#now i know the museums technically not canon

[mmyashas]

too much familoier art in the museum somethings off ................

[bunnieswithknives]

hey in ur peri animatic: (https://youtu.be/OCqlRuDaXYU?si=K52WDu_vw9rg7chz) that I have been permanently obsessed over since today and have watched about 20 times by now so much that I have drawn & posted stuff based on it what was that partial bug form peri had?

I haven’t watched either of the show btw so if it’s explained in the show please tell me plsssss

OK, SO the bug thing is not technically canon to the series. It's based on my own headcanons for fairy biology, but i do have justifications for it!! Fairies have very strong shape-shifting abilities, so it would make sense that the form they show to humans isn't necessarily their true form(not to mention extreme that mimicry is very common in insects). And you want to know the visible traits almost every fairy has in common? Being very small with Insect-like wings.

The fact that their humanoid form isn't their true form in actually confirmed in the show! Cosmo and Wanda are revealed to look like biblically accurate pseudo-angels in the museum episode. (I say pseudo angels because the Flaming Sword of Eden is only debatably sentient and I don't think is considered an angel. Ophanim are also debatably not angels because they don't have wings (sorry for the angel tangent I like angels))

So wouldn't their true forms be angelic then? Well, yes. But I like bugs so. Also I have more headcanons to justify myself. I like to think that they have both a true-true form (incomprehensible to the human brain, probably exists mostly in a dimension invisible to us, that looks how we imagine biblically accurate angels), and a fairy form (which is visible to humans but is naturally very insect like and tends to scare people). So, in order to interact with humans, they have to learn to shapeshift into a humanoid form but will occasionally slip if they get too relaxed/aren't careful, hence the mandibles coming out when he yawns!

The reason they struggle so much more with human forms than the animals or objects they typically turn into is that, well, they aren't trying to convince those animals or objects. The more human they try to look, the harder it is to keep up convincingly. If you turn into a really uncanny squirrel, only other squirrels will notice. If you turn into a really uncanny human, they form a lynch mob and burn you at the stake.

[nhothicket]

is it too late for Halloween?

Some close ups and silly spare thoughts about this half-baked au below the cut ^v^

Some thoughts:

It's extremely important for this au that Etho is very enthusiastic about his clowning, okay? Nobody's forcing him to do this he is a PROUD CLOWN.

The setting is probably somewhere in the 80s-90s at an amusement park with a carnival vibe. I thought it might be fun to have all the Halloween hermits be canon, but I also see this being a world unaware of the more supernatural goings on, so I'm not sure if that could pan out. Maybe some sort of veil from the supernatural might be in play? Who knows.

Anyway! This is about Ethdubs not those other nerds.

> So, in this amusement part there's an oddities attraction of sorts. There resides Bdubs, he is a haunted heart preserved in a jar, not an actual attraction though just set dressing for the creepy shed vibe. As the story goes this jar has been passed around for decades, but its progressively gotten heavier despite being untampered with. The preservatives have gotten thick and changed colors over time. This is actually just Bdubs' spirit taking its sweet sweet time to manifest, as he slowly materializes around his heart, the preservatives turn to ectoplasm.

Most of the time he's sealed up in the jar, thanks to this mystical veil regular people usually can't hear him grouching about the tight space. The jar itself is part of his haunting, which means its technically part of him and he can't pass through it. So, until Etho realizes the disembodied voice he's been hearing come from the little building is not all in his head, Bdubs was stuck there.

> Bdubs' more human less goopy form is also a bit translucent in that form and he's not at all solid. If Etho were to poke him in the arm his finger would go through with some pressure. A firm hug would be fine at first, but he'd quickly start sinking into the ghost. It takes a lot of energy to be that physical, so Bdubs hardly does it. He's capable of leaving his heart in the jar and being a more traditional wispy ghost in that image, but... he feels left out when he can't touch things, so he'll usually choose being a bit gooey over being a beautiful beautiful man.

His heart is the only part of him that is completely physical. It is a real object in the world still, he's possessing it. It's what allows him to be more physical, so if someone were to reach into his chest and pluck it out he'd turn into a wisp. (He and Etho have both done so repeatedly to make bad jokes about heart stealing). How did Bdubs' heart get in a shady unmarked jar? Who knows. The people who ran the place probably don't even know its a real human heart anymore.

> Bdubs frequently lies about how old he was (recalling and inserting himself into historical events he wasn't even born for), Etho humors it.

> Bdubs died before Etho was born, this is the subject of mockery on both sides. (Etho would've been born maybe a decade or so after Bdubs died, he's in his 30s at present)

> Etho's gimmick is being comically good slight of hand and magic tricks. He's not supernatural, but he's like fantastical in his competence when it comes to looking magical. Etho invents (realistically jmpossible) contraptions to make his magic work.

> Horse drawn buggies would've been on their way out as Bdubs was growing up, so he could be nostalgic for that, I thought it might be cute if Etho took him out on one of those horse drawn tours as a surprise. Don't mind the clowny guy carrying around a jar with a heart in it.

> Another funny thought I had, Bdubs asking for a grand sarcophagus after getting jealous of the attention a new mummy is getting in the attraction. Etho doesn't buy him a sarcophagus, but he does get him a novelty canopic jar from the gift shop of a nearby museum.

Okay, that's all for now. ^v^;

[bet-on-me-13]

Immortal Danny meets his Families Reincarnations after years

So, Immortal Danny had to suffer through the deaths of his friends and family. For some reason, they never became Ghosts in the Zone, but he has kept looking for them in the Zone for centuries.

Then, one day, Clockwork come to him and explains that his Friends have all been Reincarnated. Due to them having died peaceful deaths, there weren't enough emotions to be turned into Ghosts, instead their souls were Reincarnated due to the amount of Ectoplasm in their bodies.

Danny goes to the Universe where they were Reincarnated, and finds that they all ended up reincarnating in a similar time-frame and location, and all ended up meeting eachother again.

His family and friends Reincarnated as the Bat Family

Bruce is actually the reincarnation of Jack Fenton, and while he is still a much better driver than before, Alfred prefers life thank you very much. He uses his Tech Know-How to build all his Bat-Gear. Hall also freakishly strong, and he isn't a Meta, so he has always been a little confused about that. His lingering guilt at being a bad dad in his past life leads him to be as great a dad as he can in this one.

Maddie Fenton is now Selena Kyle, using her natural athletic expertise and genius level technical know-how to steal artifacts from museums better than her canon counterpart ever could. She has always felt a connection to Batman for some reason, and flirted constantly.

Jazz became Barbra Gordan, and she is just as much a psychologist in this life as the last, but she uses it for Crime solving instead. I'm just going to say that she was officially adopted without Comissioner Gordans knowledge. He is not happy when he finds out that his daughter is legally shared by him and bruce.

Sam became Cassandra Cain, who for some reason has new Plant Powers reminiscent of Poison Ivy. Her soul is still technically that of the "Daughter of Undergrowth", so she gets her plant powers even in death. She now considers Poison Ivy her new sister for some reason. She is also still a Vegan.

Tucker is now Duke Thomas, who is confused as to why he seemingly has Egyptian Magic alongside his own Meta Abilities all of a sudden. He also has a talent for Coding and Hacking that could rival every other member of their family.

Tim used to be Wes, who befriended Danny after a while in his old life. He uses his smarts to figure out Batman is Bruce Wayne, and becomes the second Robin.

Dick was Dash, who mellowed out and became a good friend to Danny a while after the end of the series. In his new life, he is much kinder to everybody around him, as a remnant of his guilt for being so mean in his past life. It's alsowwhy he became a Cop.

Jason is undecided. Maybe he is still a friend to Danny, but he met him when he died and Danny found him while wandering. He considered him a little brother before he was resurrected and lost his memories. Or maybe he was another of Danny's friends, idk.

Alfred used to be Mr Lancer, and he has always had a weird talent for dealing with chaotic and freakishly strong teenagers. He also has a Love for helping children down on their luck.

Steph could have been Star, who rekindled her friendship with Danny after a few years as well. I honestly just like the idea of Danny's bullies becoming his friends after getting their life together.

I don't know about many of the others

This could then go 2 ways

Option 1:

When Danny discovers that his Family has all Reincarnated, he decides to Reincarnate as well to be with them again. With the help of Clockwork, he becomes Damian Al Ghul, born only a little time after his other family and friends.

He makes it so that he will slowly regain his memories and powers over his lifetime until he hits the age of 14, the age he was when he died.

The other Batfamily Members are confused, because Damian all of a sudden called a Family Meeting, and began telling them a story about how they were all the reincarnations of the mortal friends and family of the Ghost King. And that he is the Ghost King as well.

And it makes sense for some reason, they have all had vivid dreams of past lives, or skills and abilities that they don't remember picking up.

They slowly accept his story and the story continues from there.

Option 2:

Danny just goes directly to them after figuring it out, and the Batclan is suddenly visited by the God King of the Afterlife shouting about how he finally found his family.

Danny is just happy to be there, while the others are looking at bruce like "Oh my god, his Adoption Addiction has gotten so strong that the souls of the dead are being adopted by him"

And Danny is meeting his new brother Damian.

Or, Bonus Option

Danny goes to meet with them, then Damian walks in and pulls him aside. Tells him to ask for Clockwork to Reincarnate him, and pushes him through a portal.

A combination where Danny meets them, and then after he meets them goes back in time and Reincarnates himself as Damian.

[lianaisabsent]

BSD men when their s/o gets jealous

A/n: might be a little different from exactly canon reactions but technically it includes my hcs so..

CHARACTERS: dazai, chuuya, atsushi

Dazai:

with dazai it's like you're confused and amused more than jealous.

