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dobbysnotsureaboutthis · 15 days

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WC: 7.1k approx.

Description:

Alastor's been wondering what all the craze around sexual pleasure is (because of Rosie) and decides to give it a single try. That's when you arrive at the hotel, becoming his assistant; and you're just always interrupting at the worst time. (Written almost entirely from Alastor's perspective)

Warnings:

Light cannibalism, torture, and stuff, NSFW (purely written for smut purposes), unintentional edging, unedited

“Ah, is that so?”

For the most part, Alastor considered Rosie a dear friend. Her horrific tales of marriage and cannibalism, her excellent management of Cannibal Town, and her all around entertaining manner of speech were all qualities he very much enjoyed. Yet no soul is without its flaws, and Rosie certainly had hers.

“Yes! And then he…” He does his best to tune her out, grimacing at the extreme level of detail his fellow overlord chose to give him about her sex life. “There were these new knives with beautiful handles I’d bought, and they were just the perfect size for his-.”

“Would you look at that! Our waiter friend here has brought your favorite off the menu!”

The waiter listlessly sets down a plate of fingers, all tied up with bows at the end. Rosie coos in delight, thanking him with a wiggle of her fingers.

“Seriously, you’re missing out!”

“I highly doubt there is anything new I will learn from the experience.” He sips his coffee, one eyebrow raised as he listens to his old friend ramble on.

“Oh Alastor, you can never be too sure if you like something until you try it!” She giggles as she pierces her fork into a piece. Blackened blood oozes from the wound. “I didn’t know I had a liking for cannibalism until I ate my first husband!”

She hums at the taste, her sharp teeth easily breaking through leathery skin and stubborn ligaments. “And I liked it so much I had the second as well!”

“I’m sure you had a very enjoyable time.”

She laughs, noticing the telltale sign of exasperation furrowing his brow. “I was only trying to broaden your horizons. You’ll be in Hell for a long time after all! Who knows? Maybe in one of these centuries you’ll feel compelled to test things out. Don’t think too much of it sweetie.”

But Alastor did think about it. Unwillingly, of course. Nonetheless, the thought nagged at the back of his mind as he bid Rosie farewell, heading off to his usual stop at the butcher shop. He thought of it as the butcher plodded to the back of the shop, retrieving for him the whole carcass of a deer. Could the flesh of another, moving creature be just as delectable as a dead rack of venison?

He thought of it as he grinned his way into the hotel, half-heartedly entertaining Charlie and the others just enough that they wouldn’t bother him further. He let his gaze momentarily land on each of the hotel residents; could he even imagine the thought of laying with any of them? He feels his stomach curdle in disgust as Angel Dust shoots him one of his looks. That spider doesn’t know what he’s thinking, does he? No, of course not. He’s way beneath the caliber of mind reading.

Any person, any body on top of him would simply feel wrong. No, Alastor decided. Surely, his good friend must be exaggerating the pleasure.

Yet still, the thought simply wouldn’t leave him as he sliced through the sinews of his venison, closing his eyes in satisfaction at the gamey, lean taste. As custom, his butcher had prepared the meat just right; so that the texture was firm yet tender, rather than resistant and too chewy from its muscle fibers. Was it possible that the pleasures of the flesh could be just as addicting as the pleasure of consuming it?

He polishes off the last bit of meat clinging to the bone, tucking in his chair so it aligns perfectly with the edge of the table. Nevermind all that, he has a radio show to host! He adjusts his bow, humming what the people of today would consider an old-timey tune as he makes his way to his radio tower.

On tonight’s broadcast he had prepared a last minute catch to torture, some mid-level overlord who attacked the hotel in the middle of the night. Charlie might nag him about it later, but what Charlie doesn’t know won’t hurt her. He takes a seat, flipping through the script. Announcements, jazz, a brief segment on the meat market in Hell, and of course the most infamous part of his show - broadcasting the screams of said angry demon in the far corner of his tower, bound by the power of his chains.

“Sinners, I hope you’ve prepared your ears for a feast!”

The overlord’s body is resisting, tossing and turning helplessly in his hold. It’s exhilarating, the feeling of control pulsing through his veins. Delicious, the way its face contorted further until it was no longer even vaguely humanoid in appearance. Mesmerizing, as he skinned its identity in one loud tear; from forehead to chin, the overlord was no more. A meaningless black hole where its mouth once sat opens in an ear-shattering scream. He feels the noise reverberate pleasantly through his spine, echoes of its cries spreading in waves across Hell from his radio tower.

He stretches his back, then, lengthening bones making pops and snaps as they release from their prison of sinews and tendons, until he loomed over the fallen demon who pathetically clawed for an exit as though it still had a chance of escaping. He lets him crawl a miserly few feet, before easily snatching him up with one long arm, savoring the absolute forced submission in the other demon’s blood-drowned eyes.

“A reminder to all the misbehaving, insolent souls of Hell…”

He unhinges his jaw till it’s as large as the sinner’s head, then bites it off, removing the screaming machine right off its neck. Its hair is a nasty texture on his throat, though he ignores the mild inconvenience for the incomparable satisfaction of the rush of raw power. The studio is quiet now, save for the sounds of thick, tainted blood sliding down his elongated throat, and the soft gulps as he swallowed.

He licks his lips, which is coated with the putrid blood of that demon - ah, there’s nothing that quite hits the spot like the bitter taste of total conquest.

“...not to cross paths with the Radio demon.”

He laughs as he ends the broadcast, cleaning up the rest of the body by obscuring it in flames and letting it wither. He doesn’t particularly enjoy the taste of sinner meat unlike his dear friend Rosie; once the body becomes inanimate, unable to scream or shake in terror, it’s simply a slab of meat the same as any other. And he far prefers the bite of fresh venison.

His body slowly compresses itself, returning to the usual form he enjoyed. But his blood still pulsed quickly, and his face was still flushed from the euphoria of domination. His ears twitch once, twice as he feels strangely stuck on the feeling.

That irritating worm of a thought creeps in yet again, reminding him this morning’s unsettling conversation. Missing out? It itched at him, the thought that he has yet to experience this aspect of hedonism. He seats himself at his station, blood-crusted nails tapping on his knee.

He could give it a try. That’s what he did with television, after all. Twenty years after he landed in Hell and that imbecile Vox started rising in power - well, they were friends at the time - he had entertained the idea of video, if only in the privacy of his back then radio station. And after a mere week with the device, he had decided that radio still was the best and most refined medium.

Hmmm.

He sinks into the shadows, tapping his fingers on his cane as he makes his way toward his room. He stretches his grin to scare Angel Dust, who he crossed in the halls; delighted, as he grimaces in disgust at the sight.

Although, he muses, he can hardly bear to think of sleeping with any of the demons surrounding him. The door shuts, and he finds himself seated on his bed, restless fingers never stopping their erratic tapping.

Perhaps, he can test things out by himself first. Only if things go well will he entertain another.

And that’s how Alastor finds his fingers slipping beneath the band of his pants, sending his shadow to guard the outside of his door. Who knows which one of those pesky fiends would come knocking for some ridiculous problem?

He snakes a hand around the length of his member, internally grimacing at the intimacy of the action. It wasn’t as though he’s never touched himself before; but rather that the last time had been… more than a century ago by now?

That’s right, he thinks, awkwardly maneuvering his hand up and down. He recalls the more foolish early days of his life, when he was in his teens and sex was all the craze amongst his peers. The one thing that actually should’ve changed with time, yet only grew worse.

He had found the activity disinteresting back then, much like he does now, observing the ripples across the swamp in his room as he rhythmically moves his hand. Up and down, up and down.

He tries to summon back the adrenaline he experienced while torturing the demon, but it was slowly fading away, each stroke of his arm cooling down the pulse further. The skin on his palm was growing tired of brushing over the same crooked vein, his cock not hardening nearly enough to penetrate another’s innards. He redirects his attention toward the activity. The best he gets is a slight twitch, his member half-erect only from the arousal of torture half an hour prior, and the repeated stimulation from his hand.

This is what people get all excited over? How laughable, really. Not that he was so surprised, considering how pitiful many of them were already, even without their questionable choice of pastime.

He gives his arm a rest, squeezing at the base of his cock then languidly moving his fingers upward until he comes to a stop at the tip. A modest smear of precum peeks from the opening, and he watches the viscous fluid gather into a bead, which he spreads over the head of his cock with his thumb. The miniscule feeling is growing into a low-level buzz in his gut, like an itch he can’t be bothered to scratch.

One time, he reminds himself. That means finishing the whole experience. He resumes the motion, but before he could get back into it…

“Alastor?” His eyes, which have started to shut from concentration, snap open at the sound of Charlie’s excitable voice at the door.

Now, of all times! It’s a good thing he sent his shadow to guard the door. He sighs, tucking his half-hard member back into the confines of his slacks and picking up his cane - with his other hand, of course. He swings the door open, his smile gleaming and wide as always.

“What is it now, Charlie?”

The blonde squeals, her hands clapping together quickly before she flourishes them toward you. “We have a new guest!”

He notices you then, a tiny thing beside Charlie, eyes shining just as bright if not more than the princess. He could already tell, without you even speaking a word, how bothersome you were likely to be. How wonderful.

But the show must go on, and his smile grows even wider, fixing his stare on you in the hopes of making a fearsome first impression. “Well it’s a pleasure to meet you, dear!”

You don’t flinch at all; instead, you lean in to match his smile, enthusiastically shaking his hand with glee - the hand that he used to do… that, he realizes in dread. No matter how much of a nuisance you were going to be, this was absolutely inappropriate to do to a lady, nevertheless, one he’d just met. But of course, you don’t know that.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you too, Alastor! I’m so excited to work here at the hotel! I can tell we’re going to be good friends already!”

“Mmmhmm, I have no doubt you’re correct.”

The subtle flair of sarcasm is immediately lost on both you and Charlie, and the two of you squeal simultaneously.

“Best friends!” Charlie cheers, holding your hand in one and his in the other.

“The bestest!” You giggle, leaning your head affectionately on her shoulder.

He strains his smile. “Now then, aside from the friendly introductions, I assume there is something you require from me?” He directs his attention to Charlie, whose eye suddenly sparks up as though remembering something.

“Oh yes!” She clutches onto your shoulders, presenting you to him. “Our new guest here is looking for a job! She’s brand new in Hell and found out that you don’t just get to stop working after death, unfortunately. So she came to our hotel from that brilliant ad you made, and we were brainstorming what sorts of jobs she could take here.”

“You… just got here, and your first reaction is excitement?” That… is interesting, although it’s an avenue to be explored another time.

Your eyes sparkle at what you likely presumed to be his interest. “I’ve always known that I was going to Hell anyway! I just didn’t know it would be so cool!”

Charlie swoons at that, taking your hands in hers. “Oh we are just going to have the best time together I already know! I should take you to Lulu World, I used to go on the rides there with my dad all the time!”

“There’s. An. Amusement park??”

He increases the sound of his static until the two of you finally notice him. “As you lovely ladies were saying?”

“Right! We were thinking…” Charlie wiggles her eyebrows at you, which you catch and reply with one of your own.

“...That I could be your assistant!”

All the static stops. “I beg your pardon?”

“Your assistant! Charlie was telling me about how you do so much for the hotel, that it’d be better if you had somebody helping you!”

His grin remains frozen on his face, radio-dialed eyes boring straight into yours, which never seemed to dull no matter what they were looking at. Weren’t you afraid of him in the slightest? It’s almost insulting, how you approached him so fearlessly. Perhaps it’s only because you’re new to Hell. That thought relaxes him slightly, his mind churning in delight at the picture of you a few weeks from now, much more tame as you’ve learned to stay in your lane.

“I do not require any assistance-.”

Charlie’s face instantly falls.

“...But, I suppose, if no other career option in the hotel is available, I will take you as my assistant.”

“Great! Awesome! Thank you so much, Alastor!” Her face lights up so quickly that he rolls his eyes; that girl was such an open book that it hurts to look at sometimes.

Then there’s a figure colliding into his chest, as two arms wrap around his back. “I’m so, so glad!” Your girlish voice is too loud for his sensitive ears this close, and though it takes him a moment to react, when he finally does, he hisses, flattening his ears as he pulls away instinctively.

“Do not step out of your boundaries, my dear.”

To your credit, you do pull away quickly; but the same unbeatable optimism still shone in your eyes, as though you didn’t take his word as a threat at all.

“I’m sorry!” You didn’t look nearly enough sorry. “So when are we gonna get started? I hear you work in a radio tower! Oooh that sounds so fun! But I wouldn’t mind getting started on the rest of the tasks you do around the hotel either, I’m sure there’s a lot!”

