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#anyway hello i'm not dead (yet)

walkinginland · 4 months

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when my time comes around

five times Jamie Fraser nearly dies, and one time he does canon-compliant 5+1 for Outlander part of my hozier song fics series; this one's based around "Work Song" aka the most JamieClaire song ever written.

one

Boys workin' on empty

Is that the kinda way to face the burning heat?

Jamie Fraser is almost twenty years old the first time he truly comes near to death. Now, there had been no shortage of foolish boyhood accidents, and the illness that took his brother from him had not left him unscathed. But he is almost twenty years old, barely more than a child, the first time that he stares into that darkness, and feels it staring back.

The last few days have been a blur interspersed with sharp moments of startling, scarring clarity. Anger and shame and hurt and fear. He can’t comprehend how he had gone from pitching hay in Lallybroch’s fields to laying in a prison cell with his back flayed open and a burning infection creeping up his spine and into his limbs.

The fort physician has been kind, at least. Had let him cry, had set his hand gently on his shoulder, and done what little he could for Jamie’s shredded back. He had offered water and a bit of bread, said that it was important for him to keep his strength up. Jamie had taken some water, shook his head at the bread. He can’t imagine holding anything in his stomach when his whole body feels so hollow, carved out as cleanly as a hunted animal.

The physician’s best hadn’t been enough to prevent infection or erase the memory of the last time he saw his sister’s face, but it was something. He had handed him a worn out book, a worn-thin Bible with the smudged ink of fear-dampened hands.

“Here you are, lad. This belonged to another prisoner, but I reckon he knows the truth of it now better than any of us here do. Mayhap it’ll bring you some comfort.”

Jamie lays on his stomach on a creaking cot in a prison cell, trying to calm his spinning mind any way he can. He blinks at the tiny print of the Bible from an awkward angle, head tilted to the side and book resting on the edge of the cot, and tries to turn a page without pulling the muscles in his back. He had had no idea that the tips of his fingers were connected to the back of his shoulder in such an intimate way, but he is learning it now with every twitch in his hand.

He's not sure he is actually reading any of the words in front of him, couldn’t tell you which book or passage he has open before him. He could do without the chastisement of Saint Paul. Perhaps one of the Prophets, calling out doom and hope in the same breath. It feels fitting, somehow.

He steers far away from the whipping of Christ. Some things feel far different from a prison cell than they do in the pews in kirk of a Sunday.

His fingertips feel numb and the words in front of him blur, from tears or exhaustion or just the poor typeset and smeared lettering, he can’t tell.

The fingerprints and tear tracks that lived on these pages long before he opened them won’t judge him for the drops that find their way out of the corners of his eyes.

keep reading on ao3

#outlander #outlander fanfic #outlander fanfiction #claire fraser #jamie fraser #my writing #hozier fic series #when my time comes around #i haven't posted a full outlander fic in over two years 💀#who am i hello i guess i'm back??#anyways this is pretty heavy at times please take note of that before reading #but no main character death tag!!#because despite the summary this is canon compliant so jammf is not really dead. yet.

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chaoticspacefam · 8 months

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[SMALL Update] FINALLY sat my ass down and got my tag directory sorted

Yes it's been like 2 or 3 years. No I do not have a proper excuse other than "I didn't feel like doing it until now" lmao BUT at last the Tags page is DONE and no longer "coming soon!" :)) It's fully hyperlinked and complete now (barring a handful of ask/submission and character tags; which are only not linked rn because they have no posts in them. I'll update them as and when they get their first posts <3)

#not swtor #blog announcement #ish lmao #anyway carry on. go swim through the tags if you feel like it but this is absolutely not a requirement :3 #hi hello i'm not dead yet lmao #sorry i've been super busy irl and also i ran out of swtor (the game. i'm 4ever hyperfixated on my OCs thats never ever going away lmao)...#...hyperfixation juice so i took a long break. i thiiiiinkkk i might be getting some more juice again so hopefully i'll have more #screenshots and stuff soon owo

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phantom-dc · 1 year

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A deal with the Ghost King

Part2 AO3

Danny was getting impatient.

He had been annoyed at being summoned, then exited when he found himself in the Justice League Watchtower. He was in space! But then the guy in the raincoat begun offering a piece of his soul in exchange for destroying a meteorite, and he had become annoyed instead. He doesn't want a soul! Doesn't this guy get he'd be Danny's slave for eternity? So taking a page off Clockwork's book, he said something cryptic and ominous so no one else tried to bribe him with souls. They had turned white and raincoat guy asked if they could be excused for a moment before pulling the other heroes into a different room. Wich, first off: Rude. Second: Danny couldn't leave the summonning circle unless he made a deal or if he was send back. At first he had been curious what they would offer him now, settling into a more humanoid form instead of the eldritch nightmare being summoned always forced him into. That had been a while ago though, and now he was getting impatient. They better come back soon so he can go deal with the problem. He'll do it for a Pop-tart at this point, as long as he can go break that overgrown space-rock!

Jason was pissed. Batman had ordered everyone to come to the Watchtower immediatly. Jason wasn't even allowed to wear his helmet (he scared the younger Leaguers), having to settle for a domino mask instead. Good thing he had 2, because Nightwing had even brought Alfred! Jason wanted anwsers, why did B rush them here? He hadn't even greeted or explained anything to them, just had Plastic-man bring them to a room to wait. But Jason was done waiting, so he stormed to the main briefing room. He expected B and his Justice club. Instead he found a glowing, floating hero. The floor glowed a bit beneath him, his skin tinted green and his hair floated as if underwater, a crown surrounded by its own northen light. He was beautifull. Anger forgotten, he made his way over, deciding to make some small talk. 'Hello there! Are you a new hero? I've never seen you before?'

Danny was startled. He'd been focussing on the door the heroes left through, trying to will them back. He hadn't even noticed the Liminal behind him until he spoke! He turned around, and was again caught of guard. Even with the Domino covering his eyes,he could tell this guy was really handsome! A mountain of chiseled muscles and a white streak of hair that gave him something mysterious. Oh crap, he was staring. What did he say again? 'Hello! I'm Phantom. It's nice to meet you!' The Liminal introduced himself as J. 'Anyone ever tell you you're drop-dead gorgeous?' Danny laughed. Hot and death puns? Yep, he's going for it. The Leaguers aren't back yet anyway.

Jason was kicking himself. Really? That's the best he could come up with? Thank god Phantom had seemed to like it. 'Well, it certainly wouldn't get a rise out of me if they did!' he said. 'So what are you doing here? I didn't see you at the meeting?' Jason shrugged. 'No idea actually. B called for all hands on deck, so here I am. What are you here for?' Phantom sighed. 'They got me here to deal with some stupid rock, but then ditched me here for an impromptu meeting. I just want to go take care of it, but I can't just leave.' Phantom looked annoyed. Jason asked if Phantom wanted a tour of the Watchtower, surely Flash could get him when they needed him? Phantom looked dejected. He couldn't leave without being dismissed. Jason decided to make a move. 'Ok, how about this: you deal with that rock, and afterwards, we can meet up in Gotham and I'll give you a tour there! Deal?' Phantom looked up, an inhumanly while smile on his face.

'Deal!'

After that Phantom had left, saying the boyscouts had their chance. 'I look forward to our date!' He said and then dissapeared. Jason was exited! He went back to the others, who hadn't noticed he'd left. No matter, he had a date to plan!

Contantine was freaking out. The meteorite had proven too much for the Justice League. Most of their heavy hitters had been off-planet or out off commision. The damn thing was even made of kryptonite! He had no choice but to summon the only being that he knew of that could deal with it and could be bribed. He had offered the mighty Ghost King a piece of his soul, but been rejected! Batman had offered his own soul instead, but again this offer wasn't enough. The Ghost King explained there were billions of mortals about to become his subjects. Why trade that for 1 measily soul? He needed a better offer if they wanted his help. Panicked, Constantine had pulled the other League members into a different room, not wanting them to make a deal by accident. They were all making desperate suggestions. What could be worth more than every soul on Earth? They had made a list of magical and historical artifacts from every members background. It was a long shot, but the meteorite was getting too close. As they went back to the Ghost King they were praying it would be enough.

The King was gone. Suddenly in the distance the meteorite exploded. Someone had made a deal with the Ghost King, and no one knew who. What had they offered?

What could possible be worth more to the High King of the Infinite Realms than every living soul on Earth?

#batman #danny phantom #dc x dp #dp x dc #jason todd #red hood #danny fenton #dead on main #ghost king danny

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safination · 2 months

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Partners in Death…and Life

Part 2: Radio Will be Dead if He Doesn’t Explain Himself

| Part 1: Radio's Not Dead |Part 3: Not Everything You Hear From The Radio Should be Trusted| Masterlist | ao3 Parings: Alastor x wife!reader Tags: fem!reader, established relationship, hopefully not but just in case ooc!alastor (I'm still trying my best to keep him as canon as possible) Reader is in hell for a reason. Hello, I’m back :D This was supposed to be published yesterday, but I got busy. Anyway, thank you for all the likes so far. It motivated me to really finish this chapter. Also once again, I have everything planned out, it really is just a matter of writing it down. *Updated 28/02/2024 Just added some stuff that I thought made sense*

Flick…

Lights flicker above you with a slight buzz. You drape an arm over your eyes when the gleam of the bulb blind you.

The hardwood floors chill your skin, but it’s the sensation of casual loose clothing on your back that warrants your exhale in peace. Just a second. You just need a moment on these hard and chilling floors to ground you… just… one … single … moment to…

Inhale

Exhale

Inhale

Exhale

A stray feather pricks into your arm. The vane tickles, but the barb digs your skin. You’ve called this body ‘yours’ far longer than your human one, yet the feathers that grow on your skin still astound you. You twirl it around your fingers, and wave it in the air like a wand—it’s a proper animalistic feather.

Your nose scrunches into a hard scowl, and you jump up, stomping into the kitchen toward that untouched coffee mug on your counter. Grabbing it, you splash the contents down the sink, letting it flush down the drain.

The sponge is rough against your hands as you scrub and you scrub and you scrub and you scrub and you scrub and you scrub a̵̯͒n̴̤͝d̶̫͌ ̶͚̇y̶̤̎o̷͔̓u̶̢͐ ̸̓͜s̵̪͗c̸͎͂r̷̀ͅṳ̴̎b̸͖̀ ầ̷̩̯͍̙̳̍͗͘ń̵̰̞̰̕d̴͇̻̮̫̝̓̎̈́ ̶̡̬̬̮̺͗͒́̌͑y̴̙̘̻͇̿̉̐͆ǫ̷͉̟̍̅̑̏ŭ̸̖͓ͅ ̴̛̝͇̭̥̌́́̂s̸̠̑̽̏́c̷̥̺̃̾̊r̶̲̯̈́̈̄͆͊u̵̼̝͕̼̇̍̈́͘b̶͍͖͖̐̾͝.

Inhale

Exhale

Inhale

Exhale

You rinse the mug, slamming the cupboard door shut when you drop it next to your own clean one. Fingers run through your feather-hair…hair-feather, or your ‘whatever that grows on your scalp’. Some questions you’ve stopped asking.

