#yes you can do that. if you want your blorbo turning ‘better’

[the-liars-art]

Fix-it HCs that always assume the character turning loyalist as “redemption” make me sick

[aliceramblez]

Dating the Hazbin Hotel Residents 😈

Tags: GN!Reader, Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Mentioned Mature Topics (ie. Suicidal Thoughts, Alcohol Abuse, SA, etc), Spoilers For The Show, etc.

A/N: Ahhh yes, more brainriot for the pile 😌 I was more of a Helluva gal before the show aired, but now I gotta say these blorbos are a dear part of my heart! Hopefully y'all enjoy these as much as I did writing them!

Consider following my main blog @taruchinator for more solid content & feel free to leave a request here for future HCs~

Charlie 🌈

When the Happy Hotel first opened its doors and all of Hell started making a mockery of it, you were probably the only one who took it as a sign to try and improve from the low life that you were. It's not like you had anything else to live for, anyway.

As soon as you enter the building, you're immediately greeted by the bubbly Princess of Hell herself (along with a reluctant Angel Dust) who is more than happy to show you around and welcomes you with open arms.

You've never been shown this much kindness and sympathy for your situation before, so it naturally takes you aback and makes you wonder what the catch is. Turns out there's none and the Princess is probably the only sweet soul to live in this shithole.

As you grow closer, she asks you to drop the title and just call her Charlie. She also shares a bit about her situation and how her mother wanted to save sinners from the extermination each year, and now Charlie felt like it was her duty to continue this legacy until her dreams came true.

You can't help but feel touched over how much she cares, so you silently vow to yourself to help her in any way you can, just like she's done for you.

It doesn't take long before the two of you grow even closer and feelings begin to blossom, but you decide to ignore them since why would a Princess ever like someone like you?

But Charlie proves you wrong yet again, since one day she comes to you a blushing mess and confesses her own feelings, asking if you'd like to go out with her. You can't help but vocalize your shock since she could do so much better than a random sinner. She deserved better, too.

She looks at you with fondness in her eyes. “You've been by my side for so long and supported me every step of the way. Who wouldn't fall for someone like that?”

And thus, you are the luckiest person in Hell because you scored Charlotte Morningstar, and whoever says otherwise can get a knife to their throat.

She's the perfect definition of a sweet and patient girlfriend, never pushing you to do anything you aren't comfortable with (since you really aren't used to such adoration in a romantic relationship), but as soon as you give her the get-go, she'll be sure to shower you with as much affection as she can until the doubts in your mind disappear completely.

You aren't that far behind either. Albeit not as good as her, you do your best to be a comforting partner whenever she needs you. This is especially necessary after an extermination happens, which always leaves Charlie devastated and in need of a hug or words of encouragement because she doubts herself sometimes and wonders if the hotel is even working at all.

You remind her how it brought the two of you together, to which she smiles and agrees that at least something good has come out of it so far.

Vaggie 🎀

Both you and Vaggie used to work in the same legion under Adam with the rest of his exorcists. You knew of each other's existence, but didn't really talk much aside from whatever was needed in the midst of battle.

The day she spares a demon child's life, you're doing your rounds nearby and witness the whole exchange, including Lute coming over and ripping both an eye and Vaggie's wings for showing mercy. You don't know why, but it makes your blood boil.

“HEY! What are you doing?! It was just a kid, why not let it slide?”

And just like that, you become a target of Lute's rage as well, being ripped from your angelic status along with receiving a few nasty cuts, yet surprisingly not as bad as Vaggie herself.

Once the two of you are left to die, you immediately try to tend the girl's wounds with whatever you can. Vaggie can only stare in disbelief at what you'd done and questions why you even did so in the first place—now you were stuck just like she was.

“Guess I just don't like seeing injustice... Who knew Heaven could be so fuckin' shitty?”

You both laugh at the irony of it all, and that's when luck is finally on your side as Charlie finds you in the dirty alley and brings you back to the hotel to heal properly.

For the next three years you two stay at the Hazbin Hotel, helping Charlie in any way you can to try and make her dream a reality since deep down you hope that despite Heaven's corrupt system, there can be a small chance that souls can be redeemed. You hide the fact that you're ex-Anges though, since you don't wanna cause unnecessary drama.

During this time period, the two of you become better friends, having your own inside jokes regarding things you didn't particularly enjoy from your time as Angels, as well as learning more about one another.

You're the one to come to terms with your feelings first and decide to lay them on the table for Vaggie to see—she's always been a straight-to-the-point kind of gal, so if you're about to be rejected, might as well have it be done quick. But of course, she replies with her own declaration and desire to give a relationship a shot, which you're ecstatic about!

It's a bit hard at first since you never got to see much of romantic relationships in Heaven while training for murder every year, but you try and make it work. Both you and Vaggie work endlessly to try and make the other happy, and it only makes you fall for each other even more.

Also Charlie is your go-to wingwoman who will be there to give you the best advice to try and woo your girlfriend. She ships you two so hard.

Angel Dust 🕸

Working at a porn studio under an Overlord who owns your soul can be exhausting. You know this better than anyone since everyone who works under Valentino has contracts that won't let you get far with a leash. This is especially true with your friend Angel Dust.

You know about the things Valentino does to the spider demon—hell, everyone in the studio probably knows, but know better than to say anything about it. You're always there for Angel after particularly rough shoots, doing your best to comfort him in any way you can, though there isn't much you can do given you're in the same spot.

When he tells you he's moving to Princess Charlie's Hazbin Hotel, you're so happy for him! At least that will give him some distance from Valentino and his disgustingly filthy hands when he's not working.

This unsurprisingly doesn't bode well with the Overlord, causing him to throw fits of rage around the studio when Angel leaves for the day. You can't help but make a snarky comment that you definitely regret moments later.

“Can one blame him for wanting space from such an overbearing asshole?”

Without his favorite stress toy around, you end up paying the price for such comments. The kind of pain and suffering he puts you through is completely different from what you're used to. Is this the stuff he does to Angel? He leaves you naked, bruised and bloody in your room, and all you can do is muster what little strenght you have left to head for the Hazbin Hotel.

As soon as the door opens, you immediately tumble forward and start losing consciousness. The last thing you remember is Angel's horrified expression before it all fades to black.

Once you wake up and have been patched up, you explain what happened at the studio, and you could've sworn you saw fire in Angel's eyes as he holds on to you, fearing you might disappear at any moment. He begs you to stay in the hotel with him, and you agree without hesitation.

And so, your new routine of heading to work and then coming back to the hotel becomes blissful, not having to deal with that lunatic mothman more than necessary. You also get to spend time off with your best friend, which is always a plus.

Well, ‘best friend’ might not be the best way to describe it. You'd developed a crush on the spider demon even before this whole incident occurred, and now that you were spending more time with him, it only continued to grow.

With the line of work you two had, romantic relationships didn't seem to be a thing that crossed anybody's mind since why have a permanent partner when you could just go around fucking the hottest people in Hell? But you knew your feelings were far beyond from sexual, but didn't wanna ruin what you already had going for you.

One heartfelt drunken conversation after work however, makes you do a double take—Angel likes you back. And that both scares and excites you. But with both of you going over the pros and cons with each other, you decide to give it a chance.

You make sure to always have Angel's consent when it comes to physical intimacy—anything from holding his hand, to kissing to just cuddling. He jokes about not being a porcelain doll, but deep down you know he appreciates it.

You're also there for the rough nights, when he comes home wanting nothing more than to die again and let the earth swallow him whole. Words of reassurance are spoken and you can only hold him and let him cry as you vow to do anything in your power to stop this from happening again.

Husker 🍺

As one of the first guests of the hotel, like any wayward sinner, you find yourself in the bar more often than you'd like. Alcohol killed you in the first place, yet not even in the afterlife could you seem to pull yourself from its grasp.

It's a somewhat welcome surprise to find out that the bartender is going through a similar struggle. He still serves you drinks and lends and ear whenever he's not busy, but will occasionally drop the words of wisdom to watch your fill.

Eventually you two find yourselves doing this little back and forth and aid each other when you're in your dark places—Husk won't let you near the bottle if he sees you're about to knock yourself out, meanwhile you're there to look after him when he has one too many drinks and can't take care of himself.

Not to say he isn't a good drinking buddy—you've found out most of the gossip around the hotel thanks to this sneaky little cat demon and there's never a dull moment with him around.

You learn about his deal with Alastor during a particularly bad night, when Husk's had one too many and isn't thinking straight. You don't bring it up, but now have an eye open for whenever the Radio Demon drags your friend away.

Angel's the one who brings up your questionable relationship to the surface.

“So... you two like, fuckin' each other, or what?”

Your entire face goes red, and if it weren't for the dark fur you could swear you see Husk looking the same. He's quick to get rid of Angel's nosy ass, but now the seed has been planted in your brain—do you like Husk that way?

After careful consideration, you come to the conclusion that yes, you do. And it's honestly kinda terrifying considering how relationships don't usually work out in Hell, at least from what you've seen. Besides, even if you did try and confess, there was always the possibility of him not feeling the same and just being embarrassed by Angel's comment.

So in an attempt to make your feelings disappear, you stop frequenting the bar. Who knew the best way to stop drinking habits was trying to avoid spending time with your unrequited crush?

But of course, Husk isn't stupid. He sees the change in your behavior and let's it slide for a while, until he eventually corners you and asks what's wrong. You decide to get it all out of the way and tell him how you feel.

To the embarrassment of both of you, he holds your hand firmly between his and darts his eyes toward the corner of the room. “Next time you should ask before going off assuming things, ya got it?”

And so, your glass may have been empty that day, but your heart had never felt fuller.

Sir Pentious 🐍

You meet Sir Pentious when you sign into the hotel, and your immediate thought is just how can this snake man be so adorkable, it should be illegal.

As you greet the other residents and staff, you're quick to strike a conversation with him, which based on his body language he was not expecting. He starts telling you a bit about his weaponry and other contraptions, and you can't help but be fascinated by it.

You're a bit of a tinkerer yourself, albeit you've only dabbled in small scale projects—nothing compared to the massive canons and aircrafts that Pentious seems to be familiar with.

He acts like a kid opening gifts on Sinmas when he talks to you about his inventions, clearly never having anyone show interest before. Eventually he'll even ask for your input on certain smaller projects he wants to work on to help around the hotel, all to thank Charlie for being so kind to him and giving him a second chance. You're obviously eager to help!

You two start spending so much time together that the egg boys have started calling you ‘Boss #2’, much to Pentious' embarrassment and your amusement.

One afternoon once exercises are done for the day, the snake demon seems much more fidgety than usual as he invites you over to his room to continue working on his security system prototype. He's a blabbering mess once he has you sitting down and your heart just can't help but swell at each little syllable.

“Dearest (y/n)... you've, um, well... you are a huge inspiration for my work! A-And I wouldn't have been able to create any of this... without your help. You are kind, and smart and very talented.... and w-well, um I-”

You gotta silence the man with a kiss otherwise you two would be here all day. He's puddy in your hands and you can only giggle in return. “I really like you too, Pen.”

Everyone is either saying they called it or groaning in annoyance because fucking FINALLY, you two were just dancing around each other like idiots. The egg boys are just so happy to have someone else besides Pentious to be in their lives, and will do their best to look out for you just like with their own boss.

So yeah, prepare yourself for some sickeningly sweet gestures from this guy cause he will go above and beyond to get you what you need/want even if it kills him (again). And you can confidently say that you'd do the same in return.

Alastor 📻

After running in the same circles when you were alive, it's no surprise to you to end up in Hell, although you never would've suspected that you'd find yourself in the same place as him. It was honestly a huge relief not having to go through this all by yourself.

As Alastor exerted his dominance over Hell as the Radio Demon, you were powerful enough to be an Overlord yes, but rather liked keeping it on the down low instead of making a spectacle of yourself (Alastor was the one for theatrics anyway). Because of this, only select few knew of your true power and what you were capable of.