He flirts to get information, it works greatly is what's more annoying to you.

This one time you both were set up on a mission and not even two seconds in and he flirted with the prime suspect and deemed her "incapable of doing murder"

When asked why he responded “I would frame her too, she's too afraid and cowardly and she's lacking financially so her motive would've been perfect to kill.. however, the way she trembles and speaks and responds is a way no killer would be able to.. She could be an actress but her hands are of those of the abused. Meaning she was purposely planted to distract us.. That's something I would do if I was the killer" (plot holes in this but I'm not a detective so excuse me if I get any thing wrong)

You were just gawking the whole time over how much he analyzed from touching the ladies hand and speaking to her softly and sweetly.. It was a mask yes but still it made you jealous.. Not like you were to admit that.

He might have.. He definitely noticed it. Dazai wanted to tease you over it but you were in a professional setting although nothing about dazai can be called professional at times.. Most times..

Bro would tease you so much so so much

You both were on a mission together, a mission to investigate a murder in an art museum. You inspected the places, found some clues and when you came back you saw your boyfriend speaking, no flirting with the staff members.

You knew it's for work, but it still makes you feel a twisting feeling in your stomach. You're not much of a doubting and possessive person with him but it's still annoying how good he is at this a natural some might even say.

You just inhaled and exhaled before rolling your eyes and walking towards someone else for their statements on what happened. They all have roughly the same statement “he was a kind man, a kind man the manager was, the manager was a nice kind man he didn't deserve this” almost led you to think this was some sort of mystery novels cassette tape on repeat.

A few minutes pass by and you feel someone hugging you from behind, you flinched and pushed the person away, person being dazai who was very wounded (dramatic is a better word) “my love! How could you!? First you get jealous and glare at the staff member and when I came to comfort you like the amazing partner I am, you pushed me!”

You could only sigh at his theatrics, 'how is he not an actor?' you thought. “don't bother dazai I know it was for work..” you sighed looking through the information you gathered. He did tease you but he ultimately didn't really know how to respond to that. As he's told you before he cant really respond with that exact emotions you want. He tried though.

“well.. I only 'flirt' for work but ultimately who do I go home to and for? You” it did make you internally embarrassed because he just said that loudly in a silent hall with people.

Chuuya:

He isn't a flirt, his thing is more of actions speak louder then words but he does get flirted with. He doesn't respond to it but it does annoy you a little.

he isn't going to say much just “oh okay-wait what”

I think he'd be dense when it comes to recognizing jealousy, he'd just think everything is fine unless you directly tell him it's not

“chuuya, I'm jealous” “of what? My charm?”

How did you even end up with him..

One time, at a café when you were both off of your work and getting something to drink while you caught up for the week a woman came up asking for your boyfriends number.

He was about to say something before he saw a book in her hand, he did mention he'd been reading a few books recently and that you should check them out if you have time but you didn't have time. You were regretting it now for sure.

“oh you like that book?” “yes!” “oh what was-....” their words were no longer being heard by you when all you did was stare down at your drink counting till when she would leave him. But to your disappointment it was like chuuya forgot who he came to the date with. After what felt like 30 minutes she smiled and left with his number as you glared at him and picked up the butter knife.

You stared at him and he only smiled at you in return, it wasn't intentional you could see it but it annoyed you so much “so you just give away your number to random people huh?” you asked earning a confused look from him, “what do you mean darling?” “you know what I mean, the girl the book ring a bell for you yet Einstein?” he nodded before pausing “oh wait what? You were jealous!?”

He, instead of sitting across came to your side and sat beside you lightly hugging you “sorry if it made you jealous I was just kind of happy because we had similar interests is all, you're the one I'll take to dinner and you're the one who I'll plan to spend my life with along with wine”

It made you smile.

Atsushi:

He is more dense.. He's oblivious, he doesn't even know you were jealous.. Why were you jealous? That's his thought

We all know atsushi has a thing for saving people but people do tend to over think interactions. You have witnessed multiple times where people who atsushi saved tried flirting with him. As your oblivious partner just kept being dense.

“jealous?? You? YOU WERE JEALOUS?!”

He's confused, he doesn't understand

You knew atsushi saved a girl from the guild and you knew she was his friend (?) if you could call it that because from what kyouka told you she just seemed like a shy girl who hates social interactions.. That was until you visited the café yourself and saw her upset seeing you. Had you done something to wrong her? No, you hadn't ever met the red head.

“um atsu.. Is your upset with me?” you asked to which you received a shake of his head and a small "no"

As you say down she came and threw the menu in front of atsushi and placed it carefully to you.. You were shocked to say the least. She the started bantering and you noticed a blush and thought 'oh. She likes him..' it wasn't until after she left that you felt an annoying twist in your stomach and a voice saying that they've known each other for longer then you and him have been together but you choose to ignore it.

Lucy, he told you was her name, came back with the orders placing it and when he called you 'love' which wasn't often unless he noticed something off about you that her eyes almost bulged out “YOU HAVE A GIRLFRIEND!?” she shouted at him not that loudly to disturb everyone but still nearby customers did hear it. Atsushi nodded “oh yes, I thought I told you last time me and kyouka came” they started bantering again.

You felt jealous and annoyed, she seemed sweet.. But jealousy just made you feel angry and annoyed at her. After your café trip you walked out of the café not waiting for him to catch up. He grabbed your wrist asking what's wrong and you could only sigh "jealousy, I'm jealous, you've known her for longer then our relationship and she even could have feelings for you!” you said to which his response was shutting down literally he tried to process what you just said..

"you're jealous? JEALOUS??” he was shocked and in comparison to his obliviousness you only kissed him. It made him redder then red paint could even get. He was confused as to why you were jealous but he reassured you that he only likes you and lucy is a good person and friend of his.

[jamieedlund]

人形

Tldr: I'm about to go on a tangent about the word 'doll'. That's it, that's the post! Feel free to click off now 🤼‍♂️

Ok now for those who are interested: Ok. So in Japanese, 人形 (Ningyō) can be translated as 'doll' or 'puppet'; which I find very interesting because to me, dolls are made to be loved. The connotation of "made to be controlled" doesn't immediately come to mind when I think of dolls. Dolls are also most commonly referred to as 'a child's plaything', so I guess in that context the meaning of their relationship can be pretty scathing. Dolls can be proudly put on display as prized objects, but the same thing can be said about puppets. I do think puppets have been put into museums before-- And let's not forget the millions of videos of people blowing up Barbie dolls but I guess I'm not referring to dolls that are being massed produced for consumption lol, at least...not in this context, maybe? The way my brain is making all these correlations is: Callum looks like a doll. He is also canonically referred to as pretty and maybe he has been called both 'a doll' and 'a puppet'. The double meaning of how this concept can be interpreted intrigues me. It can be as dreadful as a puppet on wire, or as sweet as a doll made to be loved. cough and if we're bringing the "mass-produced" into this, it might hint that he's not the first and only "doll" but ofc I don't intend their relationship to be this way but it's an interesting thing to think about, regardless. Although love is another terrifying concept and that in of itself is another tangent holy- In conclusion: He's master's special, in what way hell if I know. Love is complicated and dolls and puppets are the same but not really. Drink water, hug your mother, ok bye. . . . I also wanted to caption this something else like how the reflection turns into aaravos so it's technically not "reflected" it's- more like refracted lol or sth? Or maybe it's a representation of how they're close but really really distant(mentally and biologically) kinda like how humans are finite so it's like--representing the distance between now and eternity? Ok now I'm finished! Thanks for reading this massive brainrot 🧙‍♂️✨

[dimensionzero]

so anyway if y'all've got an insatiable craving after atsv, here's some spiderverse fics that deserve some love!

gotta start with Spiders' Night Out! by Chaos_and_Sparkles, my favourite of the rapidly forming pavitr-and-hobie-rob-the-british-museum genre --- in this one, their master plan drags the Spot along for the ride and it's great

courage (never forgotten) by stars_and_scars1 is an interesting character study on miles during atsv. I'm very intrigued by the writing style. it might go well with Look at me, falling fast by umwelt, gwen's POV of her visit with miles, which manages to be extremely funny and kind of heartbreaking at the same time.

speaking of gwen, State of Grace by Fichistory is gwen's POV of itsv, and I love her and miles in this one, I will be imagining it as her inner monologue every time I rewatch itsv after this. I'm also obsessed with how 14Passionz describes earth-65's mood-ring watercolour style throughout ink pallette, a great fic to cry about over gwen and her dad. and rounding out my gwen recs is the mark of a true spider-man by joshriku, in which gwen crowd-sources the meaning of being spider-man and has a conversation with peter b about, y'know. the elephant in the room.

if you're in the mood for a laugh, please read restorative justice by Nanashi07, the one where miles decides to rehabilitate miguel using restorative justice techniques while gwen and hobie heckle them and peter b cackles from the sidelines. for a slightly angstier post-atsv fic, there's also i only see you in the city light by yukla, in which miles has struggles and hobie is a bro. and you can find yet more post-atsv fics with the run run fast as you can series by Quillium (speaking of Quillium, they've also got equifinality, in which prowler!miles gets forcibly befriended by spider-man. while trying to murder him. it's complicated.); my favourite of the series has to be pavitr prabhakar and being spider-man, a character study that addresses how pav must feel over his friends knowing about canon events and not telling him in a way that feels very true to his character.