An audible grumble… well, uhhhhh…. grumbles from where your stomach is placed in this body, and you munch on your lips to keep the inhumane screech from erupting into the kitchen and breaking all kinds of glassware and little knickknacks that Alastor filled your home with.

(These days, the old trinkets collect dust on your shelves. There haven’t been any new ones in years.)

Chopping Hell’s equivalent of carrots calms you. (It’s honestly the use of some type of razor-sharp object that calms you. You’d prefer a different razor-sharp object, but a sharp knife is a sharp knife, no matter the size.) You chop until there’s enough food to make a proper and decent meal that your stomach will accept.

You crash on the couch, dinner secured on a plate, and flip the television switch. Light flashes into the room when you do.

Ad about some impish business—Not interested.

‘Yeah, I fucked your sister, So what?’ — Boring.

Cooking Venison with Vox— Lame.

Settling on the lifestyle network, you munch on your food. Some poor slimy creature flashes across the screen, and it's her home that will be remodeled because of…something. You’re not sure what that something was. You don’t care enough to find out.

The sounds from the television swap with the silence of your living-room as you take each bite. It’s one of the sadder habits you’ve picked up since purchasing this noisy picture box.

Your eyes wander to that half-filled coat rack, while your ears listen in on the show and that woman did not just say that pink would go with brown. Only your singular coat drapes on the hinge, when this particular design was made to hold two.

A commercial plays for some-thing called the Hazbin Hotel.

Your eyes are stitched to the screen until the final note of the song plays, and a different advertisement takes its spot. You take a sip of your drink. Just ą̷̖̯͈͂ ̷̡̧͚̤̩͎̙͇̞͓̟͈̤̝͉͉͉̘̉͐̓́̆́̇̍̐̿̈̄͜͜͜͝͝s̶̨̢̛̥̣̻̱̰̬̩̹̥̞̟̳̝͔͓͙̗̗͕̟͇̆̉̿į̴̡̢̠͇̱̤͔̙͎͕͛̑̓̒̀̔͆̓͂̃̚͘͘͠ṗ̶̡̢̨̳͙̦̮͍͓̻͎̲̪̲͕͛̔̐́̐̈́̒̒̉̎͛̆̈́̈́̉̔̑̃̕ͅ.

Inhale

Exhale

Inhale

Exhale

Inhale

Exhale

Inhale

Exhale

You blink, and you find your keys locking your front door. Already, your legs are trekking down the garden stones. A flower snarls at you as the gate locks with a click.

Another blink.

Huh…you’re on the bus.

The sign says it’s headed into the city. Living on the outskirts has always been beneficial for you. Not today, though. Today, the one-hour commute makes your feathers bristle.

You read the barely eligible address scribbled on the note, and pat your hair, smoothing the flared feathers sticking out. It seems…

Hmmmmm.

It seems you did not think this through. H-how…How are you going to get to the hotel?

Tagatha calls you a fossil for using one of those flippy telephones. You considered purchasing those fancy telephones with the lights and screens, and loud robotic voices telling you where to turn left, but learning to use a flip-phone brought enough stress for two lifetimes. You’ll happily stay a fossil.

Turns out, you don’t even need the address.

The Hazbin Hotel sticks out. It’s a humongous building with its name written across what you call the sky in blinding neon lights. Your vision zooms in, and you see that the hotel rests on a giant hill at the other edge of the city. Three large neon-lit arrows point to a crudely attached radio tower. Below it, a wooden ship hangs to the side. Circus light bulbs flicker with electricity.

The Hazbin Hotel is an eyesore – it’s exactly what Alastor prefers.

You reach the dinged-up metal gate on the bottom of the hill and reset your hand on the rusted latch. Trekking through the city took a lot, and you were already here. So, why are your legs frozen to the cement? Why does your heartbeat thump in your ears?

“Excuuussseeeee me.”

A snake towers over you. It’s your first time seeing such a slithery specimen as large as him. His hat rests on his hold, and it blinks at you. His hair … or was that skin … puffs out with two red sets of red eyes.

“Can I help you?” you say, warily. Sinners are in hell for a reason.

“Yessssh,” he says, his tongue slithering out. His flaps stick out, all four eyes staring right into your own. “I’d like to be a guessst at this hotel!”

You glance at the eye-sore that’s called a hotel. “I don’t work here.”

His flaps droop. The snake takes a deep breath, and slides the gate open, slithering in with determination in his … er… snake body.

You follow in silence.

The snake matches your pace. “Will you be a guest at this establishment as well?” he asks you. “Or were you given the same sssssuper secret mission?” Just like before, his tongue slithers out—what a funny little odd man.

Bangs grab your attention. When you focus your vision, you see an inky shadow servant striking a nail into broken wood. “Not at all,” you say slowly. “I’m just here to visit someone.”

His flaps open, and three pairs of eyes and a hat meet yours. “I am the great Sir Pentious!” he says with a proud hand on his puffed-up chest. “Inventor. Architect of destruction. Villain extraordinaire!”

You give him your name “….Doctor.”

“It is only the coward who attacks a battler of health.” His flaps droop as he sinks into himself. “You cannot be my rival, I’m afraid.”

“I guess that makes you brave,” you say, humming. The decorations for the hotel are rather dull. Drawn on the middle of the hill, a giant pentagram is etched on the ground. The flowers dwindle on the cliff edge, and do little to combat the grayness surrounding you. “What a shame to hear—I rather love good rivalries.”

The eyes on Sir Pentious’ hat brighten at the same time his own do as well. “Ssssso do I!”

One of the inky shadow servants waves at you.

You wave back.

Light streams from the glass doors. You blink a few times, adjusting to the sudden change of brightness. Circus-themed stained glass decorate the front entrance. One of the less tacky – but still tacky – designs of this hotel.

Sir Pentious taps the glass with the tips of his finger, clinking with each tap, and his eyes water in excitement. His nose crinkles when he takes a deep breath. You weren’t aware he even owned a nose. Sir Pentious fiddles with the flap of his hat, and bangs on the door.

Your smile strains after a minute of banging.

A young lady with long, white hair creaks the door open. You recognize her from the commercial.

Sir Pentious’ flap open and close with each word as he says, “Why, hello, my dear –”

A punch to the face is his reply.

“Oh dear!” you screech. Sir Pentious drops to the ground, and you kneel next to him, a steady hand on his slimy shoulders. “Have you no manners?”

This insolent girl points her spear and stomps a foot on Sir Pentious. She snarls, and her glare hardens.

“Wait, wait, wait!” Sir Pentious’ tongue slithers out as he holds a peace-sign. “I come in peacccccceeeee”

“What are you doing here?” Her spear inches closer.

“Vaggies,” another voice calls out. A blonde with a red pantsuit and a bowtie pokes her head, eyes in a squint. O-oh! You know this lady from the commercial. The Princess of Hell … Cady … Char …Charlie Morningstar! “What’s the problem?” Charlie’s eyes widen when she spots you and Sir Pentious, an honest smile drawn on her face. “Oh, hello again! And hello to you as well!”

“Can you please tell this insolent girl to get her food off this gentleman,” you spit, tilting your nose into the air. Your feathers sharpen when you bristle. “And your weapon away from my face.”

Vaggie takes her foot off Sir Pentious. She holds the spear close, but it’s away from your face.

Sir Pentious straightens into a stand, and the group prattles on.

No one bothers to help you. A huff escapes, and you brush the dirt off your skirt. Absolutely no manners. Insolent and ill-mannered. Would Alastor stay in such a place?

You’ve never laid an eye on someone as unique as this Vaggie. Her hair patterns are similar to wings. It’s almost unheard of to see such a prominent ‘x’. Her flared eyelashes resemble a bird. It strikes you silly. Almost everyone in hell resembles a human body with animal characteristics hidden somewhere. This insolent girl doesn’t appear to have any of that – only miniscule feathers made to appear native to Hell.

“Absolutely!” Charlie exclaims to who you think is Angel Dust. (The porn-star, not the drug. Obviously.) Sir Pentious nods with the sweetest smile on his face. There’s a squeak every time he bobs his head. That hat of his looks nervous. “This place is about second chances and who deserves one more than this…slithery…slippery…special little man.” Charlie takes a peek at you. “Oh, and this feathery…sheddy… and round-eyed woman.”

You do not shed.

You smile at Charlie, and give her your name, “…and I expect it to be used.”

Angel Dust whips to Vaggie. “Aren’t you supposed to protect this place?” he says and turns to you. “How are we even sure we can trust this lady – no offense, toots.”

“None taken,” you say, dryly.

Charlie’s eyes water when she turns to Vaggie, who easily relents with a sigh.

You’re thrust through the apple and circus-themed doors, squinting at the chandelier. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the design—it reminds you of those old rolled films. Charlie leads you and Sir Pentious further down the hall, all but pushing you in. Vaggie and Angel Dust lag a few steps behind.

Charlie waves her arms to go into an enthusiastic point. “So…this is our bar,” she says. Husk drops his drink, a scowl on his face, “and the bartender. This is the curtain, and this is the new wall after Sir Pentious broke the last one. And this is—”

Vaggie calms her down.

The bar clashes with the red wallpaper of the hotel. It’s almost as if someone just dropped it there, and etched it to the very wall. The wood is firm underneath your touch and feels exactly like what wood should feel.

You turn towards the bar and take your seat. Husk focuses on his drink. “Hello,” you say with a gentle voice that should not be mistaken for kindness. “It’s good to see you, old friend.”

Husk chokes and splatter out his drink, but you only smile at him. He coughs and his ears droop low. “Uh…yes,” he starts. “Good to see you as well.”

“There’s no need to be nervous.”

“I’m not.”

“Good.”

You run your finger across the skeleton wrapped around the bar post. A memory tickles your brain. This is one of the many specimens you owned. It took one whole month to strip the muscle off its tight hold on the bones, and another month just to clean, bleach, and wire together. The heads above the bar sign were a gift to you, and the skeletons were your gift back.

The neural spine pokes your finger as you tap each one. “I see you’ve set up shop here.”

Husk scowls, taking another swig of his drink. “Not much of a choice.”

“And tell me,” you start, “how long have you been here?”

Husk doesn’t answer you.

Charlie calls your name, and waves you over. “Over here,” she says pointing to where Niffty plays with some kind of one-eyes cat, “we have our maid—Niffty!”

Niffty hops on Sir Pentious. “The bad boy is back!” she exclaims, pulling him closer, eyes wide and shaking. A bead of sweat drops from Sir Pentious’ hat. “Never leave me again.”

“We’re about 80% sure she’s harmless….” Charlie prattles on.

“Hello, Niffty.” You smile at her.

She jumps off Sir Pentious, landing with a small ‘humph’, and strides to you with her pointy short legs. She calls out your name.

You squat, meeting her eye. “It’s great to see you again—Is Alastor forcing you here?”

Her eyes shine with an innocent type of glee. “Yes! Yes! Yes!” She claps her hands. “I get to chase all the bugs here.” Nifftly leans closer to you, giggling. “Can I be strapped to your table again? I love it when you slice me open.”

“Maybe next ti—”

Charlie grabs your arm, hauling you forward. “Oh! Uh, Alastor! Our gracious facility manager! You've met our newest guest Sir Pentious…hehe…,” she tells him. Charlie keeps pulling you, only stopping when you stand before a grand staircase. “These two will be our special wonderful guests!”

