#you're playing on my obsessions people

[bananadramaaa]

Do you have a reverse Au for your owl house ln au? Like, Ln in the world of the owl house? I wonder what kind o magic Mono and Six would have

Now because of your ask - yes XD

Here come babies! ✨ Now I want to draw more LN kids in the future in TOH universe, look what you've done to me.

My choice for Mono & Six covens is based on their personalities in the game and, well, game itself (same with palisman). Oracle, Healing and Illusions for Mono; Abominations, Construction and Illusions for Six. I think Six could be closer to Amity's role here, in terms of "student protégé", but only because she's a great manipulator 🙃 Mono similar to Willow for me in toh universe, powerful/gifted kid but needs to learn how to control their magic.

And sketchy comic (Raincoat Girl here is a human)

[langernameohnebedeutung]

.

[actualaster]

"The improvement isn't significant enough for advertising to be able to convey that it's so much better you should definitely spend money on it even if you played the original" isn't the winning argument a bizarre number of graphics-obsessed gamers think it is

[b0amagination]

Tastes of Whumptober: Day 9

I simply couldn't give this prompt to anyone else. No need to know my blorbos beforehand, you'll figure out their dynamic pretty quick.

Obsession

“This whole thing is really tipping into obsession territory.”

“You’re just now realizing this?”

Declan paused.

“I meant that as a rude comment, Hasan.”

They clicked the menu button and the racers on screen stopped moving. Declan reached over to resume it by clicking Hasan’s controller, but they jerked it away and set it out of view.

“Look here.” He looked. Stupid obedience training. “What do you think I do in my free time?” 

“When you’re not down here?” It took a moment to formulate an answer. When they weren’t in his face, he didn’t often wonder what his kidnapper was up to. “You have hobbies outside of torture, I figure.”

“I crocheted this,” Hasan volunteered, tugging the sleeve of their bolero.

“Really? I would’ve pinned you as more of a fast fashion type, considering your loose morals.” He had seen them wearing clearly upper-end clothing before, but didn’t want to inflate their ego any more than necessary.

The shock collar went off for just a second and he yelped, having nearly forgotten its presence. 

“I own a house. I can afford clothes that won’t fall apart when I so much as breathe on the seams.”

“Ohhhhhh, no wonder your landlord hasn’t checked on me yet.” They snapped their fingers directly in front of his eyes and he flinched. At least it wasn’t another shock.

“I asked you a question, remember? My free time.”

“Did you want a different answer? I said hobbies that aren’t torture.”

“And I’m saying you’re wrong.”

“Right, I forgot there’s another man chained up in every room of- hhhck!” He doubled over, instinctively trying to dodge the hurt. “What?! Do all of your hobbies somehow incorporate torture now?” 

Silence was a strange answer to that question.

“That doesn’t seem healthy.” In more ways than one. The second part almost slipped out before he bit his tongue.

The collar didn’t shock, but it vibrated softly in warning.

“Have you ever hyperfixated on a person rather than a subject or activity?” Hasan asked.

“Oh my god. I’m your hyperfixation.” It didn’t answer their question, but it was the intended conclusion. “Oh my god.”

“You’ve gone pale, Dec.” He jerked away from the hand on his cheek, but the collar nudged him and he let them touch. “Is it really that big of a deal to you?”

“I know what a hyperfixation is like.”

“Well?” They wanted to hear details.

“Well, I don’t know if you hyperfixate the same way I do, but I tend to associate anything and everything back to it.”

“Yes, I as well.”

Nausea slithered somewhere between his stomach and his throat.

“So all of your downtime is spent relating all your favorite things back to hurting me.” Though phrased as a question, it most certainly wasn’t. The spark in Hasan’s eyes understood that all too well.

“What can I say? It’s an obsession.”

Declan turned in his seat staring intently at the television, willing it to unpause so he could stop thinking and play, but it could never be quite so easy. A hand in his hair forced him back to Hasan, now so close their noses could touch. 

“You’re so tense…” A light touch over his sternum. “Let’s unwind with a game. What rules were we already playing with?” The shock remote in the corner of his vision told him they remembered quite clearly, and an attempt to lessen the stakes wouldn’t end well.

“We were playing seven random races for choice of takeout and use of my free time.” Declan couldn’t hide the tremor in his hands as he fiddled with the controller.

