#maybe i'll write a fic one day

[crispyliza]

Fanfiction in the late 2000s-early 2010s was wild bc you'd find a beautifully written story with the most compelling heart-wrenching plot you've ever seen and the author's note would be like:

Author with a username like ~SasukesWaifuxD~ : Ohayo gozaimasu! ↖(^▽^)↗, I'm sowwy it took me so long to update (๑•́_•̀๑)

tsundere twink from their fic : It was about damn time you idiot (눈‸눈)

~SasukesWaifuxD~ : Hey now! It's not my fault the plot bunnies kept wunning away fwom me (╥﹏╥)

tsundere twink: W-watever, it's not like I missed you or anything (💢,,>﹏<,,) b-baka!

[wordsofasarcast]

headcanon

So you know how it's canon that Will listens to true crime podcasts?

What if that's how he finds out that Nico is from the 1940s?!

Like he's listening to the latest episode about 'the death of Maria di Angelo and the disappearance and supposed kidnapping of her missing children, Niccolò and Bianca di Angelo'.

And it's not all that strange for demigods to pop up in conspiracy blogs or podcasts - Percy had a four part series about him, and Will listened to the whole thing during a nightshift at the infirmary.

So yeah, Will starts listens to the di Angelo episode thinking nothing of it, maybe he's just hoping to have a laugh about what the mortals thought happened to Nico or maybe he's more than a little curious about Nico's mysterious past.

And the hosts, in crackling stereo voices because they desperately need a better mic, are talking about lightning striking the hotel, how "the storm popped up out of nowhere" and the "strange seismic activity reported in the area at the time"...and then the date drops...

The hosts say something along the lines of, "The di Angelo siblings were reported missing by their family back in Italy after no word had been received of their safe passage to America. The police report states they were last seen by an anonymous witness entering the Lotus Hotel & Casino with an unknown third party in December of 1942."

And Will's just sat there, gaping at the infirmary bed he'd been stripping of its sheets. Because everything is adding up now, and Will's not quite sure how he missed it...

[chiakery]

I'm thinking about the Matron of Ravens one day telling her champion, her first and most trusted ally since ascending to godhood, that she's going to leave him for some time.

I'm thinking about Purvan Suul, months or years later, following a raven until he arrived in front of a hovel. Inside it, there was a family. A mother. A father. A young girl with dark hair and green eyes, swaddled in blankets.

I'm thinking about Emhira's parents, not understanding why this stranger decided to take care of them but being infinitely grateful for this blessing - a skilled ranger bringing food and helping find shelter whenever their family had to move was more than anyone could hope for in times like these.

I'm thinking about Emhira, still young and mostly human, growing up looking up to this man who was so close with her he could have been her second father. Begging him to take her hunting, to teach her how to make and repair arrows. Playing with his wolf who was always so very gentle with her. Learning about Fate and Death and Gods.

I'm thinking about Purvan, patient as death, answering all of Emhira's questions but never pushing her in any direction, even when he saw her talking to ravens or idly drawing in sand symbols no one had ever showed her.

I'm thinking about Purvan and how, one day, this girl who was his god who was a little and vulnerable thing he had protected for the past decade and half, finally remembered. How she smiled at him in just the right way or placed a hand on his cheek with this look in her eyes and he knew. And he fell to his knees, heart bursting with prayer and joy and relief and said: "My Lady, welcome back."

[autumnalmess]

Hey man sorry I've not posted in a while, it's a funny story actually. I actually got arrested for stealing bread for my sister and her seven starving children. yeah, it was pretty bad. I tried to escape 3 times so yeah I got 19 years, yeah and then I broke my parole and now there's this slutty little man after me, yeah I think he has a crush on me or smt idk

[louisferrignojr]

ok me and @half-oz-eddie have been talking about bucktommy actors au and it goes like this

evan buckley, who sort of accidentally gets into modelling/acting after he moves to LA. he gets discovered and cast into a sexy perfume ad and then another sexy music video and he rolls with it because why not, it's easy money and LA is expensive, and he starts getting small roles here and there and eventually lands himself a recurring role as a firefighter on a network procedural (because we love being meta). it's fairly successful and long running, and he's gone from being a recurring character to one of the mains, and he loves his job, he loves the show (almost as much as his sister does) (almost as much as his actual-firefighter brother-in-law hates it)

tommy kinard, former child star who was shoved into the world of Hollywood at the age of 8 and starred in a couple of blockbusters in the early 90s that everyone has seen, who was outed in his twenties and disappeared from the public for like, a decade, and now gets to pick and choose what roles he'll take on, so when he's asked if he wants a small recurring role on his favourite guilty-pleasure show he jumps at the opportunity (and then he finds out he's been cast as the LI for the hunkiest guy on the show? this is his lucky day)

this is buck's first role where he has to kiss a man and he's like whatever it's not a big deal, i'm an ally. he meets tommy and they get along so welllll. buck trying to find every opportunity to hang out with tommy, invites him to go hiking and asks him to read lines together, and tommy is no A-lister but he still has some name recognition and he totally uses it to get them a table at the restaurant with a 6-month waitlist.

and let's say it's a slow burn arc on the show, so they've been filming a few episodes by the time they get to The Kiss. and of course they have to shoot that like 12 times. and buck goes home at the end of the day and he's had a long day he's so tired he just wants to shower and sleep but he lays in bed like. i should text tommy. and then tommy calls him and they're talking and joking and laughing. and they hang up and buck still can't sleep and he's like. what is this weird feeling.

until one day they're hanging out at tommy's house and buck is doing that thing where he's flirting without knowing he's flirting and tommy thinks fuck it and kisses him and buck gets this stupid smile on his face because holy shit everything makes sense now.

[thebibliosphere]

I don't know if I'll ever finish it, but occasionally, I am reminded that I started writing crackfic based on a dream I had after playing too much Garden Life and also reading too many Nightwing comics, and I'll open up the document and laugh myself sick at how awful a time Slade Wilson is having in my haunted flower shop AU.

He's been ripped body and soul out of his genre and into a cozy Hallmark movie with undercurrents of cosmic horror, and there's nothing he can do about it. Worst of all, the human he kidnapped is unkillable. At least by him.

---

Slade took a menacing step forward, then stopped dead in his tracks, unable to move another inch. "The fuck."

He looked down at his boots, struggling to uproot them from the dirt-strewn floor. When that failed, he gave up and took a desperate swing across the shop counter. The little witch didn't even flinch. She didn't need to. The same invisible force wrapped around his arm, holding it in place as he strained his outstretched hand toward her neck.

"What the fuck did you do?" he demanded, arm shaking as sweat began to bead down his brow.

"Me?" she asked, far too innocently, like butter wouldn't melt in that smug, annoying mouth. "Bless your heart, dearie, that's not me. That's the plot armor."

"Plot what?"

"Armor," she repeated slowly for him. "I know you're familiar with the word. I've seen that discounted Spirit Halloween ensemble you call a costume."

Slade snarled, renewing his efforts to crush her windpipe. "I know the word. What does it mean?"

"It means I'm protected. The story can't advance without me, so you're stuck with me." She smiled sweetly. "Lucky you."

"Story? What story? What the fuck are you talking about?"

"This one," she said, gesturing around them as though that explained anything. "The one we're in. The one you pulled me into. The one I can't leave until you figure out whatever the fuck you're supposed to be doing. So if you could hurry up and do that, that'd be great. I've got shit to do, and it doesn't involve holding your hand through whatever bullshit character arc crisis you're going through."

"Lady," Slade breathed out through gritted teeth, "you are fucking insane."

"Oh, sweety," she drawled, leaning across the counter and causing his arm to draw back of its own volition, not allowing him to get a hold of her throat, as she patted him condescendingly on the cheek. Clearly, whatever bullshit proximity magic she was pulling didn't apply to her ability to touch him. "You don't know the half of it."

[little-pondhead]

Danny moved to Gotham.

Freakshow is touring in Gotham.

Freakshow knows Danny is in Gotham.

Danny knows Freakshow is still after him.

Danny's faith in heroes has been shattered.

Danny turns to the only person powerful enough to run Freakshow out of town, hopefully for good.

Danny turns to the Joker for help.

The Joker is looking for a new punching bag sidekick after Harley Quinn left him.

Danny is just the perfect person to be shaped by the Joker's hands.