Alastor bites back another loathing groan, the corners of his normally well-practiced grin threatening to fall. He could only hope your initial excitement would wear off within a few days.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Alastor, do I put in the eggs or the bacon first?”

…It’s gotten worse.

“Cook the bacon first, then the eggs in the leftover grease.”

“Got it!” You zoom off, hurrying as you move to do just as he says.

He sighs, taking the opportunity to direct his attention back to the script he was working on; but he knew it wouldn’t be long until you once again appear in front of his vision, free to help again.

He was used to dealing with irritating personalities as a public figure, but none had been as bad as this; because the difference was, that he could eventually get away from them. You, however… he didn’t quite hate you. Aside from being a naturally excitable person, you were pleasant and helpful enough. The issue was that you were too helpful. You were always around to help, finishing every meaningless task he threw your way in mere minutes. And once you finished, you would come back for more.

Goodness, he’s never seen someone this hardworking! You worked as though you were a single mother of five fighting for a living, rather than a childless soul free to spend the bare minimum effort for the rest of your afterlife. Even at night, there was no rest! When you found out that he preferred his nights sleepless, you were eager to copy him, insisting that you had never enjoyed sleeping; it was only for the sake of living that you did so. And while it was true that he had grown used to the nights awake, your persistent presence was starting to make him tired enough to long for rest.

The sound of the kitchen sink turning off catches his attention. His ears flick in your direction, listening for the telltale sign of your scampering feet.

And sure enough, a few moments later, you’re here. “Breakfast is ready and served!”

To his surprise, you actually sit yourself down on the couch next to him. You? Taking a rest? Well, it should preferably be farther away from him, but at least he wouldn’t have to do the whole act of sending you off for a task, and then waiting in dreaded anticipation for the timer to end, bringing you to him like clockwork.

“That’s wonderful, dear. Good job!” He takes a sip from his “Oh deer!” mug. “Say, you’ve been working very hard all week; does the idea of a day off entice you at all?”

You shake your head, swinging your feet below the edge of the couch. “Nah, I’m good. It’s been so fun working with you I hardly felt it was work at all!”

“I see.” Another sip.

This wasn’t going to do. You see, there was yet another unexpected issue your constant presence brought. That little… experiment of his. He had no room to finish the experience, simply because you were always there! He supposed that he could give it up altogether. After all, he was never interested in the first place.

But then he would also never get to check off that irksome box. He had to find some way to finish, if only just to call it a day. If you weren’t going to take the day off, then… he was just going to have to find some way to keep you busy for long enough. But what was there for you to do? There are certain parts of his workload that he simply can’t have you touching. His radio equipment, for one. You wouldn’t be going anywhere near that. Which does reduce his options by a lot.

Perhaps he could have you assist Husker? Or-. His grin sharpens. Or! Ah, what a great idea!

“…Alastor?” You question. “Are you still there?”

“Yes, yes, of course I’m here silly, I'm right in front of you!”

“Oh, good. Because I thou-.”

“My dear, I’ve suddenly thought of a task I need your assistance for!”

“Oooooh what is it?” You perk up, back straightening as you bunch your hands in anticipation. “Is it gonna be more cooking? Sweeping? Walking back and forth in the hallways a hundred times while counting my fingers? You never did tell me what that was for, by the way.”

“Not at all! I think it’s about time I request you do something more… difficult. Something more time consuming that I didn’t think you were ready for until now.” He stands up, guiding you by your shoulders to the bar. “-Niffty!”

“Aw, yes, I love her! What about her though?”

“Wonderful! Then I believe you’ll be perfectly suited to the task of entertaining her.” He snaps his fingers, drawing the one-eyed cyclops to him. “Niffty dear, why don’t you show her the bugs you’ve got there?”

He grins even wider when you visibly cringe at the bugs, that being the first negative reaction you’ve shown since arriving at the hotel. He watches for only a few more moments before turning his back, knowing that he could leave the rest to the little cyclops.

Now, to take advantage of the time he’s earned for himself. His steps are oddly eager for a mediocre activity, his rush to close his bedroom door out of the norm. Once again, he has his shadow watch over the outside, as he sits himself on the edge of his bed, shifting the band of his pants over his hips.

He feels the itch come back, subtle and buzzing like a pesky mosquito, as though he were picking up at exactly the same level of arousal as where he last left off.

Good, that should save him some time. His fingers wrap around his half-hardened cock, giving it a squeeze to tease the light pulse at his tip. The itch soothes as he works his hand down his shaft, causing him to breathe a small sigh of relief. He slowly quickened his pace, his cock becoming stiffer as his movements sent more blood to engorge it, flushing his tip with a pretty red shade. He has to admit that the feeling was becoming pleasurable. Although he has no need for such a thing when killing works just as well to get his adrenaline racing.

Surely, doing it with another would have little difference. He feels his jaw clench, grin tugging at the edges as he quickens his hand further, determined to get his high over with as fast as possible so that life could continue.

The tightening of his abdominal muscles as he neared a climax wasn’t entirely unfamiliar to him; despite having an inactive sexual life, the thrill of a good kill was sometimes intense enough that arousal would stiffen his cock similarly to how he was now. Yet the unbearable growl in his stomach, and the almost painful sudden swelling of saliva in his mouth, always overpowered the feeling from below, leading him to satisfy that carnal desire with the consumption of another, from the irreplaceable feeling of control beneath his fingertips as his victims screamed with the regret of crossing him.

A slight sheen of sweat gathers above his brow as he feels unpracticed muscles prepare his orgasm, stroking faster until-.

Three sharp knocks ring on his door. “Alastor? I’m back! Are you in there?”

He has never directed the fury he currently felt toward any woman; but you were coming close to being the first. He had half the mind to just… continue, let you wait outside. But that would only work if you were literally any other person. Knowing you, you would just persistently call for him until he answered, and that would definitely disrupt his concentration on achieving his climax. He reluctantly tucks his still twitching cock back into his slacks, fumbling around as he struggles to conceal the bulge protruding there. He fixes the lapels on his coat.

“...Hello, my dear. Back so soon?”

You sheepishly look at your toes. “Yeah. Sorry if I was bothering you-.” Hmmm. Some self-awareness for once. Perhaps you could be trained. “-but Niffty got distracted in the middle of showing me her bugs. She’s by herself now, smacking her head with a broom. Is she going to be alright? I mean, you’re kind of like her boss right?”

“I own her soul. And yes, she will be alright as she always is. Funny! I expected you to last longer with her, given how popular you’ve become amongst the residents of this hotel. Was that all, or was there something more important you came to bother me for?”

“Yeah the thing is, I’m not that good with bugs so I couldn’t keep her entertained.” You seem to be entirely unaware of his jab, as your face brightens again. “I came to ask for another task! Aside from the bugs thing, I can pretty much do anything else! In fact, I can work all day if you need me to.”

Known weaknesses - bugs. He’ll store that in his mind for future use. “I’m well aware of your work ethic! You… just seem to never run out of energy.”

You beam, taking his words as a compliment. “Yup!”

“...But I may not always be ready with a task for you. With that in mind, why don’t you check up on the other residents? I recall you taking quite the liking to our dear princess of the hotel.”

Your face falls. Oh, if you cry at this moment, he will have truly hit his last nerve. Unexpectedly, his cock, which still sat uncomfortably hard in his pants, stirs at the thought of your teary face; sobbing as you begged for his forgiveness for being such a nuisance. He pushes that thought away.

“I do want to spend time with Charlie, but she’s in the middle of figuring something out with her dad. And Angel Dust is always at his job, Husk doesn’t talk much, and you know Niffty…” You stop as you count to your fourth finger. “...And that’s everyone in the hotel.”

“And what about simply spending time by yourself? You must have passions you enjoy outside of working.”

With that, your face falls even further, your pupils downcast, lashes lowered. Must you play this act with him? “I used to, when I was alive. But I just… can’t find the point of doing so anymore after death.”

For a moment, he thinks that he’s hit a weak spot. Then you recover in record time, rubbing your hands together with an animated smile. “Because there are just so many other things to do in Hell! I want to take in everything this place has to offer!”

And how could he turn down such a brilliant display of optimism? It would be one thing if you had broken down, weeping some sob story about not wishing to be left alone. Then he could easily spin some excuse to cast you aside, preferably forever. It was another, to have you insist with genuine excitement, how you enjoyed working for him. In this case, you would be the one in control if he were to turn you down; that would be a display of weakness from him, not you.

It could be worse. You could be the horribly unhelpful variety on top of your constant proximity. As for his little experiment… he would just have to find a way to carry it out in the little time you were away from him. Thinking, plotting deliberately long tasks that you managed to solve in a quarter of the time he planned for you. He even trusted you with the tasks he wouldn’t let you touch at first; fine, you could touch his stuff, edit his scripts (not that he would use your edits), clean whatever! Anything to keep you busy for long enough!

And so it goes; every time his wrists moved faster, nearing that ever-unreachable climax, you were there, knocking at his door. It came to the point where his expectancy of your arrival made it even more difficult to achieve his orgasm; the thought of your interruption restrained the frustrating throb of his cock to constant level of almost-there but never-finished.

It was beyond vexing! Every time, he came closer to the idea of ending you. Though it would be uncharacteristic, given you didn’t fit his usual demographic; that might also come with its benefits, as it would be easier to blame your sudden disappearance as a… happy accident.

But he couldn’t bring himself to do so. Whereas he usually anticipates the feeling of victory after killing, he couldn’t help but feel like killing you meant he was losing. That it was evidence your overwhelming good cheer had finally gotten to him, and killing, in this case, means his surrender to your attack.

Not to add that despite his recent contemplation, he really has never thought of killing a woman. It was not out of some strange moral construct, but rather the self-important disgust at the thought of becoming as pathetic as the demons he normally enjoyed obliterating. No, he wasn’t going to stoop to such a level.

So he holds on, letting your interruptions continue, figuring that one day he had to be desperate enough that his orgasm would come quicker, before you could knock at his door. Yet no matter how aroused he was, no matter how painfully strong the urge to release; he could never finish the race before you got there.

Subtle jabs and hints flew past you. Direct expulsion would mean his loss. Threatening you never worked, and you always seemed to be strangely calm as you swung your legs back and forth, watching with utter ease his show of tearing apart his captured souls. In fact, to his incomprehension, that seemed to be the part of his day you were the most neutral about; happily humming along to the jazz he played, eyes casually fixated on his cannibalism the same way eyes normally stare at a mediocre TV show - unbothered, neither interested not repulsed.

Just what did you do to get into Hell?

He can feel the precum pressing uncomfortably, his pants pushing against the over-sensitive tip of his cock as he listened to you ramble on about how you didn’t mean to bother him, but you had questions about how to work certain equipment in his studio. His ears are flat, eyes narrowed as his grin threatens to actually fall. But no, he had to endure it all as he pretends to be wholly unaffected, patiently (albeit with an extra edge of snark in his voice) explaining to you the mechanics.

“I would’ve never imagined handling radio equipment in my afterlife! I was a teacher when I was alive, you know.”

A teacher? Interesting, that was the first piece of information he had gathered about your life. Though he couldn’t imagine what kind of school would allow you near their children, especially with his knowledge now that you’ve ended up in Hell. Or perhaps, your upbeat attitude was exactly what they were looking for.

His stream of thought is cut off by your happy humming, bending over his desk as you poke around his equipment. Unfortunately, he finds his eyes lingering on the curve of your butt, the edge of your panties peeking innocently at him from under the atrociously short hem of your skirt - were the modern people so comfortable with walking around nearly nude? It wasn’t that he found the side of your rear particularly enticing, nor was he attracted to the mere appearance of someone’s privates; but he found himself wondering, fantasizing, of how easy it would be to restrain you against his desk and take you there. How easy it would be to get this over with.

His cock strains tightly against the fabric of his pants, reminding him of his predicament. He grits his teeth, pulling at his hair in a rare display of regret, and desperation. Why did he ever take on such a ridiculous experiment? He prided himself on his composure and unbreakable self-control, yet the very sensation of his length throbbing for a release, and the uncomfortable persistent ache in his cock as he went about his day; a sensation that was usually entirely dormant, bothered him so greatly he felt he might go insane if he didn't finally climax.

He was no stranger to the idea that desperation was the root cause of many bad decisions; he just never thought that he, of all people, would fall prey to it one day.