speaking of pavitr, Chaos_and_Sparkles is also writing a character study/speculative backstory for him in One Must Imagine Sisyphus Happy, which starts off very sweet and funny and halfway through takes a deep dive into angst. if you want sweet and funny all the way through, try na dekhi koi aisi girl by whatcaniwriteinthis, a pavitr/gayatri meet-cute. Who wants to punch a fascist? by I_have_hella_nice_abbs is a different kind of sweet and funny with noir and hobie bonding, three guesses how--- I like noir's internal monologue in this one a lot. and speaking of hobie, my favourite fic centred around him has to be Teenage Anarchist by gender_bender08, a character study that runs from his recruitment into spider-society to his exit-stage-center from atsv. it does both hobie and his relationships really really well.

and lastly, this is technically an older one but I can't make a spiderverse fic rec and not recommend Spider-Man Is Dead (Long Live Spider-Man) by aetataureate, it's a series of character studies on ripeter, gwen, peter b, and miles during itsv and it's insane how few hits it has for being some of my favourite pieces of writing in anything ever. anyway that's all for now, have fun y'all

[onpointedfeetandbrokendreams]

Day 5 - DBDA Week

Day 5 of Dead Boy Detectives Appreciation Week: 10th-16th June by @dbdcentral

Prompt: Dreams

Relationships: Edwin Payne/Charles Rowland, Edwin Payne&Niko Sasaki

Tags:  Alternative Universe - Inception (sort of)

TW: Mentions of canon-typical violence

--

As far as the eye could see, the corridor never seemed to end. It kept going, and going, the same sickening green light, the same splashes of blood and broken doll pieces scattered on the floor. It was dizzying. Edwin wasn’t sure if it was actually expanding before him or if he was running in circles, but he couldn’t stop to take notes, or to leave a mark behind to orient himself. He just had to keep going and going, as fast as he could, as quiet as he could. The raw terror the sound of the creature produced enough to make adrenaline pump in his body and make his muscles strain harder, his breathing shorter.

Then he rounded a corner and before he could understand what was happening, the creature was on him, slashing his head from forehead to chin. He couldn’t see, the eerie light was reddened by the drops of blood covering his eye.

He collapsed on the floor, crying, he didn’t even have the energy left to scream. He knew the creature wouldn’t kill him immediately, it wanted to play, wanted the chase to last.

“Edwin, is that you?”

A far-away voice brought him back to the present, he raised his eyes and immediately the tears returned, mixing with the dirt and blood on his face. How he wished Charles had never had to see him like that.

“What are you doing here, Charles?” He asked between sobs.

“I came to rescue you,” Charles replied easily, like it was the most obvious truth of the universe. In a way, it was. Edwin had been hoping that he would come and dreaded it at the same time. It took him seventy years to escape the first time, seventy years of being chased by the creature, torn apart and eaten. He couldn’t bear the thought of Charles having to go through the same because of him.

“Please leave, I’ll distract it…” He whispered, even knowing his plea would fall on deaf ears.

“Mate, there is no way I’m leaving this place without you.”

Charles was towering over his still crouched form now, offering his hand for him to take and help him up. He extended his own hand, but just a moment before their fingers could so much as brush against each other, the creature was on them, and everything went black.

–

When he opened his eyes, Edwin was not in the corridor anymore. There was no trace of the creature, no sound of dolls giggling or screaming from behind him. He took in the place and realised he was in his office. The desk was in its usual place, and it was covered in books and notes in his own hand-writing. The second thing he noticed was that there was also no sign of Charles.

“Hey Edwin, what do you think of the Museum Haunting for our next case? The History Museum is my third favourite public building to visit.”

He knew that voice. His eyes started to fill with tears for a very different reason, as he ran into Niko’s arms.

“Niko! What are you doing here? Also, what Museum Haunting?”

Niko returned the hug, then she took a step back and gave him a quizzical look. “What do you mean? I work here. Is everything okay?”

Edwin’s head was spinning so hard he was barely able to find his voice to ask:

“Where is Charles?”

“Who?” Niko asked, still looking at him in confusion.

Despite technically not needing to breathe, Edwin was gasping for air, because no, absolutely, this could not be happening. 

He saw Niko’s hand reach out to him and caress his arm to comfort him, but he could feel it even less than he normally would. He imagined that was the feeling astronauts had in Space when they had no gravity to keep them anchored. It was an even worse kind of nightmare than Hell.

Then, an idea hit him. Sudden, like lighting. Nightmare.

He focused on how he had died in Hell and reappeared here and he remembered reading a book about this. He fumbled drunkenly towards the bookshelf on the other corner of the office, sending an apologetic look at Niko for slipping away from her.

He turned the pages, but it seemed like nothing on those books was where it was supposed to be. The information was wrong, different, the bookmarks on completely useless places. The books looked like his own, but they were not the same.

After an eternity, or maybe a couple of hours, he finally found what he was looking for. At some point, Niko had renounced trying to talk to him and went outside. Scanning the words on the page, he finally dared to stop and take a proper breath.

“Dream Worlds,” he said, to no one in particular. “When you die in the dream, you are transported back to another dream, or you wake up.”

He didn’t remember how he had managed to fall asleep, he had always thought that it was not something available to ghosts.

There was only one problem: this was not Hell, he was already dead in this World.

He scrambled his brain, trying to figure out what it could mean for a ghost to die in the dream, because their energy could be consumed, but it sounded a bit different from ‘dying’. In the end, he could think only of one thing. The one he had run away from for more than thirty years.

“Niko?” He called, phasing through the wall to the apartment on the other side.

She was laying on her bed, studying the architectural plan of the museum. For a moment, Edwin smiled, looking at the image in front of him with fondness, and longing. He would have liked to show Niko their office, and maybe work cases with her in London.

Niko put down her pen and turned to him, to let him know she was listening.

“I’m sorry, I needed a moment. I am ready for the museum haunting now.”

She beamed, explaining everything she had learned as she led the way out of the building.

The case was simple enough, especially because Edwin had solved it before. A ghost from the Great War with a cursed mask. He caressed the purple volume in his hand and cast a caging spell for the ghost, then set the mask on fire to destroy it. When the blue light came, Niko started yelling at him to run, to hide, she tried desperately to grab his hand and drag him away, but saying a soft “sorry Niko”, he made his arm incorporeal to her, and waited.

“Edwin Payne,” Death’s voice called him. She didn’t seem surprised. “I see you are finally ready to go back to your Afterlife.”

“Yes,” he lied. It still made him shiver to say the words, even if he knew he was not actually going back to Hell.

He heard Niko yell “No!!” as he took Death’s hand, and he couldn’t help the pang of regret at saying goodbye to her. But this was not real, an existence without Charles could not be real.

–

Edwin’s eyes opened on the most beautiful view he had ever seen in his life, and in his death. A phantom flutter on his chest reminded him of the heart that once used to beat there.

“Mate, finally you’re awake! I was so worried, you just collapsed, you’ve been out for days.” Charles said, offering him a hand to help him up. The sense of deja vu sent a new wave of fear through his entire body. He remembered the moment in his vision of Hell, when their fingers were about to touch before the creature ate them both.

Seeing him remain still, Charles moved both of his hands to Edwin’s shoulders and let them slide behind his back to encapsulate him in a hug, and pull him up towards his chest.

Edwin melted into it. “You’re real?” He asked, the smile threatening to split his lips.

“Of course I am real, what happened?” 

There would be time to explain everything later, and to understand. For now, he just let the feeling of Charles’ embrace encompass him, washing away every moment of fear and torture. He didn’t even care if it was the real world or not.

[pondslime]

@pretty-possum​​ cynth, ur mind. ur fuckin MIND. thank u for sending me this electric idea bc it rlly had me spooning out my brain!! here’s some filthnasty for u in which he has way too much fun and it’s ickyweird

catching flies with honey (if the killing’s what you like, make it sweet)

bo sinclair x afab!reader

rating: explicit

wordcount: 4.8k

Reader POV. You keep telling him how much you hate him. You little spitfire! It's real cute. Anyway, he’s got something special to show you. He’s sure you’ll love it. 

Also posted on AO3 here.

⚠️ Canon typical violence and fuckery. We’re in Bo’s hell basement for the first bit of this, so that means many references to past noncon. When we get to the wax museum nasty, it's dubcon under EXTREME duress. Reader dislikes Bo immensely and makes this clear to him multiple times. Bo finds this endlessly entertaining and adapts his approach to make her even more miserable. He's on his brat-taming shit. Sugary sweet, full of bullshit compliments, contrived as hell. He’s very smug and manipulative and slimy in this fic. HEAVY praise kink. Deviating from my other Bo fics, he doesn’t call you any awful names! Whoa! But he might as well! Because this really isn’t any better! Praise kink as degradation.  A wax sculpture is destroyed, and the resulting viscera and nastiness is described in vivid detail. Some suspension of disbelief is necessary for the decomposition described, but that’s basically a warning for the original movie lmao. Mind break elements. He talks you through it (unfortunately). Multiple orgasms with a heavy focus on overstimulation.  ⚠️

He’s red on the inside, same as you. It’s about time that somebody reminded him.

“I’m gettin’ sloppy.” Bo clicks his tongue. “Ain’t your fault, darlin’.”

“Don’t call me that.” You spit out, tugging at the restraints on the chair.

“What? You don’t like me bein’ sweet to you?”

He hums a tune as he clips your fingernails. You expect a sting of pain—want one, even—each time he lifts another finger. It never comes. He’s uncharacteristically gentle, pinching his tongue between his teeth and tilting his head as he studies your hands.

“Ain’t been takin’ care of you like I should, baby.” He murmurs.

Your lip trembles with indignation. You wear enough marks on your skin to know that his version of care isn’t something you want. Your eyes dart back to the scratch on his neck. You wish you could’ve done more, cut deeper—but you’ll take this small victory. It’s a reminder that he’s nothing more than human, shackled by the same mortality you are. You can see that in the pinpricks of blood blooming on his neck.

