, it was time for you to make a deal.

“Why can’t I sign a contract with you? You’ve done so much for me, I trust you with my soul.” You had taken Rosie out for dinner, where you planned to discuss a potential deal. Even with you barely being in Hell for a year, you heard plenty about Extermination Day, contracts, dealing in souls, all of it. You did your research. You talked to some of the townsfolks and saw no real downside in giving your soul away. Your proposal seems to surprise her, though.

“You still have your soul? Didn’t you make a deal with Alastor?” She asks, quieting her voice when she says his name, as if just the sound of it would make you upset. It only makes your eye twitch, though, just at the thought of the whole ordeal.

“I did, but he didn't say anything about my soul.. Was he.. Supposed to take it?” You question.

“Well.. he’s made deals like that before, favors for favors, right?” You nod. “But to go all the way to Earth just for some food? That’s.. Not like him…” Rosie seems to be lost in thought, trying to piece together his intentions. You clear your throat, and attempt to calmly bring her back. You slide a tupperware container of lady fingers you had made just before this.

“I want a restaurant, Rosie. I’ve been keeping an eye on that abandoned shop in the town square. I can feed everyone in town if you’ll let me. And.. protection, of course. Would that work?”

She opens the box with a sparkle in her black eyes, almost immediately popping one of the delicate treats to her lips. With a hum of satisfaction and a snap of her fingers, the glowing golden paper floats in front of your eyes.

“It’s a deal, darling!”

-

You could barely call it a restaurant at first, but you were elated. Rosie granted you some extra hands to make deliveries and assist in the kitchen. Everything seemed to be going your way. Your first extermination day went by quickly. For some reason, angels weren’t destroying everything in town. And you and your little shop were both safe, untouched, really.

You had a steady job, loving customers, and a residency near the center of town. You were almost surprised how having a shared interest, in eating human flesh, can bring people together. And after just a few years, you had a community.

You had a family.

Something you never really though you’d have, in life or death; A home.

Things were going so well. This was supposed to be your happy ending. It had been a few years since you had signed the contract, and you still feel satisfied with your decision. You could really be yourself here.

In Cannibal Town.

In Hell.

It made you laugh sometimes, how much joy the underworld brought you.

On a say that seemed like any other, you had sold out your stock for the day early, and went on to send the rest of yout employees home, when you heard a ruckus near the gazebo.

The screech of a microphone, and a very distant agitated Susan, is all you can truly hear from where you are. You drop everything to join the crowd.

It was the princess of Hell.. You weren’t one to keep up with politics or media, there was no need for you. You entertained yourself plenty just by residing in town. But, you managed to hear her blow up before being dragged away. A tall, rugged figure takes their place, ready to entertain the crowd while the Princess gathered herself.

“Come one, come all! While our little princess is collecting herself, who would appreciate a quick song, hm?”

“There is no fucking way..” You mutter to no one but yourself.

Alastor.

He holds his hand up to his ear, waiting patiently for the adoring crowd to praise his presence before he went on. You knew Rosie was a friend of his, he was a cannibal afterall, but for the entire town to love him just as much? Including Susan?

It’s absurd.

He went on to perform some showtune, one that sounded familiar to you. The crowd excitedly surrounds the pavilion, dragging you nearly to the front. You held a look of disgust. A look of betrayal.

You didnt want to see him, you told yourself. Things were perfect as is, you felt no need to repair a relationship with your imaginary friend you conjured up while alive.

Although, you never thought you had to. He had been gone for years, he nearly became just a passing thought.

An unreasonable part of you stayed put. A part of you wants him to see you and recognize you, to remember what he had forgotten. You stood with your arms crossed, your heart beating rapidly just at the sight of him.

He looks entirely the same, completely unphased. You’ve changed so much visually, and you’re happier now. Bolder. You’re not shying down now.

He catches your eyes.

The music screeches to a halt, sounding like a record player needle dragging across the disc. You’re holding back a smile, almost proud that you were able to stop him in his tracks. This had to be the first time he’s thought of you in over seven years.

And stops singing.

Lucky for him, the princess is finally ready to make her own point. You stick around, not exactly paying attention to her lyrics. You keep your face of disdain strong, stepping away and flinching at any advance Alastor would make to reel in the crowd. He seems to distract himself just fine until Charlie whisks away the crowd. Again, you're firmly planted in your spot.

Alastor turns to you, much more apparent of who he’s dealing with now that you stand alone from the crowd. His ears are flat against his head, and his smile is turned at the corners. His eyes seem to dart back and forth as if he’s deciding whether or not to stay. To be with you.

Oh, he’s nervous.

You’ve never seen him nervous before. It feels good. You’re making the almighty Radio Demon nervous. You smile just slightly. But not a smile between old friends, but a smile in response to his realization that he fucked up.

Despite your delay, Alastor continues on with the rest of the parade. Your body immediately lost all tension once he leaves.

-

“Well, well! I knew I recognized that menu. I was ready to tear apart some poor sinner for using my recipes.” A familiar, antagonizing voice echoes throughout your little empty shop.

You turn on your heels, almost startled by the sudden intrusion.

Almost.

But, you'd be lying if you said you weren't hoping for it.

Just a little.

Of course, he'd come back. Maybe to make another lowly deal. Or to get you to do more menial tasks for him, to flaunt his power and authority.

“Yeah, well.. when you've been left for dead, and all you have is your skills, you do what you have to, to survive.” You snap, turning your back to him to continue wiping off an already spotless counter. “Plus, it never hurts to marginalize.”

“I've actually tried some of your food here.. Hm! And I hadn't the slightest idea who prepared such a meal. You've gotten better, I'll give you that! Such a small world.” He says with a nostalgic sigh. You can hear his heels clicking throughout the empty store, circling the room before eventually approaching you.

How can he speak to you like you were still.. aquitanced?

“I hope whatever kept you busy these seven years was worth my life.” You mutter. You weren't sure if you wanted him to hear that or not. Maybe if he did, he'd finally apologize or-

“Oh, it was! A nice little sabbatical is exactly what I needed.” You quickly turn to see him polishing his claws against his coat and smiling quite brightly. “I will say it is a pleasure to be meeting you here! I'm glad you settled in so easily.”

“You killed me, Alastor! You were supposed to keep me safe.. and now I'm dead! Because you disappeared without a word!” You start to scold him, finally hitting a breaking point. All he does is scoff at you.

“Oh please, I didn't even take your soul. And it's not like you'd end up anywhere else if you were to perish later on.” He speaks so casually about it all.

But, you were ready to cry. To kick and scream at his arrogance.

The feeling of sharp fingers engulfing your shoulders leaves you suddenly tense and puts your murderous thoughts on hold. He's vanished from in front of you and now looms over you, his eyes meeting yours from over your shoulder.

“Plus, you seem to be quite happy here! Why don't we just call it even then, hm?”

He can not be serious.