Alastor does little to show you what he feels, there’s just that same empty grin.

He bought a new coat, you note. This new one has white streaks on the new collar and less stripes. Guess some things were more important than others.

You slip out of Charlie’s tight grasp. “I think you’re mistaken, my dear,” you say. “I’m not a guest— just a visitor.”

You hold your husband’s gaze and greet him.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

“It’s good to see you,” you say, a smile drawn on your lips. “How are you doing on this wonderful morning?”

Alastor turns to you, drops an item into his grocery basket, and blinks. “I am amazing!” he says. He grabs your hand with his gloved ones and shakes it. His hands are warmer than you expect them to be. “Alastor. Pleasure to be meeting you. Quite the pleasure.”

You chuckle at him. “Yes, I’m aware of who you are.”

“Oh, how lovely!” He waves his fingers. “ are you on of my many fans?” His smile strains, and there, you see it, on the corner of his cheek. His nose flares and his smile takes the appearance of a snarl. Maybe it was the other way around.

“A bit,” you admit, adjusting your hold on the basket. “How are your stitches, Sir?”

His eyes widen—brown eyes, you note. “The good doctor!”

“I think you mean the good nurse.”

“Oh yes, yes,” he hums and inches the basket away from your gaze. “I’ve been taking my medicine, and replacing my dressing every three days, just like you said.”

“Good—that’s great to hear. No more accidents?”

“None!” He laughs. “And if one does happen, I’ll be sure to present you with an injury that is only hours old.”

A giggle slips through your lips. “That’s even better to hear,” you say. You clear your throat, tightening the hold on your basket. “I’d hate to take even more of your time. I’ll let you go on with your day.”

A firm grip on the basket handles keeps your feet planted on the glossy floor of the general store. “Not so fast, my dear. I think you still owe me,” he says. Your teeth bare into what you hope is a polite smile. “You promised to show me your marvelous embroidery the next time we meet! You’re not the type of lady to go back on your word now, are you?

“You sure do know how to put such ladies into a tight spot.”

Alastor laughs, breathy and light. “I assure you; I don’t mean to. I tend to get very excited about art

“Well, with you holding my integrity hostage, and the addition of such lovely enthusiasm, I find myself having trouble refusing.” You reach into your purse and pull out a clean handkerchief. “Sadly, I wasn’t expecting the general storm to be an art gallery, so this will have to do.”

And there it is again, that same breathy and light laughter. “They really do have everything in here

Alastor takes your handkerchief with steady enthusiasm, studying each stitch carefully. It’s one of your simpler designs—tiny flower bouquets scattered across the fabric. Your eyes are drawn to the contents of his basket: rope, strong acids, latex gloves, rolls of plastic wrap, and other such interesting items.

“You have such beautiful handiwork.”

“You can keep it if you wish,” you tell him. “I have thousands back home, and I’m always weak to such flattering compliments— a real boost to my ego.”

“Splendid!” Alastor slips the handkerchief into his coat. “I love receiving gifts from fans.”

You smile at him to hide your frown. You are not some fan-girl. “Of course.”

Alastor is following you.

The conversation ended several beats of silence ago, but he trails behind your every step. You skip the aisle where they sell produce, stop to grab some eggs, ask the butcher for 50g of chicken liver, and smile back when he smiles back. You sigh and lead Alastor to the end of the general store, and into an aisle.

You snatch a glass bottle of chemicals off the shelf—they really do have everything here. “Going for a hunt soon?” you ask, and read the label.

His smile brightens as he says, “Why yes! There was this wonderful prey that I spotted the other day, and I’m just dying to have his head hanging on my wall.”

You offer him the bottle. “You have a lovely coat. It would be a shame for it to be ruined by stains,” you say. “This always does the trick when dealing with the redder parts of my job.”

He takes the bottle from you.

“Take this as well,” you say and reach into your basket. “It’s the last bottle of 12% hydrogen peroxide in this store, but you need it more than I do. A ratio of fifty-fifty of this and a bit of hair developer in a bucket of water should brighten up your bones. Just let it soak for a day. Oh…and just in case, those two chemicals are safe to mix. You should avoid doing so, but an accident wouldn’t hurt you.”

Alastor offers his basket, and you drop the bottle along with the other hazardous substances. “You sound certain.”

“That is because I am.”

Fate has granted you a humorous shopping companion, and you decide to stop fighting it. Alastor follows you to the bread aisle.

You point to the top shelf. “Can you…?”

He drops the bread into your basket, and stares at you with what you think is curious tenacity.

“My father works as a butcher,” you say, sighing. “He prides himself on catching the venison he sells. We don’t believe in wasting a precious body, so we use it until there is nothing left to give. He came back from his own hunt and wanted to add another antler to his display

Alastor hums. “Won’t you need these then?”

“There’s still a bit leftover sitting in his workshop. I just came to get an extra bottle.”

Alastor continues to follow. “Do you often aid your father in his work?”

“Not as frequent as when I was a teen, but I still aid him when I have the time to do so,” you say. “It’s how I got to be so normal around a knife —the sharp ones are the best, they cut right through the skin, and with enough force, the bones as well. I keep a little collection of bones at home.”

“Such interesting hobbies you have.”

You pick up two coffee bags and hum. “Thank you.”

His bowtie is crooked. You point to inform him and reach out to straighten it. Alastor jerks away and spins to reach into the shelf behind you. “I rather detest owing favors, and you have done me two,” he says, offering you an entirely different brand of coffee beans. “I suggest you try this one. It’s flavors are far richer.”

You offer your basket and Alastor drops it right in.

You eye his basket once more. “Will that be all you’re purchasing?”

He nods, smiling at you.

You smile back.

Well, isn’t this just lovely? Well-dressed gentlemen really are your favorite.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Charlie whips her head, mouth wide as she stares at you and then at Alastor. Angel Dust has an arm on his hips, his brows furrowed and mouth quirked to the side an awkward but rather cute frown. Sir Pentious’ hat squints at you with what you assume is confusion—you can’t really tell. Sir Pentious’s tongue sticks out of his bewildered and crooked frown. “Oh! How nice,” Charlie says after a beat. “So, you two know each other?”

“Partners,” you say

“Friends,” Alastor says

Your smile strains as you say, “To be called a friend by the Radio Demon is quite the honor.” Alastor wipes his monocle with a proud puff.

Angel Dust whistles, leaning on the railing with the first set of arms crossed, and the second propped on his hip. “Didn’t think Freak would be the type to have friends.”

“Neither did I!” You say with a loud laugh. “Well, that’s what I am – a f̵̼̎r̴͔̃i̶̦̍e̶͕͠ṋ̸̀d̶͚̋.” You smoothen your puffed-up feathers. “Apologies.”

More introductions are done. Charlie insists on giving Sir Pentious his first lesson on apology. It goes about as well as you think.

Charlie winces a bit “….Ooooookay,” she says and inhales to plaster a huge smile. “Why don’t we… uh… take a look at the kitchen!”

Angel Dust takes one look at Charlie’s enthusiasm, winces, and says he’s getting a drink.

Charlie’s death grip on Sir Pentious stays firm as you trudge to the kitchen. She stalls at every painting to explain its history, and introduces every crack on the wall, showing it off with an enthusiastic glee. Even the water-stained wallpaper gets its own special moment during the tour. (Where is that ill-mannered girl when you need her?)

You lag a few steps behind. “Alastor…”, you say as a greeting.

Alastor matches your pace, using his microphone as a cane. With the very tip of his fingers, he plucks a stray feather off your hair with a coy smile that reaches from ear to ear. “I’m sure you’ve been wondering how I’ve been fairing these last few years,” he says, spinning that microphone of his and waving his hand like some kind of street performer.

“Has it really been that long?”

“Yes, I know I’ve been absent for some time,” he starts. “It’s nothing serious; I assure you. It’s nothing I cannot handle as well.”

“My goodness, and here I thought you were occupied at work.” Your teeth flash when you smile. “But in any case, it’s quite… kind… of you to soothe what little worry this friend might have for you.” Alastor and his microphone laugh at you, but you hum with satisfaction when his eyes narrow into a glare.

Charlie and Sir Pentious wave their hands, calling you from across the hall, and you hasten your steps.

The kitchen intimidates you. So many large and metallic machines. You’re sure it would be a living hell should you ever need to operate such an unorthodox set of appliances.

Copper-red tables fill the space, and similar colored cabinets stick to the wall. Such peculiar stoves they have in this establishment. There seems to be no space for the gas tank, nor a gas burner, just some flat glass with weird markings. You prefer the appliances stashed at your home.

“This…,” Charlie starts, winding her arms to a point, “…is the kitchen!”

Sir Pentious’ flaps extend, his arms rocking with excitement. “Such lovely metallic inventions.” He slithers to counter with a dip that appears to mimic some kind of skin. There’s some type of yellow liquid. “This bubbly torture deviccceeee is my favorite.”

“Uhhhhhh…I love that you love the kitchen appliance,” she says with an honestly gentle smile. “But that’s actually an oil fryer.” Charlie crosses her arm into a big ‘x’. “But no torturing is done here, no siree.”

“What a peculiar shape for an oil fryer to be,” you say, taking a look. Alastor glances over your shoulder to take a peek as well. “And there’s so much metal around—did you run out of paint, perhaps?”

Charlie frowns, her shoulder dropping low. “I’d love to add different colors to the machine, but Vaggie says it would take up too much money and time.”

Her frown lasts a second before she’s smiling again.

“Oh oh oh! You should take a look around. See if there’s anything you might want to add.” Charlie drags you towards one of the cabinets at the back. “We each have a shelf dedicated to our own snacks, but I always love to leave cookies on the communal snack pantry.”

Charlie prattles on, introducing each section of the cabinet. You watch Alastor warily when he shows his teeth. He wiggles his fingers across the air, reaching towards the shelf where Charlie just mentioned Vaggie storing her personal snacks. You slam the cabinet door before he reaches them.

Soft static fills the kitchen air.

“Go on,” Charlie urges. “Take a look around – I know some species of Sinners have specific dietary needs.” She props a hand on her chin. “Like Angel! He can’t seem to be able to have any milk—I wonder why? But he just keeps drinking it anyway for some reason.”

Does the Princess of Hell not know what Lactose Intolerance is? Maybe because she’s never lived as a human. It’s quite humorous, you suppose. A hell-born trying to guide a human, with little to no insight about humanity. Could this be the reason why she’s so naively optimistic?

Sir Pentious’ smile widens, and so does his flap. “You’re… giving…me permission to poke around?”

“Er…yes?”

You open a random cabinet door, and huh…

On the shelf, towards the back, you have the same set of spices in your own kitchen. One of the bottles here has its label stained and fraying at the edges. Another bottle is nearing empty, and the corner of the cap has been chipped off. There was a time, when your own set of spices was stained with oil, and its label frayed because of the constant picking to the edges.

Yesterday, you threw out a set of unopened bottles of spices, its seal still clinging to the caps and brimming with unused flavor, and replaced it with the same set of sealed spices. It’s a waste of your money to keep throwing out something that you never use, but…but…you find it in your grocery basket every single time.