He bleeds like you and he can die just the same.

“I hope it scars.” You mutter.

Leveling his gaze to meet yours, Bo tips his head towards your bound wrists.

“Hope yours do to.” He chuckles. “You keep yankin’ on those things and we’re ‘bout to have a matchin’ set.”

The smile he gives you is warm and soft, crinkling at the corners of his eyes. It’s as counterfeit as the rest of his persona and just as paper-thin. You wonder who he stole that expression from. He only seems to have things that he’s taken from others.

You count the days with scratches on his Polaroids.

He keeps your nails short now, so you can’t dig into them like you used to. Despite that, you try your best, pressing a crescent moon of a cut into the glossy surface. He’s got enough of them hanging up that you doubt he’ll notice. If you know one thing for certain, it’s that he seems to have a remarkably one-track mind.

He comes down here for you. Everything else is as consequential as the dirt and rust that line the shelves. A product of years of neglect, just another piece of the background. When you think about it, even you are one of those incidental things. The previous occupants of this room watch you from the wall, a constant reminder that this has all happened before. Down here, you are not an anomaly. The technicalities of your self are really just that, technicalities.

It’s necessary to give him things (your body, your time, all that rust) because that’s how you stay alive. You can’t feel bad for that. It’s a hunger like anything else and you swallow it down like any of the other tasteless meals he brings you. It slides down your gullet and with every mouthful, the pang lessens. When the hunger is gone, all you’re left with is the way he sits in your stomach.

You have to be careful. If you’re not, there’ll come a point where there won’t be anything more to pry away. You have to stay awake.

You’re screaming. Bo’s yawning.

“Figured ya’ woulda gotten that outta your system by now.”

You ignore him.

“Want me to try and holler with ya’? Might help that sound carry.”

“Where’s everybody else?” You wheel around to face him, hands balled into tight fists. He’s sitting on the edge of the mattress, leaning back on his elbows.

“Dunno.” Scrunching his face up in thought, he purses his lips. “Haven’t seen nobody ‘round here in a minute. Just you.”

“Just me?” You chew on your bottom lip, searching his face. “You’re not a good liar.”

“I’m not lyin’.” He smirks at you.

“They’re all dead, aren’t they?” Your voice warbles a bit around the question, but you manage to steady your voice. You hope he doesn’t notice.

He does.

“Look darlin’, I know you’re real worried ‘bout those friends of yours.” He frowns at you, brow creased in a poor attempt at sympathy. “And I don’t wanna scare ya’ baby. I really don’t. But you gotta know. My brother…he ain’t right. If he got to ‘em first…can’t tell ya’ what could’ve happened.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s got this, uh—this compulsion.” He shakes his head slowly, letting out a low whistle. “Bad stuff. Gotta keep ya’ away from him.”

“Why?”

“Oh, ‘cuz you’re somethin’ special.” He drags the last word out, letting it pop in his mouth. “But you know that, don’tcha, baby?”

His praise might as well have been spat into your face with a wad of saliva.

Getting to his feet with a groan, he glances over his shoulder. He stands there for a beat too long, eying the Polaroids. Leaning over, he tugs one off the wall. You haven’t exactly been subtle with your date-keeping. He scans over the damage, his lips curling into a sneer.

“I’m gonna say this once.” His face twists into a scowl. “All this? It’s real cute—until it ain’t.”

There’s an eagerness to your breath as you watch him, your eyes darting from the ruined picture back to his face. It’s an odd, confusing thing, but part of you prefers him like this. The cruelty makes him predictable. You’re so sick of the platitudes, the sugary pet names. You know what he wants to call you, what he really thinks of you as. He may as well have branded those words deep into your skin.

You used to make him so angry. It almost felt like your encounters were equal parts punishment doled out to both of you, wrapped up around the callous bite of his voice. This recent change in demeanor frustrates you, it feels like it was born out of something you did. Nothing bothers you more than that. When you were a slut, or a whore, or a nasty little bitch, that was all him.

You ready yourself for what’s coming, knowing that it’ll hurt, but pleased to know that you managed to break his composure. Unable to hide behind thinly veiled niceties, he can’t pretend to be kind.

To your dismay, his face relaxes.

“Reckon it ain’t nice to tease ya’ with pictures when ya’ want the real thing.” He sighs, crumpling the picture in his hand. Your shoulders sag. “I’ll make it up to you, baby.”

You start your count back up on a new Polaroid. It feels less satisfying, but that’s routine for you.

You’re six notches deep into your new calender when Bo comes downstairs jangling his keys.

“Got somethin’ to show ya’ today.”

“…What is it?”

“Don’t wanna spoil the surprise.” He shrugs, shooting you a smile. “Can’t bring it here, so…how ya’ feel ‘bout takin’ a walk, darlin’?”

Outside the gas station, you shield your eyes from the sun.

Rustling in his pocket, Bo pulls out a crumpled box of cigarettes. You peer around as he flicks his lighter open, your heart stuttering in your chest. You’re not bound. There’s nothing preventing you from taking off down the street. But this is his test, and you know that.

The limits of the town are further than you’d thought. Even if you could make it to the mouth of the town without him at your heels, that’s only part of it. The momentum you’d need to sustain to get down the road means nothing if you lose it there, face-down in the gravel.

Bo’s taking a drag of his cigarette when you glance back at him, a smirk playing at the ends of his lips. He looks at you like he can tell what you’re thinking, as if he’s run through the same scenario a thousand times in his mind. He’s come out the winner every time. You’re sure he’d love for you to prove him right.

“You want one?” He gestures toward the cigarette.

In place of an answer, you glare at him.

“Suit yourself, sweetness.” He grins.

“Waste of money.” You murmur.

“You might be right. But I never buy any of ‘em.” There’s an edge of manic glee in his voice. “Not once.”

Keeping your eyes on him, you press your lips together. You can tell he wants you to ask what he means by that. He’s all but bouncing on his heels, eyes twinkling. He hasn’t fucked you in days, has barely seemed to have time to touch you. It felt like a reprieve at the time, but this barely-contained excitement worries you.

You don’t respond.

He finishes his cigarette, flicking it away.

“C’mon.”

Bo leads you up the hill to the wax museum. Reaching out, he closes his hand around the door handle. It opens with a creak.  

“Go on. Ladies first.”

Inside, it’s quiet, but there’s no peace.

Sun reflects out through green panes, bathing everything in unnatural light. It feels wrong to stand here in the gloom, surrounded by an assortment of shadowy wax figures, their faces frozen in placid contentment. Nervousness gnaws at your chest, leaving your palms clammy.

“What are we doing here?” Your throat feels tight.

He doesn’t answer, just leads you deeper into the room. Your eyes land on a mirror against the far wall. In its dusty cloudiness, you both are shadowy blobs of shapes, completely insubstantial.

“Keep goin’. ‘S in the other room.”

He beckons you through an open doorway and dust tickles your nose. Following his gaze, your eyes land on another group of wax sculptures. Their clothes are just as dated as the others, all crushed velvet and strings of pearls. Despite this, they look newer, no tendrils of dust hanging off of their outstretched arms.

There’s something familiar about them, but it’s hard to tell in this light. You take a step closer, narrowing your eyes.

“Ya’ know, my brother likes projects.” You hear Bo say. “Guess that’s somethin’ we got in common.”

You blink in confusion, your mouth falling open. Of course they look familiar—you’d recognize those faces anywhere. Standing in front of you are wax replicas of your friends, leering at you with painted-on smiles.

“What is this?” Your hands are shaking. “Where are they?”

“Right in front of you, darlin’.” Bo exclaims. “Now, don’t they look good? I think they clean up real nice, don’t you?”

It’s nothing more than a cruel joke.

The anger that grips you is sudden, thoughtless. You reel around, your hand clenching into a fist. The punch you throw at him is a pitiful thing. He avoids it easily, catching your wrist in his hand and shoving you away. You back up frantically as he closes in on you, your heart skipping in your chest. Losing your footing, you smack into one of the figures.

“What, you ain’t thankful for the reunion? Thought you’d appreciate it.”

The sculpture totters behind you. You flail wildly as you try to steady yourself, but it’s no use—your feet slip out from under you. As you fall, it falls with you, hitting the floor with a shatter that sprays chips of paint and wax over the ground.

“Hate to say it, but I’m a bit disappointed in ya’, sweet thing.”

Wrenching your head back to look at the damage, your mouth falls open. The impact of the fall bisected the sculpture’s face, cracking it wide open. A scream bubbles up in your throat as you realize that it isn’t hollow. There’s something bloated and dead inside it, staring back at you with milky eyes.

You’d know that face anywhere.

“Dunno how I’m gonna explain this to Vincent, baby. He spent a lot of time on that one.”

You scramble to your feet with a shriek, backpedaling wildly until you run into him. His hands are quick to close around you, pinning your arms behind your back. You try your best to twist out of his grip, but he holds you still, pulling you against his chest.

“Figure he’ll need a replacement.” Bo leans down to murmur in your ear, his tone sickly and apologetic. “I’m gonna have a hell of a time tryin’ to convince him that it ain’t gonna be you.”

Your eyes dart between the figures, hardly registering his words. It’s impossible to make sense of what’s in front of you. Everything seems doused in unreality, tilted on its side. Your friends stand frozen, lips peeled away from their teeth in twisted imitations of smiles. It’s been so long that you can hardly remember what their voices sound like. You won’t hear them again. The people they used to be live on only in your head, spiraling into a mass of memory. The realization has your throat tightening, your eyes blurring with tears.