He thinks he must’ve lost his mind a few days later as he lets your knocks continue on his unlocked door, one hand pumping at his angry red cock. This was supposed to be the original experiment anyway, he tries to rationalize. He’s beyond caring about the consequences. One time only, he reminds himself, teeth gnashing together as he lowers his boundaries at a snail's pace, for the first time letting your voice infiltrate his activities, even fuel them.

“Alastor…? I’m done cleaning your desk. What can I do next?”

You quiet down. Then you speak up again, hesitantly, as though you somehow also knew you would be crossing an unspoken boundary if you were to twist the doorknob. “Alastor, if you're ok with it, I’m coming in.”

Wonderful. He can’t wait to see the pained look on your face as he fucked your womb, forcibly erasing that unshakeable mask of optimism you wore; replacing it with apology, regret, and subservience.

Then you speak up again. “Actually, I better not. I don’t know if you’re in there but if you are, come find me when you’re done with whatever you’re doing alright?”

He stops his movement, a feeling of absurdity taking over his mind. No! Absolutely not! Well, it was what he wanted all along, but not when he had already prepared himself to accept the feeling of your hole clenching deliciously over his cock, not when he could finally

Against his will, he calls out for you. “You may come in if you wish, my dear. The door is unlocked.”

He hears your footsteps stop again, unsure and slow. Were you already aware of what was going on behind the walls? “Oh ok. Only if you’re sure though.”

What happened to your lack of respect for his boundaries? He rolls his eyes at the door, impatiently waiting for you to crack it open, waiting to see your reaction as you see the depraved motion of his hand now moving languidly across the length. What shameful look would cross your face?

“I’m coming in!” The door opens.

If he wasn’t so against the technology, he would’ve wished to capture your expression with a camera; your smile drops, eyes widening as you stood there absolutely frozen, always-running mouth still for once as you look between his face and hand, brain short circuiting at the sight of him. It was rewarding in a near mouthwatering way, to see you finally react the way he wanted you to. He feels superior, the way he was always meant to, as he sits perched on his bed grinning, never stopping the motion of his hand as he watches your face start to take on a red hue.

…That satisfaction doesn’t last long though, as you seem to regain your composure, the only hint of your prior expression being the flush on your cheeks. He’s taken aback as you yet again regain your usual beam, albeit a bit more bashfully.

“Is this a new type of task for me?”

…Oh, fuck it. He extends one of his tendrils to slam the open door, eyes glowering as he collects you by the waist with another. Up close, he sees your bravado waver; your eyes glued to the now furious red head of his cock, which rubs against your stomach as you land on his lap.

“My dear assistant, do you have any idea how much trouble you’ve caused the last couple of weeks?”

He wasn’t going to let you respond, but in yet another turn of events, you press yourself closer to his throbbing cock, coyly smiling up at him through your lashes. “Have I? Well I can always assist with the trouble I caused.”

At any other time, he would’ve jumped on the opportunity to dig deeper into your motivation; but right now, he’s beyond caring to decipher your intention. All he wants is to sink his cock into your waiting hole, which warmed his length teasingly through only the thin separation of your underwear.

He digs his hands into the sides of your hips, the sharpness of his teeth glistening from the low light in his room. “I’m afraid your assistance isn’t needed at the moment.”

Your brows raise in confusion, temporarily caught off guard by his statement. “What-.”

Before you could finish your sentence, he’s torn off your panties with a skilled claw, grin straining as he prods the tip of his cock into your already wet folds. Were you waiting for this? The thought, which should irritate him, only intensifies the guttural desire to ruin you. You let out a breathless squeak as he pushes his cock into your walls in one go. He feels blood collecting between his teeth where he bit himself to stop the utterly humiliating sound of relief that would otherwise fall out. You, on the other hand, gasp for air as you attempt to adjust to the shock of his intrusion.

He presses your body into his pristinely folded sheets, grin straining as your back collides with the headboard, the jolt of the motion rocking your pussy flush against the base of his cock, where your clit smacks wetly against his abdomen.

“You can just watch me do my job.”

He does one experimental thrust, feasting on the sight of your head throwing back as he hits that spongy spot inside you, licking up the gratifying sounds of your cries. He pins your arms to the headboard as he pulls back, then thrusts again. Oh… this does feel phenomenal.

If only for the pure fact that he had been denied his release since you’ve made your entrance, he could barely think as he picked up the pace, moving his hips back then slamming them forward in the way he’s only heard of until now. You moan with every thrust of his hips, the pathetic little sound vibrating from the vigor of his movements.

He realizes, mortifyingly, that he can already feel his orgasm approaching. That isn’t supposed to happen this fast, is it? It certainly never was that way the few times (well, recently many times) he experimented with his own hand; but the moist, gummy heat of your walls seemed to coax his length, beckoning him to release and paint them white.

He grits his teeth, refusing to give in. Were things always destined to end this way? So that no matter which way he took things, you would be the one to win?

He speeds up his pace then, mind attempting to focus on anything but the depraved ache of his pent-up cock, balls tight with a torrent of cum, despite how his release was the only thing that the animal part of his brain craved. If this was your plan all along - no, even if you were unaware and it was simply your nature to be devious - he’ll ensure that he at least makes you come first, make you fall apart on his cock before he ejaculates.

Your eyes are hazy, bottom lip caught succulently between your top row of teeth, as your back arched up so your nipples would graze his suit each time he sunk into your deepest spot. By the looks of your trembling thighs and quickening breath, it wouldn’t be long until you cum, his wanting brain reasons.

He has one knee digging into the bedsheets, his other leg working to powerfully ram into you; and he tightens his own muscles, willing himself to contain his long-awaited release.

“Alastor! A-A-lastor!” You call out his name, and he feels a surge of satisfaction rushing through him; your submission like a hefty meal that feeds straight to his starving gut.

Then your eyes roll back, stilling as your walls convulse rhythmically around his cock. His nails rip into the bedsheets, prepared to resist this climax, wanting to wait until he fucked you into a second orgasm.

But your unpredictable little mind has other plans, and as you suddenly bite down on his shoulder, teeth sinking all the way into the muscle there; he groans in surprise, the first noise he’s let escape during the whole session, cock twitching as it releases his sperm in lengthy ropes against his will.

Your sweaty face is smug, smiling up at him as you playfully flick at his hair. He forces himself to recover, the irritation crawling back into his heart twofold.

He’s going to fuck that look right off your audacious face.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“It was amazing! I simply didn’t know one could do such a thing with a rope! Especially with how tight-.”

Alastor nods, tuning out and sipping his coffee as Rosie droned on about her latest escapade. It seems she’s found yet another man to toy with; and although he wasn’t particularly interested in this story, he was looking forward to her inevitable follow up on disemboweling him.

“Is that so?”

“Oh yes! It’s important to prepare your meat well, as in the case of any dish. But sinner meat requires a different type of preparation. It’s unfortunate that you’ll never know the taste.” She giggles, stirring her cup of tea.

“I might’ve taken a sample since the last time we spoke.”

Her eyes light up in recognition, excitedly leaning forward in her seat. “You have! And tell me, how did it go! Was it everything you hoped for?”

He sets down his mug. Was it all that great? Well he supposed that while it wasn’t anything near the surge of primal power murder gave him, he certainly didn’t dislike it.

He certainly hasn’t minded the new change to his routine; when sometimes, after a broadcasting session where his adrenaline is rushing particularly high, after he solves the growling of his stomach, he also tends to the ache of his cock by fucking your womb. As usual, you didn’t mind providing him with your assistance, pliantly spreading your thighs on his table whenever you recognized the look of raw hunger in his eyes, that look of hunger that differed from his usual craving for meat. The craving of flesh.

But he hasn’t turned into some… lustful creature. He merely gave an unventured avenue a try, and it turned out to be more pleasurable than he expected.

He widens his grin, static buzzing with threat as a warning to her not to question further, and Rosie takes the hint, smiling knowingly as she backs down.

“It was alright.”

A/N: It's up to you whether the reader did it on purpose LOL. Anywho definitely don't be expecting me to always post this often, this week I went through some weird writing craze. I have no idea when I'll post next but when I do it'll probably be a series (we'll see how that goes) cuz I want to try long-form writing (oooooo intimidating). I wrote this fic cuz I've heard that the way serial killers choose their victims is closely related to who they're sexually attracted to. & cannibalism is often used as a metaphor for love. And I thought that it was so interesting Alastor is this cannibalistic serial killer who's also asexual! I speculate that the adrenaline rush they get from killing might somewhat mimic arousal. And I thought that might be true for Alastor as well, he just doesn't project those feelings onto another person cuz he's asexual... BUT WHAT IF HE DID? Well, I wrote a fic to find out and thought Tumblr might like it lol. Not that I'd know about how all that feels cuz despite my amazing wonderful extremely realistic writing skills it might surprise you that I've never killed anyone or done a sex... My author notes are more like author short essays (that's why I put them at the end)

Taglist:

@angeldustharmony, @littlebluefishtail, @cryssyd, @reath-solia, @speedycoffeedelight, @mo-0-o Comment below if you wanna be added!

#alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x you #alastor x you smut #hazbin hotel smut #alastor x you #I still can't get over how perfect his character is

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fenricken · 6 months

Text

You Keep Slipping From My Grasp 4/7

AO3

Ship: Spirit Halloween

first

The rain fell heavily, washing the blood on the ground away as he stepped toward the woman. She was hunched over, sobbing, clutching her dead son to her chest. She glanced up at him as he approached, mouthing silent prayers.

“What happened here?” he asked, carefully ignoring the dead bodies around.

“They came… for a box my family has guarded for a long time. They killed my husband and my son, and they’ve taken my Catherine… They’ll torture her to make her speak its secrets. Please! Please, help her!”

She reached out a hand to him, imploringly. He crouched down to take it.

“I will.”

————

Danny stood before Clockwork, adjusting his new cowboy hat. Maddie and Jack stood behind Clockwork tinkering on the Fenton Omega Siphoner, and arguing over the aesthetics of the machine.

“I have already sent Dani out to help the Justice League locate Batman’s cape. Hopefully we should receive word on her success soon.” Clockwork began, “In the meantime, we do still need someone to make sure Batman doesn’t rush forward too quickly, lest he build up too much energy before we can stop him. Are you ready?”

“Always ready for bat-sitting duty. I’d hope he’s doing something a bit calmer this time, but I suppose there’s no chance of that happening.” Danny responded, pointing to his hat.

Clockwork just gave his usual cryptic smile before opening a portal for Danny to step through.

————

“Roooooobin. Rooooooooobin.”

Tim whirled around, searching for the source of the noise.

“Oooh, new fit?” Poltergeist asked, stepping out of the shadows. “Ugly cowl, but I like the rest of it.”

Tim lowered his bo staff at her, readying himself for whatever chaotic ‘game’ she tried to rope him into this time.

“Your city’s on fire. You bats trying out some new defense mechanism or something? Like, you think no rogue would want to take over Gotham if it’s a pile of rubble and ash?” She turned in a circle, surveying the chaos Gotham was under.

“What do you want, Poltergeist?”

“Well, so like, Batman’s stuck in time, right? And-”

“How do you know that?!” Red Robin cut in. He had been struggling to convince everyone that Batman was still alive ever since he found those paintings on the walls of the Batcave. Suddenly, here was Poltergeist who seemed to know something about it, but he couldn’t trust her. She was unpredictable, and running into her could mean leaving with anything as benign yet uncomfortable as soaked socks or as irritating and hindering as being cursed to only speak dead languages for the next 3 days.

And things only got worse if she was tagging along with Klarion. Fortunately, he wasn’t in sight, so it's unlikely he was here with her.

“What do you want?”

She smiled slightly at him. “Oh! I want to get Batman back where he belongs before he dies or explodes everything.”

Explodes everything?

“I mean, Gotham’s got a grumpy quota and since you’re his mini-me I figured you’d start trying to take it on and that’d be so boring.” She raised her pointer fingers to the side of her head, imitating Batman’s cowl and adopted a nasally voice. “I don’t have time to play, Poltergeist. Gotham needs me. I have to go stalk Penguin, and then I need to go brood on my favorite gargoyle.”

“So you want to help me find Batman so that I will… be able to play with you?”

“Well, that, but also if he makes his way to the present day on his own, he’ll have built up enough of something called Omega Energy to make all of reality go ka-blooey, and I actually really like this universe. Top 10, easily.”

Tim held up his hand to stop the oncoming ramble while he compartmentalized.

First, Poltergeist knew Bruce was lost in the time stream and seemed to want to help.

Second, Bruce was making his way back to the present, and by doing so was becoming a living bomb

Third, Poltergeist is a multiversal being???