“Ah, no, that won’t do. If I lost ownership of your free time tonight I might go mad.” They tapped his cheek in thought. “We’ll restart from race one. I’ll play you for choice of takeout… and choice of weapon.”

[requiemforthestars]

Being back in the Dragon Age fandom has awakened something long asleep within me, which is a seething deep, feral hatred and disgust for Cullen and dismay at the way everyone in the fandom is head over heels for him. Literally it's as fresh as it was on the first day. Truly, things you feel at 15 years old do not wane.

[squishosaur]

why is twisted wonderland like "i am going to ruin your life maybe destroy your worldview a little bit <3 i am going to make you get attatched to these ridiculously named anime boy versions of disney characters and then watch them go through every trauma imaginable that keeps getting progressively worse and more complex as we keep going. i am going to fundamentally change you for better or worse and you will never be able to watch a disney movie again without thinking of me. i am going to make you watch as these awkward teens navigate through Evil Highschool and you have to find Your place in it, knowing fully well that, at the end, after all of that, you will leave all your friends and return to your own world alone again" but also "omg hey girl do you want to see your babygirl as a bunny or a plushie perhaps? say yes"

[sam-reid]

i don’t trust people who don’t think tom did an excellent fruity job of playing lestat, i’m not sorry

[rainybraindays]

I am

Legitimately so fucking irritated

They dangle this teaser in front of us, give us such little news and information on the season in general, I'm forced to watch my peers constantly fantasize about him getting his heart broken by the woman he loves, and now, in a teaser for his season, we get his brother having a moment with his wife and basically nothing else

[kuningatar]

nine people i'd like to get to know better

i got tagged by @ravensfreckles thanks 💖

last song: 闇に降る奇跡 by d'espairsray

favorite color: black (and yellow and green and pink)

currently watching: does rewatching old UNHhhh episodes on youtube count? i really haven't been watching anything in a while

last movie/show: killing of the flower moon (it was great!!)

spicy/savory/sweet: it kinda rotates but mostly sweet

current obsession: this stupid mobile game called whiteout survival

last thing you googled: killing of the flower moon (i wanted to make sure i got the name right)

tagging: @raylangivins @arcreactored @faronnorth @acorrespondence @vinylchemist

[tippenfunkaport]

When I first started in fandom, for whatever reason I decided making fankids was like… too cringe for me. Like that was the arbitrary line I drew of what was too deep into fandom for me.

Anyway, think of this when I post my fankid drawings later because they represent me surrendering what is left of my dignity and fully surrendering to the cringe.

[camellia-thea]

initially this post had some commentary about interests right now. and then it turned into a ramble about personal healing in the tags. so the interest post is going separately.

[zareleonis]

i know neuvifuri antis are delusional but why do they constantly fucking LIE and claim they haven't interacted since the archon quest when they interacted in both her story quest and the latest lantern rite!

[butchscientist]

what's the most chronically online take you've heard recently? oh well mine's got to be [a joke that right wingers took seriously to justify their moral panic], [post that's almost certainly made by a troll account], [slightly unfortunately worded post that's being interpreted in the worst faith possible], [tweet by an overzealous 14 year old with 10 followers who was then subjected to weeks of non-stop harassment and death threats] or maybe [a single statement from a long and complex discussion that's been completely taken out of context]. online leftists are so sensitive and extreme and make the movement look bad ha ha i'm very smart and reasonable

[todayisafridaynight]

when aoki’s secretary was all like ‘maybe we should cancel your meet and greet :(’ and he’s all ‘wait there’s going to be press there right’ i love how you can practically See the neurons in this dude’s brain go off like fireworks because that would imply he doesn’t get to make a public appearance and that would make his attention-hungry ass upset

[lonelier-version-of-you]

“No one sees when you lose when you’re playing solitaire” is probably THE most Henrik Hanssen lyric ever written and I don’t think I’ll ever get over it. Like, there are songs that suit him better than “Dear Reader” (although it is fitting for him), but I think you’d have a great deal of difficulty finding a single lyric that sums his entire character up better than that one.

[inkskinned]

which is fine, because love is love, and you're getting gay-married, so it would be kind of ironic if love was only sometimes love.

except The King Of Demons (his is Edmund) is always late, to everything, always. which is fair, because time doesn't work in hell, and it's not like he can just catch a bus. except that you specifically asked him not to do this, didn't you, because he's always doing things like this.