You feel his lips against your hair and a broken wail tips out of your mouth. You’ve walked straight into the gaping maw of an open grave. They’re here and they’re rotting and there’s nothing to be done because you’re too late. This is no museum—it’s a mausoleum, and you paid your respects through a splattering of viscera on the floor.

“It ain’t that bad. We’ll set somethin’ up real nice for ya’, sweetness. Right by the door.”

You shudder, yanking against his hands.

“Whatcha wanna wear, darlin’? I’ll getcha whatever ya’ want.”

“Don’t tell him!” Your voice comes out shrill, rushing out of you in a high-pitched whine. “Don’t, please, don’t—”

“Well, I gotta tell him, baby.” He sighs.

“No, no, no. Please—”

“You want me to lie to him?” He tugs at your ear with his teeth. “Dunno. Thought I wasn’t a good liar.”

“You can’t, you—” Your breath escapes you in shallow gulps.

Abruptly, he lets go of your arms, shoving you off him. You pitch forward onto the ground, blinking away tears. He pounces on you with a laugh, flipping you onto your back. His hands paw at your breasts, sliding down your stomach. He moves closer, positioning himself between your thighs to force your knees up, yanking your legs open. Your dress rides up, bunching around your hips.

“This ain’t somethin’ I take lightly.” He shakes his head, sighing. “I’d miss ya’.”

“Fuck you.” You squirm underneath him.

“There’s that mouth.” He grins down at you, wrapping a hand around your throat. “That’s my girl.”

You scrabble at his grip, twisting underneath him. Bo’s hand doesn’t budge, his fingers closing tighter around your neck.

“Fuck. You.” You wheeze, unable to muster the venom you intend.

If you’re going to die, you want him to bruise you, to mark you up in such a way that the person responsible for the macabre mannequins in the other room would notice. You want the signs of a fight clear upon your skin. Anything to make them rethink dressing you up in satin and costume jewelry; kept on display to be gawked at, locked in someone’s imagined view of you.

Leave that one to rot on the side of the road, she’s sick of being looked at.

“Well, since you’re askin’ so nicely…” He grins down at you, his eyes glinting. “How you want it?”

His fingers brush between your legs, cupping your pussy through the cotton. You let out a sputtered yelp as he pulls your panties to the side. His thumb begins to rub at your clit and you buck your hips up, making a desperate move to wrench yourself away from him.

“Right there, baby?”

His grip on your throat is rhythmic, tightening and loosening and tightening again. Helpless darkness grips you as your throat constricts, only to be met with the shuddering relief of air filling your lungs. Head spinning, you oscillate wildly between the two unyielding extremes. You gasp when he pushes his finger into you, horrified to find yourself wet enough that it slides in easily. Your pussy clenches around the intrusion involuntarily, making you squeal.

"Guess all that death don't bother you. You're a trooper, baby." He pumps a second finger in, stretching you open. Your thighs shake and you can’t help the desperate little mewl that escapes your mouth.

“Got yourself an audience and now you’re purrin’ like a kitten.” He smirks, amusement plain in his voice. “That’s all ya’ needed, huh?”

“No.” You hiss out.

“Mmm-hmm. I hear ya’, darlin’.” His voice drips with honey, warm and throaty above you. “Don’tchu worry.”

You twist your head to the side, forcing your eyes to focus on the unnatural poses held by the corpses of your friends. Maybe it would be better to be like they were, immobile in their grotesque funeral clothes. They wouldn’t know what it felt like to lose all this, to die while you still breathed. Your eyes fall on the shattered carnage that covers the floor a few feet away. The hopelessness numbs you, making it easier to ignore the distracting warmth between your thighs. You’ll look at all that death and he won’t be able to make you feel anything.

“Eyes up here, beautiful.” He forces your head back. “Don’t like you lookin’ at ‘em when I’m touchin’ you. Makes me jealous.”

The room is warm and you’re warmer still, uglier than you’ve ever felt, sweat beading on your brow and dripping down the side of your face. He works another finger into you, humming under his breath. You gasp around the added pressure, squeezing your eyes tightly shut.

“Just like that, baby.” He readjusts his grip on your throat, stroking a finger up the thundering beat of your pulse. “Make yourself feel good. You need it.”

You realize with a whimper that you’re doing just that, rocking down on his fingers. Your body is traitorous and so is that hunger, demanding to be full, to take in as much as it could. Like a whore, your mind offers up bitterly. Just like a whore. You bite back a moan, twisting under him. You wish that he’d call you that, that his hand was digging harder into your skin. You need this to hurt so you can focus on the poison that drips off his words. If you could manage that, you’d make it out of here.

This is about survival. That’s what you’re trying to do.

He shifts the angle of his hand slightly and you tense up, unable to muffle the moan that spills out of your mouth. Your orgasm is a shivery, unexpected thing, clambering up your spine and washing over you in a traitorous burst. It tastes like betrayal, shuddering its way through you with a shock, stealing the words from your tongue and leaving you gasping for air. Your eyes are watering when he finally lets go of your throat, tugging your underwear off.

"You got over that fast. Nothin’ brings you down, huh?” You hear the jingle of his belt as he undoes it. With a grunt, he nudges your legs wider apart with his knee, pulling you towards him. “You're a wonder, baby."

You jolt away with a gasp when you feel the head of his cock rub against your clit, your mouth falling open. He flashes a smile down at you, dragging his length through your folds.

“How’s that, baby?”

“It’s too much, it’s—” You take a ragged gasp as he presses against your entrance, screwing your eyes tightly shut.

“’S okay.” He murmurs, rocking the head of his cock slowly into your pussy with shallow thrusts. You grit your teeth together, hissing a shaky breath through your nose.

When he eases into you, you let out a watery sob. Pressing into you slow, you’re acutely aware of every inch of him. He’s usually too impatient to let you feel this gradual stretch, the way your walls clench helplessly around his cock.

“Feels good, huh?” He sinks deeper into you, and you tremble. “You like it?”

You shake your head sharply. You wiggle your hips down, anxious for him to fill you completely. You need it done so you can forget the way that this feels. There are things you shouldn’t see and things you shouldn’t feel, and today has been full of both.

“C’mon now, baby.” His tone is sugary sweet and patronizing. Each word plods out slow, as if he’s talking to a child. “If it feels good, you gotta like it.” 

You feel a flicker of embarrassment, but it’s not enough to push past the fog of euphoria that’s coiling low in your belly. Your breath stutters out of you in uneven bursts, almost as if his hand is still around your throat. That’s how this pleasure feels—it’s a choking, inescapable thing, pinning you against the ground.

“You’re takin’ me so well, baby. You wanna know how good that feels ‘round my dick?”

He rocks into you, slow and deep, dragging a pitiful moan from your lips.

“Be careful, angel.” Bo lets out a breathless laugh. “You’re gonna wake up ya’ friends.”

A sharp bolt of revulsion thrums through you, tugging you out from under the throb of sensation. The shame twists in your stomach, rotten and sickly. Before it can stick, he reaches down and slips his hands under your waist. With hardly any effort, he lifts you off the floor, tilting your pelvis up to meet him. Your mouth is pooling with saliva, tears pricking at your eyes. At this angle, he’s so deep that it’s as if you can feel him everywhere, pushing at the back of your throat. You let out a desperate whine, locking your legs around his waist. Without his hands to hold you up, you feel like you’d melt away into the floor.

He rolls his hips and you stutter out a sob, tremors of desperate pleasure wracking your body. You’re shaking, hands reaching up to tremble uselessly at your chest.

“What am I doin’, baby?”

“You’re—” You slur out, panting. “You’re fucking me.”

“Uh-huh. Ya’ like it?”

You keen out an unintelligible reply, nodding up at him desperately. He rewards your answer with a brush to your clit and your mouth falls open.

“Good, baby. Gettin’ a little hard to talk, yeah?” His words are coated in self-congratulatory smugness that can’t manage to hide behind sweetness. It taunts you, clawing under your skin and tearing through you in a way that only serves to make you wetter. “You ain’t gotta care ‘bout nothin’ other than how that feels.”

He fucks down into you, his cock kissing something deep in you that has you gaping up at him, stuttering out a moan. He’s pushing deep, impossibly so, then pulling out to press back in. Here, in this desperate haze of feeling that has you arching your back on the ground, it all feels so unavoidable.

Distantly, you can hear him murmuring above you. You’re so good, aren’t you? Say yes, sweetheart, but only if you want to. Only if it feels right. A distant part of your brain reminds you that the last thing you want to be is good. Trying desperately to catch onto that thought only has it fading away into that all-consuming pressure building up between your legs.

“Whose girl are you?”

“Yours.” You hiccup out. You’re disloyal and fickle and weak—and you aren’t lying, you can’t lie.

“That’s right.”

It feels like you’re losing something, your thoughts unspooling and picking up momentum as they roll away, getting further and further from you with every thrust of his hips.

Everything you give him is nothing he deserves.

“You wanna show me what a good girl you are and cum?”

No.

“Nn—”

The pleasure is a knife in your gut, splitting you open from the base of your belly all the way up to the shuddering flesh of your throat. It feels like honey, like his voice above you—eviscerating, cruel because it isn’t cruel. Hurting because it doesn’t, because all you wanted was him and he gave it to you. You arch up desperately, chasing after more of that sensation.

“Oh, angel. That’s perfect.”

He holds you suspended in the rolling thrum of your orgasm, thrusting deeper into you. Your orgasm burns at the back of your eyes, a blinding thing, gouging you open with white-hot light. Unlike the first, this one seems to wash over you with no end. You cry out, thrashing under the unrelenting waves, his cock pulsing inside you. His breathing is labored as he works his hips, sweat plastering his hair to his brow.

