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#But for now have some shenanigans
acewithapaintbrush · 1 year
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I'm in love with @ashwii Celestial AU. I wanted to write something poetic and beautiful but instead it turned into silly shenanigans between astronaut April and the Disaster Twins. I hope you get a good chuckle out of it at least.
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"Wait! Hold on! Rewind! Humans do what?" 
April grins and adjusts her grip on the outer hull. She briefly gestures with the screwdriver before plunging it back into the innards of the space station she is going to call her home for the next few years. 
No matter how much she'd trained for and anticipated this mission, the idea of spending years alone on a space station to research the effects of long term exposure to low gravity had been as exciting as it had been scary. All that scientific and psychological mumbo jumbo aside, she'd been convinced that 'going space crazy' would be a given and had noted it down in her mission log on the very first day (something Ground Control hadn't found very funny, weirdly enough). 
She thought the loneliness might kill her before any asteroid or technical failure could. But now here she is, floating in her super advanced space suit in the vast nothingness of space and talking to a floating humanoid turtle who is also apparently an embodiment of all the stars in all the galaxies and who is named like a renaissance painter even though April had to explain what a renaissance painter even is and… 
Maybe she has gone space crazy after all? 
Leonardo proves that he is not merely a figment of her imagination by tapping one of his fingers against the face shield of her helmet, an action that had scared the crap out of her the first time he'd done it. Not anymore though. Her new friends won't let anything happen to her. 
"Hello? Stars to April!" 
"Yes Leo, I heard you." She can hear him loud and clear. She wonders if he can too or if her voice sounds muffled to him through the helmet. "Don't know what to tell you, dude. It's just a silly thing humans do. There are websites where you can buy a star and give it a name and then give it away as a gift." 
"A gift?" Leo clutches at his chest like an old lady might clutch at her pearls. He floats backwards a few feet. The trails of his mask flare and tiny stars follow his movement, surrounding him and sparking briefly like small explosions before fading away again. 
Oh, how April wishes she could touch them. Would they be cold or hot? Would they pass right through her or settle on her skin like a thousand little fireflies?
They don't know if Leo and his brothers can enter the station without harm to them or the ship and April knows that they are too wary to try. Yet. 
Which, yeah. Fair enough. Maybe one day. 
"A gift!" he repeats. His voice cracks and he looks genuinely distressed. April would feel bad for him if she wasn't trying so hard not to laugh. "How dare you humans sell pieces of me as a gift!" 
"Hey hey, calm down. It's not real. No one can really buy a star. It's just… make believe." 
"That's besides the point!" 
In that moment Donatello joins them, alerted by his brother's shouting and gesticulating. He's been keeping an eye on the two of them from a distance. The moon turtle is the slowest to warm up to April, although her willingness to show and explain to him the various uses of her NASA approved equipment has gone a long way. April is determined to win the celestial being over with her charm and wit, just like she did with his brothers. 
"What's all this racket about?" Don looks and sounds tired. It's a waning moon and his arms are already more black than green, his eyes vaguely distant. The black mass traveling up and down his arms like the insides of a lava lamp should look creepy but it's actually quite mesmerizing. April could watch the dance of darkness and light for hours, but Donnie gets testy when he catches her staring so she refrains. Barely. 
"Donnieeeee!" Leo wails and throws his arms around his brother's neck. Immediately the stars on his skin brighten. It's fascinating: The darker Donnie is, the brighter Leo shines. The closer they are to a full moon, the more subdued Leo's glow becomes. Neither state seems to affect the other negatively. Rather, they seem to gravitate towards each other even more frequently during full and new moons. 
Donnie smiles softly in the face of his brother's antics and April catches herself thinking that it's probably a good thing both of them don't shine at the same time. That might just blind her. 
The moon turtle catches her staring and just like a switch being flipped his smile turns into a scowl and he pushes his brother away. 
April smirks. So predictable. 
"Nardo! What is it?" 
Leonardo waves his arms around. Streaks of light paint waves into the space between them. "April just told me that humans buy stars as gifts!" He shudders and hugs himself. "I feel so violated." 
Okay, that is so not fair. Now April feels really bad. And it's got nothing to do with the glare Don sends her. 
"Hey man!", she says and gently bumps her fist lightly against Leo's shoulder. It feels just like any other shoulder. Corporal and squishy. She wonders if it would feel different without the glove in the way. "They only do that because stars are beautiful. You buy a star for your loved ones, to show them how important they are to you and because you want to give them something unique and lovely. Gifting someone a star is like, the most wonderful thing you can do on earth, y'know?"