Alastor closes the cabinet with a gentle click.

Your smile fades, and he holds your gaze.

“You are shedding all over my kitchen floors.” Alastor presents you with a bundle of your feathers bunched up on his palm. His grin mocks you.

You turn away, heading where Charlie and Sir Pentious converse. You do not shed.

Alastor pops out of your shadow, towering over you as he inches closer. “Long day?” he says with a hum, that smile still on his face. “You don’t usually start molting until the mid-summer.”

“Oh yes,” you say with a hum, that frown still on your face. “This day has been quite long. How very generous of you to check up on this friend of yours.”

He holds the feathers he’s collected, examining them with a careful eye. “With this rate, you’ll be able to gift a whole pillow.”

Your frown deepens. “Lovely,” you murmur. “I’ll make sure to do so.”

Alastor twirls his microphone and lands it with a soft thunk. He studies you for a second. “Rosie’s last husband got eaten by a shark,” he says. “Not even a loan shark—just a proper dead shark. She swore vengeance on the creature for taking a bite before she had a chance to.”

“What?” you say, and you can’t help but chuckle. “Is that what happened to him? She would be so vague about it when I ask.”

Alastor draws a line along his face, mimicking a smile with his fingers. “Much better, indeed.”

Charlie insists on showing the view from the top of the Hotel. Her arms cross around your own as she chatters about everyone and everything. It’s refreshing to meet a soul as honest as hers.

The elevator ride is painfully slow. The music strains your ears, and this battered metal death box jerks with every floor.

Sir Pentious and his hat scowl at the ‘absolutely inferior ssssmmelting of this handle, Charlie’ and ‘this piss poor wiring. The endsss are not aligned to the proper sssssafety guidelineeeesss’ or something.

Charlie listens in on every word, nodding to indicate that she hears each and everyone. It makes you smile. Alastor picks at your stray feathers with the tip of his fingers, preening the areas you have difficulty reaching.

Moments too late, the elevator doors open with that heavenly ding.

“The view up here is helltastically a-mazing!” Charlie informs the group. “Alastor, you often hide up here or inside the radio tower. It’s really good, right?”

Alastor switches his hold on the microphone, swinging to catch it. “Quite helltastic indeed!” he says. “ I get to see the whole city underneath my very feet.”

Sir Pentious nods. “I, too, would love to sssseee the city underneath me!”

Alastor swings a door open, gesturing for the group to enter like a gentleman. Charlie whispers an audible ‘awww’ at the sight and saunters right in. Sir Pentious follows along, slithering behind her.

He shuts the door when you take a step forward, separating you from Charlie and Sir Pentious.

There’s still that never ending smile on his lips as Alastor strides to the other end of the hallway, playing with his microphone. You follow behind in silence. Alastor opens a different door, and this time, you step through.

Alastor closes the door, leaving you and him together, alone, on this flimsy balcony. He beams at you, taking a step forward—

You slap him.

Radio static glitches from his microphone. There, on the corner of his cheek, you see the strain in his smile. His eyes harden into a glare, his nostrils flare, and his smile takes on the appearance of a snarl.

The air around you starts to gray with static. Symbols carve themselves into the space.

You slap him again, staring down at him.

“Is that all you came to do?” Alastor says to you with a low snarl, but the symbols dissolve and his antlers shrink.

You turn towards the view, propping a hand on your chin. “Such harsh words for a friend,” you say with a sarcastic smile. “It’s a wonder why you don’t have more with such a dazzling personality. At any rate, it’ll be impossible to find yourself a wife.”

His eyes twitch, and Alastor strikes the ground with his microphone. “Well, consider it an honor,” he says, inching closer, mimicking your smile. “Not many can say such words to me, much less be able to strike my flesh

“Maybe they should—someone certainly has to.”

Alastor still has a smile—he always has a smile. You watch as his eyes morph into radio dials, and the absolute audacity of that man to look at you like that.

Your feathers sharpen and crack at the sight. “D̷̝̈́o̷̞͊n̷̟̂'̷̗̏ť̵͔ ̴̱̀f̷̳̓u̴͍̓c̷̛͕ḳ̵͝ ̴̲̽w̸̞̑í̵̞t̴̼̐ḥ̷͝ ̵̫͌m̸̻̔e̸̡͘!— you never have, so don’t start. Don’t test me—not today, my deerest,” you say, hissing at him.

“What is it that you want, exactly?” he says, glancing down at you. “Unless you are a child, I expect you to use your words.”

“You know I’m not just some friend — you do not allow yourself to make such connections. We’re partners,” you tell him, and you don’t know why you remind him when he should already know. Was it in fear that he forgot? “But you left without as much as a word.”

“Was it that I left? Or was it that I left you?” Alastor says with casualty as if to show you such dismissal, and oh…yes, your husband can be a cruel man, indeed. Time and sweet smiles made you forget.

You rub your hands on your face, taking one deep breath. “I want what I deserve—an explanation,” you say. “That’s all I need as your wife.”

It’s his silence that makes you turn away.

“I see…” Your face falls. “Perhaps, it was a mistake to seek you out. A fool’s errand.”

You study the sinners below. The whole city really can be seen from underneath your very feet. (You ignore the trembling of your fists. You’re a doctor, for fucks sake. Your hands don’t tremble…at least, they never have before.)

Hesitant, but gentle touches pick at your feathers. Alastor preens you with warm hands. “You are not a fool, my love,” he says. “I would not be yours if such were the case.”

You harden your heart for you cannot let this man see the cracks. “This is not what I wish to hear,” you say, voice steady.

Alastor does not answer you.

“Will you just stay silent every time?”

“Yes.”

Finally, you meet his gaze. You hold it as much as he holds yours. “ There is not a thing in this world that you do not do without reason,” you say slowly. “However, I’m not sure if your silence is because you cannot or if it’s because you will not explain yourself to me. Which is it?”

There is nothing on his face that you can read, just a small steady smile that tells you nothing. “I will not.”

“I know you, my deerest, and I know that you’ve never once led me astray.” Your grip on the railing tightens painfully. This day has been long. “Then all I need is your word that you will return to me with that smile of yours when you’ve accomplished what you need to do.”

Alastor smiles at you, twirling his microphone. “We can even shake on it.”

You shake your head. “This is not a deal,” you say. “This is your wife demanding that you do so.”

“Then it shall be done,” Alastor says, inching close enough for his warmth to spread. He turns to you and pokes his cheeks to indicate a smile. "You look much more radiant with one."

You bare your teeth at him, giving a dry smile. “Much better?”

“Indeed.”

You study the sinners below once more, but this time your hands stay steady next to Alastor’s own. Well, Charlie was correct, the view is helltastic. The entertainment district blinds you, but only for a second. And when you sharpen your vision, you can faintly make out acid clouds forming on the outskirts of the city. You should have grabbed an umbrella on your way out.

“I heard you on the radio today,” you say.

He glances at you, his smile widening ever so slightly with smugness. “And you came all this way for me?”

“Well, that is what good friends do for each other.”

Alastor points his nose to the air with a huff.

“I only jest, my deerest,” you say, chuckling at him. “ I came all the way here to see if I’ve been widowed a second time, or just dumped like a common rag.”

“Is that so?”Alastor hums with dissatisfaction. “I’m sure you mentioned something about not noticing such a long disappearance.”

You hold his gaze, inching your hand to cup his cheek. You stop inches above his skin, and your palm hovers enough for Alastor to feel the warmness you hold on your hands. “Don’t pout, my deer,” you tell him, softly, oh so very soft as you caress the air. “Of course, I noticed your absence.”

You clap your hands together with the brightest and most innocent smile you can muster.

“But if I told you that, my deerest,” you start, “I feared that big head of yours would implode if I fed your ego.”

Alastor laughs, and his real voice bleeds in as he does. “That humor of yours has been my most wonderful companion all these years.”

You smile with satisfaction. “My, my, you make such fine compliments.”

His smile relaxes. “I do, indeed!”

“Just as you say that my humor makes a fine companion,” you say as you laugh, bright and heavy, “that smile of yours has been mine.”

A knock breaks the moment.

The door swings open, slow and hesitant. Charlie pokes her head, and her hair droops to the sideways. Behind her, Sir Pentious waves at you. You wave back.

“Oooooooohhhh….yikes,” Charlie says, shrinking deeper into the door. “Am I interrupting? I could just go an—”

“Not at all my dear,” you say. “Come right in. You have such a lovely view, and things like this are better when shared.”

Charlie swings the door wider, sauntering right in, and grabs your hand, squeezing it. “You could live here as well!” she says. Behind her, Sir Pentious nods with the sweetest smile you’ve ever seen. “We accept everyone.”

You flicker your gaze to Alastor. “I already have a home,” you find yourself saying. “And this place is far too close to the city. So much honking and blasting aren’t good for my ears.”

Charlie pouts, but she doesn’t press you.

The view is better when shared. Charlie points at every detail and explains everything you see. The sky darkens to a red, and too soon, it’s time to leave.

There’s a warm, but firm, hand resting on your back when you walk out the door, down the hall, and into the elevator. Alastor keeps his hands steady, even when you reach the common room.

Vaggie is the first to greet your group—well, it’s more appropriate to say she greets Charlie, and you just happen to be there. There’s a bag by her feet. “I was able to find the costumes you need for the exercise,” she says. “Even the giant lollipop is here.”

Charlie squeals. “Thank you thank you thank you!” Her excited gaze filters to you. “I have this wonderful game in mind, and then we could fo a bit of some of that good ol’ roleplay.” Angel Dust quirks a smile from the couch. “You should totally sta—”

“I’m afraid not,” Alastor says, drumming his fingers on his microphone. “I think it’s time for our visitor to head home. She’s had quite a long day.”

“Oh, of course. No worries!” Charlie says, giving you a bright smile—a real genuine and honest smile. “Feel free to come by anytime. The Hazbin Hotel’s doors will always be open should you change your mind.”

Vaggie scratches her face. “Before you go, I want to apologize for this afternoon,” she says. “It wasn’t right of me to be so hostile—I’m sorry.”

“Thank you, my dear. I understand,” you say quickly, ignoring the static behind you. “You were protecting something you cared about. I find great value in those who do.”

Vaggie smiles, and maybe she’s not too bad after all. “Thank you.”

From the couch, Angel Dust props his legs and waves at you. “And you’re welcome to open these doors any day.”

Alastor leads you to the door. You wave back at Niffty and Sir Pentious, whose eyes water as he frowns. Alastor’s hand stays firm as you trudge down the hill, past the rusted gate, into the city, and to the correct bust stop.

“You sure know how to find the most interesting groups of people, my deer,” you say. “Charlie and that hotel of hers are wonderful.”

Alastor adjusts his monocle. “Well, you know me. I see potential, and I follow it wherever it leads.”

“Should I be worried?” you say, chuckling. “The last time you saw potential, it ended with us married.”

“Not at all, my love.”

“You should continue to stay at the hotel,” you find yourself saying. “There’s just something about it—I think you’ll pick up quite a lot from your time there.”

His bowtie is crooked. You point to inform him, and reach out to straighten it. Alastor inches closer. The fabric is smooth underneath your touch. There’s stray lint on the shoulder of his coat, and you brush that away. You grab the lapes and adjust its fit, smoothing the fabric beneath your fingers.