You pull away from him, the tears welling in your eyes finally letting loose.

“Alastor, stop!” You yelp, turning to face him. “That’s.. so unfair! You broke a promise! And you-” you hold your finger out to scold him even more, but you feel your body simply going slack. “-you hurt me.. I just.. thought that after all that time, after that night, you'd care a little more..” You look up to him, in the hopes of being met with some sort of sympathy. But his unnatural smile goes unwavering. You rub your arm awkwardly, losing your confidence as your words turn more vulnerable without your realizing.

“Oh, I can feel your pain, not to worry dear. I truly meant no harm when I couldn't hold up my end of the deal.” He's smiling and drawing out his words, only setting off a sense of unease within you. You finally let out a shaky sigh.

“With everything you've done for me.. I thought that.. you might've liked being around me…” You let out, your voice running slightly ragged from the previous shouts. “I thought we were having a good time! Then after all this?” You grow an uncertain smile.

A previous sight that made you giddy before only brings you dread now. His ears are flat, his eyes struggle to meet yours. He's losing his composure.

“I wouldn't be surprised if you wanted it to happen.” You laugh through your words, your hands raking through your hair in a stressed manner. In your little pits of passion, you don't get the chance to see his wavering smile, the grimace on his face, any of it. When your words are met with silence, though, that's when you finally look up to him.

He's nervous, again.

“Oh.. my-” your sentence barely starts before he attempts to cover his slip up.

“Now let's calm down, I really didn't mean for- I didn't intend-”

“Isn’t there rules to this? Were you ever allowed to meddle with my life in the first place - let alone - be on Earth??”

“-God! You killed me on purpose?? Just so I could come down here to do your bitch work?” You snap, your laugh becomes delirious and your tears betray the anger you're meant to be showing.

He’s scrambling for a witty reply, his expression finally showing his true intentions for the first time in a long while. He’s speechless.

“I’m such an idiot.. Of course, you never cared. Bastard.” You mumble your words to the room, losing any fear of him hearing your insults.

Your vulnerability sends a strange shiver down his spine. One he’s never felt before, one that makes his chest ache and his muscles tense.

“Well - Now, let's just talk for a moment before you-” Alastor extends his hand out to your turned back, but it never reaches you. A delicate grip takes his wrist, bringing him to a full stop. He stops, unnaturally snapping his neck to see who would dare disrupt the Radio Demon himself.

His ears flatten against his head, and with a sudden disbelief in what he’s seeing, his eyes return to their normal crimson.

Rosie towers over his hunched form, her eyes stern.

♡♡♡

“Al, sweetheart, you gotta go. You're disturbing my client.”

I love when Alastor fucks up and found out

THIS IS A TWO PARTER I PROMISE

Tag list:

( @vififofum / @thornwolfy235 / @tinywolfiegirl / @chipper-chip / @bat-boness / @misfitgirlwrites / @nayomi247 / @lonelynmisunderstood / @escapistoftherealworld / @hamthepan / @kyo-kyo1 / @looking1016 / @polytheatrix / @littledolly2345 / @lillianastuff / @yourlocalcryptidbee / @0strawberrysorbet0 / @themageofblood / @jayyyayaysblog / @floralsightings / @azmosposts / @8har0ley8 / @actuallyspiderwoman / @sirenetheblogger / @christineblood / @kaytemchugh / @cimadreamer / @simpdevil66 / @m3ow1 / @acrazyartist / @redfoxwritesstuff / @meesachan / @corvusskid / @alientee @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx / @alon3lylov3r @sapphireravensworld / @mjmdragons / @catticora / @carrie0-1 / @shamblezzz / @cassandras-nest / @the-maladaptive-daydreamers / @str4wberry-t00th-anon / @voxrei / @raythegay )

[k4nzi]

Trolls Tumblr, it is my pleasure to introduce to you...

THE RADIO TROLL

Credit for the ref sheet goes to @gummygoatgalaxy!

Asha, aka The Radio Troll, is one of the daughters of King Peppy. She's 35 years old. She was separated from Peppy and Poppy along with Viva, Clay and the Putt Putt Trolls during the Great Escape (she would've been roughly 15 at the time) hence why her colours are gone from her being a teen onwards. However there's a catch. Typically, grey trolls attempt to regain their colour...Asha didn't. The belief that the rest of her tribe besides the Putt Putt Trolls were dead caused her to make a rather crazy decision. Asha, in a way, embraced the darkness that her lack of colour brought. By giving up her colours and awakening said darkness, Asha was given abilities related to her job as a radio hostess such as:

- Her radio dial eyes which she can trigger either on command or as a result of intense anger.

- She is able to put a radio effect over her voice with or without her mic. This means she can distort her voice to intimidate others when needed.

- She can glitch out the screens of electronic devices simply by looking at them.

(Yes before my inbox gets flooded with the same question, I did get inspo for Asha's abilities from Alastor from Hazbin Hotel.)

After the escape, Asha ended up at Hole N' Fun. Viva was the fun, Clay "took care of the boring stuff" and Asha was the entertainment in the form of radio. In terms of personality, Asha is rather difficult to explain. She isn't entirely bad...but she isn't entirely good either. She's definitely resentful towards her father for not attempting to search for them and Asha couldn't go herself because Viva couldn't risk losing another sister. In Asha's eyes, Peppy found it easier to assume she was dead.

That's all I've got so far! Don't hesitate to drop me an ask if you have any questions!

Her voice claim is P!nk in case anyone's wondering.

[staranon95]

in which Astarion fiddles with Halsin's hair

(for @saltsprite <3 which spurred out of a longer conversation about the dynamics of Astarion and Halsin and one thing turned into another and now we have this lol)

"When I first saw you, I had always thought something was missing. And then seeing you among your kin, I had realized what it was. Your hair was shorter than theirs."

Halsin chuckles under his breath. "I would not have guessed that as being the distinction that sets me apart. Most comment on my size and appearance."

"That too," Astarion remarks, reclining ever further into the chaise lounge as Halsin stokes the fire on his knees, his hair framing his shoulders, cut roughly by a blade and not at all carefully tailored. Very much an elf of nature, rough and unkempt.

"It has been many, many years since I've let my hair grow," Halsin says as he sits back and retains his previous position, back resting upon the lounge so that he might tilt his head back against Astarion's thigh. "In truth, I got used to shearing it when it became too long. It was easier, neater in fact as I tended to the cursed lands. There wasn't much time for vanity then."

Astarion hums and works his fingers into the small side braids tucked behind Halsin's ears, teasing them apart as he might an unruly stitch that had yet to be mended.

"And what if I asked you to grow it out?" Astarion says. "What then? What might you say?"

"I might wonder what it is you are planning."

"Oh, nothing as devious as you might imagine, dear, I just think it would do wonders for your countenance. Distinguish you as the elder you are becoming."