He splays out his hands, the light catching on long, ivory claw tips. god, doesn't he know not to wear white to a wedding?

so many people are screaming right now.

it's not that he's the golden child. you guys had normal parents, middle-class. your mom was kind of an "almond mom," according to your fiancée, who pursed their lips when they found out about how your mom used to wrinkle her nose any time you asked for an extra snack in your lunchbox.

you close your eyes for a moment. think of your beautiful almost-spouse. ashe. their name like a bloom inside you. how the dress looks on ashe's body, their shy little smile. how they'd walked down the aisle, and you'd both been half-laughing, half-crying. your hands had trembled when you saw them. like the whole world was pouring down your throat, golden. like you were catching a moment and casting it in amber.

ashe'd been the one to help you when your parents were pushing for you to invite edmund. god, the amount of fights you'd gotten in with your parents - the same six sentiments, over and over again.

you'd been sitting on your bed, biting your lip, your fingers hovering over the little button send. ashe'd nuzzled your neck. you used to be close, and i think that's important. but you know your relationship to him the most. i'm willing to make the effort, and i love you no matter what you choose, they'd said. we don't have to if you don't want to, though, no matter what your parents say about him.

you'd thrown yourself down, supine, arm over the eyes. he's just... we are just.... you tried to phrase that-which-is-love-and-rage.

you're the normal twin. your "big thing" was only "being a lesbian." in high school, edmund started being able to make birds die by looking at them. you came home, trying to tell your parents i kissed a girl. i think i'm - and they just kind of nodded at you. edmund was eating the bible in front of them, like a goat.

on the bed, you'd held your hands out vaguely to ashe. edmund is a just always a lot.

ashe had shrugged. don't invite him then. and it was that - that they were okay with either of your decisions - that is why he even got an invite, in the end.

and now here he is, like how you wanted (?), and your hands are red, clenched hard around your bouquet. the officiant is crying. some people are on their knees, praying. some are trying to touch your brother, like he could impart a blessing.

"i made it!" he's triumphant. "i know i'm late, i'm sorry, there was - do you know anything about right-wing politicians?"

"i'm going to fucking kill him," you say, although you're not actually sure who you're talking to, or if he can be killed.

ashe is blinking, their face in a tiny oh of surprise. you take their hand, drop their hand, take their hand again. they blink at your brother. their voice is low but steady. "there's, um. is there a dark halo around him?"

you duck your head to meet their eyes. "fuck, ashe. i'm sorry. he wasn't supposed to -"

"did i miss it?" Edmund is swinging his head around far-too-wide. his 2 sets of horns leave little red mist any time they scour through the air. "I didn't miss the kiss, right?"

the town clerk is in the audience, and she's frowning. you send her an apologetic look. she shakes her head. "as we've discussed," she manages to throw her gentle voice over the din, "the wedding isn't official if someone objects. that is the legal statute. which people tend to be understanding of." she sends a dirty look to edmund, and that makes you love her. she seems completely calm, which makes sense, because she works in the town hall, and this probably isn't even her first demon-showing-up-at-a-wedding.

he somehow hears her, holds his hands up. "i'm not objecting!" the back of the event hall catches on fire. of-fucking-course. "i'm not - don't mind me, uh, please continue." edmund sends a look to the back-of-the-room fire and it whimpers and gutters out. he flashes you a winning smile, and then puts his hand to his king's-garb chest and mouths sorry! and then cartwheels his glittering talons to say go ahead.

"i think i'm going to throw up." the officiant's voice is barely a whisper.

you watch in horror as edmund tries to awkwardly slide into a waiting line of chairs. the sound of begging follows him, people on their knees at hell's king. he pats a few of them on the head, holding up his finger in a sheepish shh! while his touch leaves a bleeding rune on their skin. his hooves click, and his footprints leave ruby-bright fireroses in his wake.

he tries to sit down, but the wooden chairs are made for people and not the lord king of demons, so he has to span his furred hindquarters over two seats. he smiles again, offers you a little wave.

the room is dead silent, minus the weeping. you look back to ashe. you ruined this. you shouldn't have invited him. you spent so much money on this event, and ashe looks so fucking handsome, and you haven't even gotten to kiss them. to make it official.

ashe looks up at you, manages a little smile. "could be worse?"

you feel yourself start to smile too, but then edmund's chairs give out, and he falls directly on the floor, and with his startled yelp, everything around him bursts into the cold whip-crease of hellflame, disintegrating everything that isn't-a-person, including the flowers and the decorations and the cake and the tables. everything you saved for months to be able to afford. the venue that you both agonized over choosing. you picked this place because it was significant to both of you and was equidistant from both your parents and had a deal with the local hotel for people coming out of town. two years of planning, literally burning down around your ears.