“Much better?” he asks.

“Indeed,” you say, softly.

“I will see you soon,” he says, and you hear the unspoken promise and question hidden beneath his words.

“Good.”

Alastor tilts your chin with the tips of fingers. (And oh…oh. His gloves are off, and his hands are warmer than ever) He presses his lips on your cheek.

That blasted bus arrives too soon. You step inside, but turn to your husband and say, “Next time, when you disappear for several years, I expect to be informed and not just left with a vague note,” you say with a huff. “And when you return, I also expect to be the first to be informed.”

“Of course.”

“See to it that you keep your word.”

The bus door closes, and you take your seat. You smile to yourself and lean back on the crusty bus fabric. Patting your pocket, you take out a single gold band, slipping it on your finger.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

That habit of recklessness in moments of excitement was something your father hoped you’d grow out of. Thinking things through never really was one of your many strengths when such an exhilarating opportunity presents itself.

You scold yourself for not double-checking for gloves. Measure twice, cut one, and all that. But no matter, you’ll push through as always, clawing and digging to unearth the treasure left behind.

Your scalpel fits into your palms. Throughout this Earth, no… not just Earth, but Heaven and Hell as well, nothing will ever be as perfect.

You sigh, breathy and exhilarated, and begin.

‘First, do no harm’

But this…this does not harm a single living being.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

If you guys know who Olivia and Stolar are, that's what I imagine when I think about the reader's hair. Also, maybe some of you noticed, but I'm very relaxed when it comes to formatting my writing. Its why I use quite a lot of ellipses and em dashes and utilize italics and spaces. But the one thing I was very strict about was not to use the word, "miss". So there are no "You miss..." and "I miss..." But the words are there and spoken beneath actions and thoughts, hidden and unspoken, but known. My inbox is always open because I'd like to know what your favorite unspoken "I miss you" is/are. I have my own favorite ones as well.

#alastor x reader #Alastor x wife!reader #hazbin hotel x you #alastor x you #alastor the radio demon #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #Hazbin x reader #Hazbin Hotel imagines #Hazbin imagines #Hazbin Hotel x reader #alastor #alastor x wife reader

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wumblr · 7 months

Text

the way house of leaves has been revived for a cult following is so funny. it's completely backwards! it was a music industry book. the singer poe, who made waves with her debut for having a few tracks produced by j dilla and then if i remember correctly doing a 500+ show tour, essentially tanked her career to promote the book (written by her brother)

not like on purpose but it was supposed to be a paired project and there was a remix with a book excerpt read by mark (the kyrie bmw sex scene) and like, i don't know, a tie-in website -- but then her label got sold or merged or acquired and the project was eventually cancelled after languishing in limbo for a few years. there's also an aspect of this where like, a texas oil executive posed as a friend of her late father (possibly true) in order to manipulate legal proceedings (?) to ultimately own her writing and recording copyrights post-acquisition (dubious allegation, which also relies on her having signed away both types of copyright to her label in the first place, arguably a larger problem spanning the whole industry, even today, still coming up in legal proceedings from kesha and taylor swift and so on)

anyway the album (haunted) and the book were both inspired by the same event (death of their father, tad danielewsky -- as an aside, a professor of theater at brigham young university). the album features samples from a box of cassette tape recordings of his voice. and also some fake samples from a couple of guys pretending to be tad danielewski with an obviously ridiculous accent and a couple of kids pretending to be her as a kid. and it takes place inside the house. the growl is there and everything i swear

it really was one of the top tier 90s concept albums (it was released in 2000 actually) but it is usually FAR too much to handle for casual listening and a lot of it comes across difficult for being so sincere and so unfocused (it is a love letter to her dead father where one of the songs is a list of places she's gotten fucked, because, uh, this is a conversation she wanted to have with him. shrug). and yet it's hard not to take it as it is because it's so consistently well produced

so i know nobody's computer comes with a cd player anymore but to read the book without listening to the paired album implicitly packed in the back of the book jacket is kind of like missing the whole point. there's a whole second act of rashomon you guys are missing. and a third act hello the etsy teleplays. ANYWAY the point i wanted to make is that there are a couple of things about the album sticking to the roof of my mouth as being somehow prescient. there's a distorted "why (are you) so serious" sample that would have come across VERY differently post-joker, but there's also "tell me something dangerous and true," a far more interesting variation on the theme currently circulating. and i'm speaking to an empty room here because it's only the celibate 60% of this website who is reading the book because it allows them a patina of literary validity and several nested unreliable narrators to distance themselves from the sex scenes, but haunted is very authentically, directly and exclusively written in first person and to be honest it fucks too hard for you guys. i'm sorry

#house of leaves

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wileys-russo · 5 months

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I just saw a recent interview Stanway where she says she’s learning how to tattoo, so maybe something where Georgia convinces reader to tattoo them and it’s just cute fluff

inkmaster II g.stanway

"she's getting pretty good you know?" you looked up from your book as vik appeared, nodding to your girlfriend working away in the corner of his tattoo studio. "she harassed you to try it on some real skin yet?" the man grinned as you playfully rolled your eyes. "only every single day."

"you any closer to saying yes?" he smiled knowingly. "maybe a little. like you said, she's getting pretty good." you admitted fondly, marking your place in your book as vik disappeared to greet a client out front.

not wanting to throw her off you walked behind where georgia was tattooing, watching over her shoulder as she concentrated, hair thrown up into a messy bun and the sleeves of her baggy t-shirt rolled up out of the way showing off the dozens of little tattoos littering her arms.

"hello you." she paused, flicking off the tattoo gun and carefully place it beside the prosthetic fake skin she was practicing on. "looks good amor." you complimented as she swiveled her chair around to face you, tugging you down to sit on her lap.

"you look good." she grinned cheekily, her thick accent sending you swooning. "would vik let you tattoo someone yet?" you questioned with a small smile, watching georgias face absolutely light up at your question.

"wait here!" she gently moved you off of her and raced away making you laugh quietly and take a seat, admiring the small designs she had been practicing just moments before.

"he said yes! he has to supervise me and i can't charge ya, not that i would do that obviously, but he said yes!" georgia beamed, grin from ear to ear as she came sprinting back into the room. "do ya know what you want?" georgia asked and you nodded, standing to retrieve your phone.

"wait. baby are ya sure?" georgia grabbed your hands, interlocking your fingers and sweetly kissing your palm. "very sure. why? are you scared of what my sisters might say?" you teased, smile widening seeing the way her face instantly paled.

"er i didn't think bout that! maybe not then." georgia worried as you grinned. "baby they both have tattoos too, they will not care!" you assured, reaching up to move some flyaways out of her face.

"anyway. i want these, can you do them?" you showed her your screen, worry replaced with a frown as she inspected the two small designs. "yeah, i think so." she nodded confidently, bending down to reward you with a kiss before running off to grab what she needed.

"okay. ready? ready?" vik sat down beside georgia to watch on as you both nodded, georgia kissing the crook of your elbow as you sent her a smile, laid down on a chair as your arm was stretched out and ready.

"baby tell me if i'm goin too deep and it hurts." georgia warned, eyes glazed over with concern. "it's supposed to hurt, no?" you teased but nodded in agreement making vik chuckle, instructing georgia as she flicked on the tattoo gun.

your chosen designs were all linked in with your family, and though you'd been tattooed before you had seldom in visible places so a lot was on the line here and your girlfriend knew that.

you flinched just a tiny bit as her needle met your skin but once you adjusted to the buzzing and the slight sting you mumbled encouragement over and over to the blonde in front of you whose confidence grew as each minute passed, watched over carefully by vik.

"ya alright love?" georgia checked in as she wiped down the first little tattoo she'd now finished, vik nodding he was also happy with it. "you're doing so good baby, barely hurts." you complimented, your girlfriend blushing slightly which the man beside her was quick to tease her about as she rolled her eyes and flicked the gun back on.

"just try not to think about that you're tattoing la reina's baby sister a week before you play her." "shut up vik man! your makin me dead nervous."

"did you forget your barca jersey in germany hermanita?" you rolled your eyes before you even turned around, your older sister pulling you into a headlock and ruffling your hair before you pushed her off.

"im not picking a team today." you glared at her, refusing to choose between your sister or your girlfriend as they lined up against one another for the champions league, much to the annoyed protests of both parties at your decision.

"hola mami." you smiled, your mother pulling you into a tight hug, not having seen you in over a month now you held her for as long as she needed before you released her and she wiped away a few tears, you quick to promise you would try and come home to visit more.

"you got new tattoos!" your sister realized the moment you'd pulled away from the hug with her. "shut up alba!" you hissed smacking her arm as you all walked into the stadium and up to your seats, your mother well in earshot who only turned with a smile.

"i have long given up reasoning with any of you about what you put on your bodies mija."

"i like them but they are a little....wonky?" you yanked your arm out of her grip as the three of you sat down. "georgia did them. be nice!" you warned only causing her to throw her head back and laugh.

"oh hermana just you wait till ale hears that, your little girlfriend is a dead woman."

"assist and a goal. you played so well gee baby!" you greeted your girlfriend by the barrier with a grin and a kiss, pulling her sweaty form into a hug, murmuring a more quiet condolence for the loss.

"wish my name was on your back." the blonde frowned causing your smile to widen as you kissed away her pout. "any other game you know it would be." you promised softly, glancing up and seeing your eldest sister marching her way over.

"incoming. be strong! don't let her boss you around." you warned as georgia's eyes widened but before she could even speak it was too late. "stanway!" you shot alexia a firm glare as she arrived, slinging an arm over your girlfriends shoulder and steering her away.

"no. you stay!" she warned as you tried to jump the barrier to follow after them, watching on sympathetically as your sister marched the poor girl away from you. "you had a good game." alexia started, georgia stammering out a thank you with wide eyes.

"whats all that then?" keira appeared beside you, pulling you into a hug as you congratulated her for the win. "i let her do it." you smiled, holding out your arm with the fresh tattoos as keira inspected them with a whistle.

"well its been nice knowing her, but she's a dead woman now." "why does everyone keep saying this!"

"so. you have been permanently marking my sister now stanway?" alexia accused, moving to tower over the shorter girl whose face pale as she tried to stammer out an excuse.

"no more. if i find one more single tiny mark on her that i know she was not born with, i will make sure to have the barca crest inked on your face. that is a promise!" alexia warned firmly, georgia nodding repeatedly and rambling out an apology over and over, a satisfied smile settling on the eldest putella's face as once again her arm slung over the midfielder and she walked the two of them back toward you.

"i'll see you at dinner hermana, you too stanway." your sister kissed your forehead and winked to your girlfriend before striding away toward the change rooms.

"are you okay baby? what did she say?" you asked a very pale georgia, keira doubled over in laughter at her best friends expense, having been the one who introduced the two of you in the first place.

"er well i think i need to learn tattoo removal now."

#georgia stanway x reader #georgia stanway #woso x reader #woso blurbs #engwnt #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso #alexia putellas x reader

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fiveht · 1 month

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Proof of life (Adore pt 3)

Hello my sweet angel babies ♥️

I'm not going to be able to adequately express my gratitude for the steady stream of love (and concern, sorry) I've been receiving over the past couple of months. I'm so sorry I've been AWOL, it will definitely happen again. Because see, for me, I usually have to make a choice between social and creative fandom participation. My battery is small, and takes a long time to charge.