Danny becomes the new Joker Junior.

[doublekanble]

deer (in a head light)

Alastor/reader (gnc)

platonic-romantic. (almost everyone thinks you two are in love or is extremely baffled by the fact, a bit more romantic for me but can be seen as anything actually i just like writing people being sort of stupid)

word count: 5.6k.

or, collectively, everyone's reaction to the fact. Nifty is there👍. no real warning this is a normal fic part two to this.

Husk have never gone through this level of raw mental torture, while Angel thinks it’s absolutely hilarious how hard is it for Husker to accept that one of the most feared Overlord of all Pride Ring is vying for a cute lil fella like you. What started out as a small remark over the rim of a particularly strong cup of gin about how Alastor have been seemingly hovering around you, making small talks that you try to keep up with confused enthusiasm - soon turn into listing off every growing instances of odd affections that no one ever thought he’s capable of, but it’s yours in abundance.

You’re standing up with the intention of going outside? Unless he’s actively in a conversation (and several time, even during one) Alastor will find a convenient excuses to walk with you. You’re cold? Everyone else better be cold too, either that or hope to God he have anything to give you to wear. Hungry? Thirsty? Almost like a caretaker, he’s always making sure you have little bites of food and drink here or there, reminding you like clockwork. Staying in your room for the day? Your room is close to Angel, and the first time he come out of his room, fresh from a hangover, only to catch the tail end of a red coat and a greeting disappearing behind your door, it takes everything in him to try and rationalizing not breaking the door down.

(Husk thinks he was being overprotective. Angel brushed it off with a nervous chuckle. It’s a good thing, he remarks, if only Angel kept that attitude.)

The idea of Alastor actually taken interest in anyone, even positively, send shivers down his spine. Husk have been one of the older soul that fell into the hand of the sadistic Overlord, one that did just enough to keep his earn and do what he want when Alastor would’ve gotten busy with a new project or two. He knows he’s useful enough to Alastor, even with the occasional slipped up, learning quickly where to tread and where to back down. The Radio demon is insane, but he is surprisingly much more lenient with people than he often let on, but not as much as he is with you.

Which quickly became a thorn that Angel uses to dug into his side. Old battle-worn Husk cannot wrap his head around the fact that you, of all people in Hell, somehow get back on Alastor good side and stays there for longer than anyone thought you could.

You are more than bearable, don’t get him wrong. Good at reading and picking up on certain cues to pleased people (more particularly, the fact Husk likes to be alone most of the time), and in spite of being just a tad bit too stubborn at times, is generally a polite and entertaining thing to have around. It would’ve made sense for Alastor to wants to keep you for fun, if not for how you two started out.

Having missing out on your first introduction, all he have to go off of is your debrief of it on the one day you want to try whiskey. You’d damn near spat it out, opting to just sit with some soda instead (he didn’t try to poke too much, you’re almost like a pop-up pirate at time). Husk figured you would earn the ire of the most egotistical man he’d ever known, considering how you loudly asked Charlie for Alastor's resume as a way to try and barred him from working here.

Of course, that didn’t work, both you and Vaggie are long-time victims of Charlie convincing puppy gaze, and Alastor secured him and Nifty a spot at the hotel. But Husk was extremely adamant it would put you on a black book with Alastor, still remembering how Alastor grip on his cane would tighten just a bit whenever you spoke up on the first day. And yet, you get to laugh about it.

-

“Yer just bein superstitious kitten. At this point ‘m pretty sure dude just got the hots for them, nothing big.”  Angel fiddles with his phone on one set of hand, the other propping himself on the bar counter, holding a popsicle to his mouth. He wants to tell the spider that’s absolutely not how the word superstitious should be use, but he digressed. “We’ve been at this for days, if he gonna do something, we would’ve known.”

Husk scoffed, throwing the piece of cloth he’s been using to furiously wiping down a stain someone left on the counter over his shoulder.

“Yeah right, as if you can get your head out of your ass enough to see that.” He ignores Angel smirk, already knew where this can go if he let it, almost like a whisper, he spat. “I’m just saying, he ain’t the Radio demon for show. You lots know nothing about whatever he got planned in his shitty fucked up head.”

Forced contractor be damn, this bar is his pride and joy, or whatever’s left of it anyway.

At that, Angel sends his attitude right back, hand(s) flickering, “And I’m saying he’s head over heels. What? Ya wanna explain the fucker just- casually waltz up to them and kissin' their fucking hand as a morning greeting? Cus’ I’m calling bullshit. Nobody even doing that fucking thing anymore, and he’s doin’ it every chance he gets! Like, have you even seen them?!” Almost like a comedy setup, they both look over to the chattering at the top of the stairs.

Over the railing, you’re rushing off from Alastor’s side to catch up to Nifty, who’s desperately nagging you to come and help her with a spot she can’t dust off with a ladder, having long depleting the fun of falling off from it. And almost like instinct, he took your hand and planted a gentle peck, along with a well wish for your day.

You, with your other hand occupied and being dragged away too fast after the fact for you to formulate a real respond, simply perks up and laugh, waving at him before you fully give into the little bug-like demon and let her rushed the both of you to the other side of the hotel – Alastor stands and watch you fully disappearing behind a corner before turning his head and look directly at the pair. His mic sounding nothing except for a low drones of static.

Husk expertise kicking in, he looks straight ahead instead, wiping down the counter again just to be safe. Angel’s years of acting led him to immediately start talking about the latest project he’s involved in, popsicles stick held from his face. Husk can’t be too bothered by it this time, at least he’s reading the room. But even with their combined effort, it still doesn’t stop Alastor from manifested himself right by the bar, smiles almost pull taut, a too jolly “How is it going gentlemen?” and a request for a cup of moonshine, with a tune contorting just to sound much too whimsical for anyone else except him echoes from his microphone, and he’s off again.

“…y’know, you can just say you’re sorry for being wrong Whiskers~”

“Go fuck yourself.”

-----

Vaggie knows that no matter how much she tries to warn Charlie about the cannibal murderer in their own cozy hotel, her partner can and have constantly willed it away with loving words and cute beady eyes that she can’t fight against. Her loving and trusting nature always been the tried-and-true counter to Vaggie’s much more doubtful and skeptical side. Recalling the way you refer to it (two people working in harmony, balancing out each other’s nature, like a tango, a secret rhythm unknown to anyone but them), she smiles.

It dropped the moment she remembers the matter at hand, specifically, you, a friend that have grown dear to her heart, and the cannibal murderer she very much hated guts - growing close to yours. She’s not sure whether this qualifies for a tango when she’s dragging her feet and Charlie’s tap dancing.

Vaggie would’ve been glad you have virtually zero comment on the fact Alastor is getting close to you, and with her luck, purposefully ignoring it (what’s with you and dive bombing out of the conversation the moment the topic came up), if not for the fact Charlie is very insistent on letting you know all about it (=> conversation you have to dive out of). You and Vaggie traded favors all the time, exclusively about Charlie, who always try to bite off a bit more than she can chew.

Usually, you did a much better job on keeping Charlie from trouble than Vaggie actually can, having the heart she lacks to guilt her partner into keeping still or stop her from running into red light traffic. Yet a pattern emerges soon after this deal started that you three all pick up on, much to Charlie’s delight.

Somehow, some way, Charlie aged old puppy dog eyes are much, much more effective when the both of you are right next to each other. Alone, while Vaggie can’t turn her down, you can and have consistently do so. But together, you both would turn to each other, and you either would give into Charlie first, or wash your hand completely from the whole situation altogether, both decisions are equally awful, and often left Vaggie alone on the line of defense.

Like that time you asked for the Radio demon resume, being extremely firm on his demeanor being horrible for customer service and how unfit it would be for a hotel to house someone who clearly doesn’t want to help or be help. Vaggie remember the chills running up her spine as you stand firmly in the face of the greatest mystery to Hell even after all this time and not even batting an eye to his straining words or the implications of it. Even going so far as to point out that he’s a liability and can’t keep himself straight for anything worth the hotel’s effort.

Only for Charlie to held onto your (and Vaggie’s) hand and tell you both she can do this. She remembers it took you not even 5 second to turn towards her with a wistful gaze, a smile pulls on your lips, and put a hand on her shoulder.

Aside from her first real injuries, it was the biggest betrayal she’d ever gone through.