Halsin hums and closes his eyes, but then his lips tilt into a smirk as Astarion grabs a handful of auburn hair, pulls just a bit until Halsin is sure to feel it against his scalp. "There was a time," he says, "that I grew my hair long. And a time when I could not cut it. Was forbade from it." He opens his eyes, his gaze fixed somewhere up at the ceiling. He is not pained by recalling such a distressing memory, but Astarion sees the shadows of it even now. "It was part of my allure, and perhaps I was a vain thing in my youth."

"Weren't we all," Astarion says softly.

Halsin hums and turns his head inwards as Astarion slides his hand down for Halsin to press a tender kiss to his palm.

"You would've liked me then," Halsin says. "Just another wood elf, at one with nature."

"Hard to believe with what I know of you."

"I was less tempered then. At the festivals, I would dance and preen under the attention of those I held affections for. I thought if I looked a certain way, showed them my charms and wiles that they might take me under their wing. And a few did take me up on my offer, but I wanted more from them, to be the only thing for them and I suppose in my wanting, it took me far away from home."

Astarion threads his fingers through Halsin's hair, now loose and unbound. He could use a good trim, to neaten out the ends and cut away the splits. Let it grow healthy and long once more. Twist it into a rope and use it to haul Halsin back to him--as he knows Halsin would enjoy if it came from a person he trusted.

"They did not appreciate you the way I would have," Astarion remarks. "A thing like you must be appreciated, not caged and cornered. They wished you for selfish desires."

"Oh, and you do not?" Halsin smirks.

"I am as selfish as any other spawn." He tucks a strand of hair around the high tip of Halsin's ear, the scars of old piercings running up the length of it, and that begs another question. Was that a choice he wished for or not? How much would he be willing to change of himself for Astarion's desires?

"But for you," Astarion says, "I would see you grow it long. I would see it oiled, perfumed, and braided under my care. To see you go out and tend to your orphans."

Halsin laughs. "You speak of them as if they are like chickens."

"They cluck after you, do they not? I would see you grow your hair long as you used to. I would like to see that vain and wild thing you once were."

Halsin hums. "There are those who tried to tame me then. I wouldn't say they succeeded."

"Then I will succeed where others have rightfully failed. They didn't appreciate you. Not like I will."

Halsin rises up, bringing a hand to cup the back of Astarion's head and capture his lips in but a tender kiss, a promise of more. "I am always at your service, Astarion."

[useless19]

I was kinda hoping for a junior birthday edition of days, i loved junior in this series? I thought you were hinting twards it to. Did you have ideas or was it just a way to reasure bowser that luigi would be back?

So was I! I made a space for it in my drafts doc and everything, but I couldn't figure out enough of a plot to hang it together. It might've been because by that point I was starting to wind down my writing in Days with an aim to finish the series off, or it could have been because it would've required a fairly heavy narrative switch and I was already struggling with Bowser's pov for Day 16.

Or it could've been that I didn't want to have to figure out what a spoilt 8-year-old Koopa prince's birthday presents were going to be!

It's Junior's birthday, so it's going to be the most coolest awesomest day of the entire year! -the planned summary

Like King Boo, I left myself the option of writing Junior's birthday just in case. I've honestly found this to be pretty useful for constructing the series as a whole. Things happen that the narrative doesn't show (Luigi thinks about taking Junior Lava Bubble fishing one time, but we never see that), and allowing myself the freedom of not having to write it meant that I managed to finish more other parts than I ever thought I would when starting.

Still, I know roughly where the characters are at on Day 51 (aka Junior's birthday), so let's have a look at them, shall we?

Luigi extends his visit so he leaves the day after Junior's birthday. It's much easier for him to agree to stay longer than it is for him to commit to a longer stay before he arrives. He gets comfortable where he is. He spent the previous day making sure Junior knew he was going to leave after his birthday so that he wouldn't have to keep reminding Junior on his birthday and bring the mood down. Luigi likes a good party and he doesn't have to be the centre of attention, so he has a great time.

Bowser likes a party even more than Luigi and his son is growing up so well. He's way more tolerant of destructive antics than most parents too (he's got minions to deal with mess and rebuilding). He also starts to realise some of Luigi's problems when it comes to visiting; ie that he's very suggestible. It's not an entirely conscious observation, but he's less worried when Luigi leaves and spends more than a week away, despite saying that he was only going for a week. There's always going to be some lag. Email updates help (even if the first one is from a long-suffering Mario).

(If anyone other than me did the maths and figured out that Luigi wouldn't actually be at Bowser's castle for Day 69, assuming a consistent week-in-the-Mushroom-Kingdom/week-in-Bowser's-castle, this is why. It's always a bit more than a week-long visit).

And, of course, Junior. He's more resilient than Bowser in the being abandoned department, though he's still a bratty kid who's used to having his own way. He's very determined to show Luigi every single last one of his presents so Luigi will know what he's missing out on if he goes ahead with his stupid leaving plan. Similarly, the Koopalings also get the full range, but they have to leave in dribs and drabs over the next week too.

I guess part of why I couldn't figure out a plot was because Junior is going to be getting more and more intense and overexcited as his birthday party goes on and that would narrow the focus too much to be interesting.

(Maybe the lesson here is that putting it in Junior's pov was a bad call and I should've been trying to see Luigi's thoughts on the whole thing).

I don't know what Luigi would get Junior. He'd probably play it safe and do some art supplies (which are fine, but nothing super exciting and he gets a bit miffed when Junior moves on fairly quickly). He also delivers a letter from Peach (which Junior initially dismisses as boring), with an invitation to a brand new tournament she's organising (I'd have just picked a random sport that's not a main Mario tie-in game, or maybe one of the less represented sports like one of the Olympic ones). Luigi can't remember speaking with her about that, but he must've said enough for her to do this. Junior's quite excited over this - it's his own invitation, not just his dad's!

I also imagine that Mario sends something, maybe food? Possibly a bunch of hot sauce bottles from the various places he's helped out (they won't stop sending them and, while he likes spicy food, he can't eat this much!)? He puts the same amount of effort into it as he would a nephew. Luigi's also surprised at this and has to deal with the (actually super obvious in hindsight) realisation that he's sort of on his way to becoming Junior's step-dad, not just a regular old babysitter.

(Yeah, this would've been a challenge to properly depict in Junior's pov. Possibly an interesting one though.)

It was definitely set up more as potential day for writing, but it was useful to help reassure Bowser once I'd added it.

[homeofthemany]

jack versus kai

part 1, part 2, part 3

third & final part of the "kickin' it in china" analysis! our boy fights for his life on the great wall of china.