She is mostly talking out of her ass right now. April never got the whole 'gifting a star' business. To her it's mostly a scam, just a very expensive piece of paper. No one owns stars so no one can sell them either. But she does acknowledge that it's a cute idea at least and that lots of people are really digging it. 
Leo stares at her with, excuse the pun, stars in his eyes. "Really?" His attitude does a complete 180. He twirls in a circle, throws his glowing mask trails around and blows his brother an exaggerated kiss. "You hear that, Dee? I'm the most wonderful gift, ever. Humans pay lots of money for a piece of me. You all get my company for free, be thankful." 
Donatello rolls his eyes. "Oh, joy. Though I  wish I had paid some money. At least then I'd have a receipt and could return you for something cooler." 
Leo only laughs good-naturedly, but April mentally rubs her hands like a villain. 
She really shouldn't aggravate the guy. She does want him to like her, after all. But Donnie just offered her the perfect opportunity for some light teasing. And she did promise to teach the boys everything she knows about earth and human customs. She's got a duty to fulfill, doesn't she? 
Ah, well. They can become best friends later. After all, she'll be around them for many years to come. 
"Oh Donnie!" she drawls and floats closer to him. He eyes her with the usual distrust and she smirks in anticipation. "Did I ever tell you about this thing humans do, where they buy land on the moon?" 
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xenomorphicdna · 6 months
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On the string propaganda
Heeellll yeah
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Bestie is an entire PLACE
I look at those guys and let me tell you the soul of that thing ain't just in the puppet, it's in all the neurons carrying the thoughts and emotions, it's in the power rails that serve as the heart. All the memories in the memory conflux and all the numbers we see flicker across displays, the flux condensers, the puppet; a little avatar.
No way these massive machines see life the same way we do. They have their own experiences and senses and things they hold dear. A world we can't imagine, a way of living we couldn't even comprehend.
I could never tear an iterator apart to be just a puppet. Who am I to decide how's life supposed to be enjoyed or perceived?
You treat your creechurs however you want- I ain't gonna dictate that. But damn, hearing the thrums and buzzes of the linear systems rail? They are alive with so much power, these mechanical beasts are exactly what they should be.
#sorry im just a really passionate on the string believer#you cant tell me that these massive structures kilometers wide capable of things we cant even image would look at something thats#thats comparable to a speck of dust and be like#yes i would like to rid myself of practically my entire body to be that tiny#this aint no “if i were a supercomputer i'd be sad i couldnt see the sky like i do now”#thats only because you have something to compare it to#if i were to suddenly loose everything to be just some microscopic creature i'd be miserable but only because i know what im loosing#id be loosing the ability to think like i do now id be loosing the ability to enjoy the things i do now#i dont know what life is like as a microscopic creature but i wouldnt be willing to give up my life as i know it now#and i think with iterators are the same#just how different is their life from ours and what things can they see that we are missing out on?#give up everything comfortable and known and for what??#to feel the sun? they absolutely have various temperature sensors#see the sky? those overseers were made to see things those visuals are in 4k#other animal comforts?? what about computer comforts??#what makes a lil creature happy may not necessary make a massive supercomputer happy#sorry big rant in the tags um just wanna say this is no hate to anyone who wants their creatures off the string#these are fictional beings and you do whatever makes you happy take them off the string set them loose yess enjoy little robots running#around be happy i love reading ya alls off the string shenanigans#rain world#iterator#drawins#oc veil of dreams#rw talk#rain world oc#iterator oc
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b4kuch1n · 1 year
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hahaha wheee haha
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hailsatanacab · 1 year
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"give me a fandom and a prompt and i'll give you at least five sentences"
Ok then.
Jazz, Danny and Bruce are in the same age range, and Bruce has been harboring a massive crush on 7'foot tall Jazz since just after he began his training journey.
His kids know about and are mercyless. Danny thinks he's a bit of a fruit loop and 100% knows Bruce has a crush on his sister.
Into the future his coworkers find out that batman has been quietly pining after the Ghost Kings sister for years.
Chaos.
love that this reads as a challenge. Ok then. Write it. i will, let's goooo!
(sorry i kinda took it so that Jazz, Danny, and Bruce were all old friends but in that horrible adult way where you can only hang out with each other once in a blue moon when your work schedules miraculously align)
——
"Respectfully, Batman, you can take your "it's not necessary" and you can shove it up your arse. There's a demon the size of a skyscraper heading towards Metropolis and we need reinforcements."