Thank you to everyone who's left comments and asks and DMs since I've been gone. I don't think I can respond to all of it, but rest assured those messages ping my cold, dead heart every time I see them.

So I'm gonna go out on a limb here. I did this same thing months and months ago, when I was working on Head Over Feet, and let me be clear: posting even a single word of a WIP goes against my every instinct and principle as an author. I am someone who likes to finish an entire story before I post any of it, and on top of that, I am NOT a fast writer, so the expectations that I'm setting up here might not be advisable. But I did it before and managed to finish the thing, and I want to give you guys something in exchange for being so unbelievably awesome, so here I am again.

This will probably be the only time I mention this story in public until it's finished and posted, and inquiries about my progress are unlikely to help with the writing process, I'm just saying. I reserve the right to change every last word of this before the final draft, and I also reserve the right to fall off the face of the planet and simply never finish it, as much as I will strive to prevent that from happening. Please be patient with me.

Anyway, here is my paltry offering to say thanks for the love: the (VERY rough) first ~1300 words of the third instalment of The Adventures of Soft Daddy and Danger Twink.

Sirius secures his handheld shower head to its holder at the edge of his clawfoot tub, and steps out carefully onto the bathmat. He shivers in the cool air outside the shower curtain; it's about twenty degrees below zero outside, so even if he could afford to run his ancient radiator at full blast, it probably wouldn't help much.

He dries himself off and checks his reflection in the mirror, turning his face this way and that as he tugs his hair out of the bun he'd piled it into to keep it dry during his shower. There's no need for makeup tonight, not when he's not even planning to put on clothes.

It's incrementally warmer when he steps out into the main room of his apartment. He gathers an array of splayed text books and notes from his bed and dumps them carelessly onto the couch, then closes his new laptop and places it delicately on the coffee table. It's the most expensive thing he owns, save for the Gucci backpack currently sitting in his wardrobe with a three-inch berth around it like his shoes and other bags might somehow contaminate it. It's weird owning rich-people stuff when you are still, objectively, broke as fuck.

He perches on the edge of his bed and sets his phone to charge, because his battery doesn't even last a day anymore, and he's going to need it this evening. He tucks it in next to his pillow and picks up his new toy.

The plug isn't much larger than the one he already has. A little longer, which is appealing, but no wider, so it shouldn't be a challenge to get it in comfortably. He disconnects it from its charger and hefts it in his hand, feeling the added weight from the electronics inside.

He picks up his phone, and hesitates when he sees the notification waiting for him.

Rieka: let's go out tomorrow

Rieka: the fact that we haven't been drunk since the term started is criminal

Rieka: we've had two chem labs and zero drinks

Sirius purses his lips, thumbs hovering over the keyboard. There's a fine line here, and he hasn't quite found it yet.

Me: got plans

Me: raincheck?

So complete avoidance is the best strategy, right?

Rieka: booooo 👎

He sighs, but at least she's not asking for an explanation. He opens a different conversation then, pushing all thoughts of Rieka Lupin into a tidy, sealed compartment, not to be opened during certain activities with a certain relative of hers.

Me: i'm ready

Me: are you in your office?

Daddy: Yup, I've got a few minutes

Daddy: Want me to call?

Instead of answering, Sirius hits the call button himself.

"Hey baby," Remus answers. His voice is already smooth and honey-sweet, and just from that, Sirius knows he's planning to lay it on thick tonight.

"Hi daddy," Sirius says with a smile. "Should I put it in now?"

There's a low chuckle over the line. "Are we feeling eager?"

"Always," Sirius says, laying back on his bed.

"Use the good lube I got you, it's gonna be in there a while."

He switches the call to speaker, and snags the bottle from his nightstand. "I threw out the old stuff, you've got me ruined for cheap lube."

"Only the best for that ass," Remus says, and Sirius can hear his smirk.

He gives the plug a liberal coating, running his fingers along its shape, his dick twitching just at the feel of the silky-smooth silicone, at the anticipation of what's about to happen. He spreads his legs wide, drawing one knee up to give himself easier access.

"Take it slow," Remus says, succinctly heading off Sirius' impulse to just shove the thing inside himself in one go. "Rub the tip against yourself, so you're nice and wet."

Sirius shuts his eyes as he obeys, sliding the slick end of the toy over his entrance. "Okay."

"Are you going to be a good boy for daddy tonight?"

"Uh-huh," Sirius says, teasing the very tip of the plug in and out of his hole.

"Tell me how."

"I'm not gonna touch."

"You're not gonna touch, and you're not gonna come."

"Yeah," Sirius says. His cock is starting to harden as his body tries to draw the plug inside. "Can I put it in, daddy?"

"Slow," Remus reminds him, "Slide it in nice and slow for me, baby."

Sirius catches his lip between his teeth and tries to push the plug in slowly, the way he knows Remus would do if he was here.

The shower has left him relaxed and more than ready, and it's hard not to take advantage, just press the toy in to its limit because he can. But he's working on his patience -- under Remus' careful tutelage -- so he shuts his eyes and tries to savour it, the tease of the plug's rubber tip at his entrance, the slow stretch as he eases it past the slight resistance before he sighs, and his body eagerly accepts the intrusion.

"Mmmm," Sirius sighs as he settles the base of the plug flush against his entrance, shifting his hips and feeling the constant, dull pressure against his prostate.

"How's it feel?"

"Good," Sirius says, splaying his legs out and just enjoying the pleasant fullness. It's been almost a week since Remus last fucked him, and that's just way too long. Christmas really spoiled him. He tugs the blankets up around him, because it's going to take some time before his body temperature is high enough to fight against the chill in his apartment.

"Have you tried out the settings at all?" Remus asks him, and Sirius picks up the phone, switching off speaker and holding it to his ear.

"No," he says, grinding his ass down against the bed to test the plug's reach inside him. "I thought you'd rather do the honours."

Remus hums, and Sirius hears the phone shifting in his grip. "I'm gonna turn it on, okay? Lowest setting."

"O--" Sirius stutters as the plug buzzes to life inside him, nestled snug against his prostate and sending little zings of pleasure down his legs. "Fuck that feels good. That's the lowest setting?"

"It is," Remus confirms. "Want to run through them all, see how high it goes? Or would you rather be surprised?"

"Mmmm, surprise me."

"Surprise it is," Remus says, and Sirius hears shuffling papers in the background as he prepares for his night class. Psychology 1001, Thursdays, 7-9:30PM. Two and a half hours of a lecture that Remus swears he's given so many times he could recite it in his sleep, so why not give himself something fun to focus on while he goes through the motions?

Being privy to all of this brilliant, upstanding man's secret perversions is a privilege Sirius does not take lightly.

"You can turn it off from the app if you need to," Remus is saying, "Or you can call me and I'll switch it off. My phone's on vibrate, so I'll see it right away."

Sirius smiles to himself. "Got it," he says, though this is a rehashing of the rules that Remus had laid out when he'd brought the plug over last weekend. He'd called it a "late Christmas gift", as if he hadn't already given Sirius several thousand dollars worth of presents on Christmas morning.

There's more rustling over the line, the squeak of a chair.

"Tell me again how you're going to be good tonight."

"I'm not gonna touch myself, and I'm not gonna come." The toy is still buzzing away inside him, making everything a little fuzzy at the edges.

"Tell me why."

"'Cause daddy's in charge, even when he's not here."

"Good boy."

Sirius squirms with pleasure, his cock smearing a little drop of fluid on his belly as the toy hums insistently at his prostate.

"I have to head out," Remus says. "How do you feel?"

"Good," Sirius says, his abs tensing as he shifts his legs and the angle of the toy changes. "Excited."

"Me too," Remus says softly. "I'll talk to you soon, beautiful. Send me some pictures." With a low beep, the call disconnects.

#and i disappear into the night once again #turned off anon asks for the time being #sorry i love you guys i'm just awkward

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reiderwriter · 9 months

Note

hi i love your writing

could you do something with reid loving that reader is pregnant. fluff or smut or both

A/N Hello! Thanks for the request! Dad!Spencer is the cutest thing on the planet so this is some unapologetic fluff. And now I have baby fever.

Warnings: mentions of pregnancy, idiots in love. Loosely based on Haley and Hotch's conversation in 1x1. Very fluffy and probably very cheesy and sentimental too... Sorry, you give me girl dad Spencer and suddenly there isn't an impure thought in my head, I just want to lovingly stare at him like I'm the dead wife in an action movie montage.

My requests are open, check out my masterlist for more 🌸

“Okay, what about Amelia?”

“No, Amelia Dyer, Victorian serial killer. She killed multiple infants over a thirty-year period.”

“Okay, okay, how about, Myra?”

“Myra Hindley, she and her partner Ian Brady abducted and killed five children and teens in the early sixties.”

“God, not that then. There can’t be a psychopathic murderer called Belle, right?”

“You’re making this too easy for me, y’know. Belle Gunness, Hell’s Belle, she’s one of the most prolific female serial killers of all time, even 100 years after her supposed death. It’s fascinating, you know, people think that she actually faked her death - when the doctor who performed the postmortem testified, he noted that the cadaver was about five inches shorter and about fifty pounds lighter than Gunness supposedly was….” You raise a single eyebrow at your wonderful husband, and he immediately shuts up.

“I’m rambling aren’t I?” He smiled down at you as you sat curled up as much as you could in your favorite spot on the couch, the cosiest part of your shared apartment. You smiled back up at him as he leaned down for a kiss and you gladly craned your neck up in response, meeting his lips for a sweet moment.

“Hotch was right you know,” you joked when the two of you parted. “All of the best baby names have been taken by serial killers.”

“Yeah, you’d think with the ratio of female to male serial killers, a girl would be easier to name.” He leans down to kiss you again before falling into a crouch next to you, resting his head on your shoulder and placing his hand on your stomach.

“How big did you say our little girl is now?”

“Y/N, you asked me that half an hour ago. I know pregnancy messes with your brain a bit, but if you’re that bad we’re going to have to get you back to Dr Patel and see if you’re doing okay.” He was joking of course, but you showed him your little pout anyway, knowing that he loved seeing the silly expression on your face.

“Humor me, Doctor.” He strokes your stomach and moves away, but not too far away, taking up right next to you on the couch, and pulling your legs over his lap.

“At five months, she’s roughly 10 inches long with a weight of about 0.5-1 pound. But that ‘How Big is My Baby’ book would say that she’s roughly one banana in length.” You giggled up at him and he grabbed your hand and just held it, content to have you in his arms in any way, big or small.

“I can’t believe it’s been five months already,” you giggle as he presses another kiss to your hand.

“I get it. It doesn’t feel quite real yet to me, either. I thought for so long that fatherhood just wasn’t in my future, but you’re the gift that keeps on giving I guess. I don't know what I did to deserve you.” Even if the words weren’t so sweet, with all of the hormones, you would’ve started crying at anything. Or at least that’s what you’re going to tell him when he sees the small tears threatening to drop into enormous loving sobs.