That last one can probably be ignored for now.

“If I were to let you help me find Batman, where do you suggest we start? I’ve been tracking down artifacts I think he’s left behind to try and convince the Justice League to help us-”

“Psh. Justice League Shmustice League. My dad and my Nana and Pops are already working on it. We just need to find the cape he was sent back in time with for them. Besides, I can probably convince Wonder Woman to help us get the Justice Dorks to help out once we get the cape if we really need to.”

What.

“What?”

“My grandparents are building a thingy-thing to suck all the Omega Energy out of Batman so he’s not a bomb. My dad’s hanging out with him to keep him from dying or something, and we’re supposed to find his cape so we can safely yoink him out of the time stream.”

“I didn’t know you had parents??? What do they do while you’re here breaking things???”

Poltergeist shrugged “King things I guess. And I only have a dad.”

“King things???”

She rolled her eyes, “Anyway, Dad said he last saw Batman’s cape in the Batcave.”

“You didn’t answer my question, and I’m not taking you to the Batcave.”

Poltergeist landed on her feet, and stared at him with wide eyes. He stared back, caught in her gaze for what felt like an eternity, as he felt invisible fingers trickle up his spine. Whispers started low in his ears, building to a crescendo. It was getting too much to bear, until he broke eye contact and looked away. All of a sudden, it stopped. Tim heaved a big sigh.

“I’m… kinda fighting with the current Batman, so we’ll have to sneak in.”

She punched both arms into the air, “YES!”

Tim turned, flicking his cape and walking off, not waiting to see if she’d follow.

“Poltergeist, when this is over you are going to be answering my questions.”

He heard her blow a raspberry at his back, but kept walking.

————

He followed their trail easily enough, the rain trailing after him. As he reached his destination, men came out to fight him, readying pistols, but he made short work of them easily enough.

With his memory having returned in bits and pieces, it had been easy to fashion metal into bat shapes aerodynamic enough to hit true when thrown, and it was these he’d used to disarm the men.

These memories were useful. The ones of children with blurry faces less so, haunting him as they stayed just out of his complete grasp. A constant reminder of how lost and alone he was.

He steadily made his way to the headquarters, where he figured they were keeping Catherine. He whirled around, sensing someone approaching from behind. It was the man with white hair, again.

“Seems you’ve got this well enough in hand, but I hope you don’t mind if I’d tag along all the same.”

“Why?”

The white haired man smiled slightly. “Will you not believe that I just want to help you?”

He stared, unblinking and quiet. Memories from before had proven this a good method to get more information.

His target stared back, also quiet and unblinking. It wasn’t long before he started shifting, and not much longer before he finally spoke again. Under his breath, almost too quiet to hear, he muttered “Just like Dani, I swear…”

Louder, the man said, “I’ve not known you to be the kind of man to ever be on the wrong side of a cause. Whatever you’re up to, I just want to help.”

He squinted at the man, trying to find any evidence of a lie, but the man just appeared open and honest.

“No guns,” he says, before turning back around and leading the white haired man on towards the headquarters.

As they got closer, they noticed two men standing guard. He deployed smoke bombs to cover their approach, sneaking closer with his companion close behind. They were spotted, but the smoke did its work, scaring the two guards and allowing him and his companion to disappear from view again.

“How you gonna tell me there’s no such things as ghosts now???” One of them whimpered, apparently to his white-haired friend’s delight, as he broke out in giggles.

As the smoke continued to grow, he and his friend snuck around the two, tricking them into fighting each other.

He broke through into the offices in the back. They were unfortunately empty.

“Already gone!” He said, slamming a hand on the desk. His companion stood at the window.

“Not long though, look!”

When he spotted their carriage speeding away through the window, he knew he had to act quickly. He launched himself out of the window, and onto the tarp covering the wagon.

An explosion sounded behind him, but he focused on the task ahead of him. His friend always seemed to find his way back, so he’d have to trust he’d do it again.

The ensuing fight was nothing pretty, little more than mad scrambling as he fought to hold his balance, dodge bullets, and wrestle the men actually in the cart so he could get away with the Catherine and her family’s box.

Looking ahead, he saw they were quickly approaching the dock, and a man who was walking down it. Thinking quickly, he swung his body-weight around, tipping the wagon over and sending everyone sprawling.

The man who had been at the dock had acted quickly, grabbing the young woman and holding her protectively behind him. He stood up, adding to the obstacles that stood protecting Catherine from her kidnappers. Only 3 men remained. From the snippets he heard as two of them fought, he figures the two fighting must’ve been the masterminds behind the plot and the third still in the distance was a gun-for-hire. Taking out his weapons of choice, he quickly dispatched the two men.

Catherine tugged on his cloak. He turned to face her, seeing that she had opened up the box, and was showing him what was inside.

It was Jack Valor’s journal.

He wanted to reach out–to see what Jack had added since they parted, but the gun-for-hire had caught up to them by then.

“My employers may have been dealt with, but I still have a reputation to uphold. Draw.”

He stood up straight, reaching for more of his weapon of choice. Over the shoulder of the gun-for-hire, he saw another man approaching quickly, white-haired. His friend.

A loud bang echoed, and he felt pain in his side. He stumbled, too close to the edge of the dock, and as he fell over he heard one last cry of ‘BAT–’.

And everything went dark.

————

Shit.

Shit. Shit. SHIT.

As if Batman stumbling towards the present through who-knows-when wasn’t bad enough, now he’s SHOT???

Danny quickly ripped a portal back to Clockwork’s lair.

“Please tell me you’ve almost got the machine ready.” Danny said after confirming his parents were in the room.

“Almost! Just one problem, sweetie…” His mom said, looking over at her husband so he’d finish.

“Batman needs to die. Or at least be very close to death!” Jack said, ending with a laugh.

“Basically, we can get this machine to suck out the Omega Energy, but it’s tightly bonded with Batman’s life energy, so it’s extremely risky unless we can find a way to diminish his life energy.”

Danny groaned, putting his face in his hands. “It’s just one thing after another! He’s just been shot. Would that bring him close enough?”

His dad tilted his head back and forth, considering. “Likely not, unless he was in a pretty bad way. In any case, we asked Sam and Tucker to take a look into it!”

“We’ve already found something, actually.” Sam said, having entered the room. Tucker followed behind her.

“There’s an herb that I was able to locate, which should slow his heart down to extreme levels, to the point his heartbeat would be pretty undetectable. Only problem is that his heart would have to be jump-started afterward by a great shock.”

“Clockwork let me take a closer look at his monitors into Batman’s original time and place, and I was able to determine that they have defibrillator technology that can administer an electrical shock needed to get his heart pumping again, as well as adrenaline injections in case we’d need the extra boost.” Tucker continued.

Maddie clapped her hands together. “Excellent! If we can get the Justice League to set up the anchor point on the Watchtower, we can pull Batman to that point and perform everything there! It’d probably work best to do it in his original time as well, to avoid any potential effects that could crop up from being in the wrong time when we remove the Omega Energy and try to stabilize his system.”

“Great, some good news.” Danny said, tension leaving his body. He turned to Clockwork, who had been quiet thus far. “How’s Dani’s work coming along? Will we be ready to proceed soon?”

“Dani and Red Robin have recovered Batman’s cape, and have moved it to the Watchtower. I believe Dani was able to recruit Wonder Woman’s help into getting the rest of the Justice League in line to receive Batman.”

————

“Red Robin! Did you seriously bring Poltergeist into the cave??? What were you thinking?”

Before Tim could reply, Poltergeist raised a hand to point at Dick-as-Batman.

“AAH! It’s the cops! Run!”

Poltergeist placed her hand on Tim’s shoulder, pulling him and the cape through the ceiling of the batcave and up in the open air of Gotham. As Tim caught sight of Wayne Manor his head whipped towards Poltergeist, hoping she wouldn’t make any connections.

She was staring at him, lips pressed together, looking a bit like a frog.

He was quiet, waiting for her to say something.

She blew a breath of air out, letting her lips buzz.

“Listen, you keep my secret, and I won’t tell anyone Batman’s secret id is some rich fruitloop.”

“...What secret?”

She pivoted them somewhere Southeast.

“That sometimes I can be responsible. Let’s go see Wonder Woman.”

AN:

It's definitely been longer than I had planned since the last update, rip.

Not going to lie, this is like my second ever fic and I definitely thought it'd be a bit easier to get back into the habit of writing. Thought I was making it easier on my self by strongly sticking to the plot of an existing story, but I think that's been an obstacle in and of itself.

Always a little worried that the language is a bit stuffy or things aren't being clear.

#dpxdc #dc x dp #batman comic rewrite basically #dp x dc crossover #spirit halloween ship

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ceph-the-ghost-writer · 2 months

Text

Get To Know Your Moots Writeblr Interview

Tagged by @ink-flavored (here) to do this event created by @davycoquette (question template here)! Thanks to both of you.

To anyone seeing this, consider yourself tagged in addition to @sunset-a-story @touloserlautrec @sarahlizziewrites @k--havok @thatndginger @oliolioxenfreewrites @the-scaredy-crow @words-after-midnight @space-writes @vacantgodling @jezifster @ghostpoetics @lacependragon @xenascribbles @afoolandathief @drawnecromancy @the-ace-of-wrath

[ID: A thin border divider showing a sliver of a golden sky streaked by rain clouds above a dark blue sea.]

ON THE TUMBLR WRITING COMMUNITY

How long have you had your writing Tumblr/Writeblr?

Since, like, 2020? Somewhere thereabouts.

What led you to create it?

Wanting to connect with writers/readers outside of Ao3 (it's just not set up for conversations outside of comment threads). And wanting to raise my characters up like baby Simba at the start of The Lion King for more of the Internet to behold.

What’s your favorite thing about the Writeblr community?

It's about the connection. 🤌 Plenty of writing communities, both on and offline, focus on critique or getting something published. Which can be great, if it's what you're after. But I think having others who genuinely cheer you on and let you ramble is just as important to helping writers through the often messy process of creating.

What’s one thing you’d like your mutuals to know about you?

I can be a bit shy or slow to interact, but once I'm invited in I'll haunt follow your blog or writing even if I'm not constantly saying anything.

Is there anything you’d like to see more of on your dash?

People talking about what they love, in published work and with writeblr stuff. A lot of the time I read or watch something because of the way others talk about it. That includes your own writing!

What tips/advice do you have for someone who made a Writeblr today?

Be patient, manage your expectations, and focus on having some fun. There's no algorithm here and even less clout. Writers can and do build audiences on Tumblr, but it's uniquely suited to allow us to experiment and be weird too.

WIP IT GOOD

Which Works-in-Progress (WIPs) or writing projects are you noodling about, lately?

I'm rewriting Apophenia, a novel about a supernatural researcher enduring the worst assignment of his life. A lot of my other projects are set in the same world.

How long have you been working on them?

Over five years now, I think! I'm slow.

Do you remember what inspired them/what got you started?

The Chocolate Box event on Ao3! The prompt was for a human captured by a vampire, but I wound up creating an entire world and series. Oops.

How much time, in your best estimation, do you spend thinking about them?

If I'm not thinking about these characters it's only because I'm dead.

When someone asks the dreaded, “What do you write about,” question, what do you usually say?

Gay vampire trash.

What do you want to say (if it’s different from what you do say)?

I write about characters who struggle towards community, compassion, and being better people despite a) their flaws, and b) the world burning down around them. I hope that it gives me the courage to continue doing the same.

LET’S ROTATE BLORBOS

Name any characters you created.

I'll direct you to some mood boards/intros even: Isaac Soto Márquez, Renato Faria Dimas, Dorian St-Ange, Kinslayer, Elfy Bosques-Rodriguez, Ankaris the Memory Salesman, Fior the Master Transcriber, Vess the Collector. And here's a comic sans presentation for Apophenia.

Who’s the most unhinged?

Outwardly? Any of my necromancers. They come in a wide variety of styles, from Motley sewing patches of skin onto itself, to Acacius of Antioch who drapes his bejeweled and gilded bones in black veils. Each also has an, um, unique view of (un)life, the body, and ethics. Views which could come across as unhinged.

Who comes the most naturally for you to write?

At this point Isaac Soto, the protagonist of Apophenia. We do share a few similarities, but mostly I've just been writing him for years now.

Do you ever cringe at them?

At my characters or their antics? I wouldn't give them the satisfaction.

How much control do you feel you have over your characters?

They do frequently just spring ideas and actions on me, but I have the ultimate say in what makes it onto the page. Same with having the power/responsibility of changing something I realize isn't working, is insensitive, etc.