"Superman can—"
"Superman can't. You do remember the part of the report I made telling you this, right? Or did your stubborn little bat brain just shut down when I mentioned magic?"
"Actually," Nightwing interrupts from the side, a shit-eating grin on his face, "I think his brain shut down when you mentioned the Ghost King."
"Nightwing." Batman growls in warning, his jaw clenching so hard Constantine can swear he hears the bones creaking.
Nightwing just snickers, and turns away to press a finger to his ear, no doubt letting the rest of the bat brood in on what's happening here... Whatever that is. All Constantine knows is that Batman is standing between him and fixing this mess for no God-forsaken reason.
Luckily, some of the more reasonable members of the League step in to try and talk some sense into Batman. It gives him some time to calm down.
"Batman. We need him. I know you dislike working with unknowns, but he's our best shot."
It actually looks like Wonder Woman might be getting through to him, Batman even opens his mouth to actually explain some things—a huge step forward for this incredibly emotionally constipated man.
Instead, Nightwing snorts and beats him to it. "Unknowns? More like—"
"Nightwing, please."
"Oh, for Pete's sake, get your head out of your arse and let me do this. The Ghost King is our only hope. I'm summoning him, no matter what you say."
For a long second, Constantine thinks that he'll refuse and he might have to resort to more violent methods of persuasion—which, honestly, Constantine has fantasised about many times during the more boring JL meetings—but eventually, Batman relents and steps out of the way.
"Fine. Nightwing, go check in with Red Robin."
Nightwing has the kind of devious smile that makes John glad he doesn't have kids.
"Oh, don't worry about it, B. Red Robin's coming here. So's Red Hood, I don't need to go anywhere."
"Nightwing—"
"Sh, it's starting." So saying, Nightwing then very obviously ignores Batman's protests with a poker face that even Constantine envies. What he wouldn't give to be able to shut the bat out like that.
The summoning goes quickly, thankfully. The lights flicker, the temperature drops, and the chalk circle erupts in green flames. Standard summoning practices, sure. Even the impromptu appearance of Red Hood and Red Robin—"Did we miss him?", "No, not yet! I got 2:37, what about you guys?"—doesn't throw him off.
It does pique his interest, though. Just what the hell is going on with them? Constantine's weighing up the pros and cons of asking them once all of this is over when the ground splits open and the clawed hand of the Ghost King begins to pull himself out of the ground.
John's a seasoned summoner. It's practically his job, he's done it countless times.
The icey fear that grips his heart, that freezes his breath in his chest, is new.
Pure, unadulterated power floods the area and he feels small, so, so small, like a child playing with things he doesn't understand. When he finally tears his eyes away from the portal, he catches a glimpse of the other magic users in the room, the same horror he feels clear in their faces. Even Captain Marvel stares slackjawed.
The pressure rises, death magic screaming in his ears, almost forcing him to his knees, and suddenly he's not so sure this is a good idea.
Too late to back out now, though.
Sickly green light pours from the crack in the ground, growing brighter and brighter as the giant figure rises, until Constantine has to close his eyes and look away. The last thing he sees are eyes, teeth, horns, a crown so bright that it burns an afterimage into his retinas.
When the light dies down and he opens his eyes again, a humanoid man floats in the centre of the circle. The ground is whole, nothing is burning, the man doesn't even have a crown. Instead, other than the wispy white hair, slightly green skin, and the—you know—floating, the Ghost King appears pretty normal. Huh.
Constantine blinks, rubbing his bleary eyes, and checks around to make sure everyone's okay. Most of the League are doing the same as him, taking fortifying breaths and trying to appear as if they've not just been completely blinded.
Most of them, that is, aside from the Gotham vigilantes.
Batman himself stands upright, arms crossed, looking completely unbothered by the whole thing and John's got to admit, he wishes he could do that, too. That was... a hell of a show.
The others, however, are waving frantically with huge smiles on their faces.
What?
There's a brief, taut silence, as everyone else tries to catch their breath.
As much as he would rather take a bit of a breather, John should probably start making introductions. Unfortunately, he only gets as far as opening his mouth before the Ghost King beats him to it.
"Oh, Ancients, hey guys! It's been forever, how are you? Look at you all, so grown up, wow—Nightwing, buddy, do a flip!"
It doesn't take much to get Nightwing going, and he certainly doesn't leave it at one flip. The whole of the Justice League and Justice League Dark watch with open mouths as Nightwing performs for the Ghost King.
What, and John can't stress this enough, the fuck?