You look up at him and you don’t hate him—and that’s the worst thing, dragging another woozy ripple of pleasure out of your core. Your heart hammers away in your chest, pounding hot and loud in your ears. He spills inside you with a groan, his hands digging tightly into your thighs. Your body seems to throb with warmth, rolling waves of it leaving your limbs numb and useless.

With an embarrassingly wet squelch, he pulls out of you. You close your eyes and the world spins inside your head, making your eyelids heavy. Dimly, you can hear him zipping up the fly of his pants, refastening his belt. He clears his throat, huffing out a tired laugh.

“Like I told ya’, baby. You’re somethin’ special.”

He says something else and you nod. You’re not sure what he might have asked you—but he likes agreement. You’ve never cared much for what he liked, never had a desire to give whatever that was to him. But it’s easier to say yes. You can’t pin down what part of you has decided that’s true, but it’s pulsing between your legs and sitting on your tongue like it belongs there.

“Think I’d let him get his hands on you? That’s crazy talk, girl.”

Your thighs spasm a bit and you gulp. He lowers himself over you, sinking onto his elbows to press a kiss onto your trembling mouth. You can feel his spend leaking out of you, running down between your legs and puddling underneath you. The ache is coming, you can feel it, throbbing deep in your cunt.

When you were little, you couldn’t swallow pills. You needed them ground up and mixed in with sugar, served up on a spoon for you to swallow. Even then, you knew it was there, felt like you could taste it. But it made it easier, didn’t it? You couldn’t tell then and you can’t tell now. You whimper and he smiles against your lips, teasing your mouth open with his tongue.

Seems like you can take anything if it’s hidden under sugar.

As the haze of pleasure begins to lift, the room starts to come back into focus. You’re remembering that you can’t be here, that death is familiar and close. You have to leave, you have to run. With a shaky sob, you feel the fear begin to hitch up in your throat again, crawling out of the pocket of your insides that it’s been hiding in.

You yelp as you feel him circle around your clit again. Thrashing underneath him, you shake your head wildly.

“Nice and sensitive now, yeah? Look at that.”

You whimper helplessly, the words forming on your tongue only to disappear a moment later. Your clit feels swollen between your legs, delivering a snap of electricity to your core with every unrelenting stroke of his fingers. You teeter on the razor-edge of pain and pleasure—ratcheted too high, past the point of enjoyment. There’s nowhere left for the feeling to go. You’ll need to claw your way out of your skin to alleviate it, you’ll need him to take you apart.

“Sto—” The word’s swallowed up by a series of high-pitched vocalizations, spilling from your lips, one tripping over the other. Your grasp on language feels as sloppy as your cunt. Slippery, needy things. What good were they now?

“Ya’ know what I think?” He murmurs. “I think this pussy’s got one more.”

Dizzily, you think about the cigarette he’d offered you earlier. You could use it now.

“I can’t, I can’t—”

“Pretty girl.” He reaches up with his free hand to wipe away the tears spilling down the side of your face. “It’s hard, I know.”

If you had any energy, you’d bite him, you’d take out as many chunks as you could. Are you sure? That version of you feels far away now. He sinks his fingers back into your pussy and you whine. There’s no resistance to be found inside you, just a quivering hole fucked wide, greedily squeezing around his fingers.

“You wanna know somethin’, baby? I’ve always been selfish. Got told that a lot, and I reckon they were right.” His voice is as soft as his hands, rumbling into your head. “Can’t help it.”

“Bo, please—” You’re wound too tight to cum again, each touch a shivery spike of feeling that leaves you wanting to vacate your body. You need to tell him that, you need to—

“Name sounds real good in that mouth.” You can hear the smile in his voice. “Say it again, would ya’?”

“Bo. Bo.” You let out a broken sob, a fresh wave of tears glazing over your eyes. “Bo…”

“Hush now, angel. Third times the charm.”

[lenievi]

Spones Day 2023 fic

Canon divergent universe where TMP never happened. Takes place a few years before TWOK (but if TWOK happens is in the stars). Kirk has retired from Starfleet (just so you’re not confused), because I like that tidbit from Generations.

#McCoy didn’t know they were dating #first kiss #strangely proactive Spock

~1000 words. | G

---

The door to the Transporter Beam-up Center opened, and mixed groups of various species started to come out. McCoy moved to the side to not stand in their way, his eyes scanning the crowd for Spock’s familiar face. It was a few minutes before he heard, “Doctor McCoy.”

McCoy startled. “I need to buy you a cowbell.”

Spock lifted an eyebrow at him. “You’ve been saying that for years, Doctor, and I’m still waiting.” He raised his hand, fingers spread in a Vulcan salute. “We meet again.”

McCoy blinked and looked at his hand. His third finger quivered as he tried to connect it with the fourth one, hoping to form a V, but with no success. He gave up, shaking his fingers a bit, relieving the slight pain in his ring finger. One day, one day, he would succeed.

Spock held out his hand, the corner of his mouth twitching in amusement. 

McCoy glared at him. “You could’ve done it from the beginning.” He clasped Spock’s hand, soaking in the warmth he hadn’t felt for three months. “How was the trip?” He let go.

“Commanding a ship full of cadets on their training voyage is hardly a trip, Doctor.”

“You visited Vulcan before that, didn’t you?”

Spock gave a stiff nod. “Sarek sends his regards.” He beckoned toward the exit. “Shall we?”

Spock led him to a nearby restaurant.

Even after three years, it still felt odd whenever Spock invited him out. Sometimes to a science or technical museum, sometimes to a restaurant, sometimes to an arboretum. Just the two of them. If anyone had told him that ten years ago, five years ago, hell, even three years ago, he would scoff and tell them not to drink anymore. But Spock kept reaching out, and McCoy kept saying yes.

“Have you spoken to Jim recently?” McCoy asked after they ordered. He kept his eyes on the tabletop, not wanting to see Spock’s judging expression.

“Not since before my trip to Vulcan,” Spock said. “He acquired a dog.”

McCoy raised his head. “Jim has a dog?”

“His name is Butler.”

McCoy blinked.

“You would know that if you called him,” Spock said, his eyes piercing.

“Well…” McCoy wet his lips. “He could call me.”

“You informed him rather vehemently you didn’t want to see him unless he comes out of retirement.”

“You can’t tell me you think he can just live on a farm in Idaho and be happy.”

“That is not for us to judge.” Spock sipped his tea. “He appears to miss you.”

McCoy’s stomach did a funny flip. He reached for his glass of water and clasped it in both hands. His argument with Jim was ugly, and they hadn’t seen or talked to each other for two years.

“So, uhm…” he started but was saved by the waiter bringing their meals. The plates were placed, and McCoy grabbed the utensils. He should not think about Jim. Spock had always made it clear that they should resolve it themselves and did not wish to discuss it.

“It’s good to see you, Spock,” he said instead.

Spock smiled. 

They dug into their meals.

“My father offered me to work with him and accompany him to Ensis,” Spock said between bites.

McCoy frowned. “You want to leave Starfleet?”

“It would not immediately come to that, but it is an option I am considering.”

First Jim. Now Spock. McCoy had stayed in San Francisco because he wanted to stay close to them. Then Jim left. He stayed because Spock would have someone welcoming him back whenever he left on a training voyage. He stayed because… because he… 

He swallowed.

“I wanted to ask for… your opinion,” Spock said, his eyes focused somewhere behind McCoy’s shoulders. 

“My opinion?” McCoy put down his utensils. He didn’t feel hungry anymore.

“I have… always appreciated your company, Doctor.” Spock frowned. “Leonard.”

McCoy's heart skipped. He didn’t remember the last time Spock used his name.

“In the last three years, perhaps before that, the appreciation evolved, changed.” Spock looked him in the eyes. “I do not enjoy the thought of not seeing you for months.”

McCoy didn’t know what to say. His mind was flying at warp speed. The almost realization a minute ago. Every time Spock invited him to go somewhere. Every time McCoy invited Spock to his apartment, sharing meals, cooking together. The soft brushes of their shoulders, as they passed each other in McCoy’s narrow kitchen. The soft brushes of the back of their hands, as they walked down the streets or halls of the museums. Spock’s fingers on his elbow, demanding his attention. So common, so frequent that he didn’t even notice them anymore.

“Are we dating, Spock?” McCoy blurted out.

“As there hasn’t been an official agreement, we are not.”

“Do you want to?” McCoy asked before he could think about it.

The tips of Spock’s ears darkened. “That was the matter I wanted to discuss today. In order to answer my father’s offer, I first needed an answer from you.”

“Why?”

“I have already told you. I would have… missed you.”

McCoy could not hold back his smile, his cheeks growing hot.

“If you did not answer positively, creating a physical distance between us would be a logical thing to do.”

“The distance wouldn’t help,” McCoy murmured.

“Perhaps.” Spock inclined his head. “But it appears we do not have to test it.”

“But your father –”

“My father is aware.”

McCoy opened his mouth and closed it. “You…” He wet his lips. “You talked about us with Sarek?” Us. There was an us.

“My father thinks highly of you,” Spock said. “Mother too. She’d like it if you accompanied me next time I visit Vulcan.”

McCoy blinked.

“You don’t have to give me an answer today.” Spock bit his lower lip. McCoy hadn’t seen that habit in years. “But I would like to kiss you.”

McCoy nodded, lost for words. His heart beat loud in his ears. He raised his hand.

Spock leaned across the table and pressed their lips together.

[razzle-zazzle]

how does day of the departed go in the sadnstorm au????

Okay okay so. Cole and Morro fucked off after Possession, and thus weren't present at all for Nadakhan's Season that I Forgot the Name Of. And Cole became a ghost not because of Yang, but because of his own issues and a convenient train. So why are they getting entangled with him?