Instead, if there was one thing you were known for, it was being the only soul allowed to be close to the Radio Demon without the risk of death.

Yes, Alastor was a sadistic, cold-blooded and egotistical mastermind, but he wasn't a monster. You knew that better than anyone. Although the reactions he had to other demons treating you like a joke or calling you the ‘Radio Demon's Pet’ were not helping his case.

“ł₣ ɎØɄ V₳ⱠɄɆ ɎØɄⱤ ₴ØɄⱠ, ɎØɄ ₩łⱠⱠ ₩₳Ⱡ₭ ₳₩₳Ɏ Ɽł₲Ⱨ₮ ₦Ø₩ ฿Ɇ₣ØⱤɆ ł Ɽł₱ ł₮ ₳₱₳Ɽ₮ ฿ł₮ ฿Ɏ ฿ł₮...”

“Al, chill. You're gonna make them shit their pants.”

After his seven year absence, you immediately noticed something was wrong with him, and wouldn't stop pestering until he told you the truth—A deal he made and how his soul was now bound to someone much more powerful than he was.

You were obviously mortified and started looking into ways to try and find a loophole to this, but alas the Radio Demon would just give you his signature grin and tell you not to worry about it. It was his battle to face.

But of course you're quick to remind him that you've stuck together through thick and thin even in life, so there was no way you were letting him handle this by himself. You work as a team—always have and always will. You engulf him in a hug.

“We're gonna figure this out, Al. I promise...”

The grin remains, but his eyes widen slightly in surprise. He hesitantly returns the embrace, patting your back and wiping the tears you didn't even know you were shedding.

“There there~ To think such a sweet and innocent soul wound up in a gutter like this. I cannot say I complain as long as I have your delightful company beside me.”

And so when he says he has a plan that involves Princess Charlie Morningstar and her new Happy Hotel, you follow along. Whatever fate has in store for you two, you'll be ready.

Also Charlie is a sweetheart who could do no harm. Knowing Alastor, he'll probably do whatever he can here and there to help around for the cause. You also offer your services as an undercover Overlord, much to everyone's surprise when you reveal your status.

The Radio Demon may have a plan, but something tells you it won't involve bloody murder (unless extremely necessary or if someone really pissed him off).

Like you said—he's not a monster.

Lucifer 🍎

You and Lucifer were good friends at the beginning of Creation. While you were stuck with the tedious task of designing blueprints for the new ‘Human Project’ that headquarters had in store, Lucifer's Seraphim status allowed him to bring creations to life with the flick of a wrist, much to your delight and wonder.

His ideas and pitches for Earth were always so entertaining to listen to, and you would do your best to encourage him to show them to the higher ups to get them approved—His mind was just filled with joy and love and wonder that you'd never seen before.

Which was why it was always so disappointing whenever he'd come back and say that he was shut down and even mocked at. How could Heaven shut down such an imaginative mind in the creation of their biggest project yet?

To say you were devastated when you heard about his fall would be an understatement. You mourned the loss of your friend, knowing that he'd done nothing wrong and thinking it wasn't fair to him to receive such punishment just because he cared for the future of humanity.

Thousands of years later, you overhear the plan for Extermination of Hell kind. You didn't mean to walk by, yet here you were, under the direct eye of the Head Seraphims about to be downcast for something you had no control over—just like Lucifer.

“You're all self-entitled pricks! You think you can do whatever you want just because it doesn't follow what you define as good!”

You get a few good arguments before being cast downwards, leaving you in bad shape in a random alley with no wings and no means of escape. That is of course, until destiny seems to be on your side and Lucifer finds you, completely perplexed to see you here at all.

After getting treated, you tell him about the Extermination so he and Hell can prepare. The conversation of you getting cast down by Heaven gets glossed over, but he can feel the fury building up inside him. You were always doing things by the book—how could they do this to you?

Once the slaughter is over, Lucifer gets a meeting with Heaven and secures protection for both his daughter Charlie and you, to which they begrudgingly agree to keep him outta their hair. You can't help but feel touched by this gesture.

He's also quick to offer you a room to stay in, but you compromise by living in a seperate building from him and Charlie so you aren't a bother even though he says you aren't. In fact, ever since Lilith left, he's had to take care of his young daughter all by himself, so he's more than happy when you offer to help.

It doesn't take long for your feelings to start coming into the surface from all those years ago, and you gotta push them away because he's both married and has a child to look after! Besides, why would the King of Hell ever look in your direction?

Eventually though, he brings up the question with nothing but sweaty palms and a customized rubber ducky that says ‘I love you’ whenever you squeeze it. You blush furiously, but can't help but bring up your concerns, not wanting to replace Lilith in his heart. He looks into your eyes and says that he hasn't been as happy as he is now in the past thousand years.

Cue baby Charlie walking in on everything, and she just smiles and goes innocently. “Daddy! Is (y/n) staying home with us now?”

You two can only chuckle at the cuteness of it and you immediately go to hug her. You couldn't believe that you were blessed with such a wonderful family.

[muddyorbsblr]

the final Lady Sharpe part 5: sent away

Series Masterlist See my full list of works here!

Part of the 500 Follower Celebration Requested by: @ellooo0ooo

Summary: Your plans with Thomas are coming to an end as his machine parts arrive and you both head into the city to set into motion Lucille's arrest.

Pairing: Thomas Sharpe x Reader

Word Count: 5.2k (get a drink ready)

Warning/s: 18+ | smut (minors & pearl clutchers exit the room i only ask nicely once); vaginal fingering; oral sex (f receiving); Lucille Sharpe (yes she's a warning) [let me know if i missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: married blorbos are snowed in (oh no how terrible 😈😏); Thomas is a simp for his wife; mutual pining sad blorbos hours

Dick-tionary: smut starts at "If we cannot lay together, then at least let me pleasure you." and ends at "…except one somber truth"

Logically there was no good reason why Thomas would wake this morning in a significantly better mood, considering that he was still stuck in this manor, a death sentence care of his psychotic murderous sister still looming over your head, and tasked with a nightly distraction that even the mere thought of it made his stomach want to turn. And yet somehow, in these few moments when he got to rouse from sleep before you did, getting to really look upon your features at a seemingly peaceful rest while he held you in his arms, there was a contentment that blanketed him and kept him warm despite the biting cold of winter.

If he could keep even at least this after this treacherous endeavor was done with, if he could keep you, then perhaps he could believe himself still deserving of happiness despite all the devastation he'd wrought throughout the years. There was no version of the near future that he could picture where he would be denied the simplest pleasure of getting to see you, perhaps even hold you. And with those thoughts, his mood had begun to sour, fully knowing that that was what awaited him at the end of the road. Dissolution of marriage.

And he couldn't even fault you for that. Why would you wish to stay with him given the context on why he'd chosen to court you? Why would you have any reason to believe him if he could muster up the courage to tell you that he'd fallen irretrievably in love with you and that he wanted more than anything to try to make this marriage work? To make it real?

He traced the back of his finger across your cheekbone, his heart twisting and melting all at once when you smiled and nuzzled your cheek against his chest. "I love you," he whispered, hoping that somehow his message would reach into your dreams. "I don't want you to leave if we make it through this. I wish to stay with you. Wherever you wish to go, I'll happily follow."

You began to stir in his arms, soft groans coming from you as you slowly roused in your husband's embrace. "Hmm?" The baronet's heart caught in his throat when your eyes fluttered open and met his, a soft smile stretching across your face. "Morning..."

He couldn't resist the urge to press a kiss to the tip of your nose, doing his best to fight back the desire to do nothing more than simply to stay in bed just like this when you rewarded him with such a lighthearted, melodic giggling in response. "Good morning, wife."

"Big day today," you mumbled, failing to fight back a yawn as you worked your way out of his embrace to sit up on the bed. "Your machine parts arrive today if your supplier and the postal service is on schedule. I just have to get all the duplicate documents I've had hidden away in your workshop together so I can send them over to my contacts in Scotland Yard." Excitement colored your features as you reached for his hand, giving him a reassuring squeeze. "It's almost over. We actually did it. You're almost free."

Thomas' stomach dropped as the reality of the situation dawned on him, mentally counting back on how long it had been since he carried you in his arms across the threshold of Allerdale Hall and you concocted a plan that might grant him his freedom from Lucille's reign of terror. Three and a half weeks. He would be expecting the notice from the post office any day now. Tears prickled in the back of his eyes as your words haunted him.

You'll be free from me, too.

You seemed oblivious to the darkness that begun to plague him as you bounded your way over to the wardrobe, starting to dress yourself so that you two could grab something to eat. And check on your mail for the day.

Thomas made his way to you, gently placing his hands over yours while you did up the buttons up the back of your dress. "May I?"

"Go ahead," you said breathily, releasing your hold on the stiff buttons. Your husband took his time carefully slipping each stiff button through its loop, softly kissing your temple as he worked his way up your back.

He rushed to grab for your collar piece before you reached for it, making you both break out into light chuckles as he tightened his other arm around you, pressing a kiss to your cheek once he'd successfully grabbed the piece of fabric. "Never pictured you to be the type that had a playful mood, husband," you giggled, righting yourself and gathering your hair in your hands so he could secure the piece around your neck.

Before he could stop himself, he pressed his lips to the back of your neck, the sound of your staggered breathing and faint whimper spurring him on to press another. And another. All so that the words that danced on the tip of his tongue couldn't escape. Come back to bed. I wish to hold you a while longer. I have no desire to leave this room.

And the most dangerous words of all. Words that he never thought he would say to another and fully mean them. I love you. And I wish to spend the rest of my life with you.

"Thomas," you gasped his name like you were fighting for breath, reaching behind you and holding on to him to keep yourself upright. He groaned against your neck when your hand met the bare skin of his stomach. "What's gotten into you?"

His adamant words from many nights ago nearly slipped from his lips. You're my wife. I should be with you. It should be you.

"Can I not simply indulge in greeting my wife--"

The sharp rapping of knuckles on your bedroom door pulled you both harshly out of the moment, worsened by the shrill tone of Lucille on the other end. "If you both dawdle about, breakfast will get cold."

"We'll be down shortly, Lucille, just start without us," you called back, muttering something about mood ruiners. "We should go," you told him with a downhearted exhale, your breath hitching again when it seemed that the last few moments seemed to have no effect on Thomas, who resumed with kissing along the column of your neck. "Thomas, didn't you hear your sister? Breakfast will get cold."

"Then we'll eat it cold, darling," he mumbled, setting your collar piece back down on your dresser so he could wrap his arms around you. He turned you around in his arms, mesmerized as he watched your hair slip from your hand and fall to frame your face. "Have I told you how exquisite you look in the morning light?"

You broke out into a smile, averting your gaze from his as you made a motion to step out of his hold. "Thomas come on, we should go you need to--"

"Or how I think you're absolutely brilliant?" he cut you off, framing your face in his hands before pressing a tender kiss to your lips. Will I ever get to tell you that I've fallen in love with you? he thought to himself, savoring the fleeting moment where you returned his kiss before breaking it, taking a step backward and looking visibly flustered.

There was a long moment of deafening quiet before you spoke again, your tone soft, almost wistful. "If you keep this up, Sir Sharpe, I'll have no choice but to miss you when this is all over." Your expression became guarded, veiling to your husband the poignant fact that you, too, dreaded what would come after today.

The truth was that you already missed him, longed for him, even when he was already within your arm's reach. Just as he longed for you.

"There is still no mail that has come for your wife, Thomas," Lucille seethed the moment she made his way to his side as he fixed some tea for both of you. "I am growing quite impatient, it's nearly been a month and still no correspondence regarding her inheritance has come for her. In fact, no correspondence has come for her at all. As if there isn't a single soul that even cares to check up on her. Keep in touch. Could it be possible, sweet boy, that this Y/N is playing us for fools?"

A lump formed in Thomas' throat at his sister's suggestion, panic rising inside of him knowing how close her speculation actually was to the truth. "She did mention her father was quite the busy man, perhaps he has been overwhelmed with his work and will reach out soon."