edmund manages to stop the fire pretty much immediately, but it's too late. the officiant faints clear away. the town clerk gives you a sympathetic look and mouths see you soon and steps neatly out of the room, taking ashe's parents with her, chatting gently. an arched flower frame collapses into dust with a loud whoomp. pretty much nobody is left in the building, and you're standing at the top of the steps, at the fucking hour of your marriage, and there is nothing left but blue-cold embers, the lights blown out in favor of the eerie hellfire glow.

you sit down, hard. after a few seconds, you feel ashe sit down next to you. you put your head between your knees so you don't puke with rage, which would be somehow more humiliating than everything else happening at the moment.

"okay, it's definitely too soon," they whisper in your ear, "but i have to admit there is something that's going to be so funny later about my name being ashe and my wedding going up in flames." they wrap their hand in yours. "i can't believe we worried about candles. we should have just gone with them instead of worrying about safety. are you okay?"

you send them a look. "am i - am i okay? this absolute bitch -" you gesture with your free hand out to where edmund is trying to piece together the cinders of his chair, "ruined my fucking wedding."

your mom is standing awkwardly in what used to be the "family" row of chairs. your father is absent, of course. she makes a noise at you. "don't call your brother a bitch."

"oh my fucking god." you have to put your head between your knees again, fighting that stupid fucking rage-puke urge. your blood pressure has obviously reached "skyrocket".

"he's here, isn't he? you're not being particularly grateful," your mother says, because of course she does.

"oh my god! ohmygod. ohmygod." you feel yourself hyperventilating, and then you start laughing, and you hate the hyena hysteria of it, the way it pitches dangerously close to a sob. "this is just - this is just like you! this is the fucking - you blow out the candles on the birthday cake! you curse the kids i'm trying to babysit! you get straight-A's on every test without studying, and get all the friends, and everyone is obsessed with you! and then when i graduate from art school, do i fucking get a party? nope! but hey, let's throw edmund a party for his 300,000th tortured soul! and his 300,001st! and fucking everything else. and fuck me, i guess! edmund gets hurt on the playground, let's burn down the playground. i got fucking bullied, and our parents don't even notice. i am fucking struggling, but we need to pay attention to edmund. he gets fucking everything. while we're at it, why don't we let him fucking ruin my wedding!"

you are dimly aware of ashe wrapping one arm around you and then the other, and then you are sobbing into their shoulder.

"oh, come on. stop with the hysterics," your mother chides you. "you had a perfectly fine childhood. all kids fight. you should have gotten the ceremony done faster. and you know i didn't approve of you spending all this money when you have student loans to -"

"respectfully," ashe's voice is cold and cutting while they rub circles on your shaking back, "and i know you're about to be my mother-in-law, but -" you hear them force a smile, "maybe you could choose this moment to leave your daughter the fuck alone?"

you are so fucking in love with ashe at that moment that it stops your weeping like you got hit by a truck. you look up at them, and want to go back to crying, just overwhelmed by the sheer fucking amount you care about them, but then you look over at your mother, and her shocked expression, and you burst out laughing.

your mother makes a few almost fish-like motions with her mouth, and then turns on her heel, stomping over cinders on her way out. and then it is just you and ashe and edmund and how you are half-crying half-laughing quietly to yourself, like a tap that won't stop dripping.

edmund has put the chair down. he is staring at his hands. he is at least 500 pounds and over 7 feet tall (he doesn't use metric, he's the devil). and somehow, right now, he just looks... small. crestfallen.

"yeah, i mean." his voice cracks. there's no boom of thunder or hellhound echo. he sounds like he did as a kid, before the strange powers and the levitating and the souls of the damned. he sounds like he did the night he accidentally melted most of the pieces in your first glass art show. he sounds - like your brother. he puts the heel of his palm against his eye. "i ruined my sister's wedding."

ashe offers him a little half-grin. "i do just want to say i love the aesthetic, by the way. but you did very much ruin my wedding too."

he points at them, finger-guns. "....ruined their wedding too." something in the attempt at humor - how his voice breaks on the words, how lonely he sounds. it makes you have to close your eyes against the sound. "....you seem cool," he says. "it's... it was nice to meet you."

