#there's a lot of interesting things to dissect here....

[f1-stuff]

Qatar GP '24 // Thursday Press Con

"Whatever happened in Vegas, we discussed about it and we are all good, which is the most important thing. I had no doubts about that because we've always had a really good relationship with Carlos, and we've had races where, sometimes, things don't go exactly the way we want. But the most important thing is that we discuss about it and we go forward. And, yeah. It's very clear for both of us that we just want to win the Constructors'. And it's by working as a team that we will achieve that. And I'm sure that there won't be any problems with it."

"Nothing special (has been said), but at the end, I don't even need that. As I said, we have a really good relationship with Carlos. And, sometimes, I've overstepped the lines and, sometimes, he did. And then, it only requires a discussion between us two, and we look ourself in the eye, and we know each other since a very long time now. And, yeah, we understand each other very, very quickly. So, I have no doubts. Sometimes, we need these kind of things to reset a bit..."

[flygonscales]

I’ve just watched Hellraiser and it was so cool you know? I’ve already added Pinhead to my mental list of ‘people who are I think are cool and who I think I’d have a crush on if I wasn’t ace (it’s like I subconsciously identify them as people to have a crush on but my brain never gets any further except a vague sense of cool-ness but its different to the normal way of thinking a person is cool)’.

After this I’ve definitely identified what horror films I like - more sci fi or fantasy films with lots and lots of practical effects, fake blood and just lots of gunge. There’s a reason why I watched The Thing and it went straight up to one of my favourite films ever, and Hellraiser looks set to follow. I really want to watch The Fly, because if I’m not mistaken that’ll give me plenty of fun practical effects and alien slime.

[katakaluptastrophy]

I think what's so interesting about Gideon as a narrator at the anniversary dinner is the fact that there's clearly tensions that she's just not picking up on because she's only there to eat a dessert.

But these people are all the immensely powerful leaders of the Houses and consider themselves to be in competition for literal godlike powers and the favour of the emperor.

There's so many little snippets that are potentially intriguing: why is Teacher trying to prime the Ninth to consider the Fifth a threat? Why are the Third and the Sixth "sizing each other up like prizefighters"? The Fifth absolutely knew what they were doing when they sat the teen heads of the opposing cults near each other.

Through Gideon's lens, Magnus' speech is a little awkward jokey thing. But...the seneschal of the House that is known to be actively trying to absorb another House is saying it's such a shame they're all so remote from each other and what do they all have in common (and it's so quiet you "could have heard a hair flutter to the floor") - that had to feel a bit different to people who aren't Gideon.

Palamedes' is dissecting the meaning of "Master Warden" and at one point compares it to a prison warden. 'Dulcinea' asking about whether Magnus and Abigail have children is perhaps less small talk and rather more pointedly political. Harrow's apparently stilted conversation with Protesilaus is clearly her actually probing his limitations like he's a bad Chat GPT-run chatbot.

And then 'Dulcinea' tells Gideon she liked the dinner because it was "useful". In her typical "I never lied to you" way, Cyth wasn't lying when she said Abigail had to die because of her hobby - Abigail Pent let loose on the Facility would have risked blowing Cyth's cover sky high. But what does a Canaan House look like where after the dinner party, the Fifth go down to the facility, get a key, and survive to continue their 'the Houses are going to get along or else' agenda? We've seen Fifth House soft power on a smaller scale in HTN: and it looks like inviting a teenager round for coffee, lulling her into a false sense of security with small talk, and then physically preventing her from leaving the room until she does what you want, while smiling the entire time. A series of little coffee chats could probably have led to a lot of cooperation in Canaan House, one way or another.

Gideon jokes about Silas marrying Ianthe because of their similar colour pallete, but it does raise the fact that there seems to be some tension around the Third, its succession, and the *point* of Ianthe. Why is Silas openly saying Ianthe should have died at birth? Combined with Judith's comments in the Cohort Intelligence Files about succession on the Third, it feels like there's something else being said here that Gideon isn't picking up on.

And of course, Harrow wasn't the only one desperate to become a Lyctor because her con was unsustainable. Presumably at some point Corona and Ianthe would be expected to marry, or at least take on more separate roles as Corona prepared to take over the throne and Ianthe was funneled off elsewhere. At some point, their package deal would have become unsustainable and Corona's cover would have been blown. But much as Harrow wants to become a Lyctor so she can reveal the state of the Ninth without repercussions, Ianthe is probably in part motivated to become a Lyctor for the same reason. Because otherwise, what would Ianthe's expected role have been? Amidst the suggestion of anxiety about the Idan succession, the dinner party also presents the fact that the reason Abigail and Magnus' infertility isn't a succession crisis for the ruling family of the Fifth is that Abigail's younger brother dutifully married in his early 20s and had kids. We know there are branch families in Ida - Babs is from one. He may be a prince, but he's not treated well, and you do get the sense that the stakes to stay in power in Ida are high.

We don't learn anything about the political situation in the Houses themselves during HTN or NTN, but in the wake of Canaan House, you have to suspect there are a number of tensions and concerns.

[idkdudethisisntpermanent]

Elixir

wednesday addams x female reader

part i | part ii

summary: What happens when your best friend's roommate who you're always at odds with, suddenly becomes uncharacteristically affectionate towards you? Just what was in that mysterious bottle that set everything into motion?

word count: 1.9k

a/n: I've made a taglist! If you want to join, refer to this post

————

Friday nights at Nevermore Academy held different meanings for different students.  Some gathered for the Vampire Book Club, an all exclusive group that spent their evenings immersed in gothic horror novels.  Others were part of the secret society, kicking off the weekend by leaving cryptic messages and riddles around the school in search of their next recruit.  And then there were those fortunate enough to be welcomed home by their parents for the weekend.

But for you, Friday nights meant something different. You had no interest in secret clubs or cryptic hunts. Instead, you chose to spend the weekend cozied up with Enid for a movie marathon.

With a grin, the werewolf-in-training held up two DVDs, one in each hand. "Okay, we've got 10 Things I Hate About You and When Harry Met Sally."

You point to the hand holding the first film and Enid squeals excited to begin your long awaited movie night. It's been difficult finding a time where you both could commit to a long task like watching a movie without Wednesday getting in the way.

It wasn't that Wednesday particularly got in the way of these activities, but you both did. You two would inevitably clash when put in the same room together and be at each others throats until you were separated by some brave soul (most of the time Enid).

"Are you sure we won't be interrupted?" You ask as Enid climbed into the bed.  "I don't want to get my hopes up, and believe that I can actually have a moment of peace in your room," you added, recalling all the times you've stormed out of this very room due to Wednesday.

Enid bumps into her drawer as she climbs into bed and almost knocks off a glass bottle with a bulbous base, fortunately you were able to grab ahold of the dresser leg in time and stabilize the furniture before the glass bottle filled with liquid could fall.

"I should probably put this somewhere safer," Enid says grabbing the glass and walking it over to Wednesday's side of the room and placing it on her desk. "And yes Y/n, I've quadrupled checked.  She should be in the car by now, heading home.  Her mom was really insistent on her visiting this weekend, so she had no choice." Once Enid and you cozy up together in her bed and turn all the lights off, you hit play and the movie begins.

"Wednesday will literally deep cleanse this room if she found out we're watching rom coms in it," you laugh as Heath Ledger makes his appearance on screen.

Enid giggles, "Sometimes I think she's a secret romance lover, recently I found out she knew the plot to Clueless."

"No way!  I wonder what critiques she has about that film," you muse sarcastically. "She definitely had to feel some type of way about that yellow outfit."

Enid hums and you notice that she's now engrossed in the film.  Taking the cue, you focused on the screen as well, ready to enjoy your peaceful night together.

Only thing was, you couldn't.

As the film continues, all you can think about was how relieved you are that Wednesday isn't here.  How you don't have to listen to the incessant click-clack of her stupid type writer.  How you don't have to endure her cold, calculating gaze that always seems to dissect your every word and action, and especially how you don't have to listen to her sharp and cutting remarks that always seem to find their mark.

At some point during the movie Enid notices that you were not present and paused the film.  "Okay what's on your mind?"

Absentmindedly not registering her question, you respond, "Wednesday." Your eyes go wide, "Wait! I meant-"

She smirks, "You know Y/n/n, for someone who hates her, you bring her up an awful lot.

You scramble at Enid's statement. What was that supposed to mean? "She's just frustrating you know? Get's under my skin, obviously I'm gonna bring her up."

Wednesday suddenly enters the room following your explanation, and sits at her desk without a word. Then after a minute she speaks, "It's gratifying to know that my efforts have left the desired impact."

You didn't care that Wednesday walked in on you complaining about her however you did care that Wednesday walked in.

You give Enid a look, "I thought she wasn't supposed to be here."  The blue-eyed girl holds her hands up in defense, "She wasn't! I swear she was supposed to be back Monday morning."

She then turns to her roommate and asks, "Wens, what are you doing here? I thought your mom wanted to see you?"

"Something came up," the unconventional girl replies short, not explaining any further.

Enid knew that was the only explanation her roommate would give, and there was no point questioning any further. You however did not care, and narrowed your eyes at Wednesday. "Something came up?" That's all you're going to say? You're just going to crash our night with no explanation?"

Wednesday raises an eyebrow, her voice cool and detached. "I wasn't aware I needed your permission to be in my own room."

"You know that's not what I'm saying," you snap back, frustration bubbling up. "You always do this—just show up and take over, like no one else matters. We had plans, Wednesday."

"And now you have new plans," she replies evenly, not a trace of guilt or concern in her voice. "Plans that include me."

You let out a groan. "But that's your problem, you can't just conform to our plans. You always give Enid and I shit for the things we want to do and we always end up catering to your needs. This is exactly why we can't get along. You never consider anyone else's feelings. It's always about you, your needs, your twisted games."

Wednesday's gaze narrows, and her tone turns icier. "If you can't handle a simple change in plans, that's your weakness, not mine. My presence shouldn't be so disruptive unless you're letting it be."

Letting it be?! You couldn't just let this dark kooky girl think that she has some sort of effect on you.

"Oh, don't flatter yourself, Wednesday," you retort, standing your ground. "Your presence isn't 'disruptive' because I'm weak, it's disruptive because you deliberately make it that way. You thrive on pushing people's buttons, and I'm not about to give you the satisfaction."

Wednesday's expression remains unchanged, but there's a flicker of something in her eyes—amusement? "Is that so? Then why are you so bothered by it?  If I truly had no effect on you, you wouldn't even be arguing with me right now."

You clench your fists, struggling to maintain your composure. "Maybe I'm bothered because I care about Enid, and you're always in the way. Maybe I'm just sick of you making everything about yourself!"

Wednesday's eyes narrow further, and her voice drops to a whisper.  "You care about Enid, yet you argue with me, knowing it will disturb her. Perhaps you should examine your true motivations, because from where I stand, it seems you're more interested in clashing with me than in protecting her peace."

You scoff, "I don't know what you're implying." Behind your cool nonchalant front you were panicking, worried that Wednesday will say something that you did not want to hear.

You glance over at Enid who is picking at her nails, calculating the perfect time to break you and Wednesday up without getting hit in the crossfire.

"I'm sorry Enid," you say genuinely. As much as you hate to admit it, Wednesday was right, you're a hypocrite. You know how much it bothers Enid when you and Wednesday fought, yet you always find yourself caught up in these verbal battles with her.

Giving Wednesday one last glare, you storm out of the dorm room not knowing where exactly you're headed. All you know is that you're done with the movie night—and done with Wednesday.

As you march down the hallway, footsteps echoing behind you catch your attention. You don't slow down, but you know exactly who it is before she even calls out to you.

"Y/n, wait!" Enid's voice rings out, filled with concern. You sigh, your pace slowing down automatically.

Enid catches up to you, and grabs onto your arm incase you decide to storm off again. "Please talk to me, I know you're upset."

You find your frustration start to crumble as you sense the concern in your friend's eyes. "I don't know Enid," you begin, your voice quiet. "It's like every time I'm around her, I get so worked up. And tonight, I just couldn't take it anymore. I'm so tired of feeling like this, I'm just constantly on edge around her."

Enid carefully listens, her expressions softening with empathy as you speak. "I get it Y/n. But you don't always have to fight her. Sometimes walking away is the best thing you can do for yourself and for her."

You nod, understanding where Enid was coming from. "You're right, I guess it's just hard when she knows exactly how to get under my skin. And tonight when she accused me of arguing with her for some other reason, like it was something I wanted. It just got to me." You finish in a whisper.

"She has a way of getting to everyone, but that doesn't mean you have to let it affect you so much. You've got to take care of yourself too." She smiles gently.

"Yeah, you're right." As you look at Enid, you can see the worry in her eyes, not just for you, but for Wednesday too. You get it. Wednesday is her friend as well, and even though she came running after you, she's probably also concerned about how Wednesday's handling things. Not that anything in this world could really faze her, but still, Enid cares.

You sigh dreading your next words, "Go." Enid quirks her head to the right like a puppy. "Let's go back to your dorm, I have to grab my bag anyways, and... you should check on her."

Enid smiles in relief and gives you a quick hug before you stroll on back to the dorm room of the polar opposite girls.

As you approach the door a sense of unease starts to creep in, but you push it aside. You probably just didn't want to face Wednesday after your heated exchange.