As soon as Nightwing rights himself, Red Hood swats him across the back of the head and calls him a show off.
The Ghost King just laughs as he claps. "There's my little monkey, look at you go! And I'm loving that leather jacket, Hood, is that new? Looks good on you, really your colour. Brings out the red in your helmet."
"Thanks, Uncle D. At least someone around here appreciates fashion."
"Are you kidding me, you know I breathe fashion, need I remind—"
"Need I remind you of the Discowing incident?"
"That was era-appropriate and you know it! Uncle D, tell him it was era-appropriate!"
"It was era-appropriate, but so are crocs and it doesn't make them fashionable." The Ghost King—and holy shit, is this actually the Ghost King? Or did Constantine just accidentally summon a deceased family member, what the fuck is happening here?—turns to look at Red Robin with a smile, resolutely ignorning the argument he created. "How you doing, Double R? You get that tablet Tucker made for you?"
"Yes, thank you! It's so cool, how did he—"
"How's Tucker doing?" Batman interrupts, his hands now hidden underneath his cape.
As soon as the question leaves his lips, everyone groans. Red Robin makes a show of lifting up his wrist and staring at it intently.
"Incredible," Red Hood mutters with a shake of his head.
Even the Ghost King seems put out, rolling his eyes and answering in a flat tone as if he knows Batman isn't interested in what he has to say.
Not for the first time, Constantine feels like he's missing something.
"Tucker's doing very well, thank you for asking."
What follows is the most awkward silence Constantine has ever had the pleasure to be a part of.
All three of the Gotham vigilantes, including the Ghost King, are staring at Batman, waiting for something. Batman's cloak shifts as if he's moving his hands, fidgeting. If Constantine didn't know any better, he'd say he was nervous.
"Good. That's good, I'm glad to hear it."
Instead of saying anything else, the Ghost King just raises his eyebrows and continues to stare at Batman. Has he offended him in some way? Are they all going to die because of this?
After what seems like an agonising few minutes but could only really be a few seconds, Batman's shoulders dip and he takes a breath. "And Jazz?"
They all erupt into shouts, the Ghost King being the loudest. The only thing John can make out is when the Ghost King throws his hand in the air to point at Red Robin with a shout of "Time!"
"1:30.91, we got 1:30.91 on the clock, who's closest?"
"Did you even try to hold it in at all, old man? I'm so disappointed in you. People think you're cool. People think you're suave, I don't understand how they could be so wrong."
"Thank you for that, Hood."
"No, thank you, I won. Again. Because you're so predictable. Actually, I had one minute seventeen, so you held out longer than I thought you would."
Batman pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs loudly.
Constantine feels like doing the same thing.
Whatever. He's going to have to interrupt... whatever this is. There's still a rampaging demon heading their way that they've got to bargain for. He can untangle Batman's personal connection to the Ghost King later. Or he could leave it alone and forget everything about it.
Yeah, he'll do that one.
But before he can actually open his mouth to say anything, the Ghost King, again, beats him to it.
"So, B-Man, did you summon me here for a particular reason, or was it really just so you could ask about Jazz?"
There's a beat of silence before Batman mutters, "I asked about Tucker, too. We've not seen each other in so long, it's only polite."
"And I'm sure you meant it, you're the paragon of manners." The Ghost King nods slow and wide-eyed as if he doesn't believe him at all.
At this point, even Constantine doesn't believe him.
"It has been forever, though." The Ghost King muses, bringing his hand to his chin and folding his legs underneath him. "We should all get together sometime! If you get Alfie to make some of his cookies again, I'll get Clockwork to lend us a pocket dimension where we can spend as much time as we want, deal?"
"It's a deal."
No hesitation at all, incredible.
Hold on. Wait. John has to fight the urge to pinch himself, because this has to be a dream, right? Is Batman actually smiling? He didn't even know he could do that.
An itch niggles at the back of John's mind. He's starting to get an inkling of what's going on here and it's... weird, to say the least.
"Oooh," Nightwing singsongs, like a child in a playground tickled by the very idea of romance.
But then, who's he to judge? John's no stranger to strange bedfellows, that's for sure. Whoever this Jazz is, she must be something incredible—she'd have to be, if Batman can't even go two minutes without asking about her.
"Batman and Jasmine sitting in a tree," Nightwing continues, with both Red Hood and Red Robin joining in for the rest. "K—I—S—S—I—"
"Stop," Batman growls, completely drowned out by the Ghost King's laughter, but...
But.
It all suddenly clicks for John.