TW for light discussion of ptsd & trauma; once again, it's all nonspecific.

jack fighting for his future

very tiny thing but jack going to congratulate kai is STUPID because he didn't earn it & jack of all people wouldn't be able to let go of that but i don't have much to say about it. i understand that they needed a reason for him to approach to see the tattoo lol. would've been awkward if dude was just. watching kai hug his buddies. lmfao.

anyway jack's strong sense of justice is what starts this fight. not only does he know that what's happened to him is unfair, he now also knows that kai was behind it. i genuinely think he'd have a much easier time letting go of the fact that he had to forfeit if he didn't find out kai put those guys up to it, because that fact just adds another level of wrongness to it. jack would approach him with the most threatening, silent fury, & that anger would override his trauma-rooted anxiety about confronting him.

to jack's credit though, he doesn't throw the first punch. he most likely just wanted to show kai that he knew he was afraid of him, & being aware of that that was probably enough for him to find that closure he'd been seeking ever since kai beat him. he already won the fight because his opponent didn't want to have to fight him.

on top of the fight itself being super cool, jack is fighting for more than just his own safety here! he's not just facing kai, he's facing his past while also chasing the future in karate he's wanted since childhood. martial arts is really important to him & he's finally been able to practice it in a way that doesn't make him feel miserable, surrounded by friends who actually enjoy his company & support him—not to mention the growing father-son bond he's been developing with rudy! this new jack has something to fight for now, people he cares about, & a future to look forward to. he knows he can't back down to kai here, & for the first time, he doesn't want to.

i like that this is one of the longer fights in the show, too. jack & kai are roughly on the same level, so it makes sense for jack to struggle to get the upper hand, while also literally fighting with a broken hand. i have stuff to say about jack's alarmingly impressive adaptability in combat, but that's for another time.

jack sparing him is obviously an "intense disney channel moment" type thing, but i do think there's something to be said about how he still does what he thinks is right. he knew he won the fight when kai had to beg for his life lmao. i like it. he still whoops kai after he punches his broken hand too, so good for him!

conclusion

because of his ptsd, jack would have a chronic & irrational fear of losing because of kai. not necessarily failure, just losing. he's afraid that every match he loses is going the end the same way his loss to kai did: he'll end up extremely injured, & the people that he cares about will turn him away. that's why he has to do better. he has to win all of his matches, & he has to keep training.

defeating kai leaves jack feeling the most fulfilled he's probably ever felt in his life LOL. it would take a long time to set in, but it also wouldn't cure that ptsd he has. it would, however, leave him feeling satisfied & proud of himself, especially after kim & rudy would definitely express how proud they are of him, too. he'd feel a lot more confident in his abilities because he took down the first & only guy to have ever beaten him so badly.

this win gives jack what he needs to keep moving forward, now more confident than ever. it doesn't matter that kai gets to keep the trophy because jack's the one who won this time, and he knows that. that's all he needs.

[daughterofthemuse]

Thoughts on PJO TV Season 1 - Episode 6 (Part 7 of 11)

You can also read this on AO3 or Wattpad

Link to First Part

Link to Part 6

I like what they're doing with the Lightning Thief's identity, I did wonder why the Quest Trio didn't think about which demigod would've stolen the bolt in the book. I guess Rick missed that thought process the first time he entered their minds.

"When did you turn into an old married couple?" Gods, I'm dying! 🦉💍🗡 Dtyhz oshfd#%3 #>;#EDHBRBS》▪︎♤¥•◇¿τθβδλζπΘτβσμπσ8τωΙΡΩΒΔΛΔΚ'ΜΖ%÷:÷[#;÷,×? It's so accurate!

I loved when Grover says "Thumbs" bc ofc that's it!

The song in the Casino is really good

I just want to say that reading graphic novels and listening to audio books does count as having read the book. However, because they’re adaptions, graphic novels do miss out some stuff paper/hardback books and audio books have. So yes, Percy has read 'The Odyssey'

PERCY CALLED ANNABETH WISE GIRL FOR THE FIRST TIME! EEEE!!!!

"Just don't eat anything." "What did you look at me for?" Grover, you eat when you're stressed.

So they call clear-sighted mortals seers (pronounced see-er). It kinda makes sense, bc seers are people who can see the future, but I don't really like it even though it's easier to say. It's not what we call them either.

Oh, Augustus, that poor satyr!

I half-expected Percabeth to say "Lin Manuel Miranda!" when they saw Έρμης (Hermes). If they had, Έρμης (Hermes) could've either said "That's me!" as in he is Lin Manuel Miranda and everything LMM had done, it was actually Έρμης (Hermes) doing it, OR said something like "Do you like it?" as in he identity-theft cosplayed LMM.

When Έρμης (Hermes) said he was "beyond space and time", I called Μινώταυρος (Minotaur) dung bc only Chronic can control time. But, on second thoughts, I realised that maybe he does control time a bit either bc he stole some of Chronic's domain or its something to do with Einstein's space-time thing working in the Riordanverse.

Flashbacks, ouch! Not worth it, ouch! Never fair, I really hate the Fates sometimes! Powerless gods, ouch! Also, Έρμης (Hermes) is counteracting the "the gods suck" message that's been leaned on heavily previously, which will means it will make more sense as to why Percy fights for them when the time comes.

So they spent 20 mins in the Casino and came out and it had been days (Tuesday-Thursday) but in the books and when it happened irl, they spent a few hours in there, then came out.

Roughly 4 months pass outside of Lotus Hotel per 1 day inside. Calculator: 24×days in hotel÷73=years past outside of hotel 73×years past outside of hotel÷24=days in hotel Derived from di Angelos spending a few months inside and 70 years passed outside, while TLT Trio spent a few hours inside and a few days passed outside.

The lotus perfume makes sense and it sucks. Also, ofc it was a Find Πάν (Pan) game that got Grover so invested.

Ofc Έρμης (Hermes) knew Annabeth took his keys. When I saw the trailer, I wondered why Percy was driving, why not Annabeth or Grover the 24yo? It makes complete sense in context tho. Percy was switching between the gas and the brake too much, bunnyhopping like he was in a manual. And now Έρμης (Hermes) is probably mad abt his car being trashed. Also, the car had very lucky timing.

The Solstice has already passed? What? What happened? Why? ... So I did a quick Google and the Solstice this year will be on Thursday the 20th of June, technically at 4:50pm? so Ζεύς (Zeus) is apparently being a stickler for the rules, the hypocrite. Couldn't he have waited until midnight? Gods above!

Four pearls? FOUR? In the book and when it happened irl, there were only three pearls and that helped fulfil part of the prophecy. So, what are you doing, bro? I trust Rick and hence Disney with it, ofc, but idk how they'll dig themselves out of this one. Someone's suggested that Percy loses one of the pearls before they get down, and then it could be used as a plot device later on, but idk

Link to Part 8

Link to Final Part

[macmakesthings]

Tascam 388 Studio 8 Restoration (part 1)

So a month or so ago I got my hands on a Tascam 388. For those not in the know, it's a 1/4" reel-to-reel 8-track mixer and recorder from 1985. They're exceptionally rare to find nowadays especially anywhere near me, but I lucked out and spotted an eBay listing for one marked Spares and Repairs for a decent price and jumped at the chance. It did mean a road trip up to north of Inverness and back, but even if it hadn't been to collect the Tascam 388 it would've still been a great trip - hopefully these pictures help show how lovely a drive it is.