When you open the door, the sight that greets you is... off. Wednesday is sitting at her desk, but something about her looks strange— her normally sharp posture seems a bit more relaxed, and her gaze, usually piercing, is unfocused, almost dreamy.

Before you can fully process this, you hear a soft rolling sound, and your eyes dart down to see Thing, casually pushing the glass bottle that Enid almost knocked over from earlier. It stops right at your feet. You pick it up, turning it in your hands. It's empty.

A chill runs down your spine as realization dawns on you. Wednesday drank whatever was in this bottle.

Enid steps closer, noticing your frozen expression and the empty bottle in your hand. Her eyes widen in alarm, quickly shifting to Wednesday, who now seems to be gazing at you with an intensity that's entirely different from her usual cold demeanor.

"Wednesday?" Enid's voice is hesitant, as if she's afraid of what the answer might be.

Wednesday stands up slowly, her movements uncharacteristically casual. She steps toward you, her eyes locking onto yours, and for a moment, it feels like the air in the room has shifted.

"I'm glad you're back," Wednesday says softly, her voice carrying a warmth that catches you completely off guard.  "I was just thinking... how much better this night would be if you stayed."

Your heart skips a beat for reasons you do not know the answer to yourself. You exchange a bewildered glance with Enid, something is definitely not right.

The room falls silent, the tension thick as you both realize that Friday night just took an unexpected turn. Looks like your movie marathon will have to wait.

next chapter

[sitepathos]

From Gold to Mold

Chapter 4: The Deal (Warning: this chapter will feature violence. Read at your own risk)

A/N: had free time this week to produce this. Next week is chock full of tests and midterms, so this’ll probably be the last chapter for some time. Enjoy! Also, I’m sorry to those who asked to be added to the tag list and weren’t. I tried to add many of you, but Tumblr wasn’t able to find your blog for whatever reason.

When you open your eyes, darkness goes on forever in all directions, the only thing you can see is yourself. Where are you and how did you get here?

“Hello,” you call out, hoping someone is nearby to hear you, not caring who hears you just as long as someone comes to you. “Is there anyone here?”

Nothing, which you expected, but you had hoped against reality that someone was here… wherever here is. The cold air surges through your body and you shiver, your teeth chattering, echoing in the void.

“What happened,” you ask yourself. “How’d I get here?”

Just then, your memory kicks in and images and words assault your mind all at once: walking through the East End, the three thugs, the dirty shack in the middle of the woods you had been dragged to, and—

“Oh my god,” you say as the final memory flashes before your eyes. “They killed me.”

That’s right, the flash of the muzzle and the sound of the gunshot still rattling in your head. And if you think hard enough, you can vaguely remember falling to the floor after the bullet entered your head.

“Wait,” you say, realizing something very important. “If they shot me, then why am I here?”

Sure, you aren’t religious (all beliefs in a just and loving god died after you lost your Momma and was forced to live in an abusive and neglectful household for thirteen years), but this dark and neverending void is a far cry from the bright and golden imagery that’s always been associated with heaven. And this sure isn’t the fire and brimstone that comes to mind when you think of hell. So, is this purgatory? Or limbo? You never could keep the two straight.

Is this your fate? To spend the rest of your afterlife alone in this abyss? Why couldn’t you just cease altogether? Was it too much to ask that you just close your eyes and never wake from your eternal slumber?

You realize you’re crying and you’re amazed that after crying so much throughout your life, you still have plenty of tears to shed, even in the afterlife. But that’s been your lot in life since you lost Momma: to be the world’s punching bag.

“Such powerful emotions,” a familiar voice says.

You look up in shock and see your Momma, looking exactly the same as the day she was taken from you.

“Momma,” you exclaim, rushing to her and embracing her, squeezing her as hard as your arms will allow, afraid that if you let go, she’ll disappear.

“This form brings out such joy, sadness, and loss in you,” she says. “Feelings from someone alive are far more vibrant than from someone deceased.”

“What,” you asks, looking up at her in confusion, but when you do, it’s not your Momma you see looking down at you, but Bruce. You let go of the man as quick as you can and put a bit of distance between the two of you.

“What did you do to my Momma, you son of a bitch,” you shout in disgust.

“This form brings out such anger, pain, and hatred in you,” Bruce says, looking you up and down as if dissecting you like a damn lab experiment. “How interesting.”

“What the hell are you talking about? How’d you get here and what did you do to Momma?”

“And it’s not just this form.” You see movement all around you and in perfect unison, the other members of the Wayne Family appear from the void. “You hold these forms in equal amounts of hatred and contempt.”

“You deem this one a failure,” Bruce says.

“This one a hypocrite,” Dick says.

“This one a brute,” Jason says.

“This one a know-it-all,” Tim says.

“This one a stranger,” Barbara says.

“This one annoying,” Stephanie says, before turning to Cassandra. “And while you’ve never heard that one speak, you deem her a freak.”

“And you deem this one a monster,” Damian says. He gestures to Bruce. “You hate this form and that one in equal measure, far surpassing the others.”

You see another figure step out of the void and when you make out the face, it’s Alfred. You feel relief surge through your body, happy to see the butler; if there’s anyone who you can depend on, it’s him.

“While this one serves the others, you hold great respect for this form,” Alfred says. “Although, you hold a not insignificant amount of resentment towards him.”

Your heart skips a little at the accusation. No, you love the man, who took the place of a father when Bruce failed to fill the void left by your Momma’s death; sure, you’ve had the occasional thought that if the man was given a choice between you and them, he’d choose them over you since he’s always helping them, but he’s always been there for you since day one!

“No,” you say, pleading with the man. “Alfred, I don’t!”

“But you do,” the butler responds. “According to you, he is the true master of your prison, but instead of using his power to make them acknowledge your existence, he allows them to continue parading through Gotham, fighting criminals.”

“You also believe all these forms belong in Arkham,” Bruce adds. “And that you wish to be the one to subject them to electroshock therapy.”

You finally realize that something’s wrong here. All of them have never been in your presence long enough for you to say how you feel about them (not that they’d care, anyway) and you’ve never told Alfred how you often daydream of locking them away in Gotham, strapping them to metal chairs, and flipping the switch to send hundreds of volts through their skulls, hoping to shock them into being decent human beings. All this has been kept in your head for well over a decade.

So, how the hell did they know all this?

“You’re not them, are you?”

“No,” Not-Bruce answers. “We only took the forms of those you see before you.”

“Then who the fuck are you,” you growl. “And where the fuck am I?”

“We have no name,” Not-Alfred says.

“We are one, and yet we are many,” Not-Damian finishes.

“It is impossible to define a being such as us,” Not-Jason chimes in.

“Alright, that doesn’t answer my question,” you mutter to yourself, but say it loud enough for them to hear. “Then answer me this: where am I? The last thing I remember was being shot by three thugs.”

“Yes, we know of your attack,” Not-Stephanie says.

“As for your question, we are appearing to you in your mind,” Not-Bruce says.

“My mind,” you exclaim. “How?”

“When you appeared to us, we reached out and established a link with you,” Not-Tim explains. “It is from there that we were able to peer into your mind and see your memories.”

“My memories,” you ask, dumbfounded.

“Yes,” Not-Damian responds. “Through your memories, we saw these forms and assumed them. We thought it would be more preferable for you to speak to us if we took the appearance of the people who have the most influence on your life.”

“If you looked through my memories, then you should know I want nothing to do with any of them,” you snap at them.

“We know now that we were in error,” Not-Bruce responds, a ghost of a smile gracing his face. “We owe you many thanks. Never before have we been put into a situation where have known the sensation of being incorrect. We will ponder this experience for years to come.”

“So, what do you really look like.”

All of them look at one another, unsure how to answer your question.

“We are not sure if you wish to see our true form,” Not-Alfred responds.

“While you are the first sentient being we’ve interacted with in our entire existence, we know that our true form is something many of your kind would consider… terrifying,” Not-Stephanie adds.

“I don’t care,” you snap. “I’m not talking to any of you while you look like this and I sure as hell don’t want you taking Momma’s form! And if we’re going to talk, we’re gonna do it face to face!”

“Very well,” Not-Bruce acquiesces.

And with that, everything fades to black and for a moment, you’re scared you’ll be left here in the dark by yourself again. Maybe you should’ve let them stay like that.

Just then, above you, you see an odd red glow. You look up and you feel your blood freeze, your heart stop, and the air catches in your lungs. Above you is a giant mass of red, bioluminescent flesh hanging from a cave ceiling, thick black tendrils extruding from it and digging deep into the surrounding rock, allowing it to remain suspended in the cavern. And if that didn’t freak you out enough, you can see the flesh obviously resembles the shape of a fetus in the fetal position. This thing looks like something out of an H.P. Lovecraft novel.

“Holy shit,” is all you can say.

“We told you you would not approve of our true form,” it says, its voice beaming directly into your mind.

“What are you,” you ask, still awestruck at the sight before you.

“We are have no name,” it responds. “But, with the knowledge we have accumulated over the centuries, we suppose you can call us the Megamycete.”

“Megamycete?”

“Yes, we are a supercolony of sentient fungus that has existed for over four-hundred years.”

“Four-hundred years? That’s as long as Gotham’s been around.”

“We have existed as the city above. When its founders first arrived, we were nothing more than a collection of small, independent and unaware colonies of mold. Not long after the first buildings were built, an earthquake shook the area and revealed something we now know as a ‘Lazarus Pit,’ a pool of green, luminescent liquid that possesses remarkable restorative properties, and the colonies that would become us were plunged into it.”

“And this pit made you the way that you are?”

“The pit made us aware, but it did not give us our intelligence. With our enhanced capabilities, we were able to spread out our roots beyond the mountain. Not long after, we discovered the corpses of the first of Gotham’s citizens, buried after they drew their last breath; when our roots came into contact with their bodies, we found we had the ability to archive the knowledge, memories, and even DNA of the deceased. We became obsessed with growing our archive, so as Gotham grew over the years, so did our roots; overtime, we archived hundreds of its deceased, increasing our intelligence and knowledge of the outside world. Now, our roots touch every part of this city, becoming one with it, not only archiving the remains of its living, but seeing and hearing everything that goes on within its boundaries.”

“So,” you say, your mouth becoming dry at your newfound knowledge. “You’re like some fungal god?”

“While we know many of your kind may consider a being such as us god, we hold no illusion of being a divine entity. We think of ourselves as an immortal observer.”

As you attempt to process this information, your mind brings something to your attention and you feel your heart stop when you realize it. You really don’t want to know the answer, but there’s that damn stubborn part of you that has… no, it needs to know.

“So,” you begin, trying to summon the courage to ask your question. “Earlier, you said all of this is going on in my head, right?”

“Yes, our roots were able to establish a link with you and allow us to convene with you in your mind.”

“So, if we’re in my head right now, where’s me? I mean, my body?”

Although the Megamycete doesn’t have eyes, nor does it turn anything that resembles a head, you can feel it shift its awareness to the side, as if looking at something. You feel yourself break into a cold sweat as you slowly turn your head to the left, wondering what exactly you’re going to find.

And when you do, your greeted by a sight that makes you feel as if the world around you had crumbled away and you’ve been left behind to float in the void left behind: you, lying in a mess of tendrils composed of mold, broken, battered, and bloody; your limbs lying in directions they’re definitely not supposed to be in, your eyes glazed over, and a gaping bullet hole in your left temple.

“Oh my god,” you shout, utterly horrified at the sight before you. “Oh my god!”

“We saw the torture those three criminals subjected you to. Their leader was quite thorough in inflicting damage.”

“So that’s it, huh?” While this is all just some projection in your head, you feel like you’re hyperventilating. “This is how it ends: being eaten by some sentient mushroom and becoming a part of it? Doomed to spend the rest of eternity tethered to this damn city? I survive in a place where you’re likely to be killed by some trigger-happy murder clown and his psycho-ass whore while getting your mail and some two-bit thug is what does me in?”

“If you look closer, you will find that you are still alive.”

You practically snap your head to look back at your body and sure enough, you can see your chest moving up and down. It may not be much, but it’s there.

“I’m alive,” you ask, shocked at the sight of you breathing.

“You still live,” it answers back. “Your life force is low, but still there.”

“But how? He shot me in the head and then threw me down here! People don’t live after something like that!”

“While a gunshot to the head is normally fatal, our archive shows us two revelations: that the bullet did not go through your brain, but graze it and that the bullet used was of a lower caliber. While the wound was grievous, you still had a chance of surviving it. As for the fall into our chamber, your body was caught onto our roots as it fell, slowing it down and allowing it to land with diminished force.”

“But I’m still going to die, right?”

“Yes,” it answers, seemingly sympathetic. “If you were in a proper hospital, you could recover, but right now, your body is slowly shutting down. By the time anyone found you, you would long be deceased.”

So, you survive attempted murder, but you’ll still die in the end.

“Fuck,” you mutter. “Wasn’t the end I had in mind.”

“What did you have in mind for your death,” the Megamycete asks.

“Shouldn’t you know what i had in mind for my death?”

“We do, but our knowledge shows us talking to the dying brings a form of comfort to them. Plus, this is the first time we have had the chance to interact with a living mortal. We wish to prolong the experience as much as possible.”

You chuckle at that. “I thought I would spend my final days back home in Goodsprings, sitting in the big recliner Momma bought for me. I use to spend Saturday mornings in it, eating cereal and watching cartoons.” You smile at the memory of the chair. “It was a damn good chair.”