The Ghost King Phantom.
Her Royal Highness, Princess Jasmine Phantom.
Jazz.
"Holy shit, mate," John breathes, unable to stop himself as everyone looks his way. "You have the hots for the Princess of the Infinite Realms?"
The Justice League meeting room has never descended into chaos quicker.
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juicyspacesecrets · 1 year
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Happy Saint Valentine’s Day!
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robinmage · 5 months
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sorry i cant get over lucys hand on chises shoulder
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wraenata · 9 months
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Pillow attack courtesy of the @tapakah0 army
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I missed the battle. I passed out under the pillow. Sorry :(
(Thank you for the pillow attack though!)
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hom3landr · 1 year
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Homelander’s way of saying sorry isn’t an apology as much as a distraction.
18+
Homelander’s head rests heavy on your chest, his brow covered in a rare sheen of sweat. He’s languid and lazy as he holds in a grip that might appear relaxed but is as unyielding as iron. You don’t mind though. You wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. Your pleasantly sore muscles agree.
He alternates between affectionately nuzzling at your chest and drawing your nipple into his mouth with gentle contented sucks. You trace the shape of his ear with your finger, wanting to learn every part of him in case he ever tires of you. You’ve noticed that despite his bravado, a simple soft touch can make him melt. Your hoard this information to yourself like precious jewels, selfishly wanting this tender part of him all to yourself. You’ve earned it.
He mumbles something against your skin but it’s muffled and hard to make out. You gently tug on his ear, causing him to meet your gaze with a mischievous glint in his eye. You can’t help the way the corner of your mouth twitches in preparation for what your troublemaker has in mind.
“Apology accepted?” He asks with a cheeky grin. You can’t help but snort. You’d forgotten this had begun with a rather spirited round of bickering. A too pointed comment made you tear up for a second and next thing you knew, his cock was inside you while he made you see stars. Obviously, making you come was an easier task then simply saying sorry.
“I don’t recall you ever actually apologizing.” You chide him. He doesn’t look any less smug. He turns away to kiss the side of your breast before nipping slightly. Before you can chastise him further, he soothes the tender skin with his tongue. It makes heat pool in your belly despite your exhaustion.
“Must have missed it. You need to pay better attention, Babe.” He teases, ducking to avoid a swat. It’s not like it would hurt him anyway, but it makes you scrunch up your nose in a way he finds utterly adorable. He wraps his arm tightly around your waist so you can’t squirm away before gently running his fingers down the sensitive skin right over your ribs. You shriek and writhe in his grasp before dissolving into giggles. He can feel himself growing hard again at the way your cheeks heat up at his touch. It’s a testament to his self-restraint that he even lets you out of his bed at all. Especially when your laughs echo through his penthouse and make it feel like a place he might consider home.
“You’re a menace to society!” You manage to gasp breathlessly while still at the mercy of his wicked fingers. You dig your fingers into his shoulders but it doesn’t make a difference. In fact, it only encourages him. He blows a raspberry right into the tender skin where your neck meets your shoulder and you squeal.
“Nope, I’m the Homelander” He boasts, situating himself so his other hand can slip casually between your damp thighs, “and I can do whatever the fuck I want”
Guess you won’t be having a lazy day after all.
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verraising · 2 months
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i am short of breath standing next to you. i am out of my depth at this altitude. -♡-
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dykevanny · 16 days
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had a really funny idea for an ask blog ft. Vanny and another plex employee oc,,
#Get this right. 2 pizzaplex employees accidentally get tumblr famous bc someone has been leaving weird graffiti everywhere and#Getting up to other shenanigans and sends asks abt it to this one like urban exploration blog. Who later gets an ask basically like#Hey I work at the plex?? This is some insider info only another employee would know????#The two anons are constantly back and forth in this persons inbox and are eventually assigned nicknames#‘Pix’ for the mystery vandalism employee because she shows up as nothing but weird pixels and glitches on cameras#The other employee is ‘Cam’ because they have been monitoring all this on the cameras#One day they get each others blogs and keep sending each other death threats and shit jokingly but one day pix warns cam not to go to a#Weird late staff meeting#The next night it is literally just the two of them and they think this is so funny they start a blog trying to uncover why everyone else#Just isn’t coming in. At first they are like well layoffs duhhhh#But then ppl send asks and messages like ‘hey have u seen this employee it’s my brother/friend/etc’ and they realize shit is actually going#On in here#One night cam is live-blogging their shift and sees a weird intruder in a costume with a knife and runs around eventually escaping and find#Pix lying at the bottom of a stairwell unconscious with a bloody nose later#Takes pix to the hospital. Only to be alone in the plex the next night and suddenly get a phone call saying that pix left the hospital. Bc#Pix left cam as the emergency contact because ‘she didn’t have anyone else’.#Cam has to survive the masked intruder#eventually starts recording everything but when the intruder gets closer the footage gets glitchier#Eventually there’s just one fuzzy image of the intruder with Roxy and Monty standing on either side and that’s the last we hear of cam. Nex#Post is pix saying hehe thanks for following our little story aha !! Bye now it’s over!! And that’s it…..heheheheh#Killer rab blog has become a little boring for me so… might start this soon….#I’d have to make like 2 blogs plus some fake dms too probably . Damn
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somegrumpynerd · 7 months
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He did not
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romance-rambles · 12 hours
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ROSES FOR THE BLUSHING BRIDE
Your attempt at killing your kidnapper goes awry. How tragic it is—that the man who killed your love wore his face first.