you hear him come over, his hooves clacking slowly on the floor. when you open your eyes, he's sitting closer to you.

he opens his hand. inside are two little ceramic figures. wedding cake toppers. "i... i made them for you two. i figured i would try - how you make art, without magic. i... i took a class, and i made - i made them." he looks down at the little white-dressed people in his wide, calloused palm. "it's... i wanted to be ... good. i..." he looks at you, and then at ashe. "i tried, you know?"

ashe reaches up, lets him roll the figures into their palm.

he stands up. folds his hands in front of himself. "i don't. know how to be good. i know it doesn't come naturally to you, either. i saw you... choose. to be kind. you could have treated me different, too. like everybody? i was weird, and everyone knew. if you'd been ... mean? it would have been okay. but you." he shrugs. "one time you tried to kill me in the bathroom."

you don't know why you're crying. you look up at him through the cracks between your fingers. "twice," you croak. "but the second time i had a knife." you tuck your hair behind your ears. "but that was only after you pushed me down the stairs at grandma's and i broke my leg before a dance performance. you fuckin' deserved that one."

"i pushed you because you were being a wretched bitch."

"hey now," ashe says, a little edge to their voice, "that's my wife."

you squeeze their hand. "no, he's right. i had deleted his pokemon gold save file right before the elite four."

ashe drops your hand like you scalded them, showing the only horror you've seen this whole time. "you - girl, what the fuck?"

you shrug a little. "i was being a wretched bitch. and he did break my leg about it."

edmund shifts a little. "i just - you are...." his voice dies.

in your family, you don't say i love you. in your family, you don't touch each other or show affection. in your family, you just show up for each other, quietly. neither of you knows how to speak or process what needs to be said. you can see that lacking flashing over his face, literally playing out in shades of crimson. you get that weird twin-sense of something unsaid.

ashe sets the little ceramic people to the side. "she treated you like a person when everyone else treated you like a prophet."

you cut your eyes to them, and then edmund, who gives you one very short, sharp nod. "i, uh. i can. never try." he clears his throat. "i can never try hard enough. for that. i can - what you gave me. by. doing that. by ... just. i made. one thousand. wedding toppers. so it could be perfect. because - i ... it needed to be perfect." he appears to be dying of embarrassment, which does imply he might be capable of dying. oh good. in case i need to try to kill him a third time.

the thought makes a weird, wet laugh bubble out of you. "remember that one time i failed my math test and you set mr. fog's car on fire about it?"

edmund looks shyly at you, and a very small grin spreads across his face. not the dark lord - just a 30-something year old man who has just upset his one-and-only twin.

"you're throwing us the most ostentatious, egregiously expensive wedding," you tell him. "above land."

he frowns a little. "okay, but i'm not doing anything in miami. the vibes there give me the heebie jeebies."

ashe holds up their hand. "and you'll be repaying the deposit on literally everything. oh, and replacing the cake."

you kiss their cheek and then point to him. "and you'll be on time for it."

he shrugs a little. "okay, i literally can't perform miracles, so like. set the bar lower. i can't promise i'll-"

you look down at your feet. "i'd like you to be my man of honor this time. like. by my side. so. you can't be late this time. okay? we do it the right way. finally."

"huh," ashe says, looking between the two of you. "you guys have the same smile."

edmund's grin becomes a little wider, a little easier. he raises an eyebrow at them. "okay, i get that you're cool, but you're like, very cool about this whole thing."

ashe lifts a shoulder. "used to work for the monster under the bed."

"oh shit, simon? fuck." he points to them. "remind me not to mess around with you."

you want to tell edmund i love you and i missed you, but you can't. instead, you pick up the figurines. they're not perfect, but you can tell hours of his life went into each. his hands are so big - it must have taken him so much work to make these things so small. you picture him with his back bent over a workbench, trying to get a face into a tiny clay figure. the ceramic version of you is smiling. he's given you little fangs and a unibrow. he gave ashe a tiny yellow crown. you make the two figures kiss.

snow is falling indoors, little icicles of hellfire. ashe reaches out and take edmund's hand, and then, very awkwardly, he reaches out and takes yours too.

for a moment, it's just the three of you, and the beautiful quiet of the room.

You’re standing at the altar, about to get married to your beautiful fiancée. When suddenly the king of demons bursts through the door of the room, which naturally causes panic. You tried to warn everyone that inviting your sibling to the wedding would mean trouble, but they kept insisting.