“Spencer Reid, I am not a gift. I am simply the woman with the correct combination of sense and foolish luck that got to marry you.” He’d done this before, and you were used to his small habit of self-deprecating talk, but after a year of marriage and three years of dating before that, you’d managed to work him down to the occasional comment.

“Don’t try to argue about this, I’m definitely the one benefitting the most from the situation right now,” he joked with you, and you could see the genuine adoration shining from behind his eyes. It was a little spark that not many got to see, a glimpse of true happiness in someone usually so reserved.

“Spencer, you’ve given me foot rubs everyday this week, you’ve read more pregnancy and parenting books than every OBGYN and midwife in the area combined, and you’ve somehow attended more of my clinical check-ups than me, and I’m the one whose pregnant.”

“And you’re growing our child inside of you, which is itself more impressive than anything I could ever do with a book and some modern acts of chivalry.”

“Yeah, tell your boss that. I think the only thing keeping Emily from pulling her hair out over your constant absences is that she thinks she’s competing for the title of godmother. She thinks Penelope and JJ are trying to corrupt me with parenting advice and all those baby clothes Pen keeps bringing over.”

“She’s going to be crushed when she remembers we’re not religious, right?”

“Devastated,” the two of you shared a laugh on the couch, and it quickly devolved into a giggle fit after Spencer leaned over and tickled your side. You jolted away from his touch, but he was on you again, attacking your sides with small caresses, and you were gasping for breath between laughs.

“Spence stop- ahh!” Your squeals stopped as you cried out in shock. It was small but you felt something tap against your stomach. Spencer stopped immediately upon seeing your expression change, and a serious look settled on him as he assessed you for any damage.

“What’s wrong? Did I hurt you? Are you in pain anywhere, is the baby okay?” He shot out the questions rapidly, one after the other, barely leaving space to catch his own breath from the laughter of earlier.

It happened again and you put a hand to your stomach, finally realising what’s going on.

“I think I just felt her kick. Spencer, I think I just felt the baby kick.” You couldn’t help the wide grin that spread across your face, as much as you couldn’t help the tear that dropped from your eye as your hand rested against your belly again, scared to move for fear that the baby wouldn’t communicate with you again.

“What? Now? Can I- Can I try and feel it, too?” His hands hesitated at first but when you enthusiastically nodded and used your other hand to put him close to yours, you could feel his eagerness to feel the small kicks of your daughter as well.

Almost as if she was waiting for him, as soon as his hand was in the right position, your little girl kicked again, almost as if screaming “I’m here mommy and daddy,” for the two of you to hear.

“I think she’s trying to tell us not to have fun without her,” Reid whispered in your ear, kissing your tear streaked cheek, and using his free hand to rub them away from the other side of your face.

“I am so thankful everyday for this gift you have given me. And for the record, the gift isn’t the baby. The gift is the overwhelming happiness you bring to my life, and the beauty you make me see in this world. The fact that you’re going to be the mother of my child gives me the confidence to get up and go to work every morning because I know that there is joy and there is kindness and there are beautiful people in this world, and you are one, and she will be, too.”

His attempts to dry your tears are now completely vanquished as you let your emotions run wild, but you almost laugh when you realise that his eyes are just as glassy as yours, and you both sit there, overwhelmed by the pure, unadulterated joy that a small kick from a child who has yet to be given a name has bought you.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x oc #I love girl dad Spencer you're going to have to claw girl dad Spencer from my cold dead hands #requested

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hopelesslyromanticshark · 1 month

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hi, covey can you pls write a platonic nico x daughter of persephone where the daughter of persephone makes nico, hades, and persephone go see hadestown on broadway with her (also if u haven’t heard hadestown highly recommend amazing musical)

wait for me? / i will; platonic! nico di angelo x daughter of persephone! reader blurb

content: platonic! nico di angelo x daughter of persephone! reader blurb (ft. mom and dad - er, persephone and hades) warning: language but we keep it silly up in this bitch author's note: i dunno if i can even call this a blurb anymore- holy shit its so fucking long but i dont wanna call if a fic bc that feels like favoritism lmao also i haven't listened to the whole play bc i haven't been a theatre kid in many many years and im trying to leave that behind me as i go to college but i do remember absolutely loving the concept and a few of the songs!!

"everyone say 'hi' to the vlog!!" you cheered as you walked in front of you family, spinning the camera around to get you all in view. upon your parents request (demand), you all were dressed in your sunday best. suits, or the closest to a suit nico was willing to put on, midi-length dresses for the girls. all designer, as hades wouldn't be caught dead not in designer. zeus would mock him for eons. nico threw up a middle finger that persephone was slapping away, before turning the camera with a sugary sweet smile.

"hi vlog!" she cheered, wrinkling her nose, attempting to be suave and hip, but not really getting close as nico and you cringed slightly.

"hello vlog," hades added, which had you and nico wheezing and hades desperately asking his wife what was wrong with what he said.

"youre- youre so cordial," you managed to get through you giggles, pointing the camera at hades, who puffed his chest out with a roll of his eyes.

"that would be because i'm old, my sweet girl," he huffed and you beamed a smile at him, spinning the camera onto yourself as the four of you continued down the streets of new york city.

"he's not that old," you smirked, nico snorting next to you.

"anyways, we're off to see hadestown. mom and dad haven't seen it yet and have no idea what it's about. but will took you last week, right, nico?" you asked, leaning into nico's side so he'd be in view. he nodded his head, darting his eyes away at the mention of his boyfriend.

"yup."

"awww! he's getting all blushy!! im gonna tell will-"

"go to hell, y/n-"

"been there, done that. boring!"

"hey, watch it!" hades cut in, with a glare, which you responded wit ha roll of your eyes.

"stop distracting me, im trying to vlog," you huffed, turning your eyes back to the camera with a wide smile, "obvi i can't film inside, but i will take a pic and tally every time one of us cries and whoever cries the most picks what we have for dinner."

"wait, wait. my blossom, you didn't mention this one was sad?" hades hissed to his wife, who shrugged in uncertainty but patted his forearm comfortingly. you and nico shared a knowing glance, tiny smirks playing on your lips.

"okay, okay," you whispered to your camera, bending over in your seat to hide it from the watchful eyes of security despite the fact that it was intermission, "we've hit intermission and i've only cried, like, twice. nico, the rat bastard, managed to stay strong so far. mom's cried, what, four times?"

"nah, closer to five. remember? right at the beginning?" nico whispered and you nodded in agreement before turning to the camera, laughing as you struggled to get your words out.

"but dad, gods bless his heart, he's probably cried twice for every song-"

"no, no, he cried, like, four times, during 'come home with me'," corrected nico and you discreetly tried to hide your giggles with nico, the two of you leaning into each other before persephone reached over, smacking at their arms.

"knock it off. your father is a very sensitive man and you didn't warn him this play was about us. and so sweetly written too," persephone mused to the pair, sniffing near the end, causing you and nico to point over at her.

"that's another one! you're up to five, mom!" bit back nico, clearly proud of himself as persephone glared at the pair, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue.

"it's not like it matters much, your father will certainly lose- oh, welcome back, my darling, just in time," the queen of the underworld quickly changed her tune, beaming a smile as her husband returned with drinks and snacks.

he glanced at her suspiciously but let it go as he gently presented her with some fruity cocktail he knew she'd like without needing to ask. a blush flushed across her cheeks and hades was clearly proud of himself as he continued to pass out snacks. junior mints and licorice for nico, who took it with one hand while texting will with the other. you bit your lip, trying to zoom in with the camera and see what he was saying but nico caught on quick, shoving the camera away with a huff. then hades set bag of m&m's down in your lap before ripping open his own bag. instantly, you were leaning over to his seat and inspecting his bag, nawing gently at your lip as hades glanced at you out of the corner of his eye.

"yes, princess?" he asked and you shyly smiled at him.

"could i have some?" you asked and hades frowned, looking pointedly down at the ones that rested, untouched, in your lap.

"you have some."

"they're better from your bag," you gushed and hades melted instantly, pretending to grumble as he presented the bag to you, small cheers escaping your lips as you dug your fingers in. and hades smiled despite himself, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before reaching over and ruffling nico's hair just as the play was about to continue.

the vlog abruptly jumped to a shot of your little family standing outside the theatre in visible distress. nico had his head hung back, waving at his face, trying to avoid tears that he knew will would mock him for. persephone and you were actively clinging to each other, fully sobbing in the middle of new york, mutters and gasps about being doomed by the narrative and love somewhere among the sobs. hades was in shock, tears streaming down his face, and his hands clasped in front of his lips. how he managed to get shocked by a play he lived through, he had no idea. you detangled yourself from your mother, who instantly went to her husband, who welcomed her into his arms without a second thought. you picked up your camera, sniffling as you attempted a smile while holding a thumbs up but the happy effect was lost with the black mascara running down your cheeks.

1.2 k comments:

@/will.solace: awww he blushes when you mention my name 🤭

@/underworlds-favs: die and see if i blush then

@/underworlds-favs: do not use our shared account for your lovers quarrel - y/n

@/underworlds-favs: die and it won’t be a shared account anymore

@/user.1: why your mom kinda...😏🤭🤤😮‍💨

@/underworlds-favs: STOP THIRSTING FOR OUR PARENTS YALL ARE WEIRD KNOCK IT OFF

@/user.2: wait, wait- i need to know who lost and i want, like, full receipts of how many times you guys cried

@/underworlds-favs: in order from least to most: nico - 2, the perfect and stunning y/n - 6, mom - 7, and our emotional king, dad, cried a whopping 36 times 🤩🤩

@/underworlds-favs: do not use out shared account to spread your propaganda - nico

@/user.2: AINT NO WAY- 36 TIMES?????

@/underworlds-favs: i wish i was joking. we had some really good italian that night tho 🤘😋

#postcards from covey ౨ৎ #all my love ౨ৎ #pjo #pjo fandom #percy jackon and the olympians #hoo #nico di angelo #hadestown

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ladyyatexel · 4 months

Text

Hey, what's up, hello, I'm Xel, I truly have Donald Duck levels of bad luck and yet I do not have the rage button that makes things work out if I throw a tantrum, which feels like yet another failure of media, what is the deal with this.

The deal is:

Temp job had to let me go instead of make me permanent because the economy scared the 5 people over 65 in that department out of feeling safe enough to retire

None of my applications are getting interviews and I don't know what I'm doing wrong. Donald Duck tantrum did not assist me in this realm.

Holy shit seasonal depression I can't get out of bed like.... A Lot.

I have a convention to go to in February where I am selling art in the art show and where I will see many of my friends the only time per year.

I'm scared of everything haha wow 😬

I'm am an artist who just feels too upset and worried to art

I'm having trouble getting everything together and maybe will feel better with some level of stability? I need to do a lot of paperwork. It is proving hard. I have the Tumblr popular suspicions about my level of neurodivergance. (Fun story: I told members of my my family that I have thought in the last two years especially that I might have ADHD or Autism or something, and my cousin said, "Oh, honey *just the last two years?*" Obliterated.)

My abusive dad recently joined a cult and my grandmother thinks he'll try to contact me after 15 years and I'm fucking scared of him and that is Affecting Me in A Way boy howdy.