"Well the old fool better hurry," she hissed. "The sooner we get what we need from this one, the sooner we can build toward an even better life together. Perhaps even make our way out of this decaying house. Finally let it sink to the ground."

The only better life I can envision is with the woman waiting for me at the dining table, he wanted so desperately to bite back. "Has any correspondence arrived for me, sister?" He struggled to keep his composure, forcing a smile on his face as he faced her cold, calculating features. How could you ever have convinced me that what we had, what you had me do, was love?

She was visibly taken aback by how he diverted the conversation, no longer speaking in a hushed tone and ensuring that you could hear from where you sat. "There--There is. A notice that those parts you ordered for your machine have come in. You'll need to sign for them at the post office."

"Excellent, I can bring Y/N along with me. Make a day of it."

Your face lit up at the mention of the notice. His supplier was perfectly within schedule. The end of your time together truly was drawing near; nearer than he ever wanted. "I would love to come with you to the city, husband," you beamed at him. "There are some letters I wish to send to my family as well. Keep them apprised of what I've been up to since getting married. All about Allerdale Hall and its rich history."

"That sounds like a perfect idea," Lucille told you both through gritted teeth. "I hope you two have a lovely time, then. Do try to get home before the blizzard strikes." Before Thomas made his way back to you, Lucille grabbed his arm in a talon-like grip. "The moment any form of correspondence comes for her, you are to tell me right away, dear brother. My patience can only last for so long."

"Ah, Miss Y/L/N, aren't you quite the sight to behold. How long has it been since you've aided us in a case with your expansive knowledge?" Detective Jeffries, a colleague of yours from Scotland Yard, was there to pick up his own mail from the post office and bumped into you and Thomas right as you arrived.

"Too long, Jeffries. Hopefully not so long that you'd all forgotten that the reason for my prolonged absence has been my acclimation to married life. I actually go by Lady Sharpe now," you politely corrected him, giving his hand a firm shake before gesturing toward your husband. There was a noticeable pinch at your heart calling yourself that. Lady Sharpe. You wouldn't be for long if things worked out according to plan. "I'd like to introduce you to my husband, Sir Thomas Sharpe. Lord of Allerdale Hall."

There was a fleeting moment of pure glee on Thomas' face at your introduction before he settled into a more cordial expression, stepping forward to shake the detective's hand. "Good to meet you, Detective," he greeted, placing his other hand on the small of your back before stepping back to your side. "I shall go see to my deliveries now, darling." Before he walked away and let you catch up with your colleague, he pressed a kiss to your cheek, giving you a soft smile before walking further into the post office for his parcel.

"And here I once recalled a feisty consultant insisting that she'd never fall in love or become the marrying type," Jeffries teased, wagging a finger at you as if to tell you 'I told you so'. "Matrimony becomes you, though, my friend. Both you and your husband are positively radiant with your adoration for one another. It doesn't take a detective to notice that."

His remark sat heavily in your heart, every part of you struggling not to give it away that the words struck a nerve. This marriage was a sham, and it would all be over soon. Thomas was just doing a remarkable job at pretending, and you…you didn't have to. Out here in public, feeding into the image of a newlywed couple happily in love, this was the only time you could let your love for him show. To communicate the sentiment that you would never dare to with words.

"Right well uhm…" You cleared your throat, shaking your head as if to shoo the conversation away. "What you said about aiding you all with a case…that's actually what I came here for. You remember those cases on the board that we could never make any headway on? Enola Sciotti? Edith Cushing? Pamela Upton? All missing persons cases?"

"Don't tell me you were spending your honeymoon investigating these cases, Y/N, that's simply depressing--"

"I didn't actively seek out the information, I stumbled into it," you cut him off, clutching the envelope of documents in your hand with a death grip. "Married into it, really."

Sheer horror colored your friend's features, throwing a look at the baronet currently making small talk with the workers inside as he signed for his parcels. "He--"

"No, Jeffries, not him. His sister. Lucille Sharpe. Right piece of work, that one. Sad to say they're no longer 'missing persons' cases." You placed the envelope into his hands, holding his gaze and hoping that he could see the desperation in your eyes. "These are copies of death certificates, marriage certificates, and money transfers. It paints a morbid timeline that will tell you what happened, what's been happening, behind the doors of Allerdale Hall. I've also made a transcript from recordings I found from a phonograph. One of his former wives caught a confession from Lucille Sharpe. There's a map of the manor in there as well, showing you where you'll find all the original documents and the recording cylinders."

"Y/N, if this is all true, you're not safe in that manor." His tone was laced with more than understandable concern. "Neither of you are."

"That's why I need you to get those documents to Scotland Yard as soon as you can and come to Allerdale Hall to arrest Lucille," you told him, your own fears starting to creep into your words as they stumbled out of your mouth. "She's already getting stir-crazy waiting for an inheritance to come to me that doesn't even exist. We've only barely managed to convince her that there's a windfall coming my way, but it won't be long until she grows impatient enough to kill me anyway and start fresh. Jeffries, we can't let her harm another woman for the sake of satiating her bottomless pit of hunger for money and status."

Now the detective clutched the documents tightly in his grasp, giving you a nod before flagging down a carriage. "We should have a squad there tomorrow. Until then you two stay safe. Perhaps try and spend the night elsewhere, just to make sure." He reached out to you, both of you grasping the other's forearm in a show of trust and respect. "Thank you, Y/L/N--I mean, Sharpe. You're about to bring closure to a whole lot of distraught families with this."

You only nodded, fear for your own safety creating a lump in your throat you found near impossible to swallow. "Let's focus on putting Lucille behind bars before we focus on what comes after. Thank you, Jeffries." You closed the door to the carriage and tapped on the wooden panel twice. "To Scotland Yard!" you called out to the coachman, who tipped his hat to you before the carriage began to move.

As you made your way back into the post office, you tried to force a wide smile onto your face, stomping down any fears you had for what awaited you once you made your way back to Allerdale Hall. And any anticipation you had for the heartache that would accompany your inevitable divorce.

Once you were within arm's reach, Thomas reached for your hand, pulling you towards him and wrapping his free arm around your waist before softly kissing your lips. "There you are, sweetheart." He quickly noticed the absence of the envelope from your hands. "It's done?"

You gave him a tight-lipped smile. "It's done," you confirmed. "We really did it."

The entire time that Thomas inspected the coil springs and other machine parts that were delivered for him, he kept his arm around your waist, his hand over yours and lacing your fingers together. His face was a mix of emotions, the plainest to see being relief, no doubt from the realization steadily creeping in that in a few short days he truly would be free from all of this.

There was a disquiet in his eyes, too. One that he tried so hard to mask, but you'd gotten to know him well enough ever since your courtship that no smile, no matter how bright or breathtaking, could ever mask it from you. And you knew exactly where his concern lied. It wouldn't take long for Scotland Yard to conclude that even though he had not been the one administering the potion, or the one holding the cleaver, he still bore a great amount of responsibility for the deaths of all his former wives.

Thomas would be seen as an accomplice to his sister's crimes; perhaps a case could even be argued for third-degree murder because of his administering of the cyanide. Sure the documents would reveal Lucille to be the mastermind, but they would also reveal that in some of those cases that had gone cold, Thomas was partly the executioner.

You flinched in his hold when the sound of the post office's main doors slamming shut hit your ears, all of you inside turning your heads toward the man holding the handles, a frantic look in his eyes. "The storm's gotten too strong," he huffed out, slumping to the ground. "No carriages in or out of the area, if the lot of us value our safety."

Your husband let out a sigh of relief, holding you closer against him before pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "Perhaps when we arrive at the manor tomorrow we need not even face her," he whispered into your hair.

"Yes, and while that is a marvelous turn of events, husband, we are faced with one…tiny problem." He tilted his head at you slightly, prompting you to continue. "We're still stuck here, and the nearest inn to rent a room is a good walk away. In this storm we'd likely freeze before we even reached the front door."

"Ah, yes…that," he murmured, brows knitted together as he tried to look around the post office for a possible place to pass the time.

"Erm…we might have something that could house yous," one of the workers spoke up, jerking his head towards the back of the office, signaling for you to follow him. "We 'ave a little suite here set up for whenever the owner comes by and wants to spend a few days in the city. Sure he won't mind if you use it for tonight."

He opened the doors to reveal a quaint bedroom that felt a far cry from the echoes of faded opulence that your room in Allerdale Hall held, and yet still emanated the feel of a warm embrace that home was supposed to feel like. When you looked upon Thomas, you could see from his expression that he likely held a similar sentiment.

"This will do more than fine," he stated, holding out his hand to the worker to shake. "Thank you."

"So now that your grievous time with Lucille is finally coming to a close, what are your plans for…well, the rest of your life? Your freedom?" you asked Thomas through the divider in the room, trying to keep your tone casual as you changed into your underdress, preparing for sleep.

He answered you with a sharp huff. "In truth, darling, I haven't even begun to think about it yet. I feel as if I am not completely in the clear yet. Best to focus my attention on that first before thinking about what I wish for my freedom to look like."

You took out the final pin in your hair, setting it down on the little table by the window, next to your blades, before stepping out from behind the divider, your husband immediately catching sight of the furrowed brows and the grimace on your face. "I'm sure Scotland Yard will have a degree of leniency, considering that Lucille's arrest will lead to the closing of multiple cold cases on their board."

"That was entirely your work, Y/N. Your work in making the arrest possible is all that they will see--"

"And I wouldn't have been able to accomplish any of it if I didn't have help," you cut  him off, making your way over to him and placing your hands on his shoulders, giving him a slight shake. "Not just from the spirits in that house, but from you. If I didn't have you in my corner, I would've been caught that first night. I know that I owe you a great debt for what you--"

The rest of your words died in a muffled squeak as he pulled you to him, the jerking motion causing you to straddle him on the bed as he captured your lips in a sudden kiss. Your eyes fluttered closed at the feel of his lips moving against yours, his hands roaming your body freely until they buried  themselves in your hair.

He groaned against you, the sound melting into the sweetest sounding whimper when you crossed your hands behind his neck, pulling him closer. This would be the last night that you could call him your husband; perhaps you could allow yourself a sliver of indulgence. When he broke the kiss, he wrapped his arm securely around your waist before flipping you onto the bed, your back hitting the mattress with a soft thud.

"My beautiful, brilliant wife," he rasped, the gravelly tone of his voice sending thrills up your spine. He proceeded to kiss along your neck, softly sucking at the base of your throat while he undid the tie at the top of your underdress. A mix between a gasp and a moan escaped you when he hooked your leg around his waist, pressing your hips together.

"Thomas what are you doing?" you asked him dumbly, breathlessly. "We don't need to do this tonight. Or ever again--"

"I want to," he mumbled, pressing a kiss above your heart. "I wish to lay with you, Y/N Sharpe." He kissed his way back up to your lips, looking at you with those pleading pup-like eyes that made him near impossible to resist. That whittled your resolve down to nearly nothing. "Please…"

You were finding it increasingly difficult to deny him, especially with how he was pressed against you, and you could feel his erection even through the layers of his trousers and what sheer clothing you had on yourself. And considering how you'd come to feel about him in the weeks past, how alarmingly quickly you recovered from the shock of his true predicament and the actual circumstances of your marriage, and you still found yourself falling so recklessly in love with him, most parts of you wanted nothing more than to say yes to him.

But then there was the borderline unwelcome party in your internal argument. The logical voice in your head that rationalized his actions as an overwhelming gratitude mistaken for desire. That you had done so much to get him out of the diabolical inescapable captivity that Lucille manipulated him into, and he couldn't articulate his gratitude to the point that in his mind, he saw it as an urge to lay with you.

"Thomas…" you said his name slowly, trying so hard to keep your head level and work against your more primal urge to just shout your assent. Taking deep breaths wasn't any help; it just pressed your bodies closer together, the slightest shift in his hips threatening to drive you mad. "Think about this for a moment…Wouldn't you rather wait until you could lay with someone that you love?"