Vaggie like to think it doesn’t sting so badly that her partner and her friend are now growing more used to the giant red flag stalking their halls. If not also for the fact she have to be in on your effort of stopping Charlie from bringing up a weird line of conversation while you still - albeit not fully of your own volition - feeding into her girlfriend delusion of being a matchmaker. It wouldn’t be so hard if you just, try to at least calm Charlie down yourself, but your tendencies to avoid particularly specific conversation makes her boomerang from appreciation to pure exasperation.

Especially when she would be fighting her love for Charlie to keep your dignity intact.

“But Vaggiee…!” clinging onto her left arm, Charlie tries her best to bring her girlfriend’s eyes back to her. “Just look at them! They’ve never looked at anyone like that!”

She would love to argued otherwise, you have a habit of looking at everyone like that, something with making people feel more welcome to talk to you. But all thought vanished from her head when she turns to try and make an argument, and for a brief moment she forgot what they were talking about. Charlie’s good at distracting her, but she steeled herself and stop Charlie from jumping off into this and making it so much harder on you than it already is.

(God, the things Vaggie’d do for love.)

“I know you really want to, hun, but - I’m just, not sure about this. It’s Alastor we’re talking about. I get them being into him or whatever, but you’d really set them up with the Radio demon? You know…”

Charlie was slowly wilting a bit, but picks herself up at the hesitation, thinking it’s her chance, she races over her words. “A thoughtful, charming and-“

But still can’t finish fast enough, and Vaggie have to advert her eyes, she can’t handle a sad Charlie that well. “and a horrible cannibalistic freak, Charlie. He’s not a good person.” At that, her girlfriend really clings onto her.

“Vaggie…this is a hotel for redemption! We've got to believe that people can change…” Charlie’s not addressing her point, there’s no real way to denying the fact Alastor is really just who he is. A rotten, rancid piece of meat. Redemption be dammed when he doesn’t even believe in it. “And! I have proof that Alastor likes them~” Pulling out little drawn post-it-notes from her front pocket, Charlie nearly doubled over while trying to put all of them onto the table in front of Vaggie, and you.

“I’m going to go back to my room.” You abruptly stand up, nervously grinning while shuffling out of their office. Having sat completely stilled while hoping that you can somehow divert the topic ever since the start of the conversation, you gave up. Completely disregarding Charlie’s attempt at making you stay. “It’s late, and I should’ve been in bed some hours ago…”

“Wait! I swear that this time I-“ Charlie tries to reach for you again, but Vaggie held strong. Nodding towards the exit, you mouthed her a quick thank you as you walked out, wishing them both good night while gently pushing the doors close. “I have the proof…”

“C’mon babe…” visibly deflating, Charlie sat herself back into Vaggie’s arms with a pout. She doesn’t have the heart to press this too deeply, so she pushed back her hair and give her a small peck on her eyelid, she always did have pretty eyes. “You know they’re not going to listen to you if you keep ambushing them like this.”

“I know, but I just- really love them both…” Vaggie raised an eyebrow at that. “And they seem so, nice together. Alastor always makes sure to greet them every day, they always wished him goodnight-“ she scoffed.

“They do that for everyone hun, and I’m pretty sure that bastard just do it because…well, who knows? He’s weird, who knows what he’s thinking…maybe he’s just trying to- toot his own horns playing nice. He does that a lot.”

When Charlie stays still, Vaggie really thought she could end this tonight, for both your sake and her’s. But then, as if was given water from the spring of life, with her back straight, she sat right up and held firmly onto Vaggie shoulders.

“But he’s trying so hard for them! Don’t you see how he’s spending so much time just hanging around them? Oh, and don’t forget that he asked them, specifically them, what they think of his radio show! He doesn’t do that for anyone else Vaggie! He brings them food when they forgot to eat. They told him about stuff they would’ve ever tell us without prompting! And you have to see the way he looks at them when they’re just, sit together and, and-“

“Woah. Slow down Char. Through your nose.” Even like this, she’s endearing. She held Charlie’s arm and bring her closer.

“You have to see Vaggie, he looks at them like…how you look at me!” Vaggie pauses. Charlie is getting to her, she have to stop her from talking or she’ll give in. She thinks about how miserable you would be sitting through an actual talk about this, it doesn’t help.

“And, you’re one of the most wonderful things that happens to me, Vaggie. I love everyone in the hotel, and I would give my everything for them,” knowing her, she would “but you.” She breathes, and Vaggie feels her breath stuck in her throat. “You are my everything. We’re perfect together. And I really love them, and I just thought…”

Charlie looked at her with such a soft and gentle look, her eyebrows slightly drawn together, lips jutting out just a little bit. “I thought he’s perfect for them, that they’ll be perfect together too. I know he’s not the best person, and you don’t trust him. You don't have to. But I think he’s doing his best for them, and they’re doing so much for him too...” their hands, held tightly together “So please, trust me. I genuinely think this can work out. They deserve to be love like I did too.”

Vaggie tries so hard to held strong, opting to stay silent instead of replying and stoking the growing flame, but Charlie looks at her with her big shiny eyes, and she caved.

“…Alright… I guess he haven’t really…done anything to them yet…” before Charlie could jump up in joy, Vaggie tries to get her focus back “But if he touches a single hair on them- woah!”

Wrapped in her arms, Vaggie barely able to get out the full sentence as Charlie rambles on. “Oooh, thank you thank you thankyouthankyou I knew you’d understand! Oh there is so much I want to do too-“

“Charlie, bit too tight…”

“Oops! Sorry!”

Coming down from her high, she stares into her lover’s eye with the brightest grin possible. It takes everything in Vaggie to think about how disappointed you’ll be, so she closed her eye and takes a breath. “We have to let them sort it out themselves, though. No matchmaker.”

“But-”

“You know how closed off they can be. Give them time Charlie. They can find their own way home.” Like that, Charlie smiles a smile so bright and gentle, reserve only for Vaggie. “Like you and me?”

And all she can think is that this might not be that bad after all.

“Like you and me.”

----

“So...thissss is what the youth are…into?”

“Arguably, it’s somewhat better than what I have as a kid.”

Pentious squinted at the device in his hand, clawed hands carefully swipe through your ‘carefully curated feed’, whatever that means. You sat next to him on your balcony, various knick knacks on the side table he insisted you need, hands considerably less clawed holding a book you’ve never managed to get through past the 10th page, as you only ever try to read it when the moon is blue and you always ended up forgetting the previous pages, something he learned while he was helping with cleanups.

He’s flustered when you laugh at a joke without needing to look at the captions in the video, wanting to pretend he completely understood what just happened. It takes you a bit to calm down and explain to him what was so funny, it only serves to confused him further. You grin and handed your book over to Frank without putting a bookmark in first (who then immediately turns the page and started narrating half-way through to the other eggs), reaching for the phone.

“I’ll put on something a bit easier to get used to, is that ok with you?”

“But, aren’t we learning how to be ‘hip’?” you cackle, he tries not to shrink into himself.

“We can leave that for some other day i think, you don’t need to be hip or anything right now. And besides,” handing him your phone, he minded his claws, “I think you’re cool on your own.” You hum and turn to an open sketchbook on the table, picking up a pencil, you start to sketch one of the egg boiz running about your room.

Pentious nearly burst into tears, he should’ve known his friends (or, you) would’ve never made fun of him. Turning to your device again, his attention is immediately captured by a cat video.

You two stayed like that for what must’ve been an hour or two, occasionally checking up on what the other’s is doing. (he would show you the cutest video, you showed him your barely intelligible sketch. He feels like you’re sketching his nightmare he said, you’re flattered). With almost all of his eggies already tiring themselves out some time ago and gathered around both of your feet (and his tail), bundled up in your duvet and pillows. Except for egg boiz number 3, who’s in his lap as both are captured by a video of a dog getting a haircut (a mini-American shepherd, you chimed in happily that it’s one of your favorite video).

Then, the calm afternoon was broken by a singular knock to your door. You and your still cognizant companion(s) look up from your respective entertainment at hand and stare at each other. You glance over to him, head nodding towards the door, he shrugs, growing restless, you pat his shoulder as you stand up and walk away.