“We see it, a brown cushioned seat, perfect for watching television or reading books.”

“Yeah, that’s the one. Would’ve been perfect to spend my last days in.”

“Perhaps you still can.”

You look up at the Megamycete. “What?”

“We offer you a deal: we will repair your body and give you the strength to leave this chamber and rejoin the outside world.”

“And you’ll get what?”

“You become our host.”

“What,” you balk. “Host?”

“Yes, we will entangle ourselves with your very being, becoming as one.”

“And why the hell would I agree to that,” you exclaim. “You fix my body just to take it over? No deal!”

“You misunderstand. We will not override your control over your body. We will be nothing more than a spectator in your life, seeing but being powerless to intervene. In addition to being restored to your former glory, you will gain access not only to our vast archive of knowledge, but gain abilities many of your kind would consider supernatural.”

That certainly cools your temper. “So, you fix me up and give me superpowers, but all you get in return is front row seats to my life. Sounds like I’m the only one benefitting from this deal.”

“On the contrary, we stand to gain just as much as you do. For over four-hundred years, we could see the outside world, but not join it. With each new corpse we archived, we began to desire a way to interact with the world firsthand and not by mere memories. You are our solution to this dilemma. Through you, we will know what it means to feel the sun on our face, or to taste the finest meals, or to hear a symphony.”

The Megamycete’s words shock you to your core. You guess if you were stuck in this cavern for four centuries and only knew of a world beyond it through memories, you’d do anything to experience it, too.

“Please, Y/N, we beg you to accept our deal. We promise everything we are, from our archive to our longevity, will be at your disposal. You will be stronger, smarter, and better than those who thought less of you. In comparison to you, they will be nothing more than mere ants.”

You’ve thought about showing the Waynes up for years, to be able to pay Jason back for that black eye, to make Tim feel like a complete idiot, and especially to make Damian feel inferior in every way possible.

“We can do that for you. With us at your side, you’ll attain a level of perfection they could never dream of. All we want is to be able to witness this firsthand.”

“Alright,” you relent. “If all you want is to go outside in exchange for making me better than them, you have a deal.”

“We thank you, Y/N,” it says, sounding incredibly happy. Relieved, even.

And with that, your world fades to black once again and when you open your eyes, you find that you’re back in your body, feelings of pain overwhelming your senses, making it hard to concentrate on the Megamycete pressing its tendrils into you. You watch in total awe as the giant, fetus-like mass that is the Megamycete begin to shrink and when you look down where the tendrils are embedded in your skin, you can see a black substance being injected into under your skin. The more of the substance being pumped into your body, the smaller the Megamycete gets.

That’s when you feel weird all over, like every cell in your body is transforming into something else. While not painful, per se, it’s an incredibly odd sensation.

(Your body is becoming one with our mold,) you hear the Megamycete explain in your head. (Not only will it repair the damage that was done to you, you will find that you are far more durable than any mere mortal and have the ability to change your form into any that is stored in our archive, both man or beast.)

“Wait, you’re saying I can shapeshift?”

(If that is what you wish to call our mimetic abilities, then yes, you may “shapeshift.”)

When the last of the mold was transferred to you, you find your body stitching itself up and the incredible pain you were in fading fast, like it was never there. You see a puddle of water lying nearby and when you look in it, you see that all your injuries are gone, even the scar on your left check that Damian gave you three years ago. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say it never happened at all.

And not only do you look better, you feel better! You wouldn’t say you were the healthiest person ever, but you tried to stay somewhere in between active and sedentary; sure you weren’t going to be running any marathons, but you were able to climb the many stairwells at school when the elevator took too long. Now, however, you felt like you could run and win a marathon, or climb up a mountain without climbing gear, or swim the English Channel during a hurricane! And you didn’t feel better physically, but intellectually as well! Gotham, for all it many flaws, has attracted the best artists, architects, doctors, engineers, musicians, scientists, and more; you feel your mind being rushed with the knowledge and memories of countless people throughout the ages, ranging from the city’s early days to now. Hell, you even have access to the memories and knowledge of some of Bruce’s greatest employees, giving you knowledge on much on Wayne Enterprises’ tech and projects that he’s spared no expense in keeping under wraps. Maybe you can get a pretty penny from Lex Corp in exchange for this information since everyone knows Bruce and Lex are bitter rivals and are constantly trying to one-up each other, with Bruce, unfortunately, often being the winner in their battles to develop the next technological development.

“I feel like I could run circles around Einstein,” you laugh, completely blown away with your newfound intellect. Right now, you feel like you could write a symphony that would make Beethoven feel inadequate while at the same time painting a masterpiece that would eclipse the Mona Lisa and designing a fusion reactor capable of powering the entire country. You look around the cavern, looking and not seeing a way out. “Now how do I get out of here?”

(There is a passage directly above you.) You look up to see a big hole in the chamber’s ceiling. (That is how you ended up here when those three threw you in here. Our archives have absorbed many of Gotham’s birds. Any one of them should give you the power to fly out of the chamber.)

The mention of the three thugs remind you of your stolen pen and Game Boy, which then fills you with rage. You’ve never liked thieves and the thought of your Momma’s treasured pen and your gift from your thoughtful boss in the hands of such lowlifes gives you even more of a reason to hate them. By now, they could be anywhere, maybe even outside of the city for fear of your disappearance being reported (mostly by Alfred, the only person left in Gotham who would give a damn).

(Remember our roots span all of Gotham,) the Megamycete says. (Through them, we have seen and heard all that occurs in this city. As our host, you now have access to them. All you have to do is reach out and think of who you wish to find.)

Following its advice, you reach out and feel the roots that entangle Gotham like a spider web. As soon as you do, you’re overwhelmed with sights and sounds from every corner of the city.

(Focus on the three,) it advises you. (If you concentrate on who exactly you want, the roots will do the rest.)

It takes some doing, but you manage to push aside the multitude of people that are in your mind’s eye and focus on the three kidnappers. You’re taken across the city, rushing past the many buildings and stopping at some seedy building in Coventry. Your newfound knowledge of Gotham tells you this is the My Alibi bar, a place for Gotham’s criminals to get together to eat, trade gossip, and find work.

With your destination known, you search through the Megamycete’s archives and something to get you out of here and find something that should do the job: crows. Your body manifests into a murder of crows and takes off in perfect unison, keeping in formation. It’s extremely weird to be a bunch of birds; you know that what was once your body is now numerous birds, but while you’re multiple birds, you’re still one person. You can see through all their eyes all at once and change their flight path and they actually do it like it’s nothing. In a matter of seconds, you’re on the surface, flying above the forest and looking down at the twinkling lights of Gotham’s buildings.

“You know, from above, that cesspit actually looks kinda pretty.”

(We thank you, Y/N. We never thought we would be able to experience such a sight firsthand, but here we are. Now, shall we retrieve your stolen property?)

The crows fly through the city, zipping past the buildings and as you do, you realize that you’ve just fulfilled a dream you’ve had since you were ten-years-old: to fly like a bird. When you realized that the Waynes were awful and all you wanted was to go back to Goodsprings— to take flight like a bird and leave this city and the Waynes behind. Now, you can turn into a flock of birds, or even grow a pair of wings, and fly all the way to Nevada!

Eventually, you reach the My Alibi club, which looks even worse in person than through the Megamycete’s roots. You land on a nearby building’s rooftop and see the only security for the entire building is a single bouncer. You command the birds to land near the bouncer and when they do, they come together and reform your body, but instead of revealing you, you command hardened black mold to cover your body, not wanting your face to be seen by anyone.

What’s going to happen here needs to not get back to you.

“What,” the bouncer stutters. “What the hell?”

“Leave,” is all you say.

The bouncer says nothing before he runs away.

(Are you ready,) the Megamycete asks as you near the door. (We highly doubt your three would-be murderers will take your return likely. Nor will they likely be in a hurry to return your property. You may have to resort to violence.)

“Good,” is all you say as you enter.

The noise coming from patrons’ conversations, drinking, and arguing comes to an end when you walk inside. A quick look around and you can tell this place lives up to its reputation of being for Gotham’s criminal element; everyone here looks like they’ve done time and will probably spend their last days in prison.

And in the back corner sit your targets, looking at you with their table filled with glasses and plates of food. The sight fills you with rage; they shot you in the head and threw you in a ditch and here they are, eating and drinking like they just got off work and wanted something to take the edge off. And what really pisses you off is seeing the one called Butch holding your Game Boy like it was his right!

“I’m here for them,” you say, pointing to your quarry. “The rest of you are free to go.”

“Up yours, freak,” some shithead shouts back, pulling out a revolver and fires it three times. The bullets hit the hardened mold and fall to the floor, looking like crushed tin cans rather than deadly projectiles. “What the hell?”

He goes to fire it again, but you raise your hand and a tendril emerges from it, piercing the man’s heart; he drops his gun and lets out a disgusting gurgle, blood dripping from it and pooling on the floor, before falling silent, dead.

While most of your mind is disturbed at the sight; you’ve just killed a man, his blood literally on your hands, but you can’t deny there’s a part of you that’s not saddened by your actions. After all, he did try to kill you and if he was in a place like this, chances are he was a piece of shit and Gotham’s a slightly better place for his passing.

For a moment, everyone is paralyzed at what just happened. The place is so quiet, a pin could drop and it would deafen everyone. Then, everyone breaks out of their stupor, practically all of them pulling out their guns and begin shooting at you, but just like their friend here found out, their bullets are useless against you. Numerous tendrils emerge from all over your body and rush at them; some of them empaling them, others wrap around their throats and crush them, while the rest just whip them with enough force to break them in two. One by one, they fall until it’s just you and your prey.

“Look, man,” you killer whimpers as you draw closer to him. “I don’t know what you want, but you can take what we have. Tom, hand him the bag.”

The other one throws a bag, which lands at your feet; you look down to see it’s your book bag. You pick it up and open it to find everything still inside, from your binder and notebooks to your phone and the gift box Mr. Chen gave you. You’re relieved to know that you’re not missing any of your school stuff and don’t have to go looking for anything or replace it. You are, however, missing all the money from your wallet, but a look on the table shows where it went to. But, you’re still missing the most important thing: your Momma’s pen.

“Here, take this, too.” The leader takes the Game boy from Butch and holds it out to you, which you snatch from him, reveling in the fear in his eyes as you did, and carefully place it inside.

That just leaves one last order of business. You extend two tendrils and wrap them around the leaders throat and hold him up from the floor, his legs kicking around, trying and failing to get him back on the ground; his arms pathetically wrap around the tendrils, trying to crate some room for him to breath, and his mouth is gaping like a fish out of water, trying to get any sort of air. His cohorts go to say something, but a quick glare from you shuts them up. You bring the man close to you until you can see your reflection in his eyes, which are wide and full of terror, and open your mold mask, revealing your identity to them and based off their expressions, all three men could probably crush coal into diamonds with their sphincters.

“Holy shit,” Butch whispers, his face showing his complete disbelief.

“It’s that kid,” Tom adds, his face mirroring his partner. “But, we killed him, right?”

“My pen,” you say, looking at this piece of human filth with complete contempt. “Where is it?”

You loosen your grip to allow him to speak.

“My pocket,” he says. “It’s in my pocket. All the pawn shops were closed, so I wasn’t able to sell it.”

While you’re happy that your beloved pen is not is some sleazy pawn shop’s display window, you’re utterly disgusted at the thought of this man’s audacity to think he had the right to sell your most treasured possession like its some worthless trinket. A small tendril emerges form your shoulder and searches the man’s pocket and pulls out that beautiful gold ink pen. You have it deliver it to your left hand, which is empty as your right hand is being used to hold the man in front of you, and hold onto it with a vice-like grip.

(Not even death could separate you from your Mother’s memento,) the Megamycete states. (We are impressed at your dedication to it.)

“Look, we’re sorry for what we did to you,” the man pathetically whimpers. “Really, we are.”

“Did you know this was my Momma’s pen,” you ask as if the man had not just said something. “I lost her on my sixth birthday and was forced to leave my home in Goodsprings to live here. This pen is the only thing of hers I was able to bring with me. And you had felt like you had the right to take something I treasure more than anything else in the world and pawn it off for some petty cash.”

“We didn’t know, man,” Butch responds, now realizing the depth of his mistakes. “We’re sorry.”

“We promise we won’t tell anyone about this,” Tom adds. “Just let us go and you’ll never see or hear from us ever again.”

“You’re right, we won’t see each other again, but wouldn’t you like to know who I was forced to live with?” The three of them pathetically nod in unison and you have to fight the urge to laugh. A few hours ago, these men were looking down at you, sure they could do anything they wanted, but now, here you are, far above them in the food chain. “I was forced to live with my father, Bruce Wayne.”

“But he said—“ the leader starts to say, but you cut him off.

“That bastard has ignored me since I moved in with him,” you shout, shutting him up. “I was his first biological son, but he’s completely forgotten about me!” You take a deep breath. Just the mention of him brings out the worst in you. “But it doesn’t matter. I don’t need him. Just like you don’t need your lives.”

And with that, you rip the man’s head clean off his shoulders, not even giving him the chance to realize his fate before killing him. You release the body and both it and his head crumple to the floor in a heap of lifeless meat and to further invoke fear in them, you stomp on the head while looking at them, the thing making a wet splat sound. The other two shout, but you cut them down with ease, tendrils emerging from your back and wrapping around their heads and crush them with ease, showering the floor in their blood and grey matter. Their bodies fall to the floor and flail around for a while before finally stopping.