There was a split second where a pained look crossed his face, before he leaned back down to softly capture your lips, moaning into the kiss when you threaded your fingers through his curls. "I wish to at least do something for you." He kissed you again before presenting you with another all too tempting offer. "If we cannot lay together, then at least let me pleasure you."

He kissed a trail along your jaw, his breath warming your skin before he traced the shell of your ear with his tongue. His next words had you letting out a whimper of his name, your desire for him that had been simmering for weeks now starting to boil over.

"I've been reading through the books in the manor's library, and all I wish to do is show you what I've learned. To explore these avenues of pleasuring with you. My wife. Please. Let me at least do that."

Another whimper escaped you, the only sound you could manage to make as you finally relented and nodded your head. There was a glimmer of excitement in his eyes as he scanned your face, eyes never leaving yours as his hand made its way under your dress and up between your legs. Your mouth fell open in a silent moan once his fingers made contact with your slick arousal, the corner of his mouth pulling up into a half-smile.

He breathed your name, carefully studying every detail of your face as he traced up along the length of your slit, his mouth breaking out into a devilish grin when you arched your back off the bed, screaming for him when he touched the hardened bundle of nerves above your entrance. "Exquisite," he rasped, repeating the motion and causing you to let out a sharp moan. You could only manage a whimper when he started to kiss along your collarbone while those sinful fingers kept on stroking you, dipping into your warmth before making their way back to your clit.

Before long you felt a tension at your lower stomach, begging to be released. Whenever you'd reached this point in your solitude, back in the city, from your own touch, you would close your legs. The sensation was too great and you would stop yourself. Catch your breath. Having your husband situated between your legs made it impossible to close them now, his fingers still diligently stroking you. "Thomas p-please," you squeaked, struggling to breathe. "'S too m-much for me."

"Not enough," he muttered against your skin, stroking at you faster as he kissed at your collarbone. "Let go, darling. I've got you." He pressed an open mouthed kiss to your neck, flicking his tongue against the spot and letting out a whimper that sent you over the edge, your walls fluttering and clenching around nothing as he continued to stroke at your clit.

Thomas proceeded to kiss down your chest while you tried to catch your breath, pulling back his fingers from you to firmly hold on to your hips, pinning you to the bed as his lips descended further down. You uttered his name in a breathless question, your heart beating even faster when his hands moved to hike your underdress up your legs and place your thighs on his shoulders.

"I'm not done yet," he said with a whimper, kissing his way up your inner thigh and looking up to meet your eyes, his pupils blown out so wide his eyes were near black. Shining with a sincerity that stole what air remained from your lungs. "I wish to taste you."

"Thomas what are you--Oh!" You arched your back off the bed once more, letting out an obscene moan as he licked up your entrance and closed his mouth around the oversensitized nub above it. The sight of his onyx curls subtly moving with every bob of his head, his hands grasping your thighs to keep you in place, immediately burned itself into your memory.

You would remember every devastatingly pleasurable moment of tonight for as long as you'd live. Remember him.

It wasn't long before he brought you to the brink of orgasm again, mercilessly flicking his tongue against you until you came undone, your husband making you ride his tongue while you came down from your high. Soft groans slipped from his mouth while he licked away at your release, kissing along your inner thighs again when he brought the fabric of your underdress over your legs again.

There were no words left in your mind except one somber truth. "You're going to make a fortunate woman very happy in the future, Mister Sharpe."

Thomas couldn't sleep that night, holding your sleeping form in his arms as he absently stroked at your hair. His life felt like a stick of dynamite that could set off and crumble around him at any moment now; while he allowed himself to feel a touch of relief that soon he would finally be free from Lucille and her wretched ways, that freedom came at a heart-wrenching price.

You.

Your words before you went slack in his hold haunted him, ringing constantly in his mind now like an eerie church choir. You're going to make a fortunate woman very happy in the future, Mister Sharpe.

His day ended the same way it began, watching your peaceful features as your head rested on his chest. With him speaking words he hoped would somehow reach you in your dreams. "I want to make you happy, Y/N." He didn't bother fighting back the tears that welled in his eyes as the thought slammed into him that this may very well be the last night he had with you.

And then you would disappear from his life. You'll be free from me, too.

"I don't want to be free of you," he whispered through the suppressed sobs. "I wish to be free with you. I love you, Y/N Sharpe." He pressed his lips to your forehead, a tear rolling down his cheek as he did so. "Please don't leave me."

A/N: In today's episode of "YN is stronger than all of us" 🥴 I know that this is super slow going but I promise there are plans to guide me through writing the rest of the series and I'll get to finishing it 🫡

'everything' taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th  @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog @peaky-marvel @lokiified @tom-hlover @dryyoursaltyoceantears @herdetectivetheorist

[utilitycaster]

As someone who hasn't watched majority of c1, reading your thoughts on how tlovm compares is really interesting! I've been in the fandom since c3 began and have seen all of c2 and c3, and I've picked up a lot context.

However, I watch tlovm with a friend who has only seen tlovm at all (and like, 1 hour of exu calamity e1 that we never continued lol, so he did recognise Zerxeus' name). From his perspective of seeing the show as it is on it's own, he's been having a great time, something I do think speaks to the strength of this adaptation - that one of the things CR set out to do was to make something that stood on it's own, and I think they've succeeded in that.

How do you feel on that aspect of tlovm?

I agree - I think a lot of the criticism does come down to disappointment that we're not seeing some of the peak moments of Campaign 1, and I want to be clear that I share some aspects of that disappointment! It is just that like, again, I don't see how you make a scripted show where A Bard's Lament hits if you haven't seen the original, or where Glintshore hits in the same way at all.

I've been thinking about this a lot because I have gotten into some things for which I am unfamiliar with the original/prior installments through mutuals. For example, I have now read some of The Wheel of Time series (gotta get back into it) but I watched the show without any sentimentality for the original, and I think many people who haven't liked it have been mad about changes from the books, not how the TV story holds up. Similarly, I'm very intrigued by Veilguard despite zero past knowledge of basically anything Dragon Age, and I know a lot of longtime fans in particular are mad about changes. The challenge of adaptation, or further installments, is to straddle that line of appealing to new fans and old fans alike. And it's possible - I think TLOVM could have done some things better, but I'm here and I'm not mad about it and while I cannot claim OG C1 fan status I was around in time to have watched C1 and backed the kickstarter, but at the same time it's clearly working for people unfamiliar with the source.

I don't think you should totally abandon everything old fans liked about a series; but the fact is, old fans are a spectrum ranging from people who will love it no matter what because it's their blorbos some more! to people who will nitpick the fact that a specific phrase they have an emotional attachment to didn't appear, and everyone in between. You can't gain more old fans; you can only lose them. And in the end, you should tell a story that works for the medium and what you are trying to do. That doesn't mean every series or adaptation is good, to be clear; I think people who hate on Game of Thrones are 100% valid and not just bitter ASOIAF fans, and we all know that the MCU's attempt to build both a coherent universe but also be accessible to new fans turned it into an absolute trainwreck. But I think that an adaptation should not only be the original but in a new medium, and it should be something a new viewer would enjoy, and yes, I think TLOVM achieves that.

[crazylittlejester]

HI HI HI

You should yell about the blorbo. I'd love to hear about some warriors HC's you have.

I also have a HC and I'd love to hear what you think about it.

I've always HC'ed Warriors as having an adoptive son/daughter. And I low-key see him as a princess dad. The man is totally dressing up for his daughter's tea parties in the castle with her best friend the queen.

Please yell about your blorbo, I want to hear about him. :DDDD

HI HI HI IVE BEEN GIVEN PERMISSION TO YELL AND YAP I SHALL!!!!

First of all: Yes absolutely. I headcanon Wars as on the ace spectrum, I don’t think that man is having biological children. I kinda see him as someone who would decide to NOT have children, because he doesn’t think it’d be fair of him to raise a child because he thinks he’s too mentally messed up for that (despite the fact that Time and Wind both turned out FINE), but one day he just ✨Acquires✨ a child and that’s just the end of it he’s a father now.

The specific headcanon I have for him regarding having kids is after the war, he does his best to help the areas of Hyrule that were just DESTROYED, and so many civilians lost their lives and orphanages were just overflowing, and he does his best to put money into those places to help out and he visits and tells the kids stories and makes sure they’re actually being treated well and helps them get families, and one day he just comes across this little girl who’s not counted for at any of the orphanages and her parents are gone, and he tries to get her set up in one but she’s just too attached to him and he’s got such a soft spot for kids he just adopts her because she was just so miserable there and kept begging the people at the orphanage to make him come back. And that’s his little girl now, she’s his princess he’d fight the entire war again in a heartbeat just for her. He absolutely dresses up for tea parties with her, he lets her do his hair and makeup, he’ll walk down the halls holding her hand while she skips and Zelda has never in her LIFE seen him so genuinely happy. He’s an absolutely WONDERFUL father, despite his own doubts in himself, and that little girl grows up with “Aunt Zel” and “Aunt Impa” teaching her how to kick ASS (plus Aunt Linkle, who’s her actual aunt being Link’s brother and all, and Linkle helps her befriend the cuckoos)

Other Wars headcanons I have!!:

- He has a significant amount of gray hair but you can’t see it because he bleaches and dyes his hair (I HC it’s naturally a very dark brown and also curly, but he straightens it)

- Writes his journals in his first language because it’s not a common one in Castle Town and it makes him feel better to know that if anyone DID get their hands on it, they’d at least be slowed down because they’d have to translate it

- His left hand shakes sometimes because of old injuries and overuse, and it’s not as strong as his right. Sometimes it’s hard for him to use his sword and shield because of it, so he’ll either use his sword with two hands for support or just use his fire rod

- He has quite a few scars on his face but he can either cover them COMPLETELY with makeup or make them look light enough to not be super jarring (depending on how deep the scars are)

- I HC he doesn’t like things up against his neck, so he’ll wear only tunics/shirts that are very low cut in the front and his scarf is pinned so securely in place that it is IMPOSSIBLE for him to be strangled with it unless the end was grabbed and THEN wrapped around his neck

- Not the world’s best cook. He can make comfort dishes from home his mom used to make for him, but not a whole lot of other things. He has memorized recipes and hasn’t tried too much with experimenting and making new ones

- High spice tolerance, but mentally he can’t handle it because it makes his tongue buzz and he’ll freak out and panic because he can’t tell if it’s spice or poison

- Autistic with lower support needs. He masks incredibly well but that doesn’t make him any less autistic and that doesn’t mean he still doesn’t struggle

[xn3city]

And finally: the one I've been waiting for, the young man whose face leapt into my mind's eye when I read @romanceyourdemons's wonderful idea about SVSSS as an American nineties TV series and led me to draw all this, your blorbo and mine: Winter Mississippi, and the useless fake silver crucifix his adoptive mother gave him.

And yes, his cutie mark is an inverted cross. He's a demon!

Notes on the supporting cast:

Pablo Escobar was still kicking around in the early nineties, and I knew I wanted the Heavenly Demons to be narcos, in conflict with the USA armed force cultivators. Huan Hua Palace's shady vibe works especially well with the CIA.

"Old Palace Master" is actually a great spy handler codename, but I was not about to give a black character a boss called "Master." I mean, you could do it in a fic. I can think of three authors just off the top of my head who I would trust to sensitively explore the hideous resonance that would give to the way Su Xiyan was abused and exploited by the OPM. But I'm not a good writer with a lot of prose to work with, I'm just a mid artist with one panel and most of it is taken up by a horny joke. I just said no.

My favorite joke in this whole thing is that the Heavenly Demons are named Jesus and Lover-of-God.

Tried to capture that devoted gege-spitting wet cat dynamic between YQY and the Original Goods.

Shen Yuan pre-novel is such a cipher. I understand that the general consensus is that he died at about around 20, but…that's not the impression I got when I read SVSSS, actually. I get it now, but when he says something about not having gotten laid for twenty years: to be honest, I read that, and assumed he was, you know, 35 minimum, and having the mother of all dry spells.