Pentious really did try to turn back and focus on the groomers narrating a particularly endearing moment in the nine minutes long video, but he can’t help but be on edge when a familiar voice sing a greeting too loud for him to ignore, and he realized just who is at the door, your door, his new best friend's door (verdict still out on whether you consider him as one).

Taking a peek, assuring to himself it’s to keep you safe, he locks eyes with red and half of his soul descend into the ring below, the other half turns him right back to your phone when the red starts to raise his eyebrows at him. He can keep you safe from a safe distance surely, but when he tries to hug the egg in his lap to comfort himself and feels nothing, he freezes. Horror-struck, he turns and look at you, specifically your back, the other half of his soul joins the first.

Without him realizing, number 3 already slipped out of his grasp and is now climbing on your shoulder and interjecting your conversation with the gentleman, who is now full-on glaring at him whenever your head slightly turn away. He gulped, but he still put your phone back onto the table and stand up, forget to mind his still sleeping minions at his tail. Thank Lucifer they decided to stay silent for once.

“I was just going to stay in tomorrow too… maybe- oh, Sir Pentious? What’s up?” You stare at him, easy-going as always. Almost like you’re unaware of the way Alastor is smiling at him. Pentious can only thank whoever is in charge of fate for the fact you slotted yourself right between them, and cursed them all the same for the fact you can’t covered up the demon’s face.

Clearing his throat, he tries to steered his nerves and curb his stuttering. “I see that someone have rudely interrupt our study session. May I have your permission to…”

At the sounds of radio static grows, his words in turns wilted as he stares into bright, glowing red and yellow growing in volume. Luckily, you manage to pick this up and covered for him. “Oh no don’t worry, Al was just asking when I’m free to hang out with.” As you turn to that same terrifying shade of red, it immediately transformed into a charming smile.

“Why, hangout is such a casual term dear. I prefer to call it a trip! Much more exciting that way.” With his usual theatrics delivery and a backing of voices coming from the microphone staff he uses to give you a gentle knock on the head, clashing with your much more casual tone brushing him off, Pentious wishes he can see this as endearing.

“Oh you’re trying to goat me into going back there again.” That wasn’t a question on your end. Alastor smiles in amusement, but it strained when number 3 chimes in and tries to asked you where is back there. He’s extremely grateful the demon chooses to ignore it, letting you entertain the egg instead.

“I do not know what you’re referring to at all.” Closing his eyes and leaning a bit to the side, the demon bounces a bit on the tip of his shoes and sings. “Otherwise, it seems my presence is making our welcomed guest uncomfortable.” Pentious tries to stand tall for you and number 3, but Alastor preference for getting up close and personal is mincing his confidence to bits. “I guess I will settle for an extra visit by tonight to talk a bit more about your hectic schedule, if that’s alright with you Ma chère?”

You laugh a bit and agrees with him, saying a quick sorry while he brushed it off with a smile, adjusting his coat’s flawless lapel with one hand, the other reaching for yours. Lifted up to his lips, he planted there a kiss with a look that can passed off as soft. Pentious looks away the moment their eyes lock again, whistling like he hasn’t been blanching at the two of you.

As you turn to close the door, he could’ve sworn red dials were looking at him in the seconds you look back to him, completely in contrast with the life-threatening aura now stand outside the door.

“Haha, sorry about that. I didn’t have time earlier and he was busy, so…” you trailed off, explanation offering him nothing but more questions. “I’ll try to be a bit more mindful about this next time, yeah? Didn’t know he still held something against you.”

You want to keep doing study sessions with him? He perks up a bit at the implication, while choosing to ignore the second part, until his egg started speaking.

“Uh, boss number two, why does Alastor kiss your hand so much?” Number 3 raises his hand, still sitting snugly in your arms. Pentious makes a note to make him sleep on the edge of the bed tonight. It doesn’t help that you’re leading them back to the others, who also started to chime in with their own questions. He can tell this time you’re getting a bit miffed, smiles growing a bit taut and looking off somewhere, unable to let them somehow ruin your goodwill towards him, he cracked. “SILENCE! Cease with your silly questions right now!”

You look at him, and he would’ve shrink into himself if not for how you seem more surprised than angry, as your brows relax and you smile a bit, he let himself breathe. “It’s alright, they’re cute, they can get away with a little questioning I think. And hm…” you bounce on your feet in a slightly familiar manner, he sweats a bit. “-I mean, it’s normal for friends to be close, so I don’t see any problem with it.”

“Oh…friends can kiss each other on the hand?” number 1 jump up. You laugh.

“Of course they can. Alastor loves getting into people’s space too, so I wouldn’t put it past him.”

He would’ve tried to say something and help you out with the questioning, but it hit him that at least in his time, the specific to the gesture was more of a formal greeting. But he takes into account the fact it's Alastor, and how whenever he sees you two together, the Radio demon always seemingly follows after your heels like a shadow tie too tightly, and he shivers. Anxiety fills his heart as he tries to navigate this thought.

“I do have to say, why is it that he tends to get so…closssse…to you?” You visibly stiffen at this, but as he takes your hand in his, trying his best to be tactful, still minding the claws, you stare. “Could it be…he’s trying to threaten you, dear friend?” he tries to recall how you comforts him in time of distress, and did his best to echoes the same sentiment to you.

“Whatever it is, you can share it to me! I will, uh- “

“You’ll duel him, right boss?”

his eggs chimes in where he falters, he follows their lead.

“Duel! Yesss! A duel to the death! That Radio bastard will regrets the day he-“ You squeeze his hand, and he drop his false bravado and let you seated him back on the balcony, letting number 3 dropped from his spot in your arms to the duvet covering the floor.

(with much less grace compared to you, but all the heart. he takes the fact you’re still around that he’s doing great.)

“We don’t need any of that silly. He’s my friend, I think.”

You fall back onto your seat, number 1 climb up to your lap with a question. “You two are friends? Like with boss?” sitting up, you sing an enthusiastic agreement while reaching for your notebook again. Pentious swore the sketch is looking more and more familiar by the line.

“Yeah, like with Sir Pentious! Al’s intimidating but he’s fun to hang around.” Hunching over while minding number 1 watching in your lap, your grin drops to something a bit kinder. He feels like he’s overstepping, despite the fact the room is void of anyone else. “He nice to talk with, I’ve never seen him shutting up on anyone else’s terms. That’s a good thing.” He wanted to say that’s a bit too barebone, even for himself, but then, turning to him with a smirk, you added. “Don’t tell him i said this, but he’s ssssuch a bitch sometimes. It’s fun though.”

Nodding with a much more serious look, Pentious takes your word as a command. “Not a word to my grave!”

“Hehe, that’s why you’re my favorite.”

Refocused on your sketch, you trust Pentious to be able to work your phone a bit better than before. He thinks he would’ve work it better if not for the tears gathering in his eyes, he takes the tissue paper you handed him without looking and wiped it away, only to panic about the long scratch he left on your screen. You laugh and assured him it’s fine, you can change the screen.

(verdict be dammed, you’re HIS best friend.)

(he took a peek at your sketch before you turn the page, and it hit him why it looks so off-putting. Antlers sprouting from two end on a figured too lanky to make out the physique of, but familiar enough all the same. He’d much prefer you go back to sketching his eggies, he said, you happily complied and he leave your room after with 5 torn note full of egg sketches and another schedule study session he pray you'll relay to Mister Alastor.)

---

“There you are darling! I was looking everywhere for you.” Calling out with joy, then stopping to take in the sight. He steadied you with one hand while you stop to catch your breath, nearly doubled into him. “I can see that you’re quite busy, seems like Nifty is giving you quite the run for your money huh!”

“Please…shut up…” you don’t need to look at him to know he’s enjoying this way more than you do, laughing at your utterly exhausted state. “I didn’t know there’s this much bugs in here… How can she even keep tracks of them??”

“Don’t feel too bad now, that one mind and health both are simply wonders to behold! Even I can’t keep up with her at times.” Trying to dust off your shoulders, he looked offended when you just swatted his hands away, waiting for an explanation.

“We’re not done yet, she’s just in the kitchen for a bit.” You pulled out your phone to check the time, Alastor squinting his eyes besides you, leaning over to keep watch and raising an eyebrow at the long scratch on the glass. “One hour before I’m free…”

“Thinking of giving up then~?”

“Yeah.”