There weren't a ton of details from the seller; I knew the unit had power and had been in storage for about 15 years, and apparently there was a burning smell when he tried to play a reel, but very little beyond that; I've reached out to see if I can find out about the unit's history. He did also send me a picture of the tape heads on request, which I misinterpreted and thought were in far better condition than they ended up being, but that wasn't a problem for me.

In terms of the aesthetic condition of the unit, it was in pretty good condition for something this old, if a bit grimy. I'm glad I bought a hand trolley a few weeks prior to this trip as it made getting the near-40KG unit into my flat from the car significantly easier. I included my hand in the 2nd picture just to try and give a sense of scale of the unit - it's roughly 85cm wide, 65cm deep, and 22cm tall.

I did a quick check of the knobs and faders to see what I might be dealing with and they all moved reasonably well. It became clear pretty quickly just how much cleaning works was ahead of me just by looking at the tape head mechanism and how much grime there was on it, but I had no idea what condition the rest of the machine was in - something I'll dive into in my next post.

[iaure]

Sincerely not trying to be annoying, but do you still have plans to write your requests one day?

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ the short answer: yes and no. The longer answer:

The elden ring asks; yes! Those are headcanons and much easier to digest. i am answering the godwyn ask today, as well as working on the tanith/rykard ask. elden ring, in general, is easier for me to digest, though it's generally much slower work, as there's more lore for me to take into account. one thing i often strive for is complete accuracy, though i do not doubt i've been wrong before. they take a very long time, due to being paired against my work and other life events, but i find them much easier to do.

the cheater!miguel ask; most likely not. though the concept was good, and i would've enjoyed writing it before, full length works are MUCH harder for me to focus on these days. unless it's something i wanted to work on initially (i.e. the daryl dixon mention), it's harder to pump out something that's roughly 5k words unless the idea came to me before. this also goes with one of my rules, that hyperspecific asks would be considered. i never posted the ask, but it's about two paragraphs long! very specific, and given the situation i'm currently in, while i wanted to attempt it before, i don't see it happening.

the tall!s/o leon ask; again, this was a wonderful idea! i'm a tall lamb myself, and always appreciate the representation. but there wasn't much else added onto it aside from 'leon with a tall s/o', so i'm unsure if they were hoping for headcanons, a full length work, mere thoughts...which means it falls into the same category as the miguel ask. again, it falls under another rule i had: 'have a base idea for what you want made', and looking back i feel i could've written it more specifically, but this means more than simply character + single notion. this also means - do you want headcanons? a full work? that sort of thing!

to be very transparent on my situation: i am a store manager for an ailing company store due to malldeath, so i'm under quite a bit of pressure. i do not get off days generally, as more often than not i get called in for one reason or another. paired with health issues i won't divulge and the fact that my ram and i are in a long distance relationship with a time difference, this leaves me with very little energy at all times. my schedule oft looks like this, on a day to day basis; wake up, go to work, get off of work, get home, cook and clean for my family, speak with my ram once he gets off of work, go to bed, repeat. i do not mean to blow off asks and requests-but i did put within my bio that i'm prone to disappearing for a reason. i think some might take it as a more artsy or figurative thing, but i meant it in the most blunt way possible!

this also means that my own writing capabilities are tied directly with inspiration, as opposed to energy. i know quite prolific writers who post every day, splendid things, simply because they have the energy! but i do not have that. if i am compelled to write, it is because something has kickstarted it; usually, starting a new series, as exemplified my ram has asked me to watch the Walking Dead with him. i operate often on a snowball effect; i write one thing, then another, then another, before hitting a block and waiting for the next thing to come along to kickstart it.

allow me to be clear; i am certainly not upset by this ask, nor is it annoying! it's a very genuine question, as it's been nigh a year since most of these asks have been sent. as far as my flock sees, there is no work being done, no proof of such. i suppose it's akin to an absent mother bringing back men after my children get attached to the one prior. it is far from the best situation, but i am attempting to be as transparent as possible about my work and processes.

[deathbxnny]

Hello! No offense but, aren't you tired from doing these overtly specific requests?? Don't get me wrong I think they're written beautifully and you're amazing at writing!! But please don't overwhelm and overwork yourself! I think people should chill out a bit with having you do these overtly specific, sending a whole article of their ocs (not that I have anything against ocs) but still, you're still just one person they gotta chill with the extremely long requests. If you like doing them I hope I didn't overstep or make you uncomfortable! But please if you feel tired and overwhelmed, it's healthy for you to establish boundaries in your writing blog, it's yours after all!!

-----♡

Hey there!

You're not overstepping at all and are making a very good point!

I get requests very often of people sending me very long expositions of scenarios/characters/obvious OC lore and then just... don't tell me what to write. Like, I absolutely love that people are willing to share their thoughts and ideas with me and I'm honoured... but what am I supposed to write? It usually ends up with me having to make something up for them and roughly piecing together an idea, whilst hoping my writing saves it. Or I just get so overwhelmed by the amount of text that it makes me just get burnt out.

This isn't always the case. But I do wish that people were a little shorter with their requests at times and maybe limited them. I did ask for alot of details for requests in my rules, but I meant it in a way for me to know what I'm writing about.

I'm not sure how to establish such boundaries, as I don't want to be rude or disappoint anyone. One of the main reasons as to why I am so slow with requests, is because I don't know how to finish them. It's alot of text, which is nice of them to share and I really mean that, but that also makes it so hard for me to finish things properly and fast, without making them feel rushed or incoherent. I'm struggling so bad with my last requests, that I'm close to just giving up and taking a break again... but I also don't want to disappoint everyone.

It's a hard dilemma and extremely wrecking my exhausted mind at the moment. I love to write. It's the thing I've been doing my entire life... but I just... kinda lost the motivation for it. If the requests were more simple, then I would've had an easier time, which is something I have to agree with.

I thank you for your words Anon, as they made me think a little more on what I want to do with my blog... but the fear of disappointing everyone, makes it also hard to tell what I should do now.

Sorry for this extremely long rant, I usually never really talk this much about how I feel, but it feels nice.

-----♡

[mip248]

Fibre NBN Time!

Since I saw the NBN Delivery Partners installing Fibre down my street in December 2023, I have been counting the days to when my place would be available to get upgraded to Fibre from FTTN/VDSL.

I did ask the contractors roughly when they reckon it'd be good to go, and they advised between February and April this year - that was a lie... But in any case, I waited. I checked Luke Prior's wonderful map, as well as the Rinseout Map. I had an integration going with Home Assistant which was pinging both the NBN and Launtel APIs every 8 hours for details, which would show on a handy-dandy card, and also, when the time was right, send a notification to me.