And I think it makes the story better. A twenty year old wasting his time in his mom's basement reading crap webnovels and yelling on the forums: that's just a kid having a less than maximally productive gap year! He might well have had a stellar career of his own in real life eventually! It's not super surprising that he blossomed on Qing Jing Peak! But a thirty-five year old incel NEET angrily posting in that basement….that's a man who has had something go wrong in his life. I'm not saying you can't turn it around at thirty-five, you absolutely can, but I tell you: it's harder. Something is wrong, mentally or physically or both, and in a way that leaves a mark. Fifteen years are gone. Opportunites have passed that will not return. For that guy to be handed the responsibility of Shen Qingqiu's life, and do such a goddamn virtuoso job of turning it around: that is some bestselling-loveseat-level portrayal of how a different context could pull radically different capabilities out of a person. That makes SVSSS just as much about how the PIDW!world transformed Shen Yuan, and for the better, as it is about how Shen Yuan transformed Luo Binghe and his world. And that's a better story.

It does make the relationship age gap more disturbing - but if you weren't here for disturbing relationships, what are you doing reading SVSSS?

The cell phones are of course terribly anachronistic, but here's the thing - there is no equivalent, and there's no story without it. There is no Peerless Cucumber yelling at the frustrated PIDW author for hacking out the 6000th boring papapa scene, without creators being financially dependent on direct contact and support from their fans in a way that just didn't exist in the nineties. I remember how novel and exciting it was that J. Michael Straczynski hung out on rec.arts.sf.tv.babylon5; he absolutely did not have to. Eventually I decided that The Demon Heart of Winter Mississippi was, somehow, a nineties TV show about the 2010s, and everyone could have their phones. You know Minnie Liu is writing RPF on hers.

In case any of these weren't clear:

Demon Heart = Xin Mo Winter Mississippi = Luo Binghe (from @romanceyourdemons) "Don" Teófilo Lanza = Tianlang-Jun Chucho Lanza = Zhuzhi-Lang Sue Sheehan = Su Xiyan Codename: OPM = Old Palace Master Saul Czerniak = Shang Qinghua Wally Shen = Shen Yuan/Shen Qingqiu Julius Shen = Shen Jiu/Shen Qingqiu Adam Montague = Yue Qingyuan Helmut von Nordwüste = Mobei-Jun (from @romanceyourdemons) Shelley Howe = Sha Hualing Minnie Liu = Liu Mingyan Max Liu = Liu Qingge Néné Young = Ning Yingying Michael Ventola = Ming Fan

Fun game: guess whose likenesses I used for reference for all these characters!

[shirohige-pirates]

Magic Trick

Marco x afab!reader

Word count: 3,902

CW: fingering, oral (receiving), rough sex

Summary: You've had a crush on Marco for a while, and you decide to take the plunge and shoot your shot.

Blame @zoros-sheath for inspiring this one-shot. And honestly, you can probably blame @cyborg-franky @standfucker for even causing me to look over at this blorbo for long enough that I got thoroughly caught up in him.

18+ only

You tested the size and balance of Ace’s hat medallion a few times, working it through your fingers and slowly working up the speed needed to make it disappear. Your hands were barely big enough to manage it but after a few minutes you were twirling it around easily.

“If I’m working with something like this, I’d make sure I was wearing something baggy.” You admit as Ace eats next to you.

“You made it disappear a few times. I admit, you’re good at it.” Ace says, shoveling another large bite of food into his mouth. “You should do a trick like that with Marco.”

You grunt, but don’t say anything else.

“Trouble in paradise?”

“Paradise doesn’t exist, that’s the problem.” You sigh, tossing his hat medallion at him. Ace nearly drops his plate to catch it, but manages to get a hold of both.

“There’s no way he dislikes you.” His voice is full of disbelief. “I’ve caught him staring.”

“Maybe I’m being too subtle.” You admit, laying your head on the railing of the ship, looking over at Ace. “Or maybe his non-answer is the answer.”

“You’re being awfully soft with this.” Ace jabs you in the side with the handle end of his fork. “You’re usually only subtle when you’re scouting. Why’re you playing this so cautious?”

“Because I -!” You straighten up but stop talking, realizing you were starting to shout. “I don’t want him to turn me down.” You admit quietly. “I really like him.”

Ace’s eyes go wide for a moment, and then he beams. “Do one of your magic tricks then.” He says.

“Pulling a quarter from his ear isn’t going to tell him anything.” You grumble.

Ace shrugs. “Can you pull a condom or some underwear out from behind his ear?”

You smack your forehead and groan. “Yes, Ace, that’s certainly not subtle.” You sigh.

“You’re just going to chicken out then, huh?”

“What?” You bite the word off in a snarl, eyes sharp.

The devilish grin on Ace’s face is enough to make you realize you waltzed right into the trap. “If you’re not, then do it. The celebration’s tomorrow, right? Pull something out from behind Marco’s ear tomorrow that doesn’t leave him any wiggle room.”

“… Live or die in front of the entire crew, huh?”

Ace shrugs. “If you get rejected, there’ll be plenty of booze around to soothe you.”

You cross your arms, pouting. “There’s not enough booze on this ship to soothe me, Tinderbox.”

“I’mma let dat go,” Ace grumbles through a half-full mouth of food. “You’re taking this pretty hard.”

You put your hands over your face and muffle an aggravated scream. “What kind of moron falls for their division commander?!” You growl. “If I say anything and he rejects me I won’t be able to avoid him.”

“If you don’t say anything you’re going to explode in the middle of a battle or something.” Ace teases.

“Worse,” you huff. “Teach caught me grumbling and offered to soothe my aching heart.”

Ace laughs. “Poor Teach. He’s a hundred years too late.”

You snort, leaning against the rail, staring out over the sea. “Better to regret the choices we make, than the moments we let go by, right?”

You sigh, letting the day slip into night. You don’t rest well that night, but you get some sleep. Nerves, of all things, keep you awake. You hadn’t been nervous for years – a side effect of being a pirate. You’d been doing reconnaissance and theft for the Whitebeard pirates for the last six years.

Repayment really, for having robbed half the crew blind when they were on your island. Once you realized who you had stolen from you were pretty sure that you were just going to be executed. The Whitebeard pirates were as close as the Grandline got to heroes for some people, but they were still pirates.

In the end, you were offered a spot on the crew, under the First Commander no less.

You’d only gotten better at your craft, you’d be taught about haki, and you’d become a formidable member of a well-respected crew. It was hard to say when Marco started to catch your eye. When he went from pirate to commander to brother to crush.

In the end, the details didn’t matter. You were where you were, and you felt what you felt, and it was going to be easier to move on if you were rejected than it would be to just sit on the feelings and dwell.

Once the festivities started the next day, you let yourself enjoy them. Food, song, dance – it was a celebration for every crew mate with a birthday that month, one big feast was easier than several smaller ones, and it was always good fun.

The food and chatter gives way to music and dancing, and pockets of crew members enjoying booze as the sun sinks lower and lower. By the light of the dying sun you wander over to where Marco is, sitting with Thatch who is enjoying a late dessert, and Izou, who’s enjoying a bottle of wine. It’s impressive how Izou can make drinking straight from the bottle look so graceful.

You had agreed with Ace that subtle was going to need to be thrown out the proverbial window and so you make a little bit of a show of things as you draw nearer, sighing heavily and looking completely disparaged.

“What has you so down?” Marco asks, setting his mug of ale down and leaning back.

“I’m having a hard time finding something.” You admit, giving him a cheeky grin. You can tell he knows you’re baiting him into something, but you’re not sure he’s aware exactly what it will be.

You may be a little notorious for doing random magic tricks for the crew, but you’re usually light on the theatrics.

“Oh? Something important?” He muses, giving you an easy smile. You struggle not to just bite your lip and tackle him, that easy smile is killing you.

“In a way.” You admit, stepping closer. Even with Marco seated and you standing, there wasn’t much height difference. He wasn’t nearly the tallest on the crew, but at six foot nine inches he wasn’t anywhere near the shortest either. “Want to help me out?”

Marco’s grin doesn’t change. “Of course, yoi.” He says, leaning forward, and staying seated as you draw even closer. “Where do you think-?”

He stops as you reach past his face, fingers brushing against his ear.

“I’ve looked just about everywhere.” You say, shifting your gaze down to catch the bright blue eyes looking back up at you. Marco looked amused more than anything else, but it was hard to get emotions other than calm and neutral to break across his face.

You pull a black lacy thong from behind Marco’s ear, eyes on his, sure grin on your face. “Oh, there they are.” You say, running your tongue over your lip a little. “Seems they prefer to be wrapped around your neck than around my thighs.”

Marco’s eyes are as wide as you’ve ever seen them, blush creeping into his fair face. You hear a clatter, looking over for a second to see that Thatch has dropped his plate, and is completely agog. The usually suave cook is beet red and looks to have been caught completely off guard.

You lean closer when Marco doesn’t say or do anything more, and whisper into his ear. “Perhaps you’d rather my thighs around your neck instead.” You offer, suppressing the urge to leave a soft kiss against his neck before leaning back.

Marco swallows thickly, pulling a few berries from his pocket and handing them over to Izou without a word. Izou smiles politely at you, tucking the bills away and returning to his drink.

When you look back at Marco he’s composed himself, enough that he at least looks relaxed, even if his ears are still a little red. The easy smile he gives you makes your heart thump in your chest, and after a second he stands up.

“It seems me and my neck have a prior engagement.” Marco says evenly, taking a step or two away before stopping to be sure you were following after him. “Izou, you’ll see to Thatch, aye?”

“Ace and I will at least make sure he doesn’t sleep in that position.” Izou answers with a chuckle.

Marco continues on, away from the celebration, and you follow after. A small knot twists in your stomach – Marco is a nice guy, genuinely nice, especially toward the crew. He could very easily just be leading you away to help you save face in front of everyone else. You hold onto that feeling as you two head toward his room, padding yourself against possible rejection just in case.

He puts his hand on the door handle, pausing for a second. He starts to say something, thinks better of it, and opens the door, stepping back and giving you space to enter.

It’s nearly impossible to read Marco at the best of times, but your own senses are a little frayed right now, and you have no idea what’s going through his mind. You wanted clarification before you walked into his room, because if he was just going to let you down easy you’d prefer to just go to your own room now.

But you didn’t want to ask. You didn’t want to form the risk into words and bring it into the air. You manage a sure smile and start toward the door when Marco finally speaks.

“I can’t promise,” he says thickly, his gaze heavy against you even if you aren’t looking back at him. “That I’ll be any sort of gentleman, once you go in there, yoi.”

A sweet shiver slips down your spine and a small smile tugs at the corners of your mouth. “As long as you don’t mean to use me and then lose me.” You say lightheartedly, stepping into the room.

Marco steps in behind you, smile on his face. “I gave you a few months to come to your senses,” he teases, an easy smile in his voice in the dark room as he closes the door, plunging you both into near total darkness.

“And here you are.”

You turn toward him, words dying on your lips as you see the blue flames flickering off of him. They’re small and brief, illuminating the room like sparks. The dance of light over his face gave the illusion of a fire within his eyes, and the heated look he was giving you had more weight and passion than you had been expecting.

He was always so relaxed and laid back. Seemingly completely unbothered by the world around him. If not for his interactions with the crew you almost would’ve thought him detached. But the man who stood before you now was literally burning in his desire.

“Last chance.” He says, but the tone in his voice is sharp. He doesn’t want you to leave. Somewhere in the back of your mind you’re aware that that desire isn’t just about right now. The warning isn’t just about tonight.

You can almost see the talons closing in around your entire body.

“I didn’t flirt for the last six months to chicken out now.” You mean to sound sure, but there’s a shiver in your voice. Uncertainty, maybe. Concern that you’ve stepped into something deeper than you meant to.

You never feared Marco, and even now that wasn’t the right word for whatever was beating against your bones.