Laughing at your tone, he takes your hand and twirl you, but not too much! Just enough daze you a bit. “Well darling, I would love to whisk you off with me for a trip downtown! I’m running low on good meat, and simply can’t afford to stained my coat while the tailor’s out of commission. But knowing you…” he’d look down-right sad if you let him. He can tell you try to keep your expression neutral, but your smile is growing to match his.

“No Al, an hour is-“

“An hour is an hour. Yes I know dear but it’s dreadfully boring without you.” Holding on still, he brings his face close to you, taking delight in the growing red on your face and you acting like nothing is out of the sort.

“You’ll survive Alastor. Nifty however…” As the sound of tiny footstep calling your name quickly approaching, he can’t help but letting a long, drawn-out sigh, backing off from you. A lost for him. You smile.

“Over here Nifty!” calling out to the little woman, you step away from Alastor to meet her half way, her stopping just before she hit your leg.

“You! I’ve been looking for you where have you been! I saw SOOOO many of them but they’re on the ceiling and I can’t reach them at all you've got to come help me – oh hiii Alastor!”

Nifty stops pulling you down the hall again just to give him a violent wave, dancing from one foot to the other and giving him time to catch up to you two, fully aware of your tradition from the moment it first started. Alastor smiles border on self-pleasing, gracious of Nifty’s effort to not drag you away just yet, less so the fact she would stares with such a wide grin. Nevertheless, he takes your hand again and bring it up, speaking all the while.

“Nifty, dearie, won’t you work our dear friend here a little less? I need them to-“ he pauses as you suddenly grip his hand and bring it up to your lips, too quick for him to stop you. And before he knew it, you both disappeared behind the corner yet again. Nifty voices and your cackle echoing down the empty hall way.

When he came back, aware of how the light flickering above his head now finally stabilizing itself, he laughs. Steadying himself, Alastor brushed off his coat and fix his monocle. Humming along with a love song slowly trickling from the microphone while walking the same way you and Nifty ran off to before. He have time to spare while waiting for you.

[cringefailvox]

overlord husk aus are very interesting to me in part because they present such a radically different vision of the huskerdust dynamic that is very compelling to me. present-day husk and angel are exhausted. these are people genuinely at rock bottom, who have been so worn down and chipped away at by the long, dragging stalemate of their circumstances that they have nothing left to give but their bare minimum selves. which is okay, and it's enough for them; a lot of what makes their dynamic so interesting is that it's about two people at their lowest rediscovering what it feels like to not be alone down there, to even begin thinking about the possibility of climbing out of the deep dark hole they've made their peace with now that they won't be doing it by themselves.

in contrast, overlord husk aus imagine a version of husk and angel before they were losers together. they imagine versions of them that haven't been beaten down all the way just yet: husk at the height of his greed and power and reckless addictions, angel riding the high of his stardom while adamantly refusing to peel back the surface and acknowledge the rot. both of them still digging the hole and saying to themselves, "i've got a ladder, i'm not going to get stuck. i can always climb back out."

and having these two meet at this stage in their lives, i think they would really, really not make each other better. husk's consideration for the souls on his chain had to have been close to zero for him to use them as gambling chips the way he did, especially the recklessly self-destructive way he did that ended with his own soul in alastor's pocket. and i imagine that for a long time, angel lived in total willful denial about val's escalating abuse and the toll his increasingly demanding job was taking on him, because acknowledging it would be tantamount to making it real, making it something that could actually hurt him and not just be rationalized away, and so of course he'd put off doing that for as long as he could.

if husk had actually won angel's soul, it wouldn't have been any different from all the other people he traded back and forth across his table just for the illicit thrill of the game. angel probably would've had a whole sunk-cost freakout about it (what was the point of all that pain and suffering and lack of autonomy if all the consequences are coming from a stranger now and not val? when it isn't personal? and now he can't even claim a little bit of power back by saying he chose it, because he didn't.) angel knows full well what it looks like when someone is going to kill themselves with their addictions, but what obligation does he have to the guy who would just as quick give him up to somebody else if it gave him an adrenaline rush? nothing, that's what, and he has enough of his own problems anyway.

crucially, they're both INCREDIBLY self-absorbed. not even in a conceited or vain way, but just in that they're so wrapped up in their own mess that they can't see beyond it, they don't have any space for empathy, and furthermore, they have no reason to even try.

it's why the version of their dynamic we get in canon works so well—they're in the same place now, at just the right time to finally start opening up their worlds to how they affect other people (angel watching charlie interact with val at the studio; husk being forced by alastor to engage with the hotel's residents as the bartender). there's space for empathy in their lives now, because they've finally been brought so low that they can't hide anymore, can't look away, can't deny how completely and totally fucked they are. it's a kind of brutal honesty that can only really come from confronting your absolute worst-case scenario. but for them to even begin connecting with each other in any authentic sense, they needed to have the ladder taken away so they could finally bring themselves to stop digging, look up, and realize there's been someone down here with them all along.

[herenya-writes]

To Kneel at Your Feet

So, uh, I tried my hand at a little Dreamling fic when a particular image wouldn't get out of my head.

~1850 words, Rated T (violence, non-graphic injuries, a bit of foul langauge), pre-relationship Dreamling set a few months after Dream escapes the fishbowl but before he's told Hob who he is

When a shadow fell over him, Hob figured he was fucked. Well, even more fucked than he already had been.

The day had started pretty normal. Term was over for the summer, and he had finally finished the last of the marking the night before, so he had let himself laze in the sunny patches of his bed until almost noon when the grumbling of his stomach drove him to the kitchen for food. The rest of the day had been syrupy slow, with a light frisson of anticipation running through. He was meeting his Stranger tomorrow morning for brunch, their first pre-evening meeting and the fifth one they had had since his Stranger had returned. So it was with a spring in his step that he had gone through the rest of the day, chatting with Mrs. Giles up the road about whether he could buy a few cases of her jam to serve at the Inn, taking a stroll around the park, mixing up a batch of scones. When Sasha called in sick, he had gladly picked up their shift bar-tending at the Inn, and even that had been lovely. A faster pace than the rest of his day, sure, but the night had been full of familiar faces and easy laughter.

He had been closing up the Inn and wiping down the last of the tables when the bell above the door rang. He didn’t get out so much as a word before the bullets were flying.

He managed to dodge them for a good while, but even his immortal body got tired of crouching and diving eventually. Plus, there were three of them, all armed, and only one of him. He had a bat and an array of knives behind the bar and an assortment of weapons in his flat above, but he didn’t see how he could get to either of those places unscathed. He’d survive, of course, but that could cause even more problems depending on how smart these thugs were.

His next dodge had been a bit too slow, and as he slid behind the sturdy oak of one of the booths a bullet buried itself in his shoulder. He snarled at the pain and pressed a hand to the wound on instinct. His immortality meant he’d survive no matter how many times these assholes shot him, but it didn’t stop him from feeling the bite of metal burrowing into his flesh.

It was as he was leaning against the wood, listening for footsteps and considering his options that a shape blocked the light above him. He swore and held up an arm to guard his face on instinct, but when he looked up it wasn’t one of the thugs he saw.

In the muted light of the Inn, his Stranger stood, clothed as always in his black coat, jeans, and boots, a minuscule frown pulling at his lips.

Without thinking, Hob grabbed the hem of his Stranger’s coat and yanked him down. His Stranger went, and a millisecond later bullets soared through the air where he had been standing.

“Sorry, friend. You chose a dangerous time to stop by,” he gasped. He had grabbed his Stranger with his left arm, and the bullet wound in his shoulder was protesting loudly.

His friend’s face took on a pinched expression, brows furrowing in a way that would have been adorable in another situation.

“You are injured,” he observed, his voice deep and rumbling like distant thunder. Hob could listen to that voice all day, and despite the circumstances he could feel his heartbeat slowing at just those three words. “You are not healing as you should.”

Hob blinked and looked down. Damn, his Stranger was right. One of the side effects of his immortality was that any injuries he sustained healed rapidly. Serious stuff like disembowelment still took a long (and excruciatingly painful) time to heal, but the process happened much faster for him than a normal human. He had been stabbed in a knife fight once in his second century of living and by the time the other fellow had hit the floor the only evidence of the wound had been the blood on his skin and the tear in his shirt. A bullet hole should have shown evidence of closing by now, but it was still gaping open and bleeding freely.