— word count: 2.1k
— pairing: [unspecified] alkaid mcgrath x little painter/you
— tags: mentions of murder, suicidal thoughts and suicide, alternate universe - vampire/vaguely historical/reincarnation, mentioned non-con kissing+biting, unhappy ending [neither of them are mentally well - possibly ooc?]
— note: inspired by my little ramble in the tags of this gif post so it's technically PL but it could just be au alkaid. not sure if i did it justice but also, i wrote this over the course of two days so!! small victories!!! 🎉
return to lbc masterlist | series: none
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THE DOOR CREAKS LIGHTLY AS it opens, the warmth of your candlestick highlighting the steps beyond it. The monster that resides in this manor is foolish, and your Alkaid is—was—not. The hefty lock that once guarded against you sits carelessly beneath a portrait of a woman who looks like you—who was once you, if the ravings of a mad man are to be taken seriously.
And if they are, then you will meet him soon—the man you were set to marry, with the same bright green eyes and light blond hair, and a warmth that the lord of this manor greatly lacks.
And if they aren't, then, that is simply not possible. Because, you think, how else can this be explained?
Your fingers lightly graze over the most recent puncture wound at the base of your neck. They play connect the dots and the monster's claim draws a circle. It ends where it starts, with the gemstones on the dagger's obnoxiously decorated hilt digging into the palm of your hand and your teeth gnawing at your bottom lip.
There sits a bruise there, the likes of which you've only ever allowed one man to gift you. You can still taste your own blood upon your tongue, metallic and bitter, but you can no longer remember your lover's smile.
Yearning overwhelms you, for a man long dead. It is something you can fight off almost as well as the monster. And it is a maddening thing—the way your carefully-groomed nails desire to claw your skin off. The way your hand twitches, dagger still in hand.
It is a mistake to think of him at all.
You cannot afford any mistakes, not when your weapon has been promised a different target. You cannot afford any mistakes, when your next life is to be a happier one.
So, the candlestick lifts higher.
Heels you might've chosen for yourself in another life clack against stone, the sound echoing throughout the darkened chamber. Yet, the monster still slumbers, oblivious to your intrusion. At the very end of the room lies a coffin, and there he waits, surrounded by white and green. By roses and their stems carefully preserved, a silent mockery of the promise Alkaid once made you.
Eternal loyalty—but this is not the eternity you desire.
In hopes of composing yourself, of chasing away the familiar disgust, fury, loathing, you tear your gaze away from the coffin. The grey floor has borrowed an orange hue from the candlelight. As you cross the distance, you do not look at the portraits that line the walls, with their never-changing subject, the contents of which you know only because the monster brought you to his lair exactly once.
You, with the same dead eyes and the same dead love and the changing fashions doing little to distract from your likeness. You, who were unfortunate enough to fall in love with that monster in some other lifetime, having been blinded by his pretty face.
And the bile that climbs your throat at the thought, which you choke back with a tired grimace—that, too, is familiar.
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WHEN YOU REACH THE COFFIN, the first thing you do is yank the flowers out of your sight. Your dagger comes in use much earlier than expected, handling all that your hands cannot.
It is the least you can do for Alkaid.
The monster remains asleep throughout. It's convenient—if you'd known it was that easy, you would've done it sooner. You would've avenged him sooner. Alkaid was a light sleeper, and you had assumed the same held true for the monster.
With the same hand that carries the dagger, you open the casket. It takes a bit of effort to ensure you never lose sight of your target—quite literally. The payoff lies in the way the candlelight illuminates the man resting within.