He reaches out, fingers brushing gently against your face. You nuzzle into the action, and you can hear a soft sigh escape him. His fingers shift enough to tilt your chin up as he leans down toward you. His eyes find yours, the sparks are fewer, but there’s enough light to catch one another’s gaze.

The first kiss is almost chaste. The soft brush of his lips against yours. A fleeting warmth that passes between you, and the nearly inaudible intake of breath as that first connection was finally made.

The simple act was like the snapping of a seal. Marco pulled off his shirt as you pulled his face closer, kissing him deeper as he tossed the useless piece of clothing aside. The kiss broke for a second, long enough for you to pull your shirt off and toss it away.

His hand was behind your head, warm and taut and the next kiss stole your breath just from the intensity behind it. You opened your mouth and let him in before he could even ask for permission, and he wasted no time in accepting. Out on the deck you may have had some manner of control, but in the privacy of this room Marco was devouring you.

You shifted easily through the room, and the clatter of objects falling to the floor was the only warning you had before large hands grabbed you and lifted you up onto his desk. Something in the back of your mind marveled that the organized and neat doctor would cause such a mess.

Your fingers trail over him, following his arms, tracing lines along the curve of muscle and tender skin. By the nature of his devil fruit, he bore no scars, no jagged lines for your fingers to remember. You had your share of scars. Marks from learning, marks from work, small lines and stories and near misses etched into the weave of your skin.

Marco’s fingers seemed to pay them no mind, strong hands pulling your shoes away and lifting your hips as he pulled your pants down past the curve of your ass. You pulled the sash around his waist free, wrapping your legs around his hips and pulling yourself closer to him.

A soft grunt from him disappears into your continued kisses and his hand nearly slams into the desk as he leans you back enough to break the kiss. He swears softly as you shift your hips against his.

“(Y/N).” His voice shivers and you can feel his body tremble.

“No regrets,” You breathe the words, looking up at him, pulling him back down toward you. “The only issue right now is that you still have your pants on, Marco.”

He grins. “You still have your small clothes on.” He retorts, leaning you back further until you’re laying on the desk and he’s over you, leaning down and kissing you again.

His kisses shift away from your lips, trailing along your jaw and down to your neck. The shivering gasp that escapes you spurs him on, hands grabbing you and roughly pulling the last of your clothes away.

Passion burns in the kisses that press into your skin, sinking into your muscles and sending jolts through your body. Blue flames licked along his back, trailing behind the lines your fingernails were already digging into him. His hands held you still as your body squirmed from the pleasure of his kisses, impossibly smooth and firm and hot against you.

Your fingers move from his back to his shoulders as his kisses burn into your stomach. Pleased moans rattle in your chest as your hips shift, Marco’s lips kissing against your sides as his hands grip your knees and spread your legs wide. Your back arches at the rush of cool air between your thighs, but you barely have a second before his tongue is deep inside you even faster than earlier.

Your hands are on his head as his hands are holding your legs wide, your body jolting from the pleasure even as he holds you in place. You suck in a breath and bite your lip to keep the loud cry from escaping you. You can see a flicker of flames cross Marco’s shoulders and you’re aware he’s irritated, but he’s not stopping.

His tongue and lips suck and swirl against your clit like he was born to please you, and with a little shift you a finger slip into your wet pussy.

“Y-y-you’re guh-gonne mm-maaah, shit! - make me sc-scream, Marc-Marco!” You gasp, wiggling as a second finger is pushed inside.

You look down and see two blue eyes, unnaturally bright in the dark room, looking back at you from between your thighs.

“Indeed,” he says it almost flatly and you realize where his irritation was coming from.

You whimper a little. “The whole ship’ll hear…” You murmur defeatedly.

He hums, eyes still burning into you, tongue slipping up the inside of your thigh. “I warned you, yoi.”

Oh shit.

“You did,” you admit, swallowing thickly, a little concerned about your current position suddenly. “I’m… at your mercy then.”

You can see the grin that slips along his lips, an expression that cuts through your bones and sends a shiver through your body. The First Commander was renowned for his even manner and relaxed countenance, but you had a feeling you were about to see everything that was tucked behind that.

Unlike the flames of his Zoan, this particular flame was for your eyes only.

“Don’t hold out on me, yoi.” He says softly, three long fingers pushing into your tight, wet, needy hole. You suck in a deep breath, grabbing onto the edges of the desk as his fingers curl, causing your body to make a similar motion as pleasure rushes through you.

His breath is hot against your clit as he pulls one of your hands free from the desk, and places it against his head. “Hold onto me, not the desk.” He commands, and your other hand releases its grip on the desk to hold onto him as his tongue goes back to work.

Too much, it’s too much. It’s such a rush of pleasure, you didn’t even know your body could be so sensitive. His free hand kept sending little lines of electricity through you as his fingers moved over your hips and up along your stomach. You could only apologize inside your head as your hands tightened in his hair, your body clenching like iron at the first flood of pleasure.

Little more than a broken swear managed to get past your lips as the orgasm ripped through you. He showed you a small mercy, and didn’t force you to ride out the entire thing, but as he moved you wondered if it was truly mercy that had been given. You were coming down slowly, every twitch and tingle danced along your skin and sunk into your bones.

You could hear the fabric of his pants as you were sure they had been discarded, but in the dark of the room, in the hazy blur that was your muddled vision, you couldn’t see.

But for every sense that was addled right now, your sense of touch was all the more keen.

Hot. It was hot. Marco didn’t run hot normally, not like how Ace did with his fiery body, but Marco was always shades of blue. Calm, cool, collected. But the rigid tip of his cock, pressed against your soaked and trembling lips was hot. Hot, and impossibly stiff. More akin to metal than flesh as far as you were concerned.

“Marco…” You reach for him and he takes your hand in his, kissing your fingers softly before he grips your wrists and pins them against the desk. “More, please.” You nearly whisper the words, moaning softly at the lips that tease your neck while his cock shifts teasingly against you.

“Look at me, (Y/N).” He says, and you focus as best you can on his eyes. “Keep looking at me.” His voice is demanding, low, and husky as he begins to push into you. “I want to see your face as you give yourself to me, yoi.”

The stretch is delightful. It’s been so long since you’ve enjoyed the pleasure of another, but even so, the feel of it as he pushes in is satisfying. It’s your body that gives way, not his, but he fits so well. Your fingers flex, and he adjusts his hands, fingers tangling into yours, holding your hands to the desk instead of your wrists.

“Marco.” His name is gospel on your lips, a soft prayer to a fiery blue demon in the skin of an angel. “Kiss me.”

“As you command.” He almost growls the words, as though he’s struggling to hold something back, and leans down. His lips are against yours, the pressure and pleasure barely registering as his hips met flush with yours.

His hips shift as his tongue pushes into your mouth. He devours the sweet moans that bubble up from your chest, even as the snap of his hips fills the room with the wet sounds of your pleasure and need. You’re caged completely, an odd reversal if you had enough mind to think on it.

“M-more!” You gasp as the kiss breaks.

“Aye.” Marco agrees, letting go of your hands to hook your knees over his arms, stretching your legs back and letting him push a little deeper.

Fire trails along his back as your fingers claw into his perfect skin again. Your gasps and moans come out in thrusts of air as he slams into you, the desk creaking and shifting under the rough pace.

He shifts enough to tease you, his pace slowing only a little. His thumb rolls against your clit, and his lips tease your nipple as his other hand tries to steady you both against the creaking desk. The lessened pace gives you more breath, and the added sensations pull moans and cries of pleasure from you. You don’t want to let go of him, so you can’t cover your mouth. He’s moved away from you so you can’t kiss him to stifle your sounds.

“Sing for me,” he demands, breath hot against your skin before he nips at your nipple sending a zing of pain through with the pleasure.

“Ca-can’t – can’t – Marco! Ma-Marco I’m gonna—hnnngh!” You tense and coil as the pleasure builds and when you move a hand away to cover your mouth he grabs it and pins it down on the desk, picking his pace up again.

“Don’t deny me again.” He warns, teeth nipping at your neck. “Let it out. I want to hear, all the sweet sounds that you can make for me.”

Whimpered tatters of need fall from your lips as the pleasure builds. The more it builds the less you can hold back, and any time you try to hold back Marco pushes more fire and desire into you.

The pleasure crests, and you scream – his name, though the sound breaks as it passes your tensed throat, and then is devoured as his lips cover yours. You moan into the kiss as he continues to thrust into you, his rhythm stuttering only a little as he fills you up, the sensation and the soft grunt from him almost pulling you into a third orgasm, your body tensing and twitching a little.

He gives you both a second to catch your breath, though he’s barely breathing heavy. He leans back down, leaving soft kisses against your lips as he pulls out of you.

“The bed,” he says softly, kissing your cheek. “Should be softer and quieter.” You can feel his dick twitching against your thigh already stiff again. “But you won’t be, will you?”

[savrenim]

whos ur mdzs blorbo (if u say anyone but jiang cheng youre wrong /JOKE)

not to be an Extremely Basic Bitch but Wei Wuxian. in my defense gotta LOVE me any character who is doing basic physics research and you cannot tell me that the development of demonic cultivation is not basic physics research in any given story I am going to be most obsessed with the character who is closest to doing theoretical physics in that setting bc most often nobody gives a fuck about the physics of their world in the main story even!! though!! it!! would!! be!! really!! cool!! magic!! physics!! that!! I!! want!! to!! know!! about!! and yes I understand the author set out to tell a story not to do fundamental physics but the physics of it will haunt me. I can and will kill on the hill that Wei Wuxian does magic physics and he does it Really Fucking Well and that is the thing I care most about in the world

but also

I am generally Bad At Cooking. I got better at cooking towards the end of grad school! but at the beginning of grad school I was actually cooking all my own food for the first time and was Bad At It and what's worse is that I was so tight on time that I'd almost always bulk cook for the whole week which meant that if I fucked up a recipe I had to eat it for lunch and dinner for like six days straight

until I discovered. the single best cooking hack. in the world.

you see, I like spicy. and I'm a vegetarian have been for forever and vegetarian bulk meals are like. "pasta and vegetables" "beans and rice and vegetables" etc etc. which and it turns out. that if you fuck up trying to make something. without altering the texture and having to redo anything bc it's totally possible to do it at the very end you can just dump an ungodly amount of red pepper flakes and/or cayenne pepper powder in and now it does not taste Bad, it simply tastes Spicy, and for me, that tastes Good

I proceeded to use this trick with everything. including when my coffee beans got really old and stale bc bought those in bulk too. simply throw red pepper flakes in to the ground beans before you drip brew it and now it's spicy coffee instead of stale coffee!

anyways I eventually became A Better Cook and Started To Make Food That Is Spicy But You Can Actually Like. Taste Other Flavors. miss Spicy Coffee tho, wish I had the time to brew my own coffee again.

fast forward to like. a month ago.