“At least I won’t have to cut the bullet out later,” he joked, but the tremble in his voice ruined his attempted levity.

“There are very few weapons in this world or another that could harm you so,” his Stranger declared, and something like lightning flashed in his eyes. His expression turned stone cold, and in a fluid movement he rose to his feet and turned toward the gunmen. Hob scrambled up after him, biting back curses, but he stopped short when he realized there weren’t any bullets flying through the air.

In the space of a blink, all the shadows in the room seemed to lengthen and gather around his Stranger, and Hob swore he saw recognition begin to dawn on the face of the lead thug as his Stranger stepped forward and extended one pale arm.

“Servants of the Morningstar, by what edict do you walk the Earth and seek the life of one to whom Death has denied her gift?” His Stranger’s voice buzzed with barely-restrained power, and something deep in Hob’s human brain told him to run and hide. He stayed where he was, though, and so did the gunmen, even as they trembled in obvious fear.

“Dead or not, the glory of claiming an immortal’s head for Lucifer’s throne room is undying,” the one in the middle declared. Hob was almost impressed with how even their voice was.

“You have attacked him in his home, unarmed and unaware of your challenge. There is no glory here, hellspawn.” His Stranger spat the word ‘glory’ like it was vinegar on his tongue, and all three creatures (he had thought they were human, but now he could swear an outline of fire flickered around them) recoiled. Still, they didn’t flee.

“He is unclaimed, Dreamlord. Glory or not, he’s ours for the taking!”

The shadows in the room deepened impossibly, and the air pressure dropped fast enough that Hob’s ears popped and every hair stood on end. His Stranger took a menacing step forward, standing directly between him and the gunment now. When he spoke, the power in his voice shook the floorboards and set Hob’s very bones buzzing.

“Is that so? Allow me to correct that oversight.”

His Stranger threw back his coat, and it melted into a midnight black robe. The folds of the fabric were ablaze with swirling galaxies that seemed to spill into the shadows that surrounded him. The power radiating off him now was equal parts strange and familiar, like hearing a song for the first time but immediately knowing the chorus. Any unease Hob had felt settled at once, even as the gunmen began to quiver and keen in dismay. His Stranger spoke over their sounds of distress, his voice firm and unyielding. In that moment, Hob had no doubt that he could make any declaration and reality would bend itself to reflect his will.

“I, Dream of the Endless, Shaper of Forms, Oneiromancer, Prince of Stories, King of the Dreaming and Nightmare Realms, declare Hob Gadling to be under my protection. Harm him and know the unfettered wrath of the Dreaming.”

Hob had been a lot of things in the past 600-plus years. He’d tried his hand at just about everything that had held his attention for longer than a week, and he had even been decent at a fair chunk of it. Hell, he’d even been knighted once! Right now, he probably had enough wealth squirreled away in stashes across the world to keep him living comfortably for the next two hundred or so years. At his core, though, he was nothing more than a peasant.

His knee hit the floor before his Stranger even finished speaking, and he barely felt the way the movement shocked his still-bleeding shoulder. All he could do was gaze up at his Stranger, awe, in the oldest sense of the word, flooding him. Dream of the Endless. His Stranger had a name. His Stranger was a king.

He wasn’t sure what happened with the thugs after that. There was a moment when the Inn got so dark all he could see where the pinpoints of light in his Stranger’s eyes and the galaxies swirling in his robe, and the next the light had returned and his Stranger had turned that fathomless gaze on him.

He lowered his eyes. “My king.” His tongue was heaving in his mouth, and his throat was sand paper. There was a spit of crimson blood, his blood, on the hem of his Stranger’s robe.

“You would kneel and call me king? Even after the wrongs I have committed against you? I did not even grant you the courtesy of my name.” Power still rumbled in his Stranger’s voice, but it was leashed now in a way that sent a spark racing up Hob’s spine. God help him, but he had always loved a bit of danger.

He risked a glance up and saw his Stranger’s perfect lips twisted in a frown, his brows drawn together like Hob was a puzzle he couldn’t quite figure out.

“I don’t need anything from you that you aren’t ready to give, my friend. You came back to me, and that was more than I could ever hope for.” Those words strayed a bit too close to another truth—that he would have waited forever just for a glimpse of his Stranger’s face, just to hear a single word from his lips—but Hob wasn’t about to start lying now, not when this magnificent creature, this otherworldly lord, had deemed him worthy of his time and attention despite all odds. His Stranger had returned after over 100 years to sit in a pub and listen to Hob ramble about airplanes and smartphones and humanity reaching the moon. How could anything he had to say possibly have captured the attention of a king with no doubt a million other duties to attend to?

His Stranger regarded him, galaxies swirling in his black eyes to match the ones dancing across his robe. Hob tore his gaze back to the floor for fear of falling in.

“Rise. You owe me no servitude or obeisance, Hob Gadling.”

Hob wanted to disagree, but he kept his mouth shut and did as his lord bid. He bit back a growl of pain as he stood, and in a blink his Stranger was there, long arms wrapped around his shoulders and holding him up with unnatural strength. Together, they hobbled up the stairs to his flat, and his Stranger laid him gently on the couch and let Hob grip his hand too tightly as he dug out the bullet lodged in his shoulder, seemingly uncaring of the way the crimson blood stained his pale fingers.

[theminecraftbee]

hermit horror week day 4: season 7 or taken over

Xisuma slowly blinks at the console logs for the server again. He's very tired; he's been collecting blackstone again, and it's very tiring, collecting blackstone. He's been building a lot of pretty houses, and stocking a lot of shops, and he hasn't had time to look at the console much recently. He probably shouldn't be now, because he's tired, and tired people make mistakes.

He makes a lot of mistakes; he's silly like that. A big derp. It's why he has to be careful, since he's been tired so much lately. He definitely shouldn't have the console open.

It's just, earlier Impulse had a question, since his moss farm kept lagging, and Xisuma thought it would be easy enough to try to find the root cause of. And he did find the root cause of it--Impulse's farm is too fast and his storage simply doesn't keep up with the amount of moss--but there's... some other things...

He blinks again at the dates on the server files. The last edited dates. Slowly, he clicks again on his own player data, and tries to make sense of what he's reading. Files like this, they aren't really meant to be that human-readable. It's--well, it is mostly json, so it's mostly human-readable, actually, but a lot of it is still encrypted, for player safety, which would. Maybe explain what he's looking at? He thinks? He's--well, he does have root access, is the thing, because he's the admin, but he still shouldn't be able to look at any player willy-nilly.

He's a little too much of a derp to be trusted with that. He probably shouldn't even be looking at his data! It's just. That last edited date. Xisuma doesn't edit his own player data. That way lies madness. He's, uh, pretty sure he knows some people who went a little mad doing that. So the fact of the matter is--well, it's not the only file that's been edited recently, he tells himself. Just because it's a lot of memory files that seem to have been edited, as well as access permissions--that's... normal enough for a new season, right?

He's...

He doesn't notice his other self walk up behind him.

"Oh, hey Xisuma. You finished gathering materials for our next build, then?" Evil Xisuma says. All of Xisuma's hairs stand on end.

"I mean, I've gathered enough to get started," Xisuma says.

"Pity. I was really hoping you'd manage to get everything. I thought maybe we'd finish today, but I guess we can't now."

"I--you're right. I'm really sorry."

"No, no, don't worry, don't worry, my friend," Evil Xisuma says. "We probably couldn't have finished today anyway, even if you said you'd try for it."

Xisuma's heart is in his throat. "Sorry, my head's just been. You know how I am. Silly me, forgetting things."

Evil Xisuma shakes his head. "It's awfully lucky I came back this season. Think of all the important things you'd be forgetting without reminders!"

Xisuma looks down and away.

"Gosh, and now you're... playing around in the admin console?"

"Oh!" Xisuma says. "It's, er, nothing really big..."

"Can I see it?"

He barely resists the urge to close out of his player data and hide that's what he'd been looking at. He doesn't know why he wants to hide it. It's not like--well, if Evil Xisuma got mad about it, it would be... right, wouldn't it? Because, well, Xisuma knows full well he shouldn't be looking at or editing his own player data. Editing your own data is the way to madness, and Xisuma, well, he's been so tired lately. He could easily accidentally hit a button. He could easily accidentally hit delete. He has root access, after all.