His lighter hair takes on a warmer hue, thought it's incomparable to the way Alkaid's hair would gleam golden under the sunlight. He is blue, dressed in an outfit that looks to be the furthest thing from comfortable sleepwear. Alkaid was beige and green, and he was always getting on your case about dressing comfortably.
Marking the spot where your hands should hover, you set the candlestick beside you, careful to ensure its enthusiastic flame avoids the hem of your dress. You're almost giddy with excitement.
You'll see Alkaid soon. You'll get to him, even if it takes ten or twenty—
The monster mumbles your name lovingly.
Alkaid?
The dagger freezes just before the blade can slice through the layers of fabric guarding his heart. Your heartbeat quickens. You watch the figure warily, waiting for anything that could signal his monstrous nature.
Why would Alkaid be here when he is meant to be dead?
But the monster has never said your name before. You are simply his bride, just the most recent in a long string of replacements. If you did not share the same name as all the rest, you're certain he wouldn't know what it was.
And if it is Alkaid, if he has turned into a monster, if he is just as much a victim as you—
How could you ever dare to hurt him?
You can't lose him again. His family and yours, if they're still alive, would gladly testify about the absolute wreck you'd been when he disappeared a few days before your wedding.
It was only when one of his friends mentioned that he had seen Alkaid near the monster's manor that you'd found the resolve to crawl out of your bed for the first time in weeks.
Of course, you hadn't known just yet that there was a monster at all. You hadn't known of all that was to transpire—that had already transpired.
Your grasp on the dagger's hilt tightens—you don't want it anywhere near Alkaid. You want to know if he's Alkaid. You want to shake the man awake and ask, Are you him? Are you the one I've been searching for? And what about the monster?
You know that if he says he was the monster all along, you'll forgive him with an ease he would not deserve.
Again, the man mumbles your name. It does much to distract you from your spiralling thoughts.
After all, it sounds like coming home.
You want to believe it sounds like coming home.
"Al—"
As if sensing that his name is on the tip of your tongue, the man rouses himself from his slumber. The first thing he seems to gaze upon is you—and the dagger you've pulled close to yourself.
Ah.
You tremble. His gaze is cold and his grip is bruising. Alkaid has never looked at you so unkindly. You used to find it disconcerting how easily the glare on his face would slip away if he glanced at you. Now you wish for it more than anything.
What have you done wrong? Why is he upset?
In your desperation, you almost beg: Alkaid—
Then, you blink, remembering the weapon in your hands. It coincides with the moment that a sense of clarity washes over you, beckoning you to recall your mission. To remember—
This man isn't Alkaid.
"Oh." Your heart flutters strangely. You want to claw it out too. "The monster."
Alkaid is dead, after all.
"Yes," the monster agrees.
The dagger plunges into his heart.
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AN ORDINARY MAN WOULD KEEL over from the pain. The monster only grunts. You might as well compare it to bumping into the furniture by accident, with the way he seems so unfazed.
His gloved hand climbs down to your clenched fist, as if hoping to wrench the dagger away from your fingers. He is a monster and your Alkaid was not—that is what makes the difference between living and dying.
"You didn't die," you note, disappointment plainly evident in your tone. "Did you know?"
Did you know this would happen when you gave me this dagger?
"I'm difficult to kill," he responds flatly.
You wonder who the scorn in his voice is directed to. His gaze seems distant—which one of your predecessors is he thinking of? But you've never learned to tell the difference, so it's not as though the answer would make any sense to you.
"Unlike Alkaid?"
The monster remains silent. It only infuriates you more.
"I hate you," you spit out. Tears well up in your eyes, though for what reason, you're not sure. "I'm sure they all hated you too."
Anger briefly flashes across his bright green eyes. Instinctively, you pull your hand away, pulling the dagger along with you. Blood drips onto your nightgown, dying its white fabric a bright red.
Beyond an sharp inhale, the monster's expression remains unchanged. You're almost surprised at how easily he lets go of your hand, at only the slightest show of resistance.
"I know they did," he says, eyeing the new stain on your dress. You don't want to put a name to the emotion on his face. A monster like that doesn't deserve it. "They all told me as much."
You fill in the blanks yourself. Before they died. But they must've been the same as the monster when they died—that is why he refrained from performing that particular act with you. That is why the blemishes on your skin have nothing to do with any sort of traditional violence.
He hates it when you're hurt.
"And how did they die?"
He doesn't care enough to see that you're past that point.
He looks haunted. "That's not something I want to tell you."