I discovered about a month ago lo and behold that I Do Slightly Better life-wise if I Actually Eat Breakfast before running out the door even though it's like 6:45am and I'm not that hungry. and I had a bunch of old fancy farmer's market granola from like two years ago that was about to expire so I started eating that with some greek yogurt. but it was a small bag and I was about to run out. so I bugged housemate-partner-who-is-a-good-cook-my-beloved of would he consider helping make me a shit-ton of homemade bulk granola, I'd grab the ingredients and we could figure it out as we went along

except the thing is he Hates cooking by Vibes instead of A Recipe it Stresses Him Out So Much bc he is not used to people with the attitude of "eh if I fuck around I find out that is the deal I make with the universe I'll still eat it" he is used to people with the attitude of "if it's fucked up I am physically incapable of eating this"

so I. jokingly. as he expressed some Worry about "do we REALLY need to cook this by Vibes? can we Please find a granola recipe??" went "hey don't worry!! if it comes out Absolutely Terrible we can just use my old trick from grad school of throwing enough cayenne pepper into it that it just takes Spicy instead of Bad!" the joke being that like. spicy granola in yogurt that is a CRIME hell spicy granola is a crime who ever heard of spicy granola

.............except I was. really curious.

so the next morning I tried sticking some red pepper flakes so the texture wouldn't be disgusting into my granola and yogurt, I am nothing if not a caricature of myself, I live by the primary tenet of "commit to the bit" there did not exist a world in which once I had set forth that bit I would not Commit to it.

and it was delicious????? like it was weird Spicy Surprise but it was delicious. No Bit I Just Legitimately Like Spicy Granola Apparently With Or Without Yogurt.

so I Decided that let's not even wait for us to Potentially Fuck Up The Granola Recipe let's just put 3/4ths of a full shaker of red pepper flakes into it for Funnsies. because that's a reasonable amount of red pepper flakes, right? there's a lot of granola I want to make sure that there's a hint of spice in every bite!

out came a gallon and a half of Crimes Granola. the red pepper flakes got into the coconut oil so every single bite of it is infused with a huge amount of spice it is FUCKING DELICIOUS and to absolutely every single person in my house who have Nowhere Near My Spice Tolerance even the one who Likes Reasonably Spicy Things it is Totally Inedible I make a three month supply of booby-trapped granola that I and I alone can eat

anyways.

like two days later I proceeded to have an existential crisis about the fact that I'd made granola that I was the only person I knew who would like it, except also, Wei Wuxian would probably like it.

so yeah he's my fave.

[deedala]

🌞 Art Tag 🌞

thanks for tagging me to play @gallapiech @suzy-queued @spookygingerr @sgtmickeyslaughter @heymrspatel!! 💖💖💖

Have you always been interested in creating art? oh yes, i was a tiny doodle machine

What's your favourite medium to use? If digital, what programs do you like? i love sketching out a plan form my brain with pencil and paper but then i take it to painttool sai (my beloved)

Do you create outside of fandom? yes

Share something you haven't finished and/or never got around to posting hmmm this is tricky because i am simply too tired to go turn on my pc lol...lets see what i can find in the ole tumblr archive!!

here we go, i believe i intended to redraw this gob gal digitally and then actually color her but never did!

Favourite piece you've made? i truly do not have one favorite piece but here's one of my fav pieces ig

Draw your icon in a minute or less - pass sorry i have nothing to draw with rn lol

An underrated piece you've made in your opinion

Do you do art in a professional setting? yes i do a type of art for work (but i work from home)

A piece you don't like but did really well on social media

im sorry you guys but there is so much wrong with this one it drives me fuckin nuts lmao

Post an old piece and compare it to your most recent, what are the similarites? i still do be coloring the same way huh

Have you ever collaborated with another artist/s? yup!

What piece has the most notes? Are you surprised? kinda? i feel like the one i did of morrigan was executed better but the fact that its a dragon age art makes perfect sense.

Who/What is your favourite subject matter? blorbo from my shows of course

Show us something not from fandom you've made

Where do you like to create? at my desk!! in my house!!! <3

Do you have a tag that you use to group your creations? Tell us so people can follow it #my art and #myshameyart if you just want the shameless stuff lol

Give yourself a shoutout, where can we commission/buy/follow you for more pieces? i dont do commissions but you can buy print on demand stuff here: deedylovescake.creator-spring.com/ redbubble.com/people/deedylovescake/

and i'll go ahead and tag a few folks if you'd like to play or just feel beloved 😌✨@michellemisfit @steorie @salesmain @marianchurchland @crossmydna @vintagelacerosette @gallawitchxx @loftec

[barrenclan]

IM GOING TO GET SO TITLED AT THE TOWERS /ref

yep!! no change on cootstorm being a piece of shit!! imaging a teen telling u he doesn’t want to date a baby and u decide to stop teaching him. i hope she dies so i can edit her with the grimace shake

the fact that they can see the distant lush prairies but they choose to stay because of their long gone kin sucks???? like not in a bad writing way, but in a i feel bad for these kitties way :(( its not ur fault what happened :(( u shouldn’t live in pain just for the mistakes of a dead cat :((

IS MEADOWKIT GON BE OK?? :((( IM SO HAPPY CORMORANTPAW VISITED BC OF HIS PARENTAL TRAUMA AND STUFF BC NOW HE GETS TO SEE KITS THAT R GONNA BE TREATED LIKE KITS (HOPEFULLY, IF COOTSTORM BACKS UP) BUT… BABEY PLS BE OK.. I KNOW UR NOT GONNA KILL KITS BUT I CAN STILL BE CONCERNED ABOUT THE PARADITE

i want to punch beeface in the face. daffodilpaw has been a blorbo i’ve related to since day once u don’T SAY THAT TO THE ME FR!!!!!! BEEFACE IS GUILT TRIPPING HER ABOUT THE BABIES IM GOING TO BITE HER AND SHAKE HER AROUND AND PUT HER IN A BLENDER!!!!!!!!! AND THE FACT THAT SHE RAISES HER PAW AND DAFFODILPAW IMMEDIATELY COVERS HER FACE SCARES ME BECAUSE THAT IMPLIES THAT SHE IMMEDIATELY THOUGHT BEEFACE WAS GONNA HIT HER WITH IMPLIES THAT THIS ISN’T THE FIRST TIME AND AGAAGAHAHHAGRRHEAHVAGRJRGRJRJRKSSNNR

slugpelt is best mom omg. she’s redeemed so much she cares about her kids im gonna sob fkejdkd. go kick beeface’s ass!!!!! she cares about her kiddos (daff specifically rn) so muccch. big mama bear ready to throw hands but willing to soften for daffy…

redpelt being able to stand up and diffuse the situation (before slugpelt threw hands) was so cool to see!! she’s trying she’s getting better she wants to help she wants to be a good deputy GRRRR

i want to fistfight plumstripe too actually. the fact that she looked at beeface guilttripping daffodilpaw before narrowly being unable to physically harm her with a smack(?) and then turned to asphodelpaw (the sister of the victim of the situation) and instead of being supportive she just?? used it as a way to better herself?? this is not the time daffodilpaw could have been HURT PHYSICALLY. AND POTENTIALLY COULD HAVE BEEN FOR AWHILE!!! i’m going to put plumstripe in the blender too i’m having plum and bee smoothies

sorry this is a little more chaotic (and violent) than usual. this is a good issue!!!!!! family hug :3

Just your daily confirmation that Cootstorm still sucks! More at 10.

Unfortunately the whole comic is about paying for the mistakes of your ancestors in an eternal cycle of punishment and misery. :( Not fun.

YEAH Beeface is. Not great in this issue. The fact that Daffodilpaw covers her face as Beeface raises her paw... yes, I do think Beeface is the type of person to use corporal punishment from time to time. The kind of "a good smack around the head will get you thinking straight" person. Hopefully Slugpelt being a good mom took away some of that sting, though, I liked writing her in this issue a lot.

Plumstripe's discipline of choice revolves a lot more around subtle emotional manipulation, I don't think she'd ever get her paw dirty with anything more than a shove. But she certainly doesn't make Asphodelpaw feel good about herself much.

NEVER apologize for sharing feelings in your asks. I love them!!

[relatableblorbopoll]

Round 1 of preliminaries, group 7

The first two places get a place on the bracket

Little reminder: there will be 2 more rounds of preliminaries, the losing blorbos of this poll still have 2 chances of getting in the official bracket

Propaganda under the cut

Rigby (Regular Show)

"i relate to him a lot because he started the show as an insufferable piece of shit (i used to be insufferable too) and then he starts dating Eileen and becomes a better person (i became a better person after i started dating my girlfriend) and his friendship with Mordecai just reminds me a whole lot of my dynamics with my best friend. he really is just like me fr"

Angua von Überwald (Discworld)

"Okay SO she's a werewolf who ran away from home because her parents are awful and then changed her name. Her parents ignore her existence and when they're confronted by her they use her old name that she Discarded because they are the worst. She's a vegetarian by day and doesn't eat people at full moon (one drop is one too many) but she Pays for all chickens she kills because that's not what an animal does. She is So angry and So hateful and So wrong about So many things but she Learns and Grows through the books. When she falls in love she fully believes she will be chased out of the town when the clock strikes midnight because nobody can accept her for who she truly is but THEN her lover finds OUT and he is shocked and confused at first but he loves her and LEARNS about her and puts aside his prejudice and they both grow as people over the course of several books and I love her so much your honor she is just like me fr fr"

Cao Weining (Word of Honor)

"ready to risk it all for a pretty girl who can and will beat his ass. just wants to eat a bunch of good food with his girlfriend"

Aang (Avatar: The Last Air Bender)

"12 years old, told you’re going to be the most powerful and important person in the world—and that you need to start like tomorrow. I’d runaway too."

Okuyasu Nijimura (Jojo's Bizarre Adventure)

"YES, he says he isn’t too smart but he tries his best, he yells a lot when he isn’t supposed to, he puts things bluntly, he is menacing with a heart of gold, AND HE MAKE THE FUNNY FACE"

Shin Tsukimi (Your Turn to Die)

"-He is extremely weak. A literal twelve year old boy is stronger than him. He struggled to open a sliding door cabinet. -He's a liar, but like.. some of it is super funny. He lies about just the most random shit. He claimed that he simply 'didn't know how to do a push-up', and that's why he didn't want to do one. When in reality, he's actually just too physically weak to do one. -He has major beef with, (and is jealous of), a random seventeen year old girl. He is twenty something. His number one worst enemy is some random teenage girl.... same, honestly. -He uses really... strange.. wording. I mean this very affectionately. But it's hard to defend him when he says stuff like 'riffraff' and 'casting pearls before swine'. -Terrible fashion. I mean, just look at him. -Autism. -He enjoys cute cat plushies."

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

Playing with this idea for a one-shot, so it's not fully developed yet.

Whumpee protag is a young successful businessman, real alpha personality, comes across as cold and cruel. But as a minor he was sexually abused by his adopted father. When the father killed himself, whumpee took over his company as just a teenager and ran the company even better, but gets tricked, betrayed and abused by his first new business partner. As a young adult he approaches his bodyguard, his right-hand man, who's much older than him, to abuse him in very specific ways (all the ways that he was abused before). Even if he frames it as kink, it's still very uncomfortable stuff. Bodyguard is terrified and has no idea how to answer; he doesn't want to see him hurt and has been protecting him since the abusive father died. He's also afraid that if this is what the whumpee has his mind set on, he will find a way to get it, one way or another, and isn't it safer for the whumpee if the bodyguard agrees instead of him finding someone else? Bodyguard doesn't know about any of the previous abuse, but once he agrees to participate, he starts to realize what must have happened to whumpee with the business partner—under his watch. He wants revenge, he wants to apologize for his failure, he wants the whumpee to feel loved, but he rejects everything gentle and kind. Whumpee thinks the cycle is doomed to repeat, so he thinks he's taken control of the cycle.

Not sure if it should end there with the realization of why, or if they deserve some kind of happy ending. Any thoughts?

tw: mention of childhood sexual assault.

this actually reminds me a little of my own blorbo — not every single detail is similar, of course, but maybe because it reminds me of my blorbo, I’m a little biased, so the more I read your ask, the more my mind goes “oh yes, yes, this is a brilliant and fascinating trope! I love this and I wish the trope got more recognition!”

(I mean your character and my blorbo share the same childhood trauma inflicted by their adoptive fathers who are now dead. and my blorbo also turned out an asshole with money and power who’s actually very abused and traumatized, but since no one knows about what he went through as a child, they simply see him as an asshole with money and power; it’s complicated, but this isn’t about my blorbo, so I’ll just stop right here.)

as for whether your story should end with your character acknowledging his trauma or if he should get a happy ending moving forward, I’m afraid I can’t offer a precise answer to that, since I don’t have enough knowledge/information about all the little details in your story, if that makes sense? and I believe every little detail does matter when it comes to how a story should end, which direction it should go. and only the author knows that.

could he eventually heal, move on and grow from his trauma, or should his story end with him realizing he’s traumatized and is haunted by his own past?