Well, Cole did work with the ninja for a bit, even if it was technically all a ruse to earn their trust and get the Realm Crystal. And he was with them when they had to enter the Temple of Airjitsu. So Yang knows of Cole.

He gets Cole to the Temple, and then tries to convince him to help in a "get revenge on the ninja who dunked on your boyfriend" way. Cole's more indifferent to the ninja than anything at this point, and would rather go find Morro instead. So Yang pulls out his trump card, and uses the Yin Blade to bewitch Cole and Morro, sending Morro off to the museum and convincing Cole that actually, Morro went to go hang out with Wu and the ninja and not with him. So Cole destroys the globe, the spirits are released, and Yang gets his students to sit Cole down and make him stay so Yang can go open the Rift.

The villains are reawakened and go to fight the ninja, and Morro? He was initially going after Wu for revenge, under the Yin Blade's influence, but when he gets there, he realizes things aren't lining up. Maybe it was the tea Wu was brewing that broke the spell, maybe it was seeing his old home, maybe Morro simply went out of range of the Yin Blade. Regardless, Morro realizes what's going on, and warns Wu as he does in canon.

The rest of the special progresses as it did normally, with the ninja successfully fighting off their respective enemies and converging at the museum. They're not happy to see Morro, and Cole was never a ninja in this AU, so Morro very nearly throws all his pride out the window to beg the ninja for their help. But Wu steps in before that can happen, and the ninja agree that letting Yang go through the Rift is probably not a good idea.

Back to the Temple. Cole's been doing fairly okay, fighting through the effects of the Yin Blade and fighting Yang's students, but by the time he makes it to the roof he's nearing the end of his rope. Yang taunts him, pointing out Morro's absence and—though he doesn't know it exactly, because he doesn't know all of Cole's deeper issues—hitting a much sorer spot. Cole's almost ready to give up (he's no stranger to giving up, is he? Always running away from the hard things, from the difficult things, giving up everything he has because it's somehow easier than enduring through it—)

Enter the Destiny's Bounty. In canon, it couldn't get close enough for the ninja to help because of the winds. In the Spiritshipping AU? Well actually Morro leaps down onto the floating island without a single thought spared to the ninja, leaving them stuck as spectators, but hey! At least Cole's not alone!

"Morro!" Cole gasped, coming back into visibility. "What are you doing?"

Morro blasted three of Yang's students off the roof entirely. "You saved me before, remember?" He knocked another back with a kick, swirling winds building around his shoulders. "Well now it's my turn to save you!"

And boy oh boy, is Morro powerful with the raging winds all around. Yang is fucked. And indeed, Cole shatters the Yin Blade, freeing Yang's students, and they all go through the Rift. Cole and Morro lift off to go through, and Morro makes it through—

What is Cole doing. Why is he just... standing there? IS HE TALKING TO YANG—

As in canon, Cole tries to bring Yang into the Rift with him, because even in this AU Cole is still a kind and empathetic person at heart. But as in canon, Yang grabs Cole and throws him into the Rift just as it closes—leaving everyone to wonder if Cole made it through.

The Bounty is forced to land, and the ninja all disembark to look around, finding Morro standing with Yang's students, worried that Cole is gone forever.

"No, no, NO!" Dust devils scattered across the ground next to Morro, "IDIOT! I went through all that effort for you, and you just—COLE!" He gripped his sword, even more dirt getting swept up by the wind building around him. "You said you'd follow me to the ends of the earth!"

The ninja looked around at each other awkwardly. Morro was their enemy, but he hadn't made any trouble since the Preeminent. It was hard not to feel bad for the guy when his hurt was written across his face, voice raw as he yelled about being lied to.

"You idiot..." Morro growled. "You promised—"

"And I'm not breaking it!" There he was, standing tall, proud, and alive—Cole! He grinned, a brand new scar glinting in the moonlight, and barely a second passed before he had to spread his arms to catch Morro. The ninja felt as though they were intruding on a private scene, witnessing the naked joy on Morro and Cole's faces as they spun around and embraced, grinning like nobody was watching.

And then Cole and Morro make out sloppy style, the end <3

[loveroftoomanyfandoms]

Every Little Thing *He* Does is Magic, Chapter 2

Pairing: Platonic Steven Grant x Reader (for now)

Rating: T

Word count: ~800

Story Summary: The events of Every Little Thing She Does is Magic, retold from Reader's perspective after the fact to her best friend.

Tags/Warnings: Companion fic, canon Divergent since Steven still works for the British Museum post-canon, No Jake Lockley, developing friendship, spoilers for ELTSDiM

A/N: Double update since this one is so short! Proceed to chapter 3. 😉

“...So how did the rest of your first week go?”

Y/N smiled as she FaceTimed with Amy while making herself dinner the following Friday night. “It went well! Most of it was reading paperwork and meeting various benefactors and trustees, but my meeting with the Curatorial staff today was really productive. The Egyptian exhibit should only be closed for a few days at most to install the new artifacts.”

She paused to take a sip of water. “Steven made a great suggestion to bring some vases up from storage to spruce up the Ancient Greek collection, which can literally be done overnight, so we'll be updating that area as well.”

Amy grinned. “ Steven did, huh?”

Y/N nodded, ignoring Amy’s suggestive tone. “He also had a lot of really great, out-of-the-box ideas on how to improve the tours and said he could have a sample tour based on those ideas to show me by Monday morning.” 

“Oh that's great! I know you were hoping to have the tours redone before those new artifacts are in place.”

Y/N nodded. “Yeah, but I felt bad because I probably shouldn't have had Steven do any VES-related tasks until he officially started on Monday even though he signed the paperwork today. After he and I wrapped up our solo meeting he mentioned needing to get back down to the gift shop since he was technically still employed as a clerk until Sunday.”

Amy winced. “Oh oof, yeah, I'm sure that's an entirely different pay grade, although from what you’ve said it seemed like he didn’t actually mind doing tasks for his new position early.”

Y/N shook her head. “That’s what I thought too, but then he clarified that it was only because he knew I was busy and he didn't want to bother me by… how did he put it? Oh yeah, ‘hovering’.”

“Oh, okay, good. That was really considerate of him.”

Y/N nodded, a small smile forming on her face at the memory. “Yeah, he definitely seems like he's a really caring person. I told him he wasn't bothering me and that after staring at a mountain of paperwork and meeting a bunch of people with tangential connection to the museum it was nice to be able to actually talk to someone on staff.”

Amy winked. “Specifically him though, right?”

Y/N huffed out a laugh. “I have to admit, it definitely didn't hurt that it was him. Anyway, he asked me how I was settling in and I said that the staff had all been really welcoming for the most part and that I wasn't sure how I was going to be received since I'm not British, and then he said that it didn't matter where I was from, that my qualifications spoke for themselves.”

Amy raised an eyebrow, her lips turning up in a smile. “So basically everything I said when you were freaking out about everyone hating you.”

Y/N huffed out a breath, a smile on her own face. “Yeah, yeah, you were right. He really did have to get back downstairs after that though because I had a phone call I had to take.”

“So do you think everything is going to work out?”

Y/N nodded. “Everyone seems on board with the changes I'm making so far, and I really do think Steven’ll make a great Visitor Engagement Specialist -- he’s incredibly knowledgeable and observant.”

“And hot,” Amy added with a smirk. “And exactly your type.” 

Y/N’s face heated. As much as she’d tried over the past week, she couldn't completely ignore her attraction to Steven. “Maybe, but that has nothing to do with my belief in his ability to do his job or why I promoted him in the first place.” 

Amy let out a light laugh. “I know, I'm just teasing you.”

“Either way, I'm looking forward to seeing his ideas for the new tours in action.” Y/N paused. “Oh, I forgot to tell you, in addition to the Egyptian artifacts on loan from Cairo, we just had a donation of first editions of several classic British novels come in.”

Amy’s eyes lit up. “Ooh, now you're speaking my language.”

Y/N grinned. “I thought you'd be interested in that. I'll send you some pics once we get them authenticated and the display is set up.”

“Please do.”

Y/N nodded as she turned off her stove. “I should run, my dinner is ready. I'll talk to you later though, ‘kay?”

Amy nodded. “Okay, talk to you later.”

“‘Night, Ames.”

“‘Night!”

Y/N ended the call then plated her food.

As she sat down to eat, her mind drifted to Steven. His ideas for revamping the tours really were great and Y/N was excited to see them in practice.  I can't wait until Monday.

[cryingalexanders]

thoughts about pre-crisis Lex Luthor

now that I've read all of earth-one/pre-crisis lex's main canon appearances, I thought I'd list some things I noticed or found interesting.

It was consistent that pre-crisis Lex didn't care about money. Some stories went as far as to emphasise he could've been rich if he'd wanted to but he would actively scorn it!

By the time we get to the early 80s he's living a comfortable lifestyle, and had his own secret island base. But he still frets when Superman smashes millions of dollars worth of equipment

In the silver age he would buy abandoned places to use as bases under false names and keep them at the ready, presumably using money from bank robberies. They were usually on-theme too like museums, observatories, etc. I definitely think this is an element that should come back

The way he dresses. the coloured pants! his little ascots! they were such a thing for pre-crisis Lex

He also has this escape-artist thing going on, where he "enjoys the challenge" and there's a scene which hints at him being bored at having been out of prison for a while

I don't really mind this change and I think either way makes sense, but before Cary Bates and Marv Wolfman brought in elements influenced by the 78 movie in the early 80s... there was no indication that Lex ever mistreated his goons/lackeys. he would at least pay lip service to their wellbeing. it was his interactions with other villains that were much more hostile and laden with betrayal. (as well as cellmates when he had them)

Cary Bates had a great take on Lex, don’t get me wrong, he wrote some of his best pre-crisis stories, but he seemed to be taking a lot of cues from Donner/Hackman Lex going into the 80s, and I feel that kind of synergy lessened what was special about the comic counterpart.