A spiteful part of you delights in watching his expression. It wonders how much more his face will crumple when you meet the same fate. Dying is the only part of your gambit that was guaranteed to work out flawlessly in the end—the only time you've ever tried to trust the monster sitting in his coffin.
(I will turn you only if you truly desire it.
...I don't believe you.
Do as you please. I will hold onto my word regardless.)
The dagger is still in your hand. You pull it away from the monster's reach and nod almost imperceptibly. You cannot kill him because you do not know how.
But you are not beholden to the same laws of nature as him.
"And you won't tell me where to find whatever it is that killed them either?" you ask, though you know it's useless to ask.
For you, it is either death or a life spent with the very monster that stole your lover away. You will remember nothing of this conversation, nor of the pain you went through when you awaken once again. And you will go through the same pain and suffering, all the while cursing your predecessors for not taking care of what should be their mistake.
But you can still meet your beloved.
You want to meet your beloved.
"You have no need for such a thing," he says, with your name on his lips.
That is enough for you.
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HIS EYES ARE GREEN JUST like Alkaid's. It's something you've noticed before.
As the dagger pierces your flesh, they widen in horror. You can't feel much of anything—if your hands were not holding onto its hilt, you wouldn't know you'd been stabbed.
There's an odd expression on the monster's face. Pained and familiar. It reminds you of the time you tripped over your own two feet, leaving you with scraped knees and elbows, and your dinner for the night littered across the ground.
You'd left Alkaid behind in a hurry, the siren's call of a warm meal too difficult to resist, and he hadn't been quick enough to catch you.
But the man in front of you is not the man you love.
Your lips pull into a faint smile regardless.
You're not sure why.
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THE HANDS THAT WRAP AROUND are so terribly cold. You know for certain they belong to the monster. His tears drip down onto your cheek and you're surprised to learn that he can cry. But the blood on your hands, on the dagger lodged into your stomach, is sticky and warm.
Your neck remains untouched. His previous words echo through your mind—a man can only watch the woman he loves die so many times, after all.
You think you might pity him.
That is, before the memory of his confession, of the way he killed your love, leaves you with nothing but fury coursing through your veins.
You think you curse him.
You think he welcomes it.
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ambagel · 5 days
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Wait hold on, in his anniversary video Barbatos mentions the mc being the brother's attendant?
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But in the other videos, it's implied that they don't remember the mc leaving (which is actually something im very disappointed about and really hope isnt the case in the actual story)
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In these two specifically, it seems like they aren't aware of the mc's presence in the past/alternate timeline/whatever it is. The only other person who seems like they know is Lucifer
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Which also lines up with the end of lesson 40, where he's the only one who says welcome back? So like?? Do only him and Barbatos know? Did they not tell anyone?? Diavolo would probably know as well but I haven't seen anything to show that yet. Anyways I don't really like where this is going, I would really prefer they not make everyone forget the mc disappeared
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sluggishslugcrimes · 1 year
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Closed Mind au
Wally, tied up by KGBeast: so let's be civil about this, let's make a deal. You release me and you don't die, how about that?
KGBeast, rolls eyes: oh, and how are you going to kill me.
Wally: oh, I can't kill you, not my rouge but you're my friend's problem. Say hi buddy!
Dick, feral: hi.
Wally: so, untie me?
KGBeast: I feel something.
Wally: that's fear, it's a natural response, but hurry up his tiny son also hated the shit you pulled trying to assassinate him.
Damian: I'll end your entire bloodline.
Wally: ah, it's too late... Welp not my problem.
KGBeast: ain't you a hero!?
Wally: ... I mean yeah.
KGBeast: then save me!?
Wally: no, I'm a clown now *speed force his clown costume* have fun! *Honk honk*
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inafieldofdaisies · 7 months
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Character Inspiration | Deputy Calahan Hartley
tagging some of Calahan's fans, @josephseedismyfather @josephslittledeputy @strangefable @strafethesesinners @socially-awkward-skeleton @voidika @poisonedtruth @theelderhazelnut @florbelles @direwombat @madparadoxum @nightbloodbix @adelaidedrubman 🤍
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puppetmaster13u · 16 days
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So once more pondering this au, the Ark Vigilantes au. Workin on the next chapter (had to pause so many stories when my laptop & charger got destroyed).
Thinkin about maybe doin some art for the feral family. But also like, anyone interested in some rambles perhaps? I am also open to ideas from people who have played it (I'll be honest I use cheats to go in the equivalent of creative mode lol)
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