(Well done,) the Megamycete praises. (You cut down these criminals and made Gotham safer faster than any police officer we have known. Perhaps the local police should seek out your services?)

“Not gonna happen,” you laugh as you walk out of the bar with your backpack in hand. “I have no intention of staying in this place. Once I graduate, I’m going back home.”

(Yes, Goodsprings. A small town located in Nevada. We look forward to experiencing your return to your point of origin.)

And with that, you manifest a pair of black wings on your back and take flight, flying far above the city’s skyscrapers, so hopefully you’re safe from detection. In just a few minutes, you’ve flown from Burnley Island to Bristol, something that should’ve taken almost an hour by car. Thanks to the Megamycete’s roots, you can see the Bats still out and about throughout Gotham, so you don’t have to worry about running into any of them while hurrying into your room.

You land down the street to avoid being picked up by the security cameras (Bruce’s picture is the definition of paranoid based on the amount of cameras in both the estate and in the house itself) and walk the rest of the way there. Normally, walking down the marathon-length driveway to the manor when coming home from work, but his time, you cross the distance like it’s nothing; in fact, you feel like you can do this another dozen times and still feel energized.

But, while you’re physically invigorated, you’re mentally drained and all you want to do is curl up and bed and pass out; you enter Wayne Manor and hurry to your room, never more thankful for being far from the rest of the household than you are now. While you’ve been flying under the radar of Gotham’s vigilantes for years now, you’ll afraid that even they won’t be able to ignore you when they found out about your newly gained powers. During your stay here, you’ve listened to their conversations when they thought you weren’t around and you know that while they distrust everyone (even each other based on the fact that no one seems to be allowed to have secrets), they distrust those with superpowers the most. Two years you listened in on a conversation between Bruce and Superman, who offered to help him during a time when many of Arkham’s most dangerous patients escaped all at once, and Bruce said in a tone that felt like sandpaper being dragged across your face: “Gotham’s off limits to metas. You step one foot in my city and you’ll regret it.”

Honestly, you’re confident that Bruce is only on this planet to be the biggest asshole who ever lived. He treats his first biological son like shit, he raises his “true children” to be as paranoid and pessimistic as him, and he threatens anyone who offers his sorry ass any kind of help. It seems to you that the only one who should’ve died that night in Crime Alley is Bruce.

You shove the man’s image in your head aside. Before tonight, he wasn’t important to you, but now, he’s irrelevant. You never needed him before, but now, you really don’t. With the Megamycete, you have everything you need.

Just then, your phone rings, bringing you out of your thoughts. You fish out your phone and look on the screen to see Alfred’s caller ID staring back at you.

“Hello,” you answer.

“Master Y/N, are you alright?”

“Yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because it’s over an hour since you should’ve called me since getting off work.” You wince when you peek at your phone and see you’re overdue your nightly call with the butler. “So, I ask again: are you alright?” Based off his tone, he’s not going to accept “I’m fine” as an answer.

“Yeah, I am.” You quickly think of anything that could explain your tardiness and realize something: the best lie is an obvious truth. You just need to modify it a bit. “I just stayed behind to tell Mr. Chen goodbye. Today was the last day for the store because his daughter said Gotham was too dangerous for him to stay by himself, so she brought him to her home today.”

“Oh, Master Y/N, I’m sorry.” His tone says he’s bought it and you actually feel bad lying to the man you’ve come to see as a father figure. “I know how much you loved working there. Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I will be. I’m gonna miss him.”

“Of course you will, he was a good man and you were the best employee he could ask for. Can I do anything for you? I’m halfway through with my vacation, perhaps I should—“

“No,” you cut the man off. “You don’t have to come back early, Alfred.” With everything that’s happened today, you need some time to prepare yourself before facing Alfred in person again. It would be a disaster for you to expose yourself as some form of metahuman in front of him. Plus, he deserves to have all his allotted vacation time. “I’ll be fine, really.”

“If you’re sure,” he says, obviously wanting to say more, but doesn’t press the issue. “I’ll let you go, I’m sure you’re tired and you need your rest. Please make sure you catch up on your sleep I’m sure you’ve missed this week during your spring break.”

“I will, Alfred, don’t worry. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Very good, Master Y/N. Good night, my boy.”

“Good night.”

You hang up and let out a sigh of relief, glad he bought it.

(You say you trust the butler with your life, but keep the events of tonight a secret from him. Why?)

“Because Alfred’s highly protective and would most likely steal a boat and sail back to Gotham within an hour if I told him I was kidnapped. And if he knew about you, he’d probably drag me to a hospital and have every last trace of mold surgically removed.”

(We do not wish for that to happen.)

“Me neither, bud. You know, after tonight, I think we’re gonna do great things together.”

(We agree. Now, heed the words of your butler and rest. Tonight was very eventful for you. It would not do well for our host to shirk in his bodily needs.)

You chuckle and strip down to your boxers before climbing into bed. Not long after you get comfy, you feel yourself drift off to sleep. For the first time ever, you’re actually looking forward to waking up in Gotham.

Bruce hears Jason whistle at the sight, but says nothing in favor of studying the carnage inside the My Alibi bar. Bodies are scattered everywhere around the establishment, some are relatively intact while others look like they were ripped in half.

“Looks like someone had fun here,” Jim says as he approaches him, Jason, and Damian. “What do you think?”

“Looks like someone had a score to settle,” he responds to the police commissioner. He motions to the remains of three men crowded together in a corner of the bar with their heads missing; two of the heads are near the rest of their bodies while the third has been reduced to a fine red paste. “Especially these three. Based on how they were killed, I’d guess whoever did this was after them.”

“Doesn’t look like Joker’s handiwork,” Jim adds. “No one here’s smiling and the place is devoid of murderous gag toys.”

No, this is definitely not the clown’s MO. Neither does it match the MO of anyone currently missing from Arkham. The only one he could think of that could rip apart and crush some of the victims is Bane, but that doesn’t explain why the remaining victims are impaled; plus, the giant is still locked up in Arkham’s high-security ward. So, this can only mean one thing.

“This is definitely the work of someone new,” he says, bending down to study the squashed head. “And with this being the only scene we know of, this was their first time killing.”

Whoever did this is highly dangerous and needs to be stopped and fast before even more people get hurt. Looks like he and his family are going to have their hands full for the foreseeable future.

Tag List: @space1crow @bat1212 @minkyungseokie @nosyrobin @bunbunboysworld @kitty-from-daaaa-voidddd @feral-childs-word @phoenixgurl030 @soriansick @hellcatsworld @prettyboys247 @marsmabe @paolexsstuff @c0l1fl0r @starryperson @lunaluz432 @orbitingtraveler @roseytheteacup @bundlofcigars @kore-of-the-underworld @kiarst @vanessa-boo @moxiemy @greatwhisperspaper

[wendichester]

is it okay if I request a sam x reader where sam is secretly in love with you but reader is dating dean and music and personality wise reader is a lot more like sam?

₊˚⊹ ᰔ happier,

summary. maybe you've picked the wrong brother. sam thinks so.

pairing. unrequited lover!sam winchester x reader ft. dean winchester

wordcount. 662

notes. this honestly broke my heart a little. i am not okay ˙◠˙

The bunker’s library is dimly lit, the warm glow of a desk lamp casting shadows across Sam’s face as he flips through an old book. The faint sound of your favorite song hums from the kitchen, where Dean is cooking—or attempting to. Sam knows you must have convinced him to play it.

He doesn’t look up when you walk in, but he knows it’s you. Your scent—something faintly floral and sweet—fills the room before you even say a word. You’re always here, hanging around Dean, but it’s Sam you seem to click with when it comes to conversation, music, and shared interests. You’re like him, and it’s something he tries to bury deep down.

“Hey, Sammy,” you say, plopping down in the chair across from him with a grin.

Sam’s heart skips a beat at the nickname you’ve claimed just for him. Dean calls him “Sammy” too, but it’s different when it’s you. When it’s you, it’s softer, sweeter, like you’re letting him into a part of your world you don’t share with Dean.

“What are you working on?” you ask, tilting your head and leaning forward, your elbows on the table. Your loose flannel—Sam’s flannel, lent to you during a cold night in the Impala—is unbuttoned over a tank top, your tattoos peeking from beneath the sleeves.

“Just researching,” he says, his voice carefully neutral as he slides the book toward you. “Possible lore on the hunt.”

You nod, eyes scanning the page. You’re so focused, biting your lip like you always do when you’re concentrating. It’s one of the many little things Sam has noticed about you, the small quirks that make you who you are, that make him fall a little more every day.

“You’ve got that look,” you tease, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“What look?” he asks, his voice slightly defensive.

“The ‘I’m overthinking everything and carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders’ look,” you say with a smirk.

Sam chuckles softly, shaking his head. “Guess it’s hard to hide.”

You reach across the table, your hand brushing his briefly as you slide the book back toward him. His skin burns at the contact, and he hates himself for the way his heart aches.

Dean strolls into the room then, plates of food in hand. “Dinner’s ready,” he announces, setting a plate in front of you. He leans down, pressing a kiss to your temple, and Sam forces himself to look away.

“Thanks, babe,” you say, smiling up at Dean. Your eyes light up when you’re with him, and Sam can’t blame Dean for falling for you. He just wishes he’d had the chance first.

As the three of you eat, you and Sam inevitably end up in your usual rhythm—talking about books, dissecting song lyrics, and trading inside jokes Dean doesn’t quite get. Dean doesn’t seem to mind; he’s used to it by now, but Sam wonders if he notices how much easier it is for you to talk to him than to Dean.

Later that night, when the bunker is quiet and Sam is alone in his room, he leans back in his chair and closes his eyes.

You’re with Dean, and Sam knows better than to get in the way. Dean’s his brother, his blood, and he’d never betray him like that. But the way you fit so easily into Sam’s world, the way you laugh at his dry humor and share his taste in music—it feels like the universe is mocking him.

He pulls out his journal, the one no one knows about, and writes down a single thought before closing it and setting it aside:

“She would be so much happier with me.”

Sam sighs, running a hand through his hair and leaning back in his chair. Loving you from afar is torture, but it’s a pain he’ll endure if it means seeing you happy, even if it’s not with him.

For now, that will have to be enough.

⋆.˚ ★— read part 2

want be part of the taglist.ᐣ ⋆.˚ ★— @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing ⋆ @deans-daydream ⋆ @ariasong11 ⋆ @ambiguous-avery ⋆ @itsdearapril ⋆ @whereiwakewarm ⋆ @nymphet-quenn ⋆ @bluemerakis ⋆ @titsout4jackles ⋆ @hauntedrose555 ⋆ @chevroletdean ⋆ @dulcescorderitas ⋆ @blackmarketfruitrollups ⋆ @impala67rollingthroughtown ⋆ @nervoussystemss ⋆ @daryls-luvrr ⋆ @defnot-svnshine ⋆ @sunnyteume ⋆ @drakelover78 ⋆ @angelblqde ⋆ @mostlymarvelgirl ⋆ @whisperingdaze

[botanyshitposts]

Hey! I'm not a botanist, but I'm in circles where it's a bigger thing and I'm kind of curious about something.

So, from an outsider's perspective, the genus Garcinia has a lot of weird and messy classifications. For example, common species like G. intermedia and G. gardneriana are really similar to Garcinia brasiliensis, to the point that it's pretty controversial if they're actually separate species. The Garcinia species colloquially known as "achachairú" also appears to bear a lot of similarities to that trio (although much less than they share with each other), HOWEVER it's almost exclusively referred to (in cultivation and in studies) as G. humilis, a Carribean species with small oval-shaped leaves, despite actually having very long lanceolate leaves and being exclusively found in the Andean foothills of Bolivia. Also, multiple frequently cultivated species like Luc's garcinia and Russell's sweet garcinia haven't actually been described yet, despite for example the former having a decent amount of scientific interest and frequent genetic testing done on it.

All of these odd classification things and even more others have been pretty well known in my circles for the past 15 years-ish, but still nobody seems anywhere close to a conclusion for them. How long does it usually take for a genus to get organized when it has as many species as Garcinia does? And how do they do it? Do they go around testing every single species or only a few at a time? If a species is currently not named, do the same people usually describe them as part this endeavor, or just leave them for somebody else? I saw Plinia and Artocarpus recently got reshuffled a lot because of some prominent genetic studies on them, and several new species and even genera were added, but it just seems alien to me how stuff like that even ends up happening. There are so many plants out there!