There were writers, especially in the late silver age/early bronze age, who wrote Lex as more cold and overtly misanthropic. That's what I see in Waid's take on him. So it is drawing on the silver age, it's just specific stories rather than the general trends. e.g. Action Comics #363-365 is a very Waid-esque version of pre-crisis Lex.

Silver age Brainiac was actually pretty loyal to Lex and wouldn't leave him behind (Lex wasn't the same way back unfortunately). there was definitely subterfuge but they had a weirdly sweet relationship. it's sure different from modern stuff where they're always 2 seconds away from murdering each other whenever they interact (hell even the bronze age was like that because Brainiac became a darker character)

there's this one Superboy comic where it's established that Jonathan Kent and Lex hate each other because Jonathan denied him parole as a member of the reform school board. most of the time Jonathan seemed more indifferent to him though

on the other hand, silver age Martha felt sorry for Lex (and lowkey wanted to adopt him), even when he was trying to kill her son (if you don't know, pre-crisis Lex started trying to kill Superboy when they were teenagers in Smallville, but regardless of that goal he was generally considered a more lighthearted "menace")

I know that technically he had an older sister who was Nastalthia's mother but the actual flashbacks to his childhood treated him as the oldest sibling and it just being him and Lena, and that's the dynamic I prefer.

Lex as an uncle though. he’s so cute with Val (well, for the most part. it was complicated). his relationship with Nasty was bland though.

His relationship with Lena and by extension, Supergirl, was so interesting. Lex was usually so chill whenever he showed up in Supergirl, the way they had an understanding that he could be counted on to protect Lena, and I wish he and Kara would’ve interacted more during those times he had truces with Superman, considering she saw his protective/selfless side before Superman did.

[nicnacsnonsense]

📖 👀

Perhaps I can interest you in a Gravity Falls one, just to mix it up a bit?

Cheating a little here because I have written some of this one, but I don't know when I'll be back to it, and I do really want to share. It's sort of my Science Dad AU meets the A Better World bit from Journal 3.

(Anyone who doesn't know The Whole of Us/Science Dad AU, it a fic where Dipper & Mabel are Ford's kids from a one night stand that he didn't know about until he had a pair of five year olds dropped on his doorstep. Stan is called in to help Ford with taking care of them and Stan & Ford reconcile. Beyond that it roughtly follows the major story beats in the first part of Journal 3, with a lot of family fluff and trauma healing thrown in. And of course they get a happy ending of beating Bill before Ford falls in the portal.)

The plot of the fic was that a more canon-typical Ford shows up in the Science Dad universe in the same way that canon Ford does with the Better World excerpt in Journal 3. But really the plot was just an excuse to tour the future of the characters from the Science Dad AU, so here are the highlights.

The Institute of Oddology exists, though built around the Pines' house. It's still nearby in Gravity Falls, just not right on top of their home. Ford is the Director of the Institute, and Fiddleford -- who still has a happy relationship with his wife & son -- is the Head Researcher.

Dipper also works at the Institute, and he's acually the one who comes to fetch Ford after security takes him in. He used to be a researcher too, and he still keeps his hand in it, but his actual job title is Head of Public Outreach. He makes YouTube videos. Dipper's Guide to the Unexplained started as a little side project and ended up gaining so much traction that it's his full time job now. He's like the Bill Nye of Oddology. And the Institute funds him doing it, because it encourages interest in their still very new field.

Mabel lives in Portland and is the head of a non-profit that she founded to help combat child abuse and help victims of it. It's called "The Lucky Ones" because she refers to herself & Dipper as two of the lucky ones because they were saved by their dad. It's both a reminder that there are more kids out there that aren't so lucky, and a mission statement that they are going to save more kids and make more lucky ones. She is happily single and lives with her adopted daughter Pacifica (another one of the lucky ones) and their pet pig Waddles.

Ria still dies; I'm so sorry! But before she dies she makes Stan promise he will be there to look out for her son, keep his asshole biological father far away, and be a dad for her baby the way he was a dad for her. Soos still lives with his abuelita, but he calls Stan dad and has since he was four years old. (And he also still works for Stan of course).

Stan works at the Museum of Oddology (And Gift Shop!). This is technically a separate business from the Institute because they didn't want Ford to be Stan's boss, but it is partnered with and adjoined to the Institute. Stan and Ford also have a boat, and every other year or so they go out on a months long research expedition together, just the two of them. That's actually where they are when this fic takes place.

There's also a running joke in the story where any time someone sees Portal!Ford for the first time, they very first thing they say is "You're not Ford/my dad/my grandpa/etc." It's meant to show how close they all are that despite the two Fords nominally looking identical, everyone can immediately tell that this Ford is not their Ford. Except Stan. They do a video call to the boat and Stan immediately, without any forewarning or knowledge of the situation, smiles and says, "Hey look Ford, it's you." Because obviously Stan knows this is a different version of Ford than the one on the boat with him, but as far as Stan is concerned any version of Ford is still Ford and Ford will always be his brother.

[ravioliet]

What I think OSMU would be in the mlp AU:

Opal: pegasus. Longs to leave the Arctic to find somewhere warmer where she can fly.

Omar: earth pony. Doesn't understand Opal completely, but he agrees with her other reasons and he wants to see the world so there's that.

Oswald: unicorn. Mostly uses his telekinesis for sorting stuff in his job as a library-museum pony, but has been tempted to try out stuff in old spellbooks every so often.

Orla: dunno atm. was very young when the event celebrated on Hearth's Warming Eve occured. Still guards the 44-leaf clover.

Oprah/the Big O is still here and looks WAY more regal than when we last saw her(s2 finale). Like our main 4 are astounded by it when they first see her.

Veering off the OSMU track, I think Olive is protective of Otto, as in canon, but it gets extreme sometimes. Blank flank insult from Oren? She will yeet him across the room with her telekinesis. It takes a lot out of her to lift a whole pony tho. Aside from the fact that Ms. O is an alicorn who could easily overpower her if she tried that, that's why she opted for a stunpulse during "Ms. O Uh-Oh".

Also I wonder if there's some sort of ritual that Directors go through to turn their successors into alicorns. T'would be interesting!

yeah! so i never really got around to watching osmu beyond the few episodes i managed to catch on pbs kids but i know some things and yeah this seems pretty accurate, might have to steal from this haha

anyways yeah mlp Olive is so funny to me, she's pretty good at magic and all that but she's also still into sports and athletic stuff which most don't really expect from a unicorn so sometimes she'll pull stuff like letting someone think she's going to fight them with magic and then opting to kick them across the room horse style or something. Ms. O does stuff like this as well since she was an earth pony first before becoming an alicorn and she has the earth pony strength and resilience and everything. she has a full grip on her alicorn abilities because she's been one for a long while now but she still does stuff like kick holes in walls just because. you do not want to end up in a fight with either of them they have both magic and physical strength and you WILL lose.

and about the alicorn bit i've actually been plotting out some of the alicorn stuff and you got it pretty close with the ritual thing actually! in my mind when a director has to step down or leave for whatever reason they either have to hand off their alicorndom to their successor themselves or they have it revoked by someone else and passed on for them if that makes sense. it's just so that there aren't any random alicorn civilians out there or anything lol. because in my mind at least director level alicorns aren't technically royal alicorns (if they are they're very low ranking) they just have alicorn powers and leader status. however the Big O position does come with royal alicorn status, with their sorta domain being the whole organization since it's all across equestria and everything. so yeah you pretty much got it spot on with the whole idea of Big O Oprah being more regal and powerful looking because she's technically a princess now! she's very small compared to the other princesses but she's a princess nonetheless :)

​i also have some silly facts about alicorn Olive and Otto in particular that i might share later if i feel like it but i don't know if i should wait until i've drawn them or not sdhfjh

[11crowsinatrenchcoat]

Scp 049 and 035 headcanons :D

Here are my designs for them

First headcanon is that 049 absolutely trips fucking balls over lavender, and that's the reason it works better then sedatives. Technically, the extreme of the high is almost an overdose because, at the correct does it gets him a little zooted but helps him sleep (as depicted in the image above) and 035s essential oil of choice is rose, although they have a shit sense of smell and usually have to eat it. This acts as an aphrodisiac (credits to @prinx-quail because it's originally there's and idk I just think it's funny they both shouldn't be allowed in bath and bodyworks)

Second headcanon which I do not have a picture for because how could I, is that 049 is completely colorblind. He relies on contrast between tones and touch to find people's veins and stuff successfully. He also has bad vision (right eye being worse then the left) and should probably wear his glasses more.

Third headcanon is that 035 is never allowed to drive 049s cool hearse because they get road rage and curses people out in ancient Greek. 049 does think this is funny but last time it happened 035 almost hit a pole.

Fourth headcanon is that 035 tries to possess statues in museums when no one is looking because they think it's funny

5th is that the runes 035 writes on the walls are just recipes written ominously in allagaden. That or hard-core smut written in allagaden

Alagadda Canon supremecy honestly

I'll have to draw all the lords but I do think they're all centipede abominations

049 has 4 shoulder blades, the upper 2 are where his wings used to be

049 also does not remember most of his time in allagada other than the vague recollection of a few kf his drunken mistakes

049 can reealllly hold his liquor. Like give him 3 bottles of wine and he'd be fine.

Now I have one more drawing and then I'll leave! Let me know if you want more, I've got plenty!

1: you stay here, ok?

2: only if you keep the bath-bombs out of your mouth

3: fine.