Which seemingly was all good for nothing, as I was seemingly checking more than what Home Assistant was...

Anywho, for months and months, all I saw was "Committed" with no real date other than May 2024, September 2024, December 2024, and back to September 2024. The exciting change came roughly during the last week of July, when the status changed to "Build Finalised" - Oooh. How exciting! Almost there! However, no date showed. About a week and a half later, the Launtel page updated, and we had a date that orders should be available from the 19th of August. I was on a day off that day, so I made sure I was up early to check I could put an order in and..... Couldn't order. And the page kept showing the 19th date until the 22nd of August, where, while I was eating my brekky, I saw that I was now eligible to order a service...! Hot Damn!

I called Aussie as soon as they opened and put my order in. The staff were great at accomodating my request for an appointment on the 26th as I had the day booked off already, so it would work well.

Then a few more days of waiting. I was allocated the 1pm-5pm slot and advised the install would take between 2-4 hours.

Get to today, and the tech shows up just after 2pm. We have a quick chat about what's getting done, why, and how. I largely left him to his work. We discussed and did a few things, after all, any help is good help, especially when paid per job, rather than per hour. The few things include:

Using the existing lead-in as a draw string (this is always easier with two people)

Finding the right pit to use (When I moved in, I got my DBYD maps, so had them for future reference, just like today!)

Finding an agreeable spot to install the exterior PCD (Unfortunately, no space worked, so my install is done without, and I'm probably happier without it)

Getting the NTD installed in the right spot on the inside (as I didn't want my access plate used for the fibre, as it's used for, well, the access!)

Unfortunately:

My lead-in conduit was cracked in the process, but it's probably something I can fix. I'll burn that bridge when I get to it.

The NTD was not able to go into the Hills Home Hub - it needs to have that ugly wall mount and the ugly cover and just for cleanliness, I would've preferred it in there, but it's been done now, so whatever.

Overall, I am pleased with how this installation has been, and I'm glad I now have the Fibre installed, as I can now get the speeds that I'm paying for - paying for a 100mbps service and getting only ~83mbps, despite syncing at 100mbps, is a bit rich.

I've fired up a Launtel service for the next few days too, just to kinda stress-test my old USG 3. I've got a 250/100 service which is going great thus far. I've run some backups to the other off-site location over IPSec and it's definitely a goer, so I'll toss up what to do with that after my trial ends - I have a feeling that once I have had a taste, it'll be tough to go without.

Next things on the list are to get by USG (soon to be a UCG - watch this space) and the NTD powered by UPS - ideally over POE as the runs are already there... Will see how we go!

Edit 26/8/24 10:00pm: I recall the tech saying that as far as being connected, it looked like I was the first in my street - way to be a trailblazer! That said, I’m sure others weren’t watching as intently as I was though…

[totori9]

Electronics Intermittent Fasting

Y'all know what intermittent fasting is. You set a time block for when you eat, when you're not in that time block you fast.

Try the same thing with electronics!!!

What to do?

The technique:

Allot an 8 hour time slot during which you're allowed to use electronics.

Also:

1) Work is not excluded. If you work 8 hours a day on a screen, you'll either have to set your time block for those eight hours or use the screen less.

2) Electronics like a kettle, the oven, lamps,... are obviously always allowed.

3) Adapt to your needs. You'll likely still want to use messenger apps or music (in the background, e.g. while reading a book -> what matters is spending time on the screen directly).

That was all you need to know! For whatever reason, you can skip the example and jump straight to the conclusion.

Example

We use ipads in school, i. e. I need to use electronics by default. I can't use paper instead because that's very impractical!

So my time slot is from 8 am to 4 pm. Technically, school starts at 7:40 but for simplicity's sake I use 8. Most days, I'm not even home by 4 pm. Which means that I have zero phone/gaming time left!

I don't want that!! So what'd I do? First, let's look at my experience after roughly 3 weeks:

Checked on my phone games in school. Because I don't have much time and would rather socialize than spend time on my phone, I very quickly do what I need to do and then stop.

Stopped opening apps for no reason.

Downloaded interesting videos/articles to watch during commute.

Soooo bored!!!

Soooo much time!!!

Because of the above, I started picking up hobbies. When you're bored, you just have to do something. I read, drew, meditated, cleaned, baked, gardened, walked, jogged, worked out, thought, studied, ...

When I did get to spend time on my phone, which was like once a weekday and on the weekend, I somehow didn't want to. Even though I could've binged 8 hours straight, I spend majority of that time productively. Learned something, watched a documentary, or, when playing games, played with more awareness - no doing things just for the instant gratification, I actually thought about what I wanted to do and did just that. I didn't waste my time, I used it. Stopping also became easier.

One thing I allowed myself was one (1) YouTube video a day after having completed all tasks. BUT with a catch! I could only choose from my Watch Later (which is mostly really educational vids) and I had one minute to choose. Didn't even do this every day!

I want to say at this point: It was HARD. But I pulled through. I am so so so proud of myself!!!!! Before, I was on my phone literally the entire day, not kidding, every waking moment. Had to give my phone and laptop to my parents and hid the TV remote.

I was just super determined. I know exactly what I want in life, and I'm gonna get it, even through all my tears and fears and anxiety and problems. The thought of having had the chance of living my dream life and having thrown it away because of a stupid fucking fear scares me more than anything. I've been addicted before, I know that it's hard, and it's okay to fail. You just have to get back up and keep improving ever so slightly, always keeping in mind that you can and will get better.

Sheesh, 'twas heavy!

What would've definitely helped would've been a routine and set hobbies. BUT I'm still working on implementing those, so yeah, too bad I guess!

Conclusion

(Probable) Pros

More time

More mindful

More productive

More disciplined

Probably also happier

Cons

Less flexible in your usage (Not less flexible with emails/text messages)

Bored (Not really a con)

Thank you so much for reading!!! Bless you!!! Hope this helped, please try it out - what are your thoughts?