I really believe the answer depends on how you write him. there’s no right or wrong path for your story to take, since either of these can make for a perfect ending of the story. it can also kind of… be a mixture of both? but obviously, these are just my thoughts without having enough knowledge about his character.

that being said, the advice I can give you from firsthand experience is that you don’t have to make that decision — about how your story should end — right now. more often than not, I couldn’t make a decision about which direction my story should go until I was writing it and it just felt right for my story to head towards this direction instead of the other one. so as long as you write what feels right for you and your character, you’re doing it right and are giving your character the respect and conclusion arc he deserves.

[neon-moon-beam]

I don't know who needs to hear this but apparently it's a lot of people;

If you want to make Ingo and Emmet "scary" and "unhinged" and think that they're mean to people for any reason, you really need to interact with the source material. Canonically they are both very kind and supportive, whether they win or lose. Just because Emmet has a blunt way of speaking does not make him mean!

There are Submas fans out there who will not touch the fandom (myself included) because of the sheer amount of Submas fan works that actually have nothing to do with Ingo and Emmet, and are definitely not Ingo and Emmet, save for appearances. If you really want to make Submas mean, "unhinged", "feral" or what have you, or really want to take them extremely out of character, you're better off making an OC. A lot of people are alienated when they come to like a character from actually interacting with the source material and instead find an entire fandom has turned them into completely unrecognizable characters who might as well be OCs. There's nothing wrong with creating an OC, and nothing wrong with an OC that started off as another character and gradually became their own character. You have complete creative control over your OCs, and it can be freeing to be able to do whatever you want with them instead of trying to make an established character work in ways they really don't.

Also, as it's been said time and again, taking Submas' neurodivergent character traits and deciding that makes them "scary" or "unhinged" is incredibly ableist. Doesn't matter if Ingo and/or Emmet are your "comfort characters", or your "blorbos", doesn't matter if you're using them to work through personal issues, doesn't matter if you yourself are neurodivergent (yes, you can be ableist towards yourself, please be better to yourself). Many fans of Submas are tired of seeing Submas being portrayed as "scary", "unhinged", "mean", etc for having the same traits they themselves do. People actually feel dehumanized by this. Stop.

And if you're still sitting there going, "Well I like these portrayals!" Or "I'm neurodivergent and I don't see a problem!" You need to really think about the impact you have on others, the impact you can have on a community, and whether you're perpetrating stigma or not, and why you think it's OK to use neurodivergence as a prop.

Please listen to people addressing these issues instead of shouting over them with ableism barely disguised as, or not even attempted to be disguised, as entertainment.

[kiiyome-art]

I've been thinking a lot about destiny lately, and how I want to go about writing and drawing out my warlock, Vienna's, story, now that the light and dark saga is coming to a close. I was a bit late to the destiny scene, all things considered, and between my creative struggles and (trying) to be a functional human being, I've not created as much as id have liked to. So come along with me on my little rant as I think allowed my thoughts, if you feel so inclined.^^

There's still so much I want to write, and stories to tell within the destiny universe.

I started playing the game during season of the plunder, when my friends introduced me to it, and we became a glorious fireteam! I was drawn to the pretty warlock space magic immediately, and thus, Vienna was born. ( Though I've since become a hunter main, she's still my favorite blorbo. )

I quickly fell in love with the story and it's characters, dug deep into the lore and since then, her story has gone through a LOT of changes. I try to stick close to the canon story for the most part, in my universe Vienna is the young wolf who was risen in D1, and has since gone through most of what we see throughout the dlcs and seasons past then, I'll probably elaborate on that further at one point.

Most of my drawings that I've posted here are fun little doodles, occasional quips between characters, and overall "for fun" stuff. The majority of what I've thought up for Vienna has been confined to my own head and the rare rants to my friends. And now with final shape being so close, I feel myself pressured to know, and write down, everything that I can. Which, realistically, is silly.

I had plans to make a three minute animatic of Vienna during forsaken since it was a MASSIVE turning point for her, have it out by final shape, then make an entirely NEW animatic based off OF final shape, mostly inspired by Caydes return. Whilst I had mapped out most of it and gotten some rough sketches down, I didn't even begin on the actual project. Could I have? Probably. Do i feel guilty about it? Yes. Will those projects still happen? Hopefully.

I know for all you creatives out there that might be reading this, the feeling of having plans, and not being able to carry through with them, or it not turning out how you wanted, is a shitty feeling, not foreign to ANY of us.

I felt myself compelled to write this in the first place because I know that, well, I'm not alone.

There's many creatives out there feeling the same pressure to get stuff done as I am, even if we don't say it. We want to have everything figured out, to create something wonderful, with the final shape feeling like "the end" of destiny as we know it and all. So this is me calling out to whoever might be listening; be nicer to yourself.

You have all the time in the world to create that animation, paint that painting, write that story. Just because final shape is "an ending," doesn't mean you can't still work on and have fun with the story beats you have in mind prior to Final Shape. No ones gunna call it silly, were all equally starved for content here. And who knows, once we all know how final shape ends, it might inspire you and help your story flow together better.

I'll try my best to tag my posts relating to Vienna and her fireteam with time stamps from now on, as I tend to jump all over the place and it could get really confusing really fast. The TLDR of it all;

Don't feel guilty about unfinished projects. Final shape isn't the end, dont let it be, and dont feel confined to just creating content relating to post final shape.

That's all! I appreciate you reading if you got this far, and im excited to see the amazing things the Destiny corner of tumblr will come up with next.

See you starside! ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ

[weebsinstash]

*sighs as I add the yandere Batfam to my Blorbo list* do y'all ever have such a genuinely unsatisfying life and childhood you start for whatever reason vicariously living through age regression ideas where you're literally raised by other people

Like imagine you're a superhero/vigilante but you're fairly small time and you've actually bumped into Batman a handful of times and, he actually likes you, your heart is in the right place, and through some wacky villain shenanigans or some Lazarus Pit fuckery, you get zapped by a ray gun or hit wirh a spell or "resurrected wrong" and suddenly Bruce has to deal with a de-aged you, a teenager without their adult memories and aged back to before you developed your skills or your metagene that gave you your powers

And here's Batman already shoving adopted children into his pockets like breadsticks at olive garden "oh no, ANOTHER orphan/kid with a horrible childhood in need of a home? Whatever shall we do. Oh no my hand slipped and I already texted Alfred to prepare a room to stay and oh no my Waynazon shopping list is suddenly full of new furniture and gifts and clothes and i already emailed Dick and Barabaras university so you can get a better education and oh wow just what is going on this is so weird"

Alfred standing by with his dry wit whenever Reader gets hormonal or does typical teenager things "ah yes, yelling 'I hate you' and slamming doors, I definitely didn't have enough of this experience raising you, Master Wayne" but like he adores it really, we all know this man is a caretaker at heart and as someone who 'knew you before' st least through what Bruce has told him, he's happy to help give you a better life

Of course then complications arise whenever Reader gets her memory back (and potentially extremely pissed she was kept as a child and literally no attempts, none, zero, nada, zilch attempts were made to turn her back to normal) and she's like "ok well I'm mentally an adult again but I'm still in a kids body, let's try and turn me back and then I can be a real adult again" and the entire batfamily is just "OR, hear me out, OR. You could stay here though? And if you wanna be a crimefighter you should at least stay with us but like its jusr ao dangerous though what if you got hurt 🥺" IF they let you return to hero work at all but let's be real, if you did, I think Bruce would be so proud to put a little bat symbol or R or whatever on your uniform cause it's like, awwww bonding, everyone's gonna know you're his lil protege 🥰

And imagine Reader goes to confront Bruce about this whole thing and you just start bawling because "was I just such a pathetic loser before that you wanted to change everything about me" and like he did the whole thing with good intentions but, YEAH he did absolutely lie to you and kind of shape you a little for the few years you were "raised" by him and you're standing there with your new clothes and your new haircut and all the hobbies he's paid for and the education he's paid for and all the new things you've learned and can do because he had the resources to give them to you and you're wondering what was so unlikable about you before that he doesnt want you to be that person again, to be the person you've always known and lived your life as

Suffice to say he isn't going to turn you back at all and if you have to "return to your old self" by literally naturally aging back to your "original age" then so be it. You've got an entire mansion filled with your loving 'family' and you're happy and you're healthy and really, maybe you're just being anxious and scared and all it will take is time for you to adjust and see that all of them know what's best. Amd if you never do adjust and you're just kept around anyways, well, it doesn't make much of a difference to them. Hell, maybe they'll find a hero or villain or magic user who can, you know, maybe make you forget all about the life you had before, completely wipe your head until only the Wayne family, your family, is left

Really, Bruce would consider it just to hear you call him 'Dad' again

[desultory-novice]

How would you envision the dynamic between Marx and Daroach?

I bet Daroach likes to do mischief. Could be another candidate for a "prank partner" Marx could have, perhaps?

Very interesting thought you have there, and I think you may be onto something...!

Daroach is a thief, but he is, by way of costume and mannerisms, clearly modeled on the specific concept of "the phantom thief" and all phantom thieves are multi-classed in thief + stage magician. They just are. (That Daroach has some real magic to back it up, or at least his cane is magically imbued, helps.)

And of course, Marx was originally introduced as a Marx the Magician before settling in his better known job title of Cosmic Jester. (But what is a jester but a combination clown + stage magician?) So, now we have a pair of stage magicians who are both known to be smooth talkers and insanely dexterous.

What else can we pull out of this pair?

Something that's kind of easy to read from his character but not always obvious is that Daroach seems to be... fairly old?! Maybe not as old as Doc, who he himself states as being "up in years" but when I went back through the script for Mass Attack, he's clearly been all over the place, but he's also been to Popstar in the past and studied it extensively. This man is crazy traveled...

..Or he just likes Popstar a lot. We all do!

[Take a nap, old man!]

PS: I love this image of Daroach so much. It's probably my defining Daroach image. Look at this man mouse. Look at all the emotions you can read from one sketch! I would give him treasure and watch him scurry away with it except that I know he would only truly feel satisfied if he stole it. Dess looks at Daroach like the squirrels in my yard that steal all the birdseed. I should be annoyed. I should be, but they are so much fun to watch. Dess just wants to adopt all the Kirby characters... (assuming they indeed turn out to be 8cm, that is. ^^; ) Such good blorbos, all of them..

...

AHEM! Sorry about that tangent.

The reason I bring Daroach's age up is that he is still provably "young at heart." He's kind of a big goof?! Who else would get possessed by the Lord of the Underworld and then, snickering, call Doc over... "Say, Doc? I just got an idea for a shockingly good trap! Can you...?" So, yes! I believe he would have exactly the kind of fun-loving nature necessary to enjoy... at least SOME of Marx's goofs! 

The difference that I see is mainly is that Daroach will casually and freely admit to having several (implied) fears born from (implied) bad experiences and he cares about things like danger-level. Marx seems the type who lets his nigh invulnerability (?) to lasting harm and his confidence in his schemes inform 99% percent of his bad decision making. (1) "Caution" is where they really part ways.

That and, like in my own rabbit Marx drawing, I think that should Marx ever decide to turn on his fellow-of-a-shared-profession and assume he could beat Daroach in sleight-of-hand, Daroach would swiftly make Marx regret his hubris in the most embarrassing way.

But when they're on the same page? Oh boy, look out! You're not getting out of this with either your possessions OR your dignity!

With Marx and Daroach, you've basically got the gritty (goofball) veteran stage magician and the bold upstart with no limits and no fear together. That's a classic movie team-up right there!

-

(1) Common fandom interpretations aside, it's hard to say how many of Marx's plans/tricks were bad ideas or have ended badly for him when really, Marx has only been caught/stopped twice. Once with the whole Galactic Nova incident and again (depending on how you take these posts) in the Christmas Cake incident on Twitter. Of course, cartoon logic almost always dictates that once the "frighteningly intelligent trickster" character stops being a villain and joins the good guys, his schemes get more and more goofy/harmless and far easier to interrupt than that climactic first encounter!