Do you enjoy people asking questions about your characters?

Always and forever, yes. 💜 Send me asks, comment in the tags or on Ao3, shriek in reblogs, replies, or a dm. It doesn't matter how--I love whenever someone is curious or interested enough to ask something about my fictional creations.

ON WRITEBLR ENGAGEMENT

What makes you want to follow another Writeblr account?

Sometimes it's based on vibes, sometimes I really like the sound of their stories. I appreciate a sense of whimsy and/or humor especially. And someone who likes spooky as well as fantasy stuff.

What makes you decide against following?

Two things: A) Their intro already has, like, 80+ notes (though the vibe/story will override this), and B) lots of posts hating on things/trends/people. I don't mean venting or sometimes ranting, which is everyone's right. I mean someone's whole brand is ridicule or just immediately seeing the bad in everything. Which is still their right. It's also mine to avoid it, and I think this is mutually beneficial. Thankfully, though, this experience has been very rare for me on writeblr.

Do you interact with non-mutuals often?

I try to. I'll reblog, read, comment, take an open tag, whatever when I have the energy. I mean, how else do writers get readers? It takes people who might not know you personally talking about your work a lot of the time.

Do your mutuals’ characters occupy space in your noodle?

I am absorbing the essence of your blorbos as we speak, making them an eternal part of me.

#writeblr #writing tag games #writeblr event

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lady-harrowhark · 4 months

Note

Would you mind. Explaining what the heck the locked tomb (is this the name?) is about. You post a lot of it and I know ✨ nothing ✨ but it sounds kinda interesting??? Into dumping is ok if you feel like lol

I would LOVE to explain what The Locked Tomb is and you DID get the name right and it IS interesting!

So, it's a book series written by Tamsyn Muir and three of the anticipated four books have been released so far. I say "anticipated four books" because it was originally a trilogy but then the last book was split up. I don't think any of us would mind if that happened again and it turned into a five book series. But I digress.

These books are notoriously hard to describe because they sort of encompass or transcend genres. It's a sci-fi fantasty horror murder mystery romcom situation. Plus, there's a LOT going on - I've often described them as an "intellectual escape room." There's so much happening that you don't realize is happening until it all comes together. Going back to the beginning after you've finished them is an entirely different experience than your first read because you can see how it was all laid out from the start - sometimes even in plain sight - and things take on completely different meanings. Also, each book is very different from the others. I adore all of these qualities.

So here's the gist of the premise for the first book:

Gideon Nav, orphan of mysterious origins, has been raised on the Ninth House as an indentured servant and trained as a swordswoman. The Ninth House has become isolated from the rest of the empire and its very existence is threatened by the dwindling population and lack of resources. Gideon is one of only two survivors of her generation, the other children having succumbed to a lethal illness when she was an infant. The other survivor is Harrowhark Nonagesimus, the Reverend Daughter of the Ninth, and the two have been at each other's throats their entire lives. Harrow's parents' deaths have been hidden from the rest of the Ninth (save for Gideon and a few of the Reverend Family's attendants) and Harrow has been secretly ruling in their stead for the past seven years, doing her best to keep the Ninth from falling into ruin. Harrow is a prodigious necromancer, specializing in working with bones. The Ninth receives a message from the Emperor requesting that each House send their heir and cavalier primary (a.k.a swordsman/bodyguard) to his home at the First House, where they are to attempt to piece together the process to becoming a Lyctor, one of his immortal Saints. Unfortunately, Harrow's cavalier has skipped town. Gideon begrudgingly accepts a deal meaning that she will pose as Harrow's cavalier in exchange for freedom from servitude. Upon arriving at the First House, the two meet the other Houses' heirs and their cavaliers and are informed that they will have to figure out the secret to Lyctorhood on their own, and that there will absolutely no communication with the outside empire. It's not long before someone turns up dead... and then another...

What immediately hooked me on the first book was the voice and tone; Gideon is a delightfully snarky narrator. Despite the humor, these books do not pull any punches with regard to emotional depth. Love and grief are at the center of everything these books do, circled by sacrifice and duty and gender and colonialism and religion.

This review is actually one of my favorite things to send to people to pitch them the books. It does a fantastic job of conveying both the premise and the tone of Gideon the Ninth. I also wrote a "pitch your fandom" piece that @wilfriede recorded and recently released. You can find both the audio and the transcript at this link.

I hope that gives you a sense of the series, and thank you for giving me the opportunity to ramble about the series that permanently altered my brain chemistry! If you ever get around to reading them, I would love to hear your thoughts :)

#happy to answer any follow up questions if you have them as well :)#tlt #the locked tomb #gideon the ninth #ask #crashed-wing

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goodomensjail · 1 year

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GOOD OMENS SPOILERS BELOW if you reblog it TAG IT DAMMIT. Entire Job Sequence to the Best of my inebriated (thank you Bulleit Bourbon for sponsoring) memory:

It was not entirely clear at the Brooklyn screening when episode 1 ended; there were no end credits but i think its fairly obvious that Job flashback is the cold open of Episode 2 because the entire audience was a bit surprised when Opening Credits played again right after the first Job scene.

Also note that the Job story is INTERCUT at apparently key moments of the main/present day plot, but it will take a second viewing for me to see exactly what they were going for/getting at. So HERE i am going to try and write the Job minisode IN ORDER without the cuts to present day because it will help my memory.

We open on Bearded (yes that bearded) Crowley about to sacrifice a herd of goats. (note that none of the dialogue is exact, even if i put it in quotes, its just what i can recall; the dialogue throughout is delightful and funny and theres no way i can remember it all nor would it be worth it without the performances).

Aziraphale appears in a golden light from the sky in a “stay thy hand, demon!” type way, dramatic and biblical, before he realizes “o its just you Crawley”; Aziraphale says they have not seen one another since “the flood”.

Crowley shows Aziraphale he has “a permit” to torment Job, God’s favorite human, because Satan and God have a bet to see if Job will curse God. Aziraphale is not happy. He takes the permit to heaven to show the Archangels who delightedly tell him YES, God is allowing blameless and good Job to be tormented by demons in a bet with Satan, but ITS OKAY because of course God will win the bet and reward Job three fold!

Aziraphale is at first glad, then stunned to hear that heaven does NOT intend to raise Job’s children from the dead, however. Job’s wife Sitis will have 7 NEW CHILDREN! Yay! (this is cute as well because Aziraphale appears to be the only angel who understands human birth and that maybe Sitis doesn't want to be pregnant and give birth 7 more times? as a mom with natural births i appreciate this, neil gaiman. the archangels are oblivious to this... they just think thats what humans do: they breed and multiply).

As Crowley in stomping through Job’s courtyard to find his three children, Aziraphale appears to reason with him. Aziraphale appeals to knowing that Crowley doesn't want to harm Job’s children because he knew him as an Angel, to which Crowley is not impressed; he is not an angel anymore. So instead, Aziraphale pivots to “i know you” and references the flood and how Crowley was shocked that God intended to kill the children. Crowley tells Aziraphale, “you do not know me”.

And then the pigeons in the courtyard start baa-ing. Aziraphale waves his hand and the pigeons transform into a herd of goats....Crowley didn't kill them at all, he hid them away. Aziraphale looks at Crowley smugly.

They meet the three children of Job, Ty Tennant plays a flirtatious Ennon who comes on a bit to Aziraphale. Aziraphale explains they are in danger, but the kids are not impressed because “don't you know our father? Job? he is God’s favorite”. Crowley transports all of them to the basement while a storm rages and destroys the home above; Aziraphale realizes Crowley always intended to get to the kids first and protect them from the destruction.

While they wait out the storm, Crowley tempts Aziraphale into eating human food for the first time. Aziraphale resists at first, but we then cut to him DIGGIN IN FORACIOUSLY to some meat, while a smiling Crowley lounges nearby watching him. The kids are annoying them both, and at some point Crowley turns them all into three small lizards. The two discuss how Crowley is not really bad and doesnt really listen to hell, and Aziraphale remarks it must be lonely living as Crowley does. Crowley tell him “not really”

God wins the bet, and give some rambling messages to Job as a prophet (which he doesn't understand or appreciate, he and Sitis just want to know where the children are). The angels, with Aziraphale in tow, arrive to announce Job will be rewarded with three times wealth, and NEW CHILDREN! Job and Sitis are horrified.

Crowley bursts in; none of the angels recognize him, he claims to be a human cobbler (its a pun for some ancient city dont worry about it) and Aziraphale jumps in to call him DOCTOR, a famous obstetrician who delivers babies. The archangels have no idea where babies come from... Aziraphale flatters Gabriel by saying well YOU were there when Eve was “born” youve seen it before.

Crowley understand the cue, and pretends to “deliver” Job and Sitis’ new children by having Sitis pull three ribs out of Job (the animal ribs from the meat Aziraphale was eating) and transforms them into three children (the lizards hidden in Jobs robes turn into his three children).

Michael is suspicious because arent humans supposed to have “babies”, but Aziraphale cues Gabriel to tell them about Eve being fully grown. The kids are confused and almost give away the bit, but Job and Sitis play along. Gabriel turns to Aziraphale and point blank asks : “Are these their old children?” to which a PAINED Aziraphale after a look to Crowley LIES to the angels and says “no these are their new children”

We cut to Aziraphale from afar and behind (the ocean and rock shot) and Crowley comes to join him. Aziraphale is crying. (DIALOGUE THAT FOLLOWS IS NO ACCURATE ITS THE GIST)

A: “Im ready for you to take me”

C:”Take you where?” or “Where are we going” something to that effect, he is amused in a bittersweet way

A: “I lied to the archangels and foiled the plans of God. Im ready to go to hell with you”

C: amused in such a kind way, tells him something to the effect of “Youre not going to hell. I wont tell if you wont”

A: sitting on the rock next to Crowley, still teary, “How can i keep on obeying heaven?”

C: “You will take it as far as you can take it, and youll do it your way when you need”

A: “You said it wasnt lonely”

C: “I’m a demon. I lied”

Gorgeous scene of them sitting together on the rock and cut to black

#good omens #good omens spoilers #gos2spoilers #gos2 spoilers #spoilers #good omens season 2 spoilers

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noodle-made-a-mistake · 1 month

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A short list of things that bother me about the Magisterium canon:

Forgive me in advance for rambling, I have to get these thoughts out of my brain lmao (also it's been a couple years so correct me if I'm wrong! (I really hope I’m wrong on some of these :’) )) Spoilers ahead obviously!

● The lack of Calron :(

● Not taking the opportunity to develop Tamara's character and keeping her static until she's randomly just different. Strong female characters aren't just skilled and perfect until their one flaw (usually it's having feelings like any other human being) is revealed shockingly (that's just sloppy characterization), they should be crucial to the plot and not overlooked in favor of developing other characters (from what I remember she literally was my favorite while reading the series until she just got annoying (??) after a while, of course that could just be because the story is told through Call's perspective but still)

● The entire school system that I need more info on bc it sounds so unthought out and not like something that has existed for hundreds of years

● The forceful nature of making people serve as masters?? That makes no sense? Like, “Congratulations on not dying during your schooling or in the war(s), your prize is forced labor 👍.”

● Also THE COLLEGIUM WAS MENTIONED AND NEVER ELABORATED UPON

● TGT. Least favorite book. Get out. Tgt truthers how do you do it??

● The Maugris plot twist. It destroys the meaning behind the past four books. It's just so uncalled for and frankly just sloppy ig? I love the idea in a way, but only if it's foreshadowed from the beginning. Also I'm too attached to the complicated dynamic of Alastair raising his possible ex-bestie for it to end up like that

● The fact that the iron trio is out of school for half the series, I'd like to know what's normal, y'know??

● THE LACK OF ELABORATION ABOUT THE FIRST GEN I WANT TO KNOW MORE I HAVE TO KNOW MORE

● They did my man Constantine especially wrong, give him some ✨️character✨️ aside from E V I L and problematic (trademark) and charming (???)

● AND ALASTAIR GOD TELL ME MORE?? He's characterized as distant and obviously traumatized with his hate of his magic involved past but I just need to know what that past was like. Like who was he before his dead wife syndrome?? Idk but I'd of liked any excuse to know more about it just so I can understand him more??

● Please give me a single character trait of Declan's?? Like he was mentioned a handful of times and that's all we got. He was just some guy and I am hating it !!