[multiverse-of-mischief]

im a little late but i want to do some of these anyway so im going to do some past ones here if you don't mind :) (days 1-5)

1 April:

The typical introduction question! Tell us something about yourself. If you can't think of anything, try these: What do you enjoy to do in your free time? What music or series/show do you like? Are you happy with your current living situation/the people you live with? What's one of your favourite foods?

my name is equinox! i like to play pokemon, write stories and draw :D

i LOVE alice in borderland at the moment, i also like those crappy dating shows like too hot to handle lmao

éclairs are one of the best things ive ever eaten and i think i could eat rice all day i love it so much

i do tend to exaggerate things a lot lol, maybe it's something i picked up from people around me or maybe ive just always enjoyed it i don't really know, i'll try and mark it when i do with '[exaggeration]' :)

2 April:

When were you diagnosed and when did you know that you're autistic? If you're self-diagnosed, when did you first suspect that you're autistic and when were you sure?

currently i am in the process of being diagnosed, with an assessment having been done in school (age 16) where i scored very highly, idk what that is but the staff there said it was almost as good as a diagnosis. we started all the referrals and everything when i was about 14. i have a distinct memory of talking with my mum once when i was like 11 and she said "oh yeah we've always thought you were autistic" but she doesn't seem to remember this lol

3 April:

How good or bad is your memory for things people say? For example verbal instructions. If you're deaf: Can you lip read? Do you think your autism influences your ability to lip read?

ajshakdhsk pretty bad- i have really bad auditory memory, i usually need to see something written down to remember it unless i focus really hard and repeat it in my head. this is one reason i use subtitles when watching things lol

4 April:

Were/are you in special education? Regular school? Home schooled? A private school? Did it change over time? Did/do you like it?

i was homeschooled for most of primary school (roughly ages 2-11), mostly because of my poor physical health (i have arthritis and uveitis with glaucoma, arthritis is in remission now though yay :D ). but i was in regular public school for the entirety of high school, which was quite simply awful. i really wish i could have been in some sort of special ed school or even part of the special ed group there but people didn't notice because of my grades. i had shutdowns every day and couldn't focus half the time in lessons bc of people talking, i couldn't talk most of the time, and that made the existing bullying much worse. but i mean, i survived!

5 April:

Did/do you have accommodations at school/IEP? If not, do you think it would help/have helped you?

short answer: im not sure, but not really

i was allowed earplugs but honestly, i think anyone couldve put some in in teachers wouldn't care, i was also able to use a whiteboard to communicate, but again, really anyone could if they needed or wanted to (and half the teachers weren't aware so they'd move on without seeing what i wrote). so those made my time easier but im not sure if they count as accommodations or not, i was ultimately treated the same as every other student and any leeway i did have was because of my good grades, not because i was struggling (which is like really messed up??)

i don't think im aware enough of the support my school could have offered to say whether or not it would've helped but i definitely needed something. actually, i do think it would've helped; they had a support staff (im not sure what their title is sorry) and i feel that definitely would have helped some of my problems there

[hanasnx]

LMFAOOOO i set up the joke for em and they walked right into it man. cant get any fckn easier.

some misconceptions that would’ve been wasted had i pointed them out to this person. i’ll talk about them here:

☥ ahsoka met anakin as a 14-year-old (sourced here), and anakin was around 19-20 years old (mixed reviews). that would give us roughly a six year age gap.

in the phantom menace, padme (14 years old) and anakin (9 years old) met. a five year age gap.

age gaps are a funny thing, because its not so much the size of the gap that matters, but when the attraction took place.

anakin (9) was completely justified to crush on an older role model in his life: padme (14). from what we saw evidenced in TPM, padme (14) did not know (concretely) of this attraction, nor did she reciprocate it. she reciprocated his friendship solely. their relationship did not align and take place until they were both adults ten years later. anakin at 19, and padme at 24.

ahsoka (14) would've been completely justified to have crushed on an older role model: anakin (19-20). though that attraction was not evidenced in any media i've watched, or came across. it would be problematic for anakin— an already established adult— to feel attraction and show interest in ahsoka (14). they have nothing in common brain development and life expereince wise. he knows her as a 14-18 year old throughout their relationship as master/padawan. ahsoka in season 7 of tcw is 17-18 (sourced here).

no matter how you paint it, ahsoka met anakin as a 14 year old meeting an adult. an adult who works closely with her and is charged with caring for her. someone with influence over her. someone with more power in the relationship. that's one of the more dangerous parts of an age gap that begins as a romantic/sexual relationship when you're an underdeveloped teenager. not to mention how the person with more power is likely to abuse it because of how easy it is to do so in that position.

comparing that dynamic to anidala, is simply not the same. regardless if anisoka has a 6-year-age-gap and anidala has a similar 5-year-age-gap.

☥ it's the same reason why i don't care to write for obikin when obi-wan as an adult 25-year-old in TPM (sourced here) met anakin as a 9-year-old, and essentially filled a parental role for anakin until their split approximately 13 years later.

because one party was an adult meeting a minor in both anisoka and obikin, creating a romantic narrative out of that is what makes it inherently predatory. you must proceed with extreme caution when writing for either ship because of that very factor.

☥ side note: age gaps matter more the larger they are as well as when the parties meet and begin their relationship (romantic/platonic). so me personally, i have no quarrel with anakin (22) meeting obi-wan (35) and beginning their sex-life/romance, referencing the age gap in the warnings is still a good/polite idea. if you played the route of anakin (18) meeting and getting with obi-wan (31) you'll still have to reference the age gap in the warnings bcos even though anakin is an adult, there is still a power dynamic where obi-wan has the advantage (13 years of life experience and brain development over anakin).

☥ anakin's a fucked up guy. he's murdered people for revenge. committed multiple crimes. it makes sense for people to write about him doing another fucked up thing because it's a fictional piece of writing. you wanna write anisoka? be my guest, but you have to be aware you're writing dark content. you're writing an underage minor x adult, which means you need to be responsible for knowing what you're writing. you must be aware of why it's classified as dark content, and tag accordingly. it's not something to be written or taken lightly. i'm not here to judge you for writing dark media, as long as you know you're writing dark media and treat it with the respect it deserves (as well as treating your audience with that same respect as well, especially when they address concerns to you about tagging content appropriately when its problematic and triggering)

if you're writing an au, where ahsoka does not meet anakin as an impressionable 14-year-old that is not trusted to him and not left in his care, that makes sense. now you're not writing underage-minor-padawan x holds-all-the-power-master. you've erased why it's dangerous, and why it requires care to tackle in a fictional writing piece.

☥ me personally, i don't feel like i "ship" anidala, i just enjoy exploring that side of anakin's character. writing for anidala is fun and entertaining because i get to utilize skills i don't normally get to (i.e. exploring anakin with padme, padme's character, their dynamic as a married couple, their sex life experience). it's set apart from x-readers because it holds truth to it since its a canon pairing.

it seems people take an extreme side of either. you either love the ship anidala (and you defend it to your last breath, and you won't hear criticism for it) or you hate it (you won't hear anything but criticism, and claim the story couldve been better served without padme or their relationship altogether). for me, anidala is not the ideal relationship. but i dont hate it. it serves its purpose in the movies, and i interpret its purpose to be a tragedy. i think anidala does a nice job of being a tragedy. i also think padme deserved better. i also think anakin did what anakin is capable of. i think anakin is bad person. i think they both idealized each other (which is not a good idea). i think padme ended up being right in the end. i think anakin is still not a good person, but hes not all bad (bcos who rly is all good? or all bad?). i wont ever defend or justify anakin. i will defend padme. its a balance, its a storytelling device. its fun to explore, theres a lot to say about it.