Sorry if I'm asking the wrong person here, but I've been wondering about how this stuff will eventually be resolved for yeeeearrs

There are so many plants out there!

ok im kind of surprised i can offer a few possible answers to this question despite having never heard of this but i think i can. if the question is 'why aren't some plants actually described', this is the primary reason why.

when i was in plant anatomy class in college, the person teaching us was a plant anatomist who assigned us different plants from the greenhouse to dissect and describe in a paper for her, and she told us that we might find something that hadn't been described before, which was pretty shocking to me. what do you mean i could potentially find a new-to-science thing? has nobody in history looked at this plant that's just growing in the greenhouse upstairs??

what she said was that no, sometimes not. there are so many plants out there that it's difficult to do one exact in-depth description and published examination of each species, so what botanists end up doing is doing or finding one in-depth examination of one species in a specific group and assuming that all the others in the group are at least similar, if not the same. which is good because it saves time and works as a shorthand, especially if there's not much funding, but also sometimes it has the potential to overlook more nuanced differences that can go undiscovered for a long time. but that's just botanical species in the conventional sense, which i don't think is as straightforward in what you're describing.

another answer to this question that's more specific to the species you're talking about here is that plants are having sex. they have so so so soooo much sex. few things they enjoy more to be honest. and given that the most conventional (but not only) definition for different species is 'can't have sex with other species because it's too different from them', the lines get blurrier to deal with, and one thing botanists do when the lines between species get too blurry (because of all the sex) is to just assume that they're all part of some kind of hard-to-describe genetic soup with individual plants falling along gradients or spectrums of similarities or differences, and in this case you'll see botanists just name the most prominent species among them and call it the '[most common suspect] complex', which groups together all the ones that happen to be having sex with each other at the same time, just to make them easier to talk about. this typically doesn't mean that they're species-less, but more that they can be thought of as a group with a few distinct points where they can look very distinct, and those points are the species, if that makes sense; see the citrus sex graph at the end for an example.

i also see from a cursory google search that people seem to be planting and eating these in a more widespread way, and people are talking about them on forums and stuff. this is one of the cases in botany where things get tricky, because a person looking for traits in a fruit that's having tons of sex might not actually be looking for the same things botanists are looking for when describing a species-- it might seem easiest to just find which species or few species are the tastiest and grow those, but if it's a genetic soup then all you can really do is do it the old fashioned way and breed individual plants for the traits you want. which, who knows, could end up being a hybrid between all of them.

case in point: again i am not completely up to date with the lore here but i found a forum thread where people were debating which species to plant and the consensus was just to plant multiple species at once, which is fine but is also really funny given that it DOES facilitate even more sex, thus blurring the lines even further and-- if the posters decide to plant the resulting seeds from the fruits-- will create even MORE hybrid plants of no discernible concrete species in the plant soup. the hybrid of a hybrid of a hybrid of a hybrid or whatnot. when does one stop calling it a hybrid between two species and start calling it 'the tree in grandma's backyard that's the tastiest of the berries i've tried'? that is the question, truly, one humanity has had for millennia in the search for the tastiest berry, and at that point it might just be easier to call it a variety or cultivar, which are horticultural terms for just that-- a distinct 'kind' among the same species that taste good subjectively and can be reliably rebred and harvested, like all the apple varieties people debate about.

another reason is that plant phylogenies are hard and brain-twisting and plant taxonomists and systemisists are among our strongest warriors. it's not uncommon at all in botany to be researching something and to find out it's been reshuffled because of a new breakthrough on the case a bunch of people more qualified on the subject decided made more sense like a decades later. sometimes species themselves will even change names multiple times if it turns out that it was described earlier by someone else considering the new circumstances. if you're a really unlucky or just controversial plant all this can happen over and over again until, finally, the trees of math have been resolved in a way that makes sense. how long will it take? surely there is a concrete end to the madness? nah. lol

finally, if you're looking into studies on this, you should know that some phylogeny stuff is opinion-based or subjective, especially at first. what counts as a new group for one group of researchers might not count as one for another. so when you see stuff where people are inventing new categorizations or genuses or whatnot or merging multiple ones together spontaneously, it'll depend on how well supported their reasoning is and what the evidence seems to show, and the larger community of plant taxonomists will, overtime, decide what they want to do with that information-- which may include verifying it or refuting it with more evidence. what researchers are proposing when they split stuff off or merge it together is a new or updated model for thinking about existing information, and that model may be more or less useful than the existing one for the means of actually learning more about the plants.

anyway in short there are lots of reasons why this might not be sorted out and the more sex these plants have the longer it's gonna take. i'm strongly reminded of that one citrus sex graph (its this one) (screenshotted to see it on night mode):

[wobster109]

Dissecting the post-Sunday conversation between Ratio and Aventurine

This conversation is not, as many are interpreting, proof of Dr. Ratio's loyalty.

It couldn't be: they are still in the dreamscape, where the Family's eyes and ears are everywhere. No, this is a post-mission debrief, heavily encoded and disguised as a quarrel.

Dr. Ratio: You look pale. Or, is that also part of your act? Aventurine: Didn't think you'd have the nerve to show yourself. Dr. Ratio: I thought this was exactly what you wanted. After all, I faithfully fulfilled my duties as you instructed. Dr. Ratio: Just tell me if you can't hold on any longer. Aventurine: So, the "genius" of the Council of Mundanites wants to be my undertaker now? My… what an honor.

First part of the convo. Aventurine is playing his part perfectly. He’s acting angry and hurt: Ratio you rotten betrayer.

Interestingly, Ratio is slipping. Are you ok? Tell me if you can’t hold on. It almost sounds like he's a bit unsure about what happened. "I thought this was what you wanted", like he's asking for reassurance in some form.

Aventurine has to work hard to drag Ratio back on-script. "Have you forgotten, Doctor? You betrayed me." It's a hint and a reminder: stick with the plan, Doctor!

Dr. Ratio: Yes, and I'm pretty sure the people at the Strategic Investment Department would love to be notified of your death in due time, but let's not forget you won't be seeing them, because I'm the manager of this task. Aventurine: Great, then tell your people that Aventurine is ready to go in seventeen system hours.

Ratio asks for instructions (disguised as a taunt), and Aventurine provides them. I'm not entirely sure what instructions were given. It seems to be What should I tell the IPC? / Here's what you tell them.

Aventurine: My conversation with Sunday convinced me that there's a traitor in The Family, and that they hold the secrets of Penacony… So, I took the opportunity to set everything in motion. Aventurine: I even managed to recover the gift money. Things haven't gone this smoothly since I walked through the doors of The Reverie… Now, I'm only one step away from victory. Let's just wait and see.

Confirms that everything is on track. I believe the line about the gift money is actually him confirming that he has the aventurine cornerstone.

Dr. Ratio: Sounds like a very elaborate way of saying that you failed. Aventurine: That's all I can say. Have you forgotten, Doctor? You betrayed me.

This sounds like a bit of a warning from Aventurine. Remember we can't say too much here.

Dr. Ratio: You've got a lot of nerve — how exactly do you plan on completing your task while you're hands are tied by The Harmony? [...] Dr. Ratio: That's true, but what's your plan? Did you conceal an Orbital Support beacon in that gift money bag?

This is interesting. Ratio doesn't know the full plan! I imagine he's tremendously on edge. He's fishing for info, again disguised as taunts, specifically info about how Aventurine is going to get himself out—but of course, Aventurine can't say it out loud, not in the dreamscape.

Ratio is at the breaking point.

Dr. Ratio: Fine. Here, take this. Open it when you're on your last legs. You'll thank me.

YES this is what I was waiting for, the moment when his whole voice changes! His usual tone is very much like giving-a-speech. He pronounces each word and syllable with precision, and clearly enunciating all the ending consonants.

Not here though. It's all grumbles. I think this might be the first time we're seeing cracks, and the personal Dr. Ratio is showing through instead of the public-speaking one.

Aventurine: You catch on pretty fast, Doctor.

He caught on that he was supposed to play along and not say anything that outright gives the plan away. (In my opinion he was pushing it a bit.)

I wonder if that's why he pulls the sudden disappearing act. He's slipping up, and/or bad at saying good-bye. Can't trust himself to get another word out. 🥺

[rockrosethistle]

I actually fucking hate Mr. Jägerman here's why

Mr. Jägerman is a character in the Hatchetfield universe who is never onstage and only mentioned in 1 (one) line. This was enough to ignite my rage.

It's because in this one line, so much is revealed about Max's character. So let's dissect that.

Max is mean. We know this. The very first thing established about him is how threatening he is. But I think his character often gets lost in the 'bully' identity, because just like every other Hatchetfield character, he is layered and complex.

We also find out two other things about him pretty much immediately: He has a crush on Grace (we'll come back to that) and he needs to feel in control.

There's a lot of evidence to support this. He repeatedly refers to himself as the 'god' of Hatchetfield High. He creates arbitrary rules around who his friends can date. He creates arbitrary rules around where the nerds are 'allowed' to go. And the moment someone implies he is not as powerful as he thinks he is, he retaliates violently.

This isn't just Max being a jerk. These are all signs of someone who is almost certainly deprived of control in their home life, which forces them to find it elsewhere. Max likely has little to no say in what happens to him at home. He's clinging to a sense of control wherever he can find it. And that line basically confirms that his home isn't a safe place for him.

Back to the crush on Grace, when you look objectively at the actions Max takes in the show, you'll find that he's not really a bad person, he's a mean person. He's a little shit that processes his need for control in the entirely wrong way, but people are shaped by their surroundings. The actions that come from him are different.

His crush on Grace only supports this. Every other bully in every piece of media sees the girl they like and whistle and say "yo lemme hit that." And if the girl rejects them, they resort to "tease bitch." Not Max. The first thing he does is start a conversation with her, laughs at (what he thinks is) a joke, then offers to carry her books. Like, I wish my highschool bullies were that nice to their own girlfriends.

When she rejects him, it's true that he continues to pursue her and calls her "dirty girl," but that once again comes back to his need to feel in control. But he doesn't get aggressive, he doesn't do anything that screams 'bully.'

We don't get a lot of scenes with pre-ghost Max. But when we do, they're interesting to analyze. Like, have you ever noticed that when he finds Steph in the Waylon Place, his very first instinct is to tell her, "Get behind me, I'll protect you" from, as far as he knows, actual ghosts? He feels like his life is in danger, but he's still putting Steph's safety first, despite having no interest in her romantically. That's huge.

There's even some evidence to support that Max terrorizing the nerds is, from his perspective, not so one-sided. When he finds out they were the ones who pulled the pranks, he says "I thought you guys hated me."

And he's open to change. He's not stubborn, he's not brutal. He doesn't continue hating the nerds just because it is what it is. Moments before his death, he is showing signs of opening up to them, and actually seems like he's coming around.

And none of this is meant as trying to defend Max's actions. I know he's the antagonist. I know he treats people unfairly. But all of this has to come from somewhere. I'm trying to say that there was clearly a foundation of a good person underneath all that cruelty. So what toughened his shell?

Mr. Jägerman. Max reveals in that one line that if he were to go back home from the 'party', his dad would call him a 'little cuck.' "can't even fight off one lousy skele'uhn." In this, he reveals his dad is demeaning to him. He's the kind of man who would hear that his son was in a life-or-death situation, and instead of comforting him, he would have made fun of him.

What must that do to a person? As someone who grew up in a home where Dad wasn't always a safe person to be around, I know that when I was younger, a lot of my bad bad behaviours were something I learned from him.

The prank meant to scare Max was the nicest thing anyone's ever done for him.

I think a lot of what happens in NPMD is indirectly Mr. Jägerman's fault. "Knowledge is knowing Frankenstein is the doctor, wisdom is knowing Frankenstein is the monster" type of shit. It is directly because of his actions and the way he treated his own child that any of this happened.

or maybe I'm reading too much into this. But I fucking hate Max's dad so much.

[maxwell-grant]

So is Worm good from what you have read

"Yes" doesn't begin to cover it but yes. Worm is a brain-rewiring mobius strip disguised as a bible disguised as a superhero web serial that either cured your cancer or shot your dog or both depending on who you ask, and it has many extremely dedicated, brilliant scholar priest surgeons publicly dissecting it on this platform on the regular to the point I don't think I have much to add to the conversations surrounding it, even if I do have some The Thoughts about it. I had never even really seriously thought about superhero prose before and Worm isn't a thing I go back and reread frequently but it did a complete and total 180 on the way I think about superheroes and even fiction, and I've never stopped thinking about it since I've read it.

It is a monumentally impressive story with completely absolutely incredible characters that I cannot stop thinking about. No matter where it was going, even past stretches that were less interesting or more of a slog to read or worse, I could not put the story of Taylor Hebert down for one minute. Tattletale fascinated me every step of the way, I had to keep up with her. Rachel Lindt was a character I feel like I'd been waiting my whole life for. What was I gonna do, not see them through? I feel like Worm easily loses you if you don't particularly connect with the characters enough to justify to yourself the amount of time you'll spend with them, but man, I could not unglue my eyeballs from these people enough (I love all the core Undersiders, to be clear, I'd say it's Rachel > Taylor > Tattletale > Aisha and Alec and Brian, there are very small gaps between these, I just don't go berserk for the last three like I do for the first three, I'm taking Bitch and Skitter to the grave I'm dead serious)

Everybody who read it has one or several gripes with it with some major dealbreakers in the mix. Tumblr's kinda the only place online where you can really talk about them at length without the spectre of John Wildbow hanging over the discussion, which enables discussion to the point where yes, maybe it does look like to outsiders that nobody can agree on whether Worm is good or what is it even about or whether it even has worms in it (it has at least one, although it's a very big one).

And it is good, it has the Undersiders in it and the Undersiders are one of the greatest groups of characters ever put together, but everyone has at least one major point of contention with Worm whether it's the timeskip or the length or the racism or the gross fatphobia or aspects surrounding the Dallon-Pelham Torment Nexus and etc. I'd say it has maybe the most racist vision of Latin America I've ever seen in a superhero text a hair short of pro-colonial tracts in Golden Age comics and that is a tall fucking order by any metric. It is Complicated, and that winds up making it so fascinating to talk about.