● And Sarah. Like. She was a mom and liked peace as a concept but she also made a cool ass knife. That's a lot of things left up for interpretation. And I know Call wasn’t allowed to ask questions for plot reasons but god i wish he had more information about his own dead mother for Christ's sake

● Also other than a victim, who was Jericho? I need to know who this kid who drew scribbles in the margins of his very important journal while writing about how he was slowly being killed was. What was his relationship really like with his brother if he was so scared to say that he was dying or what gave him the impression that he didn't care?? It's fascinating and I need him under a microscope immediately

● Also the lack of queer representation until the last two books. AND THEN IT WASN'T EVEN ANY OF OUR MAIN CAST. Literally the saddest L ever :(

● AND AARON WAS NEVER CONFIRMED QUEER LIKE WHAT THE FUCK JUST L O O K AT HIS CHARACTER AND INFACT ALL OF OUR CORE CAST IS AT LEAST BI LIKE C O M E O N (ik they're like kids but even I knew I was not straight when I was like 11 and i lived in the most conservative non-LGBTQ-friendly town known to man)

● Low key, callmara was so bad, like I love them but not the way it happened, horrible set up. Tamara deserved so much better and to not have her entire character destroyed by becoming a love interest. I wish they thought about her as an independent character instead of the means to implement a romantic subplot in tgt, they did so good in the first books with that

● Also there's no elaboration on what chaos is. It's the mystical 5th element. Wow! Let's go girl, give us nothing! You'd think that if Makaris were so exceptionally rare and special that we'd get some explanation on how they come to be and what it is exactly that they can control but we're just left to assume it's the special "chosen one" type of thing. Idk it bothers me for some reason :/

That's just off the top of my head and it's been years since I read the series all the way through (I should do a reread soon). For the most part I adore this funky series and I hate to bash it but I felt the need to ramble about it's shortcomings because I'm not crazy, right?? It had so much potential! Anyway, I'm sort of glad for the blanks in the story despite complaining about them because it leaves room for fics and fan interpretations that I always love to see, but on the other hand, I'd like for the story to feel finished and not like a last minute science fair project.

Thanks for sticking around for my late night rambling lmao

#magisterium #magisterium series #tamara rajavi #aaron stewart #callum hunt #maugris #alastair hunt #constantine madden #declan novak #sarah hunt #jericho madden #rambling

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punkeropercyjackson · 5 months

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Weirdboygirl Percy headcanons

(But it's almost entierly me just sharing my friends' because i'm a sap who wants them to be appreciated /lh)

When i say 'weirdboygirl',i mean it-Percy is transfem bigender and autistic with no masking ability based off canon subtext that borderlines on straight up text.He's also afrolatina/monoracial black dominican for the same reason and he's mostly femme but has a decent amount of masc thrown in there for gender fuckery and he's crustpunk with pastel/kidcore elements thrown in

He's a huge gamer who's got his own low cost setup and only dosen't do Lets Plays even though he has a vlog channel because with how he is that's setting himself up for getting viral meme'd

He thinks adult only shows and movies are absolute ass due to being too dark so he watches pg ones only including pre-schooler ones(Bluey is his favorite obviously)and he has no shame in it since he's not a freak about it

She listens to obscure podcasts and rambles about them and she's a part time artist thanks to her and Rachel being queerplatonic besties but she dosen't do grand materpieces and just draws weird shit and same for crafts

Her favorite musicians are nostalgic ex-weirdkid ones like My Chemical Romance and All Time Low and The Cheetah Girls and then it's shit like Everybody's Worried about Owen and The Cure and Meet Me @ The Altar and Metallica and a bunch of transfem artists and general genres they love are Lo-Fi Beats,Breakcore and Punk Rock

Her special interests are blue,video games,kidcore,cats and anarchy.Blue is not Percy's lifestyle but Percy's way of life,she plays only free games and uses an emulator for the rest,kidcore is a huge coping mechanism from her extremely brutal childhood,she employs a lot cat based things in their daily life and even naturally acts like a cat sometimes including a meowing vocal stim and she goes full force in Tales of Dead Seas,a Hoo one year later sequel that's about Percy dismantleing the greco-roman mythos world system starting with killing Zeus and things go up hill for everybody who's not a dickbag from there and this includes Percy gaining new powers even pre-deicide but actually having mentors this time and she actively helps out with activism in addition to all her direct action across all 5 books of her last official story

The only sea related things they love are because Sally does so she raised them in them all the time and they've got mixed feelings on them post claiming because of how awful Poseidon is but they very slowly reclaim it for themselves and the process is given big boost when their egg cracks as they use mermaid/seapunk aesthetics for presentation and their personality a little too and it gives them gender euphoria

They refuse to drink energy drinks that aren't blue colored so they have a whole stash of them and junk food too with a threatning note attached to it,their go to store is unironically Claire's and they made sure to beat the Hot Topic allegations by loud and proud announcing how much they hate them for being sellouts and fakeout freaks and they're neither a skater boy nor a surfer dude because ewww but a guitarist and a multitask helper at the Familia Jackson Beach Shack

He's also Nico and Hazel's eldest sibling figure and pseudo-dad that got them away from Hades forever and Sally legally adopted them so they all live together in the mortal world and stick together as a trio too in the mythos world.He's their caregiver but also their best friend and radicalized them and taught them how to be punks,Nico choosing tradgoth and Hazel pastel goth.Their relathionship is extremely intimate and equally silly but that dosen't mean they never had problems to unpack and fix-Siblings aren't perfect but real siblings are the ones who try to be anyway and don't expect eternal forgiveness regardless.That's what makes us siblings,not JUST blood

And they healed his inner child a lot just by hanging out with him and loving him and letting him take full responsibility in their best friendship and on the other end there's nobody who's helped Nico and Hazel heal and be stronger and be themselves like Percy has.They're eachother's whole world and multiverse and rubbed off on eachother significantly(Nico and Percy's love for video games,Percy and Hazel's artistry,Hazel and Nico's taste in food,all three of their love for kiddy things)and Percy helps Hazel with girls

He was Warrior Cats kid and gets back into it as an adult and loves it even more and yes,he roleplayed it his classmates during recess yet they pretended they hadn't and mocked and animalized him for years because how long his hyperfixation it is lasted and that's why he gave it up in his teenage years but returned to it and reclaimed the catlike behavior it gave him as autistic swag

Percy's five love languages:Humor,comfort,justice,unrestrained fun and diy'd gifts.All giving and recieving and none strictly platonic or romantic,Love is stored in the Percy

She knows how to diy so many things it's a running gag and includes things that don't exist,her biggest comfort characters are:Cookie Monster,Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy(she's a huge Flutterdash stan so she refuses to seperate them),Brandy's Cinderella,Shego,Cookie Nessa and Marina from Nintendo,Yang Xiao Long,Katara,Sonic The Hedgehog,Amy Rose and the Adventure Time Cast as a whole and her type is other autistic afrolatinos/afrolatinas who're pastel punk to her crustpunk

He (jokingly) kins Hobbie Brown and Gwen Stacy and looks like she could be Hobie's older brother

She acts and talks in ways people find offputting and strange but by now she's learned to stop being ashamed and happily embraced that she'll never be normal but that that dosen't mean she's not loved dearly and by so many people and realized that's what she truly wanted from the start instead of not being different from everyone else.Because she's the most awesome as all fuck person ever

RIZZ CITYYYYYYYYYY,HE'S FROM MANSHATTAN

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aves-ery · 1 year

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last kiss; w. maximoff

these are not my photos, creds to the owners.

pairing; wanda maximoff x fem!reader

summary; your fiancée, wanda, passes away in a car accident. you never even imagined life without her. (based on the song last kiss by taylor swift)

warnings; angst, death, depression, allusions to sex, SELF HARM, thor takes care of you

you're then-girlfriend, wanda had texted you before your flight, telling you that she'd meet you at the airport. so, when you got off Tony's private jet, you booked it to the airport. it had just finished raining, and the smell lingered in the air.

when you found your lover, she was dressed up. you giggled at her silliness, wrapping your arms around her and kissing her deeply. "why do you look so pretty?" you mumbled against her lips. wanda raised her eyebrow.

"I can't dress up for my favorite girl?" she asked, kissing you again. it wasn't the way you wanted to find out (though you wouldn't want it any other way) but your hands were freezing and you shoved them into her blazer pocket. you felt the box. "wait!" she yelled trying to yank your hands out. you could feel her heart beat faster. it felt like it was beating out of her chest.

"wanda-" you laughed, pulling the ring out and looking at it. "it's gorgeous."

wanda groaned "i didnt want you to find out like that. i was gonna take you to dinner," she laughed before running her thumb down your lip and saying, "y/n, since you met you five years ago, you have turned my life upside down. i couldn't ask for a better girlfriend than you. or a better best friend. you are my person, my lover, my soulmate. y/n i love you. and it'd be my pleasure if youd agree to marry me. will you marry me, baby?"

you smiled, kissing her deeply, "i will. over and over again i would choose you. yes I'll marry you. yes."

that week tony threw a party at his mansion to celebrate. wanda had you by her hip all night, refusing to let you go. she was showing you off, drinking champagne and dancing.

"dance with me, baby," she asked, swinging her legs a little farther than usual. you rolled your eyes and looked at her. "i know! i know but please. just once. one dance and then you can wait until the wedding to dance with me again,"

you grumbled something about hating dancing, but let her drag you along to the dance floor anyway.

when the party was over, the two of you laid in bed at 1:50 in the morning. you were insanely tired, partied out.

you were in the shortest shorts you could find, and absolutely nothing covering your top. wanda loved that, grabbing your hips and pulling you closer.

"i love you, fiancee," she whispered into the quiet night. you giggled and kissed her softly.

"i love you. you're actually my favorite person. i knew i fell in love with you when my dad was so accepting of you. he never once doubted your love for me. i cant thank you enough baby. or our first date when your hands shoved in your pockets. you were too afraid to even touch m-" you were rambling and wanda shut you up with a rough kiss. you gasped, but moments later kissed back with just enough force. she was practically on top of you, making out.

you flipped her over, pinning her hands above her head and growling lowly. you pulled away from her for just a few moments, your alarm clock illuminating a red 1:58 on her face.

"i couldn't live without you," she whispered like a secret. like it was only for you and her to know.

"ma'am im sorry. shes brain dead. we can't... so anything. shes dead." the nurse said. the first fucking thing she said to you. wanda was dead.

"shes not! shes not gone. sh-she-" a sob broke its way through you, sending you to sit back in your chair. it was late, the waiting room almost cleared. the only sound were your loud sobs.

you couldn't breathe, the room stripped of all its air. tears were streaming down your face, but you were choking. you felt yourself going to puke.

all the nurse did was stand there as you broke down in a panic attack, shaking violently. it wasn't until a surgeon came by and heard and shoved the nurse out of the way.

"ma'am! miss, can-can you breathe for me?" he asked. you cried harder, wanting wanda. she wasnt gone. you were getting married tomorrow, she was not. gone.

they were talking at you, trying to calm you down. one even tried to hold you and you shoved them off, banging your hands into their chest and screaming.

you passed out five minutes after that. falling straight down and dreaming of your wedding the next day.

when you woke up, you demanded them to let you see her. they let you, and you could see her chest moving up and down, even with the tubes sticking out of her.

they had to put you in a wheelchair, saying you were too unstable to walk. you only rolled your eyes and let it happen. you watched her breathe the next few hours, until at 12 A.M tony came and picked you up. literally.

weeks passed, and you sobbed on your bed every day. getting up only to use the restroom. you havent showered, and the last time you ate was three days ago when natasha came in your room and shoved your face.

you threw it up 30 minutes later.

on the third week, you took apart a razor and cut your thighs. the burning sensation letting you focus on anything else besides her. when you did it, you weren't thinking. blood had soaked the bed.

you should've known better. someone always came in after one hour and checked in on you. so, when it was thor's turn, he didn't yell. he didnt say anything. he only took the blade and picked you up, carrying you to the bathroom.