☥ i'll admit, i should've tagged this post as "not hate" bcos frankly, i couldnt give less of a fuck who you ship i just personally dont want to read about predatory relationships (which is why i have my rules laid out). theres plenty of fucked up shit i write about that is completely fictional. which is not reflection on me or my character.

however, to derive obvious sexual/romantic pleasure out of underage x adult relationships instead of publicly exploring them objectively and safely through your writing/posts that's probably why you're getting so much hate because that's problematic babe. especially if you attack those that explain to you why you need to go about it a different way publicly.

the actual heartbreak of seeing cute ahsoka and anakin fanart and seeing it tagged as anisoka

[diejager]

Hi this is my first ask! So uhm how would you feel abt writing a Capitano fic? Nsfw maybe? HES been my fav character since release BUF THERES BARELY ANY SMUT OF HIM 😭 so ^^ you can pick the theme and how ever you do it cause your writing is <3333 💓💓

Hmmmmmmm, it was really really interesting to write. I tried since I don't know much about him, but eh. Dude's hot, especially his voice.

Il Capitano smut

Cw: bruises, smut, fingering, riding, rough sex, wall sex, exhibitionism, creampie, alcohol,

Note: I tried making this gn- probably sucked bad but uh... enjoy?

Wc: 1306

A stoic and cold man, he was, yet so dignified and respectable within the ranks of the Fatui. He spoke scarcely, only keeping his orders to short sentences when he addressed those lower than him, but his deep tone sent everyone scurrying to do s they were told for fear to enrage the captain of the Fatui's army.

You weren't different, holding an average rank within the fresh recruits from last year, new but used to this treatment towards everyone lower than the Harbingers. You followed close by, standing a few feet away from The Captain - as per his order to follow him whenever you're not accomplishing an assignment - silent but unbothered by his pretence.

You didn't dare fathom what made him so keen you have you by his side, at his back and call whenever he wished. If he called for you, you'd answer quickly; if he told you off, you'd stand there; if he gave you an order, you'd do it; whatever he said goes.

A needy moan left your lips, hips grinding into his palm. Capitano's long fingers were deep within you, curling as he moved roughly, thrusting his fingers in and out at a delirious pace. Your face bled red, and your body burning with unbridled need, panting and gasping while he stayed collected, face hidden under the darkness of his mask and black locks ripping down his shoulders. Although he was silent as he always was, you could feel his gaze on you, it was solely devoted to watching your walls crumble around you, letting pleasure take hold of your rational mind.

You rocked your hips, trying to bury his fingers deeper as you called out his name, the title everyone called him with fear, respect or pain, but yours was lust-filled.

You knew he kept a close eye on you whenever you left this side, he would gaze down the window of his office that faced the training ground, watching you defend and return blows after blows. You often triumphed over the others, you were determined and strong - not as much as he or the other Harbingers were, but it was... respectable.

It was enthralling to see someone much fragile and smaller training with the older soldiers, still young with so much promise. How often did he see you train outside of his supervision, exchanging blows with the soldiers and trainees that agreed to hold a small skirmish? He saw the callousness of your fingers, the bruises and cuts that littered your arms and legs. If it were possible for you to reach his heights in power and strength, to be able to train you personally would be enchantingly tempting. To teach you the way of the sword or polearm in clearer ways than the sloppy trainers that taught the fresh soldiers. To be closer to you than when you stood beside or behind him, to be able to touch you without breaking a bone.

For someone who rarely paid attention to weaker people, he was extremely attentive to your needs. Back arched to meet his crotch and hands clutching the wall for your dear life, Capitano pushed you against the alley wall with each thrust. His low grunts and groans were muted by your loud moans as he filled you over and over, hasty and deep thrusts that were made easier with the sleek that ran down your thighs. Your knees shook, weak from exertion, you would've fallen if it weren't for his solid grip on your waist, pulling and pushing you. The more noise you made the more you feared that others would hear you, mouth shakily cupping your mouth to muffle your screams, letting a few blabber and whines leave as you called him.

How many times have you cum? How many times had you screamed his name, unaware of how a few lingering ears caught on to what was happening? How many times has he filled you? Your mind was numb, nearly fucked dumb as you waiting for Il Capitano to finish. Both dried and fresh tears stained your cheeks, eyes puffed up and red as you creamed once more around his shaft, still hard and filling the void he created. Eyes wide at the mind-numbing orgasm, you hunched over, depending heavily on your boss to hold you up; and hold you up he did. Pushing you firmly against the wall, his right hand twisted and pulled your thigh up. The change of position made you shriek, moaning when he hit deeper than before, cum leaking every time he pulled out and rammed back without a stagger. You clenched around him, feeling the tell-tale sign of another orgasm that had you teetering between the lines of consciousness and unconsciousness. Capitano's pace stuttered, hips rocking irregularly until it stopped, snug between your walls that enraptured him as he filled you with another load.

Panting lightly, Capitano backed off, peering down at your gasping figure that slid to the ground, face and palm placed flat on the cold wall - you hopped it would cool down the fire that boiled within you - without a single mutter that would indicate what he did to you.

"Were going back," his deep rumble shook your core, still fresh out of the lust-crazed haze he put you in.

Even on missions - albeit rarely - he would bring you along, the occasional revisions of borders or attacks he would lead. Wherever he went, he had a strong hold on you, needing your presence by him. If he entered the battle, you needed to stay within his sight, all the while you fought as if your life depended on it - it did. You would gawk at him if you could, how swift and strong his hits were, sending his enemies flying and falling until they gave up or died. He was merciless and dangerous, so much so that those who knew him hesitated to move against him. Although ruthless, he was patient and calm, almost eerily so from words you heard, but you digressed, you learned from experience that he was a great man. Rough on the edges but dependable.

Sitting on his lap, cock pulled between your thighs and harshly thrusting into your warm walls, you yelped as he moved you to ride him. Your knees bent under you, hands clutching onto his forearm for support. A drawled-out moan escaped your lips as he hit deep, cock twitching before he continued to ram against the spot that made your mind reel with pleasure.

"Ca-Capitano-" you cried out, head rolling to the side.

His only reply was a gruff grunt, bucking his hips to meet your mid-thrust. Rough and merciless, he chased his pleasure thoughtlessly with little regard for yours, but whatever he did to you had you begging for more - even unintentionally. The thick walls of the tent did little to quiet your moans that echoed out in the cold of Snezhnaya's borders, reaching the ears of the drunk and sober soldiers around the campfire. Dignity lost in the torrent of passion, you only saw the world inside the Captain's warm tent, made hotter by the sweat that coated your naked body and the heat of your lovemaking.

His grip would leave bruises, adding to the ones on your arms and legs from training. If he couldn't leave any from fighting, he would do it through sex, leave marks of his own in the forms of purple and blue swells on your waist, hip, thighs, arms and neck.

He may be cruel, unforgiving and silent towards others, but with you, he could be attentive, caring and loving in his way, whether physical or not, he wanted you to be a part of his solemn existence in the Fatui.