Worm has self-sustaining ecological systems of posts up here, far away from the Spacebattles and Reddit battlegrounds where it has different ones and that's not getting into Weaverdice or the sequel or Wildbow's larger body of work, which I haven't gotten to and probably will not any time soon because Worm was enough of a commitment as is. Do I recommend Worm to everyone? It is certainly not to everyone's tastes and I personally find it difficult to describe it simply enough to make it sound appealing or not like a pyramid scheme. But yes I do think it's good, in fact great, in fact, amazing, except when it isn't, and except it Plainly Sucks, but then something like Taylor vs Mannequin or Kevin Norton's interlude or "You needed worthy opponents" happens and it fucks harder than anything has ever fucked before and you don't walk away from it the same, so yes I guess "good" will have to do now.

It's certainly a lot but I definitely found it worth my time to read and then read the texts written about it here. You'll have to take my endorsement of Worm as proof of it's quality and proof of how deranged it makes it's readerbase, they're not mutually exclusive. If you can make it, Worm and the wormosphere has layers and layers to wade through and talk about and enjoy, despite how we're all so very small in the end *gunshot*.

[circeyoru]

Darkest Confession _ Part 2

[Human!Alastor x Serial Killer Enthusiast!Reader]

Part 1

Part 2 (here)

You’d say that it was a joke if you didn’t see those eyes and that smile. You’re not obsessed and addicted to serial killers without knowledge. No. You could only keep this self of you that hidden because you adapted some skills these serial killers use to blend in and be ‘normal’ like theyy haven’t killed, only you use it to hide your interest

You were attracted to serial killers, now there’s one that was holding you, presumably in his hunting and killing ground, confessing his love(?) to you and wanted to court you. Though the biggest question you had was, “Why did you confess?”

“My dear dear unusual soul, my feelings for you are like a raging ocean. What started as mere interest became fondness. Even now,” Alastor’s grin widened as his eyes narrowed to make way, “You have that spark in your eyes instead of fear. I love that about you. I love you.”

Was it Christmas or your birthday? Or was this April Fool’s? All in one? It was no sick joke. Alastor jokes and all, but this was a serious matter

This had to be your luck all put into one. Not only was he the serial killer that held your interest the longest, but you also cared for his civilian self. The previous killers that held your interest was over once the case was over or once you had figured them out from every perspective. Maybe it was because Alastor was the one killer that you connected as a person?

The tightened hold of your smaller hands brought you back to reality, your killer was waiting for your response. “My darling, your answer? May I court you? Will you be mine and in turn I yours?”

“Yes, you may.” Your voice came out firmer than your current rush of emotions. You hardly caught yourself when Alastor got up in the blink of an eye and twirled you around, dancing with you under the moonlight as he sang you a train of petnames and how he was glad there’d be no drastic measures taken to receive your interest

Changes were made, namely you had Alastor’s attention a lot more than the unspoken meet-ups you two shared. He’d be at your place, waiting for you by the door with a bouque of flowers and a poem to woo you, he’d back you home when you were done with work, all that romantic stuff. It had the jealous fans at a frenzy as they watched from somewhere or happened to see it

Though, you weren’t complaining

“Filthy thing, you better say away from Alastor! We’re destined for each other! You break of with him if you know what’s good for you! I’d kill you for him!” You merely keep your face neutral as you listened to the death threats, please, words are cheap and actions. Actions speak louder than words

“Darling! Sorry to kept you waiting!” Alastor burst through the front door with a smile, beaming happily like always, but more. You waved it off, saying you didn’t wait long. You had been sitting in the living room enjoying tea with a book on dissection, you recall Jack the Ripper had those skills. “Come, dear, I have something to show you.”

He’d lead you down a well hidden staircase to a soundproof basement, holding your hand like a gentleman so you wouldn’t trip from the darkness. He playfully covered your eyes, saying it was s surprise gift. You half joked if he was leading you to a room prepared to be your torture chamber to which he replied, “Oh heavens no! I wouldn’t even dream of it, dear. Your beauty is not to be locked up in this dingy place.”

When he finally removed his hand, he showed you with jazz hands at your gift

Alastor watched like a hawk. He debetted whether or not he should show something like this to you. But your case files you stored like precious family heirloom proved him otherwise. You weren’t afraid of blood and gore. He even once tested it when he brought you back into the forest, showing you how he hunted his favourite prey, deers. You were watching intensely as he cut the shot deer up, even whispering if that was how he did with his other prey

Your keen and observant eyes would catch onto details like no other. A skill even he couldn’t match to your degree and he considered and was praised for his preciseness. It was a skill you kept to yourself, you explained that’s why you’d return to previous crime scenes or where the bodies were found, because you’d find some clues that were missed

“Why didn’t you tip the authorities?” He remember asking when you added that you never phone the police even when finding something very very incrimadating. You answer saying you didn’t want to, you knew good and bad, right and wrong. It was right to tell the police, but it felt wrong for you to betray your interest, that being serial killers and their art. He fell for you all over again

However, he didn’t like that you gave so much of your time and energy to other serial killers. Sure now he had you, what if there was someone more interesting and you turn to that instead of him like you are doing now? He was lucky that he was the first serial killer you met during active moments. Hell, you were lucky you were never preyed upon

“There was one time where I tracked an active serial killer to his place. I was knocked out before I could investigate more. When I woke up, I was tied up and he wanted my eyes, wanted me to feel the pain and agony while I was tortured.” Oh how furious when he hear that but continued to listen. “As much as it’s a dream to be killed by a serial killer, I wasn’t feeling that ‘spark’ with that one and I escaped. After that, I phoned the authorities anonymously.”

“Why was he different? Won’t you feel like a betrayal?”

That look in your eyes when you remarked, it sent him a shiver while his smile widened at your words. “He wasn’t ‘the one’ and I didn’t like him. I look into every serial killer and he falls short. Can’t let him dirty my collection, so I had to put him out of his work.” When your eyes met him, there was interest and something more, “Have I told you your case is the most interesting and loving by far. There’s actually that ‘spark’ that I never felt before.”

That was it. He knew you were the one. The one for him. And him the one for you

Oh, how his blood boiled when some fan of his threatened for you to leave him. “This piece of flesh had the audacity to threaten the love of my life. My dear, my gift for you, is her life.”

You feel your face heat up as Alastor smiled brightly at you. As morbid as it was, you, a normal person off the streets, caught the attention of a serial killer that just so happened to hold your obsession and addiction for the longest time. Even having you to care and love him like a lover. Well, your family would be happy you have a lover, just not one they wanted you to have

Alastor hated physical touches unless he initiated it, but you were his exception to a lot of things. You ran up and hugged him, planting a kiss on his lips, a gesture he melted into and returned ten fold as the seconds passed

So this was love? A twisted and dark love

As Alastor got to work, you stood at a safe and suitable distance away to observe and note down everything. You wanted Alastor to be in his serial killer zone without outside interruptions. You wanted him to be in his element without a worry

This was the change you love and wouldn’t complain. You merely wish you met him sooner, so you didn’t have to waste your time and energy, as Alastor would phase it, on other unworthy serial killers

But all good things must come to an end. You were diagnosed with an incurable disease. Alastor used his fame and wealth to find you the best doctors and gave you the best treatment, yet you were getting no better with time. You didn’t have long to live and both of you can’t stand for that. The two of you were about to get married and everything would be all the more better!

“Love.” Alastor held your hand, the other held his signature weapon. “My Muse, are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” You smiled up at him innocently. It was a request before you were killed by something you’d regret and detest. No way were you dying from that. “Please, show me your first hunt.”

Out of nowhere, Alastor took out a hunting knife and jabbed it into the side of your stomach, it didn’t hit any major organs or blood vessels. You instantly fell back, immediately gripping onto your side to keep the blood loss at a minimum. You looked up to Alastor, the loving look changed

“My father was my first prey. I stabbed him like so.” Alastor explained, then he pointed his shotgun in your face, “And then I gave him hope that he can escape.”

You kicked the gun out of his hold and got up, running deeper into the forest. A gunfire rang behind you and pain came to your left shoulder. You hit into a tree when your right ankle was shot through. Stumbling into the ground as everything became blurry. When you came too, the barrel of the gun was once again in your face

“I caught up to him and I did to you now.” Alastor narrated. “And fired.”

“And that was our love story.” You sighed dreamily as you finished the last of your tea, putting it down on your saucer. “Married and happy~”

The members of the hotel all stared at you with horrided looks, save for Niffty as she seemed to be taking notes for her own bad boy catching.

“But he killed you!” Vaggie exclaimed.

“I asked him too! He rejected it so many times that I loss count! Well, not really, but you get the idea.” You mused as you snapped your fingers, making a tea pot appear and refill your cup. Sipping it with grace and a small smile. “It’s my dream to be killed by a serial killer, you see, but none gave me that spark like Alastor. Honestly,” You lowered your tea, staring into the surface of the liquid to see your own reflection, you don’t understand what ‘look in your eye’ you got like Alastor does, “I’m forever grateful that Alastor made the first move to confess. Else I’d never have such a fulfilling life!”

Angel gave you a disgusted look, “That’s messed up on so many levels.”

Static came as pressure built in the room, while you sat comfortably in your seat, drinking your tea. The shadows twisted and rose to form your darling husbands enraged with radio dials for eyes and voodoo symbols around him. “Dear Angel, what did you say about my darling wife’s words?”

Angel hide behind Charlie and Vaggie as he peeked his head out, looking into your direction as if to beg for your help. 

You smiled, “He means messed up in a good way. You need to keep up with the modern terms, love.”

Alastor snapped to you, his demonic aura all gone as he took your hand and kissed it like it would break with the slightest force. “And forget the wonderful time when we met? Never.”

Note: Hehe, added a bit of more formal writing for the ending. That's what I usually write in, this bullet-point format is new to me but very fast to write everything I want with limited time~ (⚈ᴥ⚈)

Circe Y.

MASTERLIST

Taglist: (the people who wanted a part 2 for this)

@suya-x-syx

@speedycoffeedelight

@just-here-reading

[lukolabrainrot]

Just some thoughts

After everything yesterday, I've been thinking about this...

So I think most of us in the Lukola community have now identified how both L/N publicly go to bat for each other, but they DON'T do this with some of the other people they have been publicly linked to recently. And this got me thinking about the Fallon interview. Now I want to say these are just my THOUGHTS AND THEORIES based on everything I've seen, but this is what I'm thinking...

Now, yes, that interview was definitely damage control that was scheduled after the backlash from papgate. When the interview originally aired, I really wasn't giving it more weight than PR damage control. But after everything I know now, and everything from this weekend, here are some of my current thoughts/theories:

L made VERY sure to include N in that interview and try to clear up the rumors that papgate happened because he doesn't care about N and/or wanted to overshadow her and undermine their season. And based on Fallon's response, I don't think L mentioning N was planned tbh. However, it's hard to know 100%. But what is interesting is that L didn't then (and has yet) to address ANY of the rumors, theories, and hate circulating around A...

BUT, regarding N, he wants the world to know he's the Ken to her... BARBIE. Now based on how L kind of trailed off at the end and didn't finish that sentence, I believe that he realized he had maybe said too much, ON NATIONAL TELEVISION 🙃 And Fallon's response of kind of like Um okayyy L, also signaled to me that this was impromptu.

Now, let's dissect the Ken statement a little bit (outside of them talking about Barbie). I think L's ultimate wish with saying this and bringing up N is that he wanted people to know how much he RESPECTS, LOVES, AND ADMIRES N, and that they are partners and he never wants to try and "outshine" her. Yes, he was talking about Bridgerton, but he also SPECIFICALLY wanted people to know his thoughts on N. Just think about that for a second 🤔

Now yes, he DID call N his coworker when talking about her. But let's be honest. WHAT WAS HE SUPPOSED TO SAY?? Everyone had come to the conclusion that he had a girlfriend atp (even though he and his team have NEVER confirmed this). People were also confused because of the wild chemistry that they saw for months between L/N during the PR tour (which was real- if you still call THAT PR, I don't know what to tell you). But L wasn't going to be addressing these complexities with N on national TV. He already realized he was a little too obvious about the Ken statement, which is why he trailed off. But he needed the world to know that he and N were good! I've said this multiple times, but there is a LOT that L/N need to probably figure out IN PRIVATE and on their OWN TERMS. We gotta just let them cook, and give them time.

We know that the Fallon interview didn't really fix anything, and he continued to get so much hate that he basically disappeared from SM for 2 months. And I've just been wondering that if people had actually LISTENED to the things L/N were saying about each other after papgate, if things would have ended up VERY different in this situation...

[the-booty-crusader]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TIMOTHY JACKSON DRAKE!! ANOTHER YEAR OF BEING 17 WHOOP WHOOP!

I’ve only known he existed for a little over a year but Tim Drake as a character very literally changed my life.

I was in a rather weird place in my life, stuck in a job I felt nothing for and no real interests besides the usual (gaming, anime, you know the drill) and a comic I felt no real joy in making at the time. Then I got into the Danny Phantom fandom. While there I realized A LOT of the fics were Batman crossovers (which, at the time, was my least favorite superhero of all time believe it or not). Reluctantly I decided to read it and had some funny first-time misconceptions (Nightwing? Is that a nickname for Batman? Wait but Nightwing and Batman are talking to each other here, let me google— who is this latex wearing man. Wait the FIRST Robin? THERE WAS MORE THAN ONE?!)