"i know it feels like the world is ending. thats okay. yours is," he whispered into the air. you didnt say anything as he ran you a bath and silently asked permission to rid you of your blood stained clothes. you let him, and not once did he let his eyes linger on you. he only set you in the tub and washed you. the cuts stung, he knew that by how you winced. he asked you if you wanted to get out, but when you shook your head no he nodded.

he kissed you on your head, excusing himself and coming back moments later with a bandage. you sat there for two hours, thor with you. he didnt talk, didnt crack jokes. he rubbed your back and kissed your head brotherly multiple times.

when you got out, he slipped you into new underwear. you let him. you physically couldnt move. "im sorry," he whispered. you looked at him and looked away with a distant look. "do you want to wear one of her hoodies?" he asked. you shook your head no, and he slipped the one he was wearing onto you. he then bandaged your thighs up, making sure not to let his eyes linger on the cuts for too long.

they were deep, he noticed. but he cleaned them and put some ointment on it. when he was done he picked you up and laid you down. he sat with you for a few moments, looking at you, inspecting your face. he was scared he was going to lose you also.

after you'd been asleep for multiple minutes, he stood up to leave. somehow, you felt the bed shift and watched him get up. the first words you said since you saw her were, "stay."

your voice was hoarse, barely there from lack of talking. he heard you and stopped. he turned and sat back on the bed, his hands running over your hair. "hold me," you sobbed into the air.

he held you until you fell asleep. he couldn't. he just bathed himself in your presence, afraid you'd be gone if he fell asleep.

he continued to help you get better, feeding you small portions and getting you able to dress yourself. sometimes you'd have a hard time in the shower, so one time he came in fully clothed and showered with you. still, you wouldn't get out of bed.

one night, before thor came in, you overheard natasha and him yelling. "thor you cant babysit her! shes a grown adult. people die! people leave. wanda is gone and shes overreacting! shes been in that bed for weeks! if not a month. you cannot baby her!'' natasha hissed in the air. somehow, the words didn't bother you. you just stared at the door.

"fuck you, natasha. i know damn well you've delt with loss in your life. maybe not the love of your fucking life but you know its hard. they were getting married the next day when she died! they were soulmates natasha. wanda was her person. she can take however goddamn long she wants." thor slammed his words back, immediately busting into your room after that and apologizing for natashas behavior.

you shrugged. both of them were right in ways.

more weeks went by, and you had been able to throw on some of wandas clothes, walk around, eat, and think about her without wanting to chop your hand off.

everyone was cautious around you, except thor. he handled you beautifully, always there when you needed him. thor was being an amazing person and you knew someday you'd hug him and thank him for everything.

one night, you texted wandas number. you knew she wouldn't be able to see it but you needed to tell her.

'i miss you.'

then, you sat in her hoodie and sweatpants, thinking to yourself. you were getting better, but somehow, with every passing day, you forgot the way her voice sounded. you didnt realize immediately, but that was the moment you truly started accepting wanda wouldn't be back.

when you went to the hospital the next day, still looking rough, you asked for the nurse on wanda's case. you were pointed in her direction. when the nurse saw you, she tensed up, as if she were afraid of you.

"you guys didnt pull her off, right?" you asked. the nurse shook her head no, and led you to wandas room. she didn't look any different until you looked closer. her lips had grown dry, cuts on her body were starting to heal. the same things were the tube sticking down her throat. you knew you had to let her go.

"take it off of her. please. shes- she doesn't look like herself." you whispered. the nurse nodded, and moments later handed you papers and they went to work. you watched as they turned off every machine, rid her of every tube. they talked you through everything. that the process might take a bit, no longer than a few hours. then they left the room.

you cautiously put your hand in hers, it was cold to the touch, yours also. but the moment they touched yours warmed, along with your stomach. you missed her.

"I'm sure you've been watching me, wherever you are. you know thors been taking care of me since... yeah yknow. since the accident. my accident. i was alone for the first few weeks of yours. I'm sorry that we didn't have a funeral. I'll go home and plan it with Thor and the guys," you let a few tears drop as you talked.

"sorry. i just miss you. and I don't know what to say," you laughed through tears. you sat watching her chest move slower and slower, "im sorry i haven't come since i saw you the first time," another pause and then a kiss to her hand, "i wish you would've stayed. you were my soulmate, wanda. and my heart is not full without you here. your name will always be on my mind, my heart, my lips. i know you're gone. i know you forgot me already. but i will never forget the way you looked at me. i love you."

when you said the last three words, you knew it was when wanda left. her breathing stopped and her skin was growing colder.

at the funeral, you cried multiple times. your heart grew as every passing moment a new person walked in. wanda had so many people who loved her, that sometimes youd forget someones name.

you were given multiple hugs, "im sorry for your loss"'s, and other cliche things. you hated it but you could hear wanda scolding you from the afterlife, so you thanked everyone.

now you were watching a video put together of photos and clips of her. you were silently crying, the hardest out of everyone here. particularly at one video that tony caught of her failed proposal and the sound of her voice.

that night you drank lots of wine, and were sitting in the living room filled with your friends. you didnt mind, your heart was actually starting to feel full again even with the linger knowing she was still gone.

"do you think she's okay... wherever she is?" you asked. it was all you wanted to know.

"i hope so," tony said, patting your knee. multiple people hummed in agreement. you looked to the sunset and thought;

i hope it's nice where you are.

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #marvel #wanda x you #wanda x reader #elizabeth olsen #wanda maximoff angst #marvel fandom #Spotify

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some-teeth-in-a-trench-coat · 4 months

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3 things:

What's a song, band, album, or playlist you want to shout out?

What are your opinions on pets (dog, cat, neither, other)?

Finally, what's a boring fact about you?

Cheers, have a good one.

Oh yes!

Shoutout a band? SEEMING, SEEMING, SEEMING BABY! They're even on tumblr: @seemingmusic

Their music is great and the lyrics are freaking phenomenal poems and I have no idea why they're not among tumblr's favorites like? "The future will be borderless, and red and queer and bold, for I was born to make my kind extinct" (End Studies) "Dreamt of gutting billionaires... But when I woke, blood was gone" (Go Small) you've got the eat the rich be queer do crime philosophy all over it! "Like a tall tree, I am pining to be taken up by the lightning! Strike me! I dare you! I dare you! Heaven, hear me! Like a mantis, I am praying, out of habit, without saying anything, for the bloody sting of a kestrel come to snatch me" (Remember to Breathe) it's got puns it's got self destructive thoughts it's got vague religious implications which I'm not a fan of personally but you guys seem to love it when it's Hozier. And who can ignore "To the gunmen who guard against all of the starving: God will bury you, nature will bury you [...] To the terrified rich man: God will bury you. To the killers of animals: nature will bury you." (The Burial) like don't tell me that doesn't go hard. (Personally I like to think of The Burial as not a threat but a loving promise. It continues "To the worshipper of justice, the reliance on reason, and the fire in your eyes: God will bury you, nature will bury you, time will bury your bones unseen. Total and absolute. Infinite amplitude. Till all the black is ripe and green." and because honoring the dead and burying them is an important act of kindness, I like to think of this as a promise that no matter who you are, no matter who you leave behind to mourn you, you will be buried. You will die and you will return to the Earth and you will be lovingly welcomed, it is inevitable and inescapable, I promise. I know I already rambled about this when I reblogged that worm poem post but I will keep talking about it because I love it and I don't know how many people actually read it.) There's so much more I want to say but I'm on mobile in bed hours past bedtime and this paragraph is probably already way too long and disorganized so like maybe tomorrow but! Regardless of whether you can listen to the music I highly recommend reading some of the lyrics here: https://seemingmusic.tumblr.com/text

Anyway moving on from minor infodump, I'm not entirely sure what you mean by your second question like are you asking my opinion on pets as a concept or my preferences for having pets or? I think humans love to pack bond with things that are not humans and as long as the human is able to meet the needs of an animal to create a mutually beneficial relationship that's a good thing, but ideally you should opt for domesticated animals (animals that have been our companions for so long they are genetically distinct from their wild counterparts) since they are best adapted to living with humans. I was practically raised by cats living with my workaholic single mom and our cats so personally I love cats and probably have a better time connecting with them than I would other common pets like dogs. Currently mom and I are sharing two cats, brothers, but one rarely visits me while the other is obsessed with me but I suspect this is because a) I always have his favorite snack available (potato chips. yeah I don't think he knows he's a cat) and b) I pet him the way he likes best (which is a lot of rubbing and scratching his spine by the tail intermittent with chin scritches, but he wants you to be firm with it as though he were a dog... again this man is not aware he's a cat).

A boring fact about me... Well easy mode is just "I have two feet" or "I ate a sandwich for breakfast today" but let me try to think of something a bit more personal yet still uninteresting... I have watched less than one episode of Supernatural. Yeah that's boring yet specific.

Thank you so much for the ask sorry my reply is a little messy I was already in bed when I got this!

#sfw #personal #anonymous #ask the tooth folk #ok to reblog

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 2 months

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Hi, Maggie! I wanted to ramble about the last episode and I know you share similar opinions and disappointments as me.

I’ve seen people saying that they understand Alicent’s decision of sacrificing Aegon, because her sons are a lost cause and there’s no turning back. But it’s not fair to them. Alicent and Viserys failed as parents. She raised both Aegon and Aemond to be hateful and to prepare themselves for when Rhaenyra ascended the throne. They were not shown love, only anger and vengeance. She and Otto were the ones who put Aegon on the throne, he didn’t even want it. Now, he is suffering for it. And what does she do to redeem herself with her boys? She spoils Aemond’s plans to Rhaenyra and when she says “a son for a son” she nods. Aegon would be killed, Aemond would be killed, maybe Rhaenyra would spare Daeron’s life (I don’t know, he would be a challenge to her claim as well).

That’s why I defend Aemond (not all of his actions, he shouldn’t have burned his brother or grabbed Helaena’s wrist like that) and I even started to sympathize with Aegon this season. If my mother betrayed me like that, I would be mad as well.

Oh Miss Julia, I totally agree. While I think the Season 2 writing has purposefully made Aemond less multidimensional/interesting, and Aegon as pathetic/incompetent as possible, they are still my favorite HOTD characters and are both victims of their circumstances. So much of Season 1 was spent building up Viserys' clear preference for Rhaenyra and neglect of the Greens, and Alicent and Otto expressed openly and repeatedly that Rhaenyra inheriting the throne would endanger all the Greens' lives. Aemond's maiming and Team Black's reaction to it only reinforced this.

Now, I don't really blame Alicent for not being a nurturing mother in Season 1. As a child bride and victim of marital rape, she had a lot of her own trauma, and had to deal with it knowing that Rhaenyra was off enjoying relative freedom and the companionship of consensually chosen lovers. It totally makes sense that Alicent would have difficulty bonding with her children, and yet Season 1 Alicent did have moments when she was affectionate with and protective of them.

Season 2 Alicent, however, is pretty irredeemable. She insults and undermines Aegon, can't even comfort him when he's been severely burned in combat, basically agrees to let Rhaenyra kill him, and ultimately abandons him...if i was Aegon, Alicent would be dead to me after all that. Alicent also sabotages every attempt Aemond makes to help his side win the war, which contradicts everything he's ever been taught and personally experienced. He should be mad!!! Rhaenyra wanted to torture Aemond when he was a kid, surely she and Daemon pose a much greater threat to him (and the rest of the Greens) now.

In Episodes 8 and 9 of Season 1, I could understand Alicent's desire to prevent war, as there was a possibility to come to some peaceful agreement with Rhaenyra and spare all the kids' lives. But from the moment Luke was dead and thus the start of Season 2, Alicent attempting to avoid conflict or to negotiate with Rhaenyra makes absolutely no sense. Season 2 Alicent is apparently prepared to forfeit the lives of all her sons (and Criston, Otto, Gwayne, etc.) in order to......start a new life with a super traumatized Helaena? Honor Viserys' wish for Rhaenyra to be queen? Huh???

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vaulthistorian · 5 months

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Its the scoot ask anon, Could I get more Male/Gn Courier x Joshua? Where like Joshua and The Courier have been hanging out a lot recently and either the tribals or Daniel think something's goin on between them. And like Courier is being a shitlord about it, but Joshua is denying any claims made about something going on between him and The Courier. I think it would be funny/ silly :3

Of course anon, I did my best 🫶🏻

Daniel is a very observant man. To think he doesn't know what goes down in Zion should be something foolish. Daniel watches. Under the shadow of his hat his eyes watch the valley's bathed in glowing warm sunlight.

The trees groan and cry as the birds sing and the breeze whispers secrets away with it.

The breeze carries something warm today. Daniel heard the footsteps coming, hearing the clank of boots as leather twisted and bent along with the metal that slowly bobbed against your heel.

Some of the Sorrows had run into you on your trip back to Zion. His eyes softened slightly and he hummed. "Six, welcome."

You nodded, putting down a crate. "One delivery of fresh pastries right from the Mojave, to you."

Daniel raised an eyebrow, but motioned the Sorrows to have a look if they wanted. So they crowded the box and had a look, excited with what they found.

"Thank you. I figured it would take you longer to get here."

You shrugged. "You'd be surprised how fast you can run when you've got a family of Cazadors on your ass."

"Well, I'm glad you made it here safe-"

"Yeah, do you know where Joshua is??" You cut in.