His heart is in his throat again. He shuffles his feet. "Sure," he says, finally. "I, er, I promise, I wasn't doing anything. I just noticed the last edited date on, uh, files that aren't automatically created by the system? And I thought, gosh, that's weird. I'd only been in there to check on Impulse, really, after he'd had some lag issues. I was just finishing up. It's nothing--the date's weird, though, right? That's all I was noticing."

He watches Evil Xisuma's fingers scroll through all of Xisuma's data. It's not quite fast enough that Xisuma isn't sure he's reading it, and suddenly, Xisuma feels very small.

Finally, Evil Xisuma hands Xisuma's tablet with the admin console open back to him. Xisuma looks down, and Evil Xisuma has closed out of the player data again.

"You just forgot the last maintenance date," Evil Xisuma says.

"Really?" Xisuma says.

"Oh, yeah, for sure. You're so tired lately. You silly derp. You've just been forgetting things easily. You should really get more rest!"

"Oh, but then we won't finish our projects," Xisuma says.

"I guess we wouldn't," Evil Xisuma says back.

"It's just--it's. Most of the time, access permission for player memories isn't edited during maintenance, and I just--I don't remember putting your name down?"

"Why wouldn't you?"

Xisuma tries to think.

"I don't know," he says finally, small, unable to meaningfully articulate anything about what's wrong with it. "I guess it only makes sense, if I'm forgetting things so easily."

"Exactly! Gosh, we make a good team," Evil Xisuma says, and he smiles at Xisuma. Xisuma crookedly smiles back.

"Yeah, we do," Xisuma agrees.

"Don't pull that out again unless I say so, okay?"

"Okay," Xisuma agrees automatically, and then he knows he will not. It makes sense. If he was upsetting himself over nothing like this, why, imagine what he'd do if he could open it whenever? He'd just constantly be upsetting himself!

"Now, my friend, let's return to building the Evil Empire."

"Let's!" agrees Xisuma, and just like that, the entire encounter slips from his mind.

[lightningbig]

5+1 qpissa. five times missa tries to propose + one time phil says yes. various vignettes of missa trying to make a move and phil being utterly oblivious. phil does something and missa stammers out 'marry me?' and phil giggles about it, 'aw mate, don't worry about it', thinks missa was just doing a bit. missa finds some interesting gems, makes them into a ring and everything, and phil gasps and coos over it but doesn't seem to get what missa meant at all. thanks him profusely, treasures the gift, but there's no acknowledgement of proposal. etc etc and this continues, missa getting more exasperated and lovestruck, until he either comes clean (by accident or on purpose) or phil realizes something's up. and it's like comedy of errors right bc phil is ?? confused?? 'we're already married, wdym??' bc phil has considered them married since chayanne, since the adoption, since the double bed in the house on the wall. missa is so bamboozled. cannot believe this. 'you- what- the whole time??' and phil doesn't mean to laugh, but he's remembering all the moments the past few months, how silly they are. but missa is looking genuinely upset so he schools himself and settles down next to his husband. 'ask me again' 'what?' 'missa, ask me again. please?' and missa gathers himself, and this time he has no plans, no elaborate set up, no gifts. it's just them and he asks and phil is warm and sure and safe when he squeezes his hands, sidles up close. says yes. and kisses him so soundly.

[sevensinswithin]

Okay so to everyone who was here for the original post, here’s basically how Alicent and Laenor get married in my lavender marriage au:

The entire thing starts because Alicent catches Laenor and Joffrey fucking in a secluded part of the castle a few weeks before Aemma dies. The boys only realize they’ve been caught because Alicent runs away from them like her ass is on fire. That girl had no idea gay male sex was an option in life and now needs to reevaluate everything in her life after catching them.

Laenor then spends the next few weeks trying to find a way to get her alone because guess what. Fucking in a secluded but also public area is not a good strategy if you want to keep your gay love affair a secret. So now Laenor is hoping to convince Alicent to stay quiet about what she saw because his dad seems to think he'll grow out of it (do not attack me, this literally happens in canon) and he doesn’t want anyone to know yet since it might impact who he’ll get married to eventually. Meanwhile Alicent is desperately trying to forget that she ever saw anything and doesn’t tell Otto about seeing Laenor and Joffrey because let's be real. This man said “childhood companions” like it was a slur in that one scene, so she knows that her father would do something with this information. Alicent does not want to be the reason Joffrey and Laenor are in trouble for their relationship. Nevermind that she’s suddenly having the realization that women liking women isn’t that far of a stretch after all.

Unfortunately, to everyone else in the world, it looks like Laenor is trying to court her and that Alicent is just trying to be very polite about his interest in her since she never wants to be alone in a room with him unless they’re around other people. Which is something that is totally normal and not weird at all. Why would you say otherwise?

Then Aemma dies and Otto sends her to see Viserys in his room and Alicent is now very stressed about something else in her life because she wants to do what her father says, but she also doesn’t want to betray Rhaenyra.

So during those six months after Aemma dies - which is apparently how much times passes between Aemma’s death and when Viserys decides to marry Alicent according to a HOTD article I read - Alicent, like in canon, is sent by her father to Viserys’ chambers and desperately hopes that her father’s ambitions won’t happen and that Viserys will simply see her as person that is supporting him in his grief.

(Life Hack: If you ever want to read an article and it says you have to make an account to read the rest of it, just go back to the google page you found it on, right click the link, and save the link as an HTML document. That lets you read the article without having to make an account. I found this out from someone on the internet and damn did it help when I wanted to access any account restricted article. Anyways, back to the plot.)

So to counteract that and make it so she’s less appealing to Viserys, Alicent always mentions Laenor and how fond of him she is during their talks. She also mentions how worried she is about Rhaenyra and her position as heir because there seems to be so many people that seem to be under the impression that they can replace her by having Viserys marry one of their daughters and convince him change his heir to one of the possible children he might have with those daughters.

Meanwhile, Laenor is absolutely losing his mind because all of a sudden Alicent is always around him and receptive to interacting with him, even though literally weeks before she avoided being around him like the plague. During this she also manages to wring out of him the fact that his parents (mainly Corlys, let's be real) are talking about potentially marrying Laena to Viserys and that he hates that idea as she’s way too young in his eyes for that. Eventually Alicent manages to find a way to be alone with Laenor and make him swear to secrecy about what she'll tell him because telling anyone might mean that his sister will actually have to marry Viserys. He does and she fills him in on what her father wants and what she’s attempting to do, and that she needs his cooperation to get him to at least appear like they’re courting.

So Alicent and Laenor put up the appearance that they’re at least attracted to each other to get people talking, which totally doesn’t ignite jealousy in Rhaenyra at the idea of Alicent being in love with her cousin. Cue Rhaenyra absolutely doing everything in her power to make Laenor appear like a loser to Alicent and the rest of the court. Alicent makes sure to get her to stop that shit real quick and tells Rhaenyra that she and Laenor are only pretending to be in love in order to avoid having to marry someone that would disrespect Laenor’s preference for men and disregard Alicent’s autonomy. Alicent also mentions that possibly marrying Laenor means that Alicent and Rhaenyra will be allowed to see each other very frequently as she will be Laenor’s wife and the Velaryons are often at court since they are related to the royal family. So now they have Rhaenyra on board.

Eventually the night before that one small council meeting where in canon Viserys announces that he’ll marry Alicent, Alicent “confesses” to Viserys that she’s in love with Laenor and that she wants to marry him, but that her father would never allow Alicent to marry Laenor because he and Lord Corlys dislike each other. She also lets it “slip” that Otto is very adamant that Viserys must have a male heir despite the fact that Rhaenyra has already been made heir, and that he sees Alicent as a potential bride for Viserys despite her unwillingness to marry her best friend’s father. She also sprinkles in the fact that Rhaenyra would be devastated at the idea of her father remarrying, especially if the bride in question were her best friend or even her little cousin (Yeah fuck you Corlys, you’re on thin ice for that and the grow out of it comment), and the fact that surely his wife would want him to defend his daughter’s claim to the Iron Throne from potential usurpers, which is something that would definitely happen if he had a son.