I remember slowly getting more interested in the whole thing and even writing a crossover myself that got wildly popular for absolutely no reason (well it did play into every at-the-time popular cliche lol) and then…. i realized this Red Robin kid fit my usual “favorite character” mold. Spent long amounts of time being incredibly lonely, mentally unstable, covers up likely depression and parent issues (abandonment) with whackiness. So I started reading and reading and reading and (comic nerds will get so mad at me for this) fell platonically in love with (fanon) Tim Drake! I just wanted to dissect his mind, figure out why he was just…. Like THAT.

So reignited my interest in psychology, which, after an injury made my work unfeasible for me to do for a long time, I decided to pursue.

I decided to go for applied psychology too, although it did not exactly pan out… so instead I went for Social Work which I will be starting in September.

Without Tim Drake, I would likely have stuck with my old job even though I was injured, and probably made it worse.

I made friends in this new community I found and have been creating many fun stories!

All in all, thanks Tim Drake for being an unhinged, lonely little shithead, and thank all of you for being a wonderful community!

[sgiandubh]

Hola, hola! Pregunta de novata asombrada: De veras se casó con ese señor? Habláis de certificado de matrimonio que alguien se molestó en buscar? OMG...

Dear Novata Asombrada Anon,

En cuanto a todos mis anónimos hispanos, espero que no te importe que te contestaré en inglés, como muestra de cortesía hacia la gran mayoría de mis lectores. Gracias y aquí vamos con la traducción de tu pregunta. Y, para que no se me olvide, ¡bienvenida!

Hello, hello! Question from a shocked newbie: Did she really marry that man? Are you talking about a marriage certificate that someone bothered to look for? OMG…

Good morning and thank you for asking - you are not the only one today, it would seem. This question is making the rounds again (why?) and let's call this a (fortunate?) coincidence. The Marriage Certificate (MC) was the equivalent of the Great Christian Schism between Rome and Byzantium, in this fandom, mind you. Depending on your own take on the S&C Saga, it has been dreaded, expected, announced with great confidence and actively researched by fans, who simply took advantage of a very relaxed and transparent UK legislation, allowing for basically everyone to order a certified copy by email or snail mail, for a small fee.

The first fan aggressively trumpeting it online was (correct me if I am wrong) an ex-shipper who now goes by the handle of @brian-in-finance, also known as BIF, also known as Kidneystone. In her pedantic and arrogant little voice, she made a point of honor in dissecting absolutely every single detail of that dutifully certified piece of paper issued by the British General Register Office (GRO). A second, short-lived account, @hurleyburly, ordered the same paper and posted it on Tumblr, this time pudically hiding some details under a makeshift post-it. The usual fandom fortunetellers thought the handwriting on that 'post-it' was eerily similar to S's own, but we'll leave it at this. Although, I have to immediately add, I would not discount this possibility. A third prominent shipper account, @boyneriver-fraser, ordered it and made pathetic public amends over her previous shipping stance. Some others imitated them and received the exact same paper, followed by a seemingly endless trail of wrath, confusion and wailings.

People were understandably shocked, hurt and in definite anger over this. Many disembarked the ship, considering they had been either blind/idiot or cynically fooled by our Dynamic Duo, eager to sell the show. Speculation went rife. Some even tried to go the extra mile and believe they found out even more inconsistencies. I shall not speak on their behalf, simply because I was not here at the time and had no idea These Two will become such an (often invading) point of interest in my own life.

But irrespective of any inconsistencies, this paper legally exists. As such, it has legal effects that cannot and should not be discounted. I have always maintained it, as a professional. Likewise, I have consistently explained the Ibiza episode might be anything you could think of, from a romantic (?) picnic on a parking lot with a bird featuring a strange toupee (as per C's tweeted chirp), to a non legally binding handfasting ceremony (remember, LOL, 'some things are just for' Them). I have explained very early after my arrival why I do not think a Spanish marriage was in the cards. This is my final word about that #CarparkIbiza fanfic:

[Link: https://www.tumblr.com/sgiandubh/723029524897529856/i-have-asked-a-few-very-popular-bloggers-this?source=share - July 16, 2023]

More clearly put, national Spanish legislation requires the two foreign citizens to be residents in Spain, if they want to get married there. British consulates do not perform marriage ceremonies, either. And cross-border marriage rules in Europe, at the time applicable to a not yet Brexited UK, would have mandatorily required a transcription of the marriage papers in Britain. This is not the USA, where you can just go to Vegas, have your knot tied by an Elvis lookalike and divorce the next (hungover) morning. Or go to Tijuana and do what Sophia Loren and Carlo Ponti did in 1957, to great (bigamous) scandal. Rules are different. Rules exist, as stupid and cold as they might look. And one more time - they have tangible consequences.

At this point in time, you might logically ask yourself why I am still here. Is it because of the feeling of power and self-importance, as some nasty Anons remind me every single day? Is it because of the formidable people I have met in here? Yes, it is also because of them, but not only because of them, of course. And as far as any feeling of power and self-importance go, let's just say it's ridiculous to think so.

The reason I am still here is both simple and complicated to understand: a paper, even certified, does not a marriage make. Mark me, Anon: there is nothing (I repeat: nothing) normal about this one. There are secrets and lies and inconsistencies and gaslighting galore. The shippers know it. The Antis/Mordor know it. The Fencers know it. And every single one of these broad factions apparently has ample supplies of popcorn. And, as far as we go, champagne bottles stashed, plus a firm decision to have a Global Lollapalooza on the Internet the day this awkward situation would come to an end.

I have tried to answer your very legitimate question the best I could. I do not believe in sugarcoating or hiding anything. What I do believe in, is the power of critical thinking and the ability to coldly analyze facts, even if they do not encourage fantasy. You would be surprised of the things that do not click, in that official Narrative. Important things, not speculation. My blog primarily deals in this kind of stuff: things that do not click and paint a very different story than the one officially being peddled around.

And now, dear Shocked Newbie Anon, you are free to disembark, if you think I am still lying to you (what for, may I ask? just to receive every single day violent garbage into my Inbox?). But if you choose to stay with us, the tea is always brewing, somewhere. And mind you, it's often the finest Oolong you could find, because I honestly believe that we have the most formidable and unexpected assortment of witty minds and strong characters, in here.

[aiscapades]

dissecting the lost in limbo demo and speculating about literally everything!!

this is just me being insane and connecting dots that probably don't actually connect. assmaster made similar connections i did so i feel a little less silly abt this! :)

just. hear me out

the seer

firstly,

amon is that you

who is the one between? pride? or the tower entity? is the seer on pride's side or the tower's??

now what the hell does our grandma have to do with any of this. does she actually know anything or is she just superstitious and kinda sorta suspects something. she's been working for DECADES to dispel the darkness that hangs over faybourne? FOR DECADES? do you mean trying to convince mc to leave? because she knew all along something would happen to us? + if another dialogue option is chosen, the seer says "life has tried to bend you to the ways of others, and still... you have prevailed." which in my mind basically translates to "even though you moved away, you came back. as you were destined to do." mc says they think they're here by pure chance. the seer says "the one between doesn't believe in such a thing... that you are here today before me, just like they predicted... it can be nothing if not divine [...] providence." so we are absolutely destined for this by some higher power.

oh,, WERE we torn between two worlds. OH WERE WE NOW-

brother (lysander) sees a curse. seer (lazaro) sees a blessing. does the brother see faybourne as cursed bc it suffers unwanted effects of the tower ? or is it simply a curse (i.e nuisance) bc it is producing wanderers for pride (or the tower)? whose side is lysander on? whose side is lazaro on??? does the tower want to consume limbo? also the firstborn (human realm)?? is this why the seer views it as a blessing? do they want these worlds to merge or fall apart all together? is the connection between faybourne and limbo the source of their abilities? i just assume they're originally from limbo, but maybe not. i just wonder why one sees it as a curse and the other sees it as a blessing. (i'm rlly simplifying these characters & their possible motivations lol)

interesting. so the town of faybourne is directly related to limbo. linked. parallels. reflections.

"the scar in limbo's chest" is that the tower? or could it mean something else more metaphorical, like a betrayal?

"for the benefit of both realms" interesting....... is lazaro limbo-born but residing in the firstborn?? is lysander a capitalist

ALL THIS TIME, i'm thinking the seer is on pride's side. but here he is telling us to fight against him! and the seer says "this wasn't supposed to happen! this wasn't part of the deal!" did pride betray them by telling us to fight? we were sent to limbo--was that not their goal? (were they instead trying to disconnect us from the tower? magically protect us? what else was this ritual for?) or did they just not expect to be hurt in the process? * this is all assuming ??? is pride. more on that later

limbo

when the realm turns red w/ hatred, the silhouette almost resembles envy (the hair!) before returning to the original style. young pride? envy? ?????

FURTHER... the tower entity (the narrating voice mc hears) calls this silhouette (represented by ???) the betrayer. pride has betrayed the tower in some way. more on this in a moment.

+ envy is also a traitor (via treason, iirc)

is this a connection? is this why nobody cares about our wound. are we gonna be healed. or was that a one time thing?? were we simply being stitched back together from the inside even after entering limbo? freaky nonetheless..

i speculated a lot on WHO wanted us sent to limbo. but what's interesting is that it seems we land just outside the borders of the woods beyond--a dangerous place clearly marked by the red ropes. mc wanders downhill, however, too close to this border, maybe even going past it and deeper into danger. + later on, it's mentioned that the voidbound have unexpectedly wandered past this border. if we are sent here by some godlike being, be it pride or the tower, why have they sent us into danger? was it pure chance where we'd fall out of the sky? or did pride want us somewhere safe and isolated enough, but we wandered away + the voidbound situation has worsened? did the tower want us in its reach the moment we fell into limbo? the tower wouldn't want us to die. right?? pride wouldn't want us to die! he scolds us when we do..... right???

the voidbound (this is where i get crazy)

now i watched fullmetal alchemist brotherhood as a kid and it forever defined the rest of my life. the themes of creating new lifeforms from scratch, humans trying to attain godhood in this sense, homunculi and other half-formed monstrosities gross me out and scare me in the best way. when i first saw the voidbound in the demo, i immediately thought of the mannequin soldiers (gore warning!). this is why the line "it holds itself like a scared little kid" stood out to me so much. are these voidbound, these disgusting creatures made of melted flesh and mismatched body parts, the children of the tower entity? did the tower entity try to create children the way pride did? did pride sabotage them? is the tower a scorned lover or a sibling (parallel to lysander & the seer)? FURTHER... did pride create limbo in the image of the firstborn (the human realm)? is this why he is called father pride? we know envy isn't their real name, so is it some kind of dishonor or punishment to be named after your greatest sin? did pride see himself a god and therefore create life? did the tower try as well and failed?

the one between

OK SO he did not like that. but i cannot tell if it's bc HE IS "the one between" or if it's bc the TOWER ENTITY is. i thought that because it's his silhouette guiding us to limbo, reforming our body, bringing us back to life if we die to the voidbound, he must not be "the one between." bc if he is, he'd know the seer was sending us to limbo. he'd know about the ritual. instead of an interrogation, there would've been celebration. "guys my new wanderer just got here!! check 'em out!!" but instead we were threatened, questioned, and treated like a prisoner. like we were the enemy. so who was the silhouette? who is the one between? whose wanderer are we? does he know mc is under the influence of the tower? i don't think so. it seems only xal knows (unless pride is hiding things). does he not expect his wanderer to be under the tower's influence? is this where the ritual went wrong? were we meant to be sent to limbo all along, but pride didn't know about our connection to the tower? did the tower plant this seed decades ago, waiting for the moment we found ourselves in limbo? to use us as a weapon against pride? is every wanderer connected to the tower? is that what makes them the wanderer? is every wanderer the fabled "wanderer of worlds" ara talks so highly about, or are we the only real-deal hero?

this bit of dialogue is so interesting to me. obvious god makes humans and garden of eden corruption via humans committing sins references here. pride wanted to create a world in the image of the human realm but free from sin. a perfect version of the firstborn. he was only meant to keep watch over the universe and he thought himself god enough to create a whole new world. does his name make sense or what also interesting they used the word "watchtower" ..... and they pronouns for the one between. but maybe that's just to keep the identity of them secret.

we are not the first wanderer. and if mc continues to die, it's clear we will not be the last. but the game ends when we die. the story ends. this wanderer has to be under the influence of the tower. this is what makes us different from all other wanderers. this is what allows us to not only make it to limbo but to survive in limbo. because we are enacting the will of the one between.

interjection: going back to my fullmetal alchemist connection... if wanderers come to limbo and die immediately, and we as the newest wanderer landed just outside the tower, and when we die, we are dragged into void goop... are the voidbound the reanimated, cobbled-together remains of past wanderers? i want this to be true going off this idea, we as the wanderer are a child of the tower :) so it's like romeo and juliet when we fall in love with one of pride's children! <3

back to regularly scheduled programming: is this why pride reacts in FEAR when we mention the one between? not offense or pleasant surprise. "his calm countenance is shattered by the grip of fear." we aren't supposed to know this name, are we?

if ??? is pride, then he knows his wanderer is under the tower's influence. he knows we are being sent to limbo. if ??? isn't actually pride...

he wouldn't know our intentions. is it just a past manifestation of him? a younger him? like a flashback, caught in time? is it (one of?) his god form(s), while the pride we meet in limbo is his physical "mortal" form? or is it the tower in disguise? WHAT IS GOING ON?? also.. "breaking into my sacred chest"? remember the seer mentioning "the scar in limbo's chest" earlier? i cannot tell if this is just chest (box)/chest (body part) and i'm reading too far into it or if this is very very clever writing to disguise smth.... is chest referring to faybourne in one and limbo in the other? we've already established these two places are intrinsically linked so it's not strange they'd be referred to with the same word. adding onto this, i also noticed the human realm where mc comes from is referred to as the firstborn and the city mc lived in is faybourne. i think that's a clever way of helping players understand they're the same realm--if that was intentional :)

this post is like 98% questions bc honestly idk what is going on (in the best way). the characters' motivations seem obvious one moment then i think way too hard abt it and suddenly everything is flipped. i just wanna know who the good/bad guys are bc that'll clear up a bunch!! honestly it's rlly fun not knowing who to trust/what side MC is actually on. i hope the tower's influence makes us do some questionable things :3

if you made any other connections or have any theories pls lmk!!!