Daniel paused and looked up. "Joshua is where he usually is. Try the river."

"Ok cool, thanks Daniel! Enjoy the food!" You quickly rushed off despite your feet probably hurting. Usually you'd stop to rest with Daniel for a moment or two but as of late you haven't.

Just rushing straight to see your favorite person in the world. Hm. Daniel remained quietly in thought, putting his book down and watching you go. The soft breeze brushed over the foot prints you'd left.

One of the Sorrows noticed and stood adjacent to him. "You think?"

Daniel hummed. "Just wondering about our little courier. Something tells me they've got a thing going with Joshua..."

You eagerly rushed down to the river, wading past their traps and across the high caverns until you reached the small campout. A few Dead Horse members roamed around, but you just smiled as you passed.

You skipped up and through the mouth of the cave. Immediately going to find Joshua.

When you did, you smiled again. "Hey, Joshua." You made yourself comfortable on the edge of his desk, crossing your legs.

Joshua looked up at you, his eyes moving slowly up your legs, past your belt and duster, up to your face.

"You're back." His tone carried a sense of appreciation to it. As if glad that you were back.

"I am. So... Did you miss me??" You have him a cheeky grin, leaning over so close your breath brushed against his face. His eyelids fluttered briefly, calculating himself. "As much as anyone else, I'm sure."

It made your heart melt, one day you'd get those lips of his to spill their secrets. One day...

Daniel continued to watch you. Of course the Sorrows also gave him updates, but he didn't need to look far. When all of them were gathered around the fire he saw the way your knee brushed and knocked against his. Joshua would frown if you did it too hard or too obvious. But never pushed away.

Daniel saw the way you acted when you told your stories. He saw the way your eyes focused on Joshua, as if no one else was there to listen to your ramblings. You'd speak as if the whole world ceased to exist if not for his attention.

So of course, he asked one day. You were out splashing around with the Sorrows when Daniel approached Joshua. Joshua's eyes flickered up from his thumb rubbing the edge of his gun, to where you were.

Daniel slowly sat down. "Is something going on between you and Six?"

Joshua let out a soft raspy scoff at that. "What do you mean?"

Daniel nodded toward the water. "Look at how you look at him, he shares the same look y'know."

Joshua is quiet. He watched you splash around, his gaze carrying the same heat and intensity it always did.

"I would be lying if I didn't say he is a vital alliance to Zion. But I'm not sure what you'd like out of me. Six is an errand boy."

Daniel considered his words before standing again. "If that's what you want, then I'll go ask Six instead."

Joshua's eyes widened slightly at first, before fixing himself to sit down still. "Go on, whatever you are looking for, I'm sure Six will answer your questions."

So Daniel waited until you were panting and dragging yourself out of the water. "All done?" He asked as you scrunched out your under garments from sticking to your skin.

"Oh yeah, I'm done. Whew, refreshing." You chuckled.

"What is it with you and Joshua?"

"Hmm??"

"I see it. The way you look at each other. There's something going on. No harm, I just want to know."

Your smile spread and your cheeks went a little pink as you picked up your pants. "Joshua? He's a... He's a nice guy. Real good personality."

Daniel listened.

"Y'know I think he's the perfect friend. He's great, nice to talk to. I wish I could see if the fire got him anywhere vital y'know. Just for research purposes." You winked.

Daniel blinked.

"I'm... Confused."

"Oh come on Daniel. You know he wants me to tug on his rope."

"Rope?" Daniel frowned. He understood what you were saying, but why say it like that?? Holy crap, Lord help him.

"You know what, I don't even want to know anymore." Daniel tried to turn away but you scampered up and grabbed his neck gently, whispering in his ear. "I wanna see his pen-"

"Get off me." Daniel pushed you away and shrugged violently, shuddering. "Forget I asked. Forget I asked.."

He mumbled and walked away, hiding his blush under his hat. Damn you two.

You grinned, grabbing your duster and heading over to Joshua. "Hey."

"Hello." Joshua looked up at you. His eyes soften briefly. "What was that all about??"

"Nothin', nothing at all."

You grinned wide. Oh you were going to milk this as long as Daniel was alive. He'd regret questioning your preferences.

So among the next few weeks you were there you blew your attraction to Joshua in Daniel's face as much as you could. When Daniel would hand out everyone's food, before you left, you'd casually eye Joshua's butt and make a wide motion to smack it.

It always made Daniel freeze, unable to stop the worry of what the consequences would be

He always saw you tracing his hands or eyeing his belt. Casually complimenting it. Daniel bit his tongue, knowing what you were doing. Joshua didn't give off many signs he was effected if he was.

But that didn't stop you at all. Daniel was afraid of just what he started. He's scared. Someone help him. He's got a crazy ass courier who wants to fuck his best friend shoving it down his throat at every turn.

Daniel's at a loss, despite Joshua's continued denial, he feels like they're already going ham at each other. He dreads the day he finds out.

#fallout new vegas #joshua graham #joshua graham fallout #fnv #fallout nv #fnv courier #courier 6 #courier six #daniel fallout #daniel new vegas

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shannonsketches · 29 days

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I was reading this post about Frieza but I didn't want to spam OPs notes with my rambling but Yes yes yessssss same hat same hat!!!

I described Vegeta to my friend as Frieza's favorite dog who spends his career being so unwittingly smug of how well he's learned to hold his own leash --

He's subconsciously learned the How To's of Power from Frieza's detachment, isolation, and precise self-control (knowing a saiyan's strength is in his rage while ignoring that rage comes from a place of emotional investment).

The manga/Toriyama's version of their relationship differs slightly from Toei's EU, largely in the way that Vegeta was being raised by his own father to usurp Frieza at some point, and take his place as ruler of the universe. It didn't start with Frieza, for Vegeta, but Frieza certainly compounded it. By all accounts, Vegeta seemed to enjoy his work, and was very proud of how good at it he was. But pride means as long as you're working for someone else, you're not good enough. And restoring Saiyans to the top of the food chain seemed to be King V's ultimate goal, vicariously through his record-breaking son.

But this seemed to be the goal of both their biological fathers, and what I imagine Frieza liked about Vegeta. It's also something I think Vegeta liked about Frieza. Relating to someone you have several plans to kill, in some quietly fucked up way to be less alone.

But Frieza wasn't only afraid of super saiyans! He was also afraid of what a group of powerful saiyans were capable of, which invites noting that he told Vegeta it was cowardly to rely on others, and that it was proof of ones weakness, while knowing Saiyans were historically deployed in groups. Teaching Vegeta to hang back while his underlings -- not peers, not friends -- did the work, until he -- the special one, like Frieza -- had to step in and solve the problems they weren't strong enough to handle.

Because those were weak Saiyans, who needed teammates. Not like Vegeta. Vegeta was a special Saiyan, who could do it all by himself. Both Frieza and King Vegeta told him so.

Which is probably what King Cold taught Frieza, too.

Part of the reason I think Frieza is/was headed for a redemption arc in Toriyama's version of the story (the manga/recent movies) is because Vegeta and Frieza are largely the same shape in terms of archetypes and story paths -- both born into what are essentially mafia families, both had callous fathers who valued their power over their person, both given no choice in their careers, both powerful enough to be surrounded by sycophants, both smart enough to know better than to call anyone a friend.

The major difference is that Vegeta was suddenly and completely removed from that environment and forced to adapt to a newer (softer) one in order to get his rematch with Goku, and Frieza immediately returned to his army to work toward his rematch with Goku. Vegeta didn't have a home to go back to, and Frieza did. Vegeta was forced to grow and change, and Frieza wasn't. Vegeta was unceremoniously pushed out of his self-isolation (and comfort zone), and Frieza was plucked up and happily curled right back into it.

His change is on a much slower track, but he's still experiencing the same furious denial and obsession with being better than the enigma called Goku that Vegeta did. I definitely agree that Vegeta was scared, and we're seeing that fear in Frieza too. This notion that your value lies wholly in your power -- a theory both King Vegeta and King Cold telegraphed to their children, and one Vegeta continued to witness and embrace while working for Frieza -- is deeply embedded.

It took Vegeta over a decade to start accepting it wasn't true, surrounded by people who kept choosing him even when he failed and rebelled and did all the things he should've been condemned to death for, by Frieza Force standards. Frieza was dead all that time, and when he came back he was pulled right back into the waiting arms of his old toxic environment, and even commented that he noticed they didn't want him back until his power was useful to them.

In the anime/toei versions it seems like the Saiyans are enslaved, but in the manga/toriyama version the Saiyans are absorbed into his empire, effectively just put under new management but still able to keep their culture and homes and monarch, the monarch just had a new boss (who also had a boss, more or less, which was beerus). So in the manga/Toriyama versions of the writing, it seems like the only part of Vegeta's job he didn't genuinely enjoy was the fact that he had to do it for someone else.

The biggest issue he has, at first, with learning what Freeza did was that he'd been lied to and used, knowing his rebellion would've come sooner if he'd known -- and that's humiliating. By the time he's five, he's already numb to the experience of war and death. He's already got his own command, and Saiyans rarely all make it back. By the time the truth is revealed to him, he doesn't care about his parents or his comrades. He cares that he, Vegeta, the Special Saiyan, was stupid enough to fall for a lie.

He feels genuine fear for the first time in his life when he faces Frieza's final form and realizes, that's it. There's no getting stronger. There's no next time.

He chose to brag about tearing up that luxury leash, and it was a gamble he lost. The unraveling of that sympathy and compassion hits him like a truck when he's dying and suddenly it's Very Real that there's no one left to remember him or his planet or his people or care about what happened to them or do anything about it (an important and poetic justice -- an exercise in empathy -- for all the peoples he gladly did it to (and, by his own admission, would have with or without Frieza)). He's modeled his life after his father, and after Frieza. He has no friends. He's not strong enough to be valuable anymore, not with Goku around. Nobody is going to wish him back. Nobody is going to miss him at all.

So Vegeta gets killed while he's having a fight-or-freeze panic attack, in which he freezes, and it's a thing that keeps happening to him from that point on, for the rest of Z, and throughout Super. The most embarrassing kind of proof that he feels safer in the company he kept on Namek, and actively recovering from the life he led before.

Frieza, ironically, doesn't have the freeze response. Frieza's panic is frantic and manic because, like Vegeta, nobody is going to miss him at all. He doesn't have any noble cause to hold onto like Vegeta did -- the one that's his own fault. He's set up all of the dominoes that are falling on him, and he's got nowhere to run except back to the place that taught him his only reason for being is his power, and -- just like Vegeta did -- he's spiraling because Goku showed up and made it a game. There's nobody safe for Frieza, except -- just like Vegeta -- in the company of those same people. People who should, by all accounts, want him as dead as anyone.

idk where i'm going with this, I just really enjoy their parallels and I am very intrigued by Frieza's arc lately.

I can't decide if I want Vegeta to destroy him or lose the battle and win the war with some familiar banter like they had in Res F but painful and recognizing himself in Frieza (or vice versa, rather) and give Frieza a whole mental break about how the two of them are probably the only people in the universe who will ever really Genuinely Understand each other, for the twisted humor it is.

I don't want Vegeta to forgive Frieza, I don't think that's the answer to all stories like this, even when the themes are about love and forgiveness I don't even think he's particularly forgiven Buu yet, tbh. I think he'd have to be dying again to chat like that, the way Vegeta does when he's about to die. But I think it could be a really good scene, and I think it would fuck Frieza up to be offered something of a broken olive branch just to lose it again because he's already killed it.

Maybe they're out of senzu beans. Maybe he's killed Dende already. No healing. No dragon balls. All the boys are down. Vegeta's wound is fatal. Frieza's won, but Vegeta's getting that last laugh in by being just a little nostalgic. A little sentimental in reflecting on their history. Give Frieza that nice familiar panic Vegeta knew so well; That little alarm bell that tells him he's got nothing left to strive for and no one left to know him. Let Frieza shatter so he can have some space to grow.

And the thing is, it's a gamble he's already won. Geets doesn't care if Frieza changes or not. He's dying, and there's no telling whether or not Bulma will figure something out before he's reincarnated. Do better or don't, this is fully not his problem anymore. xoxo!

#leave it to me to write a big long angsty analysis/theory post and then sprinkle a dash of (dark) comedy at the end safdsfg #there is no real structure to this post I just have a lot of thoughts and so few of them are in order #I would just love if Vegeta had a big compassionate appeal that ended with “¯\_(ツ)_/¯ do whatever you want i'm outtie ✌️” asfdfgh #dbtag #media analysis

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