This causes Viserys to absolutely lose his shit, but Alicent calms him down and he sends her away from his chambers. However, not before Viserys hints that he would not dissolve a marriage between a highborn lady and lord if they eloped and consummated the marriage. So instead of heading straight to her rooms, Alicent instead books it to Laenor’s chambers. The two of them run off to a sept and convince a septon to marry them with a few commoners as their witnesses because they can’t take any nobles in fear of being stopped (and to also have the commoners spread the fact that Alicent and Laenor eloped). Then she and Laenor head off to Laenor’s chambers to consummate the marriage with the help of Joffrey, who they had stay in Laenor’s chambers so that no one would get him in trouble or notice that he was in the room with them during the consummation, and to have Alicent stay over so that people could catch them together in the morning and spread the news of her “ruined reputation”.

The next morning Laena bursts into Laenor’s chambers like she always does and “catches” them before running off to tell Rhaenys the way all little siblings do. So then Rhaenys and Corlys show up, as does Otto; he caught wind of the situation through a servant he paid off to spy on the Velaryons. Once there Otto starts shaming Alicent about her ruined reputation and Laenor retorts that she didn’t ruin anything as he married her before he bedded her. Otto then explodes at the pair when Laenor says that and Corlys rushes to defend his son against all the stuff Otto is saying and threatening him with.

Eventually their argument gets so loud that a servant rushes to get Viserys and a few guards since they’re afraid that the two lords will resort to violence. Trailing after them is Rhaenyra and the Small Council, as the meeting was supposed to start half an hour ago but certain people were missing and needed to be found. So now the entire Small Council, Rhaneyra, and Viserys are at the doorway of Laenor’s room while a furious Otto and Corlys trade insults. Meanwhile Rhaenys sees how afraid Alicent and Laenor are and rushes to the pair’s defense (because they need someone in their corner that isn’t shaming the other party), saying that perhaps the two wouldn’t have resorted to eloping if Otto and Corlys weren't always at odds. Seeing the King, Otto rushes to demand that he have the septon reverse the marriage, but Viserys reveals that he knows about Otto’s plan to make Alicent marry him and how he knows that she wished to marry Laenor instead. He then fires Otto from being Hand and sends him packing to Oldtown, approving of Laenor and Alicent’s marriage as a final insult to Otto. He also firmly informs the small council that he will not be getting remarried, that Rhaenyra will remain his heir, and that anyone who objects otherwise is speaking of treason.

So there you go, the outline for a story that I’m most likely going to write in non-linear bits. In this world Alicent is Lady of Driftmark, Laenor and Joffrey get to be happy, and Viserys prioritizes making sure that Rhaenyra’s claim to the throne is secure. Also somewhere down the line in this universe Rhaenyra and Alicent get their shit together and realize they’re in love with each other, and Rhaenyra gets to marry Harwin because Daemon never takes her to the brothel and so she gets to pick her husband and be the polyamorous bi queen we all love.

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

well. i can't find my original fic rec list so here's a new (updated) one!

Daily Routines by The Garden of Unusual Delights (Shadowland) A number of people who feel depressed turn to comedy. Routines can also help. / As can having someone to care for. 4k words / oneshot / complete - TOP fucking tier. this rewired my neurons, shifted my view of Barnaby & his relationship with Wally, and also made me Deeply emotional

How to Greet New Neighbours by The Garden of Unusual Delights (Shadowland) He doesn't know what's happening, but he knows it isn't good. 8k words / oneshot / complete - STELLAR. an intriguing and engaging (and heartbreaking!) take on how Wally wound up sending material to the whrp

A Matter of Care by The Garden of Unusual Delights (Shadowland) When Julie is too sad to take proper care of her hair, Frank is happy to help out. 2.5k words / oneshot / complete - this person always gets characterizations Just Right, don't they? this a very sweet and tender moment between the besties <3

What to call it? What to call it? by Anonymous Wally tries to figure out what is different about the Neighborhood. But maybe there is no difference at all. 2.2k words / oneshot / complete - a fascinating exploration / behind the scenes interpretation of the secret 14 audios. the end always has me in my feels <3

Strings Of Fate by A_Cypress_Coffin Frank Frankly lived life by simply trudging along most days, but all of that changes when a new neighbor, quite literally, crashes into him. 27k / multichap / ongoing - a very fun interpretation of Franklydear and how the puppets perceive / experience / handle the true nature of their reality. i Cannot recommend it enough!

To Read a Clock by TurnedWorm Frank and Eddie try to teach Wally to read a clock. They get a bit more than they bargained for. 2.7k words / oneshot / complete - sweet and also Haunting! a stellar combination, and an interesting take on Wally's perspective. ngl it gave me chills!

my chest is bursting with abnormality by springtrap_wiki Wally realizes that something about him isn't as it should be. 1k words / oneshot / complete - a little peek into Wally realizing that he's different than his others neighbors. I like how this is handled - it hits home if im being honest!

Goin’ Out of My Head by 5_24 Picking someone up from the bus station seems like an easy task. But when adding Eddie Dear to that equation and the passenger just happens to be Frank Frankly, the results may vary... 5.4k / multichap / complete - genuinely funny, cute, and entertaining. the perfect read for a laugh!

Inside Jokes by The_PastelVoid In which the puppets are waiting for Sally and discover that Wally apparently has a contagious laugh when Barnaby tells what is called an "inside joke". 2k / oneshot / complete - pure fluff and laughs <3

Goodnight, Wally! by PastelDemon ... But what would happen if, one day, without any warning, Wally suddenly could sleep just like everyone else? 19.5k / oneshot / complete - very sweet with a sprinkling of angst, and an entertaining take on what a new-to-sleep Wally might be like

Welcome Home: Fantasy AU by ImaginatorOfThings What would happen if we took our lovable cast of puppets, and put them into a Fantasy alternate universe? 28k / series / complete - a VERY fun fantasy au with a fascinating twist. it made me tear up, it made me feel some dread, it made me smile! what more could we ask for <3

[tea-cat-arts]

The donghua adding in that Lan Wangji was waiting for Wei Wuxian to come back from the dead low key makes him look like an insane person, but it's fun to combine with the book lore of "He spent 13 years grieving" and turn into some maladaptive coping mechanism like-

"Lwj flipped back and forth between full confidence that wwx would come back and crushing despair over wwx just being dead. He collected alcohol for wwx to gift on return, but the only thing stopping lwj from just consuming it himself and getting alcohol poisoning was that he had to stay together enough to raise their son. Lwj incorporated wwx's ideologies and inventions into the Lan students teachings and worked tirelessly to make the world a better place, but could never simply enjoy the results as he was still waiting for the one he wants to show it off too (even if he's kept up at night knowing wwx will probably never see any of it). His hope that wwx could come back only made their time apart hurt more and made it so he was unable to move on"

[soupbtch]

I've been sitting on this thought for months and only held onto it because I was considering exploring ed's feelings here further in a fic but I don't think I'll ever write it and today seems like a good day to share. so.

to me, calypso's birthday is all about ed's compounding guilt. we have the scene with ed sensing a storm that he can't see, then facing izzy and his leg, and then stede shoving the last of the treasure into a 'guilt room.' he's back in the crew's good graces, but all of these remaining consequences from the kraken era are bubbling up and ed can't avoid them anymore.

but ed is changing and growing, and he tries to make things better, to make amends and finally get out of his own way and to allow himself things that will make him happy, but ned shows up at the exact moment ed and stede are about to dance because of course he does. he's another consequence of the kraken era. ed isn't even surprised by this point - he's been facing the guilt all day, and he goaded ned on for all those months.

the problem now, though, is that stede and the crew are in danger, and I think (if we were given longer episodes) we would've seen that internal guilt play out in ed's character more here. anyway, the crew get tortured, stede gets burned right in front of ed's eyes when he's helpless to do anything about it, and still he refuses to kill ned at the end of it all because he knows it won't solve anything: it'd only make him feel worse. and he's done torturing himself. he's done standing in the way of his own happiness. and then he watches stede kill ned, and oh no, that's ed's fault, too. if he hadn't spiraled, if he hadn't egged ned on for all those months, none of them would be in this mess, stede wouldn't be upset, stede wouldn't have to face the thing (murder) that made ed feel like he's a monster.

I think that night in the cabin is when all the guilt that had been building all episode would finally come to a head. I made a post about this a long time ago, but I think when stede takes his shirt off, ed would see all the scars on stede's body and it would absolutely wreck him.