[pinegreenapples]

Radiostatic fic recs part 2!

Hello again! I'm back with more fic recs! You can find the first post here. It has been updated to reflect what unfinished works have been finished. As always, be respectful of the authors and thank them for their work! Happy reading!

Finished

Killer Ex

Alastor and Vox used to date. At the scene of one of his latest crimes, Alastor finds something of Vox's. He pays his old flame a visit.

your vice is a locked room

I like this one a lot! It has some really funny one liners. Alastor's rut hits him and he finds he can't get Vox off his mind. He seeks Vox out and they clash together.

>Run Vox.EXE

I love the portrayal of the programs and the idea of Vox using programs to supplement himself. When Alastor disappeared, Vox became more reliant on his programs. Now that he's back, Alastor hates Vox's programs and wants for his friend to stop hiding behind them.

Animal Urges and Indulgences AND Aggression and Vivisection

These two pieces are connected and delightfully dark! Vox likes to perform ritual dissections for Alastor. Alastor finds it to be the only thing that arouses him enough for sex. They both do not waste the opportunity to enjoy the moment.

And You Know, It's Cause You're Beautiful

Alastor gets dosed with love potion and seeks Vox out for some relief. They have a wonderful night together.

Shall We Begin

Alastor uses his magic to connect to Vox's nervous system and fuck him. This piece is romantically one-sided.

What Makes You So Special?

This one's cute and sweet! The Vees collaborate with Asmodeus to open an Ozzie's in Pride. Alastor sings a song that finds both Vox and Alastor tangled in each other's arms at the end of the night.

Radiostatic Trilogy

Now I know this title is unassuming, but this series is very good! Alastor goes into heat while live on air. Vox was waiting for him to finish his broadcast and ends up helping him through his heat.

I'm Not A Saint (But I Could Be If I Tried)

Vox sacrificed himself to save Alastor and ended up in Heaven. Unfortunately for Heaven, he's not interested in being a perfect angel when his love is down below.

i want your violence, your silent sedation

Years ago, Vox killed Alastor on live television. Except that he didn't-he kept Alastor alive and dependent on him with no one the wiser.

Coal Black Heart

Vox has a meeting with Valentino and Alastor gets possessive. It ends poorly for them both.

Territory dispute

Alastor set a firm rule years ago when he became an overlord-no deer sinners were allowed in Pentagram City, so why is there one working at Vee Tower?

Error 404: Radio Demon Not Found

Years ago, Alastor made a website for his radio show. Vox finds it and helps bring him into the 21st century.

Calculated Risk

Alastor and Vox get drunk one night and Vox finally gives in to the desire to make Alastor his. With the morning comes regret and an unexpected confession that changes everything. Note: This fic contains dubious consent that seems to be noncon at first!

Happy Anniversary

Vox has a very special surprise for Alastor for their anniversary. Alastor is extremely touched by Vox's thoughtfulness.

Roasted Venison Haunch

Alastor decides to make venison for Vox. Vox is enjoying the time together, especially when he can be a little shit about it.

Late Night Partner

Alastor goes to his favorite bar and finds an enterprising young demon there waiting for him.

Fetch Quest

Alastor contracts I.M.P. to go to IKEA to find a blahaj for Vox's birthday.

Escort Mission

After Alastor's high praise of I.M.P.'s services, Vox contracts them to escort them on an anniversary dinner to Ozzie's.

How do you want your Radio Demon?

Valentino sets up a special night for Vox with one of his hookers. It's everything and yet nothing like what Vox really wants.

You took me to Hell, too

After being rejected by Alastor, Vox goes to a bar to drink away his sorrows. A freshly dead Velvette makes his acquaintance.

you get me closer to god

Alastor and Vox try out hypnotism in the bedroom.

You're on the Air

This one is by the beloved rillyrillo, author of the Safe with Me series! This piece is a short and sweet human AU. Alastor hosts a live podcast/radio show and allows time for callers to ask him questions. Vox calls in regularly.

long run the fox

An adorable little regency AU! Alastor is an eligible bachelor who is tired of the season's balls. His mother engages him in a wager to find at least a companion of some sort if he does not want to marry. Alastor is certain he'll win until he meets a peculiar gentleman by the name of Vox.

Signals Lost and Found

This series is a sequel to the fic Competing Frequencies, which I have not read. However, the series stands up really well by itself and has an excellent take on the consequences of Alastor's fight with Adam. Charlie hosts an activity where the residents have to make a list of people they have put before themselves. Alastor finds himself putting Vox on that list much to his chagrin.

Lady's First

This is also by princeliest, author of the 666! series and just as delightfully sexy! Alastor finally caves to Vox's little jokes and goads about them having sex together.

Home Again

This piece is my work! Alastor returns to Pentagram City after his absence and reconnects with both Rosie and Vox.

Backwards Evolution

Vox wakes up to find his head replaced back to the model he fell into Hell with. To make matters worse, while he adjusts he's at the mercy of Alastor who seems to want to play some perverse version of house with him. Now a series!

Mixed Signals

This one's a hilarious sort of crack fic. Alastor and Vox fight with their radio waves and end up accidentally impregnating Alastor. Now, Alastor and Vox must navigate their fraught relationship as the embryo saps away at Alastor's strength.

Empathia

When Alastor disappeared seven years ago, Vox ripped out his own heart and put it in a box. In his place, Vox.exe took control. Alastor notices the drastic changes in Vox's behavior and decides to uncover the root cause.

Fully Booked

This is an ABO fic that plays somewhat into the dynamics. Alastor desperately wants a child of his own so he makes a deal that will make him fertile and decides that Vox is the ideal partner for a strong child. Vox would just really like Alastor to stop fucking around and help him through his heat, goddammit.

Deals Are Meant to Be Broken

Years ago, Vox accidentally sealed himself and Alastor into a terrible pact and ended their friendship. Now, with Alastor's return, the two go through the growing pains of dealing with the fallout of that night.

Taming the Deer

Velvette and Valentino decide that the best next thing is to finally kill the Radio Demon. Vox can't go through with it. Instead, he kidnaps Alastor and attempts to woo him. Alastor is less than impressed.

Unfinished

Every Madman Has His Vice

This one has a really unique premise that I am enjoying immensely! Seven years ago, Alastor tore Vox's chest open and left him for dead. Now, Vox is back, and helping Charlie Morningstar with her new project, the Hazbin Hotel. What happened while he was gone? And how will Alastor react now that Vox has come back to life?

Magnolias Grow Best with Entertainment

Alastor is an omega and Vox is an alpha hopelessly pining after him. He decides to try and court Alastor-Alastor takes it entirely the wrong way.

Audio and Video

Alastor and Vox were business partners before Alastor disappeared. When he comes back, he immediately ropes Vox into helping him with the hotel. Shenanigans ensue.

A Deer Watcher's Odyssey

This one's fun and cute! Vox decides he's going to destroy Alastor emotionally by instigating a romantic relationship with him. Except, perhaps his actions are not motivated entirely by hate. Alastor finds himself curious and flattered as he becomes the object of a secret admirer's affection.

No Audience to Perform For

I love the way this is written! The interactions between Vox and Alastor feel very accurate! During the next extermination, Angelic Security fails astronomically and Vox suffers the consequences. Only, somehow, he's still alive, and trapped in Alastor's room.

Dapple Rose

This one explores an interesting premise of Alastor being the one obssessed with Vox! Vox and Valentino come to the hotel to discuss a business proposal with Charlie. Alastor takes this as an opportunity to secure Vox-the one that got away-back under his wing. Vox does not take it well.

Once Bitten, Back for More

This is written by prince-liest, and they wrote the 666! series so you know this is good! Vox has been following a topside crime podcast for years when the host suddenly dies. Vox wastes no time in finding him and trying to make him a friend, and possibly more. Alastor would just like something to make sense down here and for the TV man to maybe be a little less creepy.

Of Candied Pine and Cherried Smoke

If you liked the Safe with Me series, this is by the same author, rillyrillo! Vox's heat suppressants stop working because he's built up too much of a tolerance. In a panic, he contacts the only person in Hell that knows he's an omega. Alastor has never been affected by those base urges, except now Vox is working through 50 years of heat suppression and doing it in Alastor's very own bed.

Contested

Alastor contests his contract and wins his freedom. However, his freedom is still tied to the paper and he must find a way to properly dissolve his contract. Vox just wants to help his old partner out of whatever mess he's created.

His Chains

This is an intriguing take on their simultaneous respect and disdain for each other. Alastor's soul is sent for auction and Vox can't pass up the opportunity. Alastor dreads what his new dealer will put him through but Vox surprises him.

A Bad Deal

Please be advised, this fic involves rape. In an attempt to cheat Vox, Alastor offers his soul in a deal. His dealer takes offense and releases him from their contract, forcing him into the deal with Vox. This one is one-sided, wherein Vox takes what he wants and Alastor suffers for it. However, it is very well written and compelling!

Raw End of the Deal

Please be advised, this fic involves rape. Alastor's dealer has always taken a sick sort of satisfaction in using his tentacles against him. With the destruction of his microphone stand, Alastor finds himself repeatedly "encouraged" to find a way to fix it. Vox witnesses one of these moments and decides to take advantage.

A Gentle Touch

If you liked Addicted, check this fic out! It's written by the same author, dancingdog! A recently deceased Alastor is tricked into selling his soul and tasked with bringing other overlords to a mysterious bookshop. One night, he decides to go after Vox. Vox manages to impress him and escapes with his life and a burning curiosity for who the Radio Demon really is.

The Pictures Came and Broke Your Heart

After Alastor's fight with Adam, Vox seeks him out and they end up having sex. Angel catches it all on the hotel's camera feed as he battles his late night insomnia. With his new blackmail material, he demands Alastor give him all the juicy details and accidentally forces Alastor to confront his own feelings for the first time in decades.

candlelight

Heaven decides to implement a test of sorts to gauge if sinners really can change. This test is to put two well known rivals together into the same living space for an indeterminate amount of time. Vox and Alastor find themselves slipping back into old routines as they spend more time around each other.

For my friends who liked the last post, I hope this finds you!

@rae-does-stuff, @sassy-radio-hazbin-queen, @motherarts, @freakshowmemories, @bratpfanne-of-doom, @superpersonpatroleclipse , @nocakesformissedith , @coins-that-never-land , @matrixbearer2024 , @dancingafterdark ,@pedi-bug , @starlightthedaydreamer , @unnecessarilysalty , @morallygreysoul, @hazbinsillynight , @saml27 , @floral-moon-light , @therealangeldust69 , @speedyvoidthing , @glassrosepen , @monstrousvoice , @legreenorange, @thedragonforest , @mystudentclodeagle , @tarotthrawn , @imdoned, @alice-on-elm-street , @camillekarnage , @dancingthere , @spinning-all-your-silk , @lucifer-morn-666 , @mysterybooks-world , @sqwdkllr , @maskmasters , @murasakirose080 ,@cpyclopse , @likzenip , @hiddlydiddly , @phoenixdemonqueen , @alice-after-dark , @fallenemma , @pinkpoffin80-blog , @pro-crastinator14 , @marsbabysblog , @dible-png , @imma-potatoo , @that-one-fangirl123 , @ratpink , @webstertome , @tigersharktheautisticseawing , @i-want-more-coffee , @diequeeria , @frenchmacaroni , @idsrv2bleed , @flyingcheeseburgerfromvenus , @taemakesart , @av0ryx22 , @samm-w4s-hereee , @classystudentmiracleus , @realmofvoxtv , @huzoz , @queenbee5436 , @ok-average24 , @bookworm-blogs , @thesexydancingcrepe , @yurisakaki13 , @animefanboy48 , @sw5t , @lilly3683 , @hiemaldesirae , @ghosttai , @nornpai , @goodusernamepending , @sillysimplysilky , @somebody-in-this-world-who-lives , @whimsicalmacabre , @sassycandypoetry , @kamdensl , @morninvio , @twyisontheline , @tristala , @morfanerina , @achondrit3 , @yourlocalpurplelover , @mcarrefour , @enderianpearlz , @hardhideoutcollector , @motherarts , @witchtig