I do not have the money to pay rent even a little bit! I'm trying to get January and February taken care of maybe? So I can try to exist for this period of time and maybe not have a breakdown or get evicted or something?

Some real not awesome medical junk happening also because why not.

SO, I'm doing Tumblr's favorite thing and being a starving queer artist with brain worms who needs help. If you are interested in helping me out and making a donation to the "Why don't my Donald Duck tantrums solve my problems" fund, I would be Really Grateful.

I am on Ko-Fi, which is really just a funnel to PayPal, over here.

$2500 would keep me on solid ground. I'll try to keep a tally here in a read more along with a expenses tally if that would help you feel better about me! I know I've had to ask frequently in the last few months, so I understand thinking I'm full of it.

I have a commission to finish currently and a few buttons and things that need to be mailed. You could also ask for button and commission, but I am doing prep work for my part of the art show in mid February, so I'm not available until after then for that!

My grandfather used to do a Donald Duck impression that was really good and it convinced me that either he WAS Donald Duck or that old people all knew how to do this because they all talked like this in the era Donald Duck was from.

Here is Ko-Fi again. If there's something you'd like to see me post or unearth in atonement, let me know. If you'd like other places to aim your dead green American presidents, I can give you that too.

Thanks for reading and/or reblogging! Tell me how Donald Duck's freakouts impacted you. Take care of yourselves!

Rent is $710/month, so 1420 is January and February.

65 for the internet, 130

65 for car insurance, 130

65 for electric unless I can get the assistance plan up again, same 130

250 to survive at the con maybe?

Also just like food until i can get the foodstamps stuff sorted??

Gas???

Anyway, that's an idea of what and why, if that is helpful.

Jan 8:

We are at $460!

Thanks!

#mutual aid #help #donations #charity #i feel real ashamed to have to do this! :D

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evita-shelby · 8 months

Note

Hi, hello

This is my first request ever, please ignore my spelling mistakes if there's any, I'm French so...

So how abt the femreader /OC (as you want) has an illness and is destined to die but Tommy pursue her and falls in love with her anyway and then she dies and we see how he copes. I'm a sucker for angst.

Thank youuu

You are welcome 😊

I cried so hard i ran out of tp to clean my snot.

Promise

Gif by @manie-sans-delire-x

Cw: death, illness, grief, suicidal thoughts

You hoped he’d forget about you while he was in France, but when he stepped down that platform he was as in love with you as when he had left.

You had broken things off with him before he even left and yet he returned to you as if nothing changed.

No matter how much you tried, Tommy never left your side.

Eventually you had to tell him the truth.

You were dying.

You had a year at most, the tumor was not operable, and it wouldn’t be long before you were dead.

“I can’t leave you, love, not when you need me most.” He had said as he held your face in his hands.

And he hadn’t.

Not when the barmaid showed up and made it clear to all that she wanted him, not when he provoked Kimber and certainly not when Campbell threatened to have the hospital deny you care if he didn’t give him the guns.

Campbell hadn’t expected you to laugh and spit at his face, “Do it, do your fucking worst, Inspector. I am dead anyways.”

You were dying, but you were never going to let Tommy and his dreams die with you.

You had a year.

And you had decided that your last wish was to see Tommy get the hell out of here and be the great man you know he is.

This you tell him as the two of you stand as witnesses for Freddie Thorne and his sister, Ada.

He couldn’t say no to you, he said so as you tied his tie for him and told him to drive you and Ada to the courthouse where Freddie was waiting with his cousins and a rabbi.

“It could be us up there,” he said quietly knowing you’d say no.

“Ask me again in a year.” You love him, and that is why you refuse to tie him to you like that.

Time passes slowly, you encourage him to pursue Grace because he needs the distraction. There was something there, on her side at least.

Not that he budged, said he didn’t need anyone else. Not when he had you.

“I’m going to marry you.” He says the words you feared the most. He did never learn to let go, even when death took those he loved most, he stood there refusing to let go.

“Tommy, I do not want to tie you to me like this. Not like this.” You plead for him to move on weeks later when he takes the barmaid to the races.

“I’m gonna marry you, when you go, I want you to go as my wife, y/n.” he vowed just as you vowed to see him succeed.

You supposed that is what had you say yes.

He wants to do things proper, keeping almost every tradition and custom in place that you find to your liking. Whatever you want for your big day, he and Polly make it happen.

Its sweet and thoughtful you think as he gets the two of you on a table at the Garrison and announced to all that the two of you will be getting married.

He had bought you a ring, a Claddagh ring like the one his mum had worn. Only difference was that the other one was lost in the Cut and yours had a red garnet heart to represent his love and devotion to you.

Tommy was a romantic, no matter what he did to hide it.

You dance in the dark of your room nights later to some old record your mama had since she settled here with your father.

“We could always elope, go somewhere just us and come back like our parents did.” He suggests and you nod.

As much as you’d like to do things properly, you’d rather get the things on your list done before you meet your maker.

Besides, that trip to Liverpool before the war had been lovely and you’d like to see the sea again before you go.

“I’d like that.” You say and that next morning the two of you set off to Liverpool like the wild teenagers the two of you used to be.

The wedding is lovely even if it happens in front of strangers, but the weekend the two of you spend as newlyweds is enough to make you forget your time is running out.

Perhaps when your health becomes worse you could return here, die somewhere beautiful away from everything.

“I wish we didn’t have to go back.” He admits as the two of you lie down on a blanket and enjoy the sun on your faces on your last day here.

“Once its over, we should come back here.” You say as if you knew for sure you’d be alive by then.

Zilpha Lee saw your death in the first chills of December. A black star and blood on Tommy’s heart.

It was late July now.

Only five months left in your clock. And you were going to make the most of it.

And you did, you danced at John and Esme’s wedding like there was no tomorrow. You gave the barmaid a good enough thrashing she never even got to call the police on Freddie and when little Karl was born it hurt your heart to know you would never have this with Tommy.

You wept like a baby in his arms as everyone celebrated down at the pub.

“Promise me you will love again.” You dry your tears and make him swear to live for you.

He cannot die with you, you refuse to let him.

“Don’t make me promise that, love, I’ve only ever loved you.” He shook his head, refusing to even think of a life without you in it.

It becomes the first of October that night.

You can’t hide your illness no matter what you do. A girl from the neighborhood is hired to help you and from your bed you play cupid between the sweet but never spineless Linda and the most unlikely dashing knight, Arthur.

When they finally go out ---with Finn to keep things proper--- it is late November.

And as if by magic, you are bursting with energy enough to leave your bed and make sure there is no loose string left by December 1st.

You are laughing with Polly over something when you see it in Tommy’s carefully annotated diary.

A black star on December 3rd.

He plans on having everything done by then, to deal with Kimber and Campbell that same day and spend the rest of your time on earth in a cottage by the sea.

It was supposed to be a surprise until you answered a call back from the woman renting it.

If only you could live long enough to get there.

But you won’t.

Zilpha had said on the day of the Black Star.

On December 3rd your time was up.

And you had fulfilled your mission, on that day Tommy would have reached the first step towards getting the hell away from here.

Only Polly knows what transpired during that meeting with Zilpha Lee and she holds you as your heart breaks all over again.

“Promise me you’ll take care of him.” You ask her as she holds you tight enough to put you back together again.

“Of course I will, sweetheart. Just like I told Martha Strong I’d take care of her boys and John’s Martha as well.” The older woman promised you as she gave you her Black Madonna.

Its is December 3rd when Tommy leaves the house as giddy as a boy on boxing day.

“After this it will be just us in that little cottage by the sea, love.” He had promised kissing you like there was no tomorrow.

And there wouldn’t be.

The moment the bullet strikes his chest, you collapse at his desk and never rise again.

By the time Jeremiah lets him go, you are gone.

That night, after the undertaker has taken you away to prepare you for burial, he takes your ring, a bottle of whiskey and his gun.

When he pulls the trigger, there are no bullets and he curses you for leaving and refusing to let him leave with you.

He wakes up in Charlie’s Yard, with his aunt and uncle wearing black for mourning.

“I promised her I’d take care of you, don’t make break that promise, boy.” Polly said as she helped him back on his feet.

After your funeral he leaves for the seaside, hoping to have the peace and quiet to finish what he started and yet as he sits there in ghe sand looking at the ring he gave you, he remembers your voice making him swear to live for you.

And he does.

On December 3rd 1922, he returns to the beach with May Carlton now wearing your ring on her finger.

“Thank you.” He whispers to the wind.

#tommy shelby x oc #thomas shelby fanfic #thomas shelby x oc #peaky blinders fanfiction #thomas shelby imagine #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby x wife!reader

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ghcstao3 · 5 months

Note

Ghost takes Vampire!Soap home to meet the fam for Christmas. Finding out very quickly that Soap is very good friends with everyone else and would have been invited anyway.

Ghost was the last to meet him.

sorry this is so late and also so short </3 i'm not sure why i struggled so much, my brain just wasn't braining for this prompt :')

“…just—I want to ease them into the whole vampire thing, yeah? I don’t want—“

“Simon, I get it.” Soap stops Ghost in his tracks, smoothing his hands along Ghost’s biceps. “I know how to deal with new people, love. I’ve been undead for a while now, remember?”

Ghost rests his forehead against Soap’s for just a moment. Despite the sun-kissed colour of his skin, there’s a pleasant, grounding coolness in its touch.

“I know, Johnny, I—I just need them to like you.”

“Well, vampire or not, I’m sure they will,” Soap says, grinning bright. “It’s a MacTavish charm guarantee.”

Ghost scoffs, shoving Soap away only a moment before grabbing his hand and intertwining their fingers, squeezing lightly for courage as he finally knocks on the door of his mum’s home.

It’s less than thirty seconds before the door swings open, and both Ghost and Soap can hear the commotion inside leading up to it. It puts an easy smile on Ghost’s face, and when Soap brushes his thumb over Ghost’s hand, his tension finally begins to melt from his shoulders.

Ghost's mum greets them with a warm smile, halfway through saying hello to her youngest son when her expression suddenly falters, her brow furrowing in a deep, yet brief confusion.

"Mum, wh—"

"John? You aren't supposed to be here for another few days!"

Ghost looks between his mother and Soap; between confusion and a sheepishness that would surely stain Soap's face red if he still had the blood for it.

Soap clears his throat, glancing at Ghost only to look away once their eyes meet. "I had a... change in plans."

Ghost's mum laughs, shaking her head. "Well, no kidding." Her eyes flicker to Ghost and Soap's tangled hands and sighs a fond exasperation before stepping back to pull the door further open. "Right, come on in, you two. Before all the heat escapes."

Soap, suddenly appearing desperate to get inside, is quick to try and drag Ghost in along with him like it'll help to breeze past whatever that had been about—but before he can cross the threshold Ghost is tugging him back despite Soap's squawk of indignation.

"I'd better get an explanation for this, Johnny," Ghost hisses. "Why didn't you tell me you—"

"Don't worry about it, darlin'," Soap says hastily. He slips his hand free from Ghost's, presses a chaste kiss to his lips, and hurries inside.

If he weren't already dead, Ghost thinks he might kill Soap.

#ask #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #soapghost #ghostsoap #ghost x soap #ghoap #writing #if anyone has ever noticed the inconsistency of me vs making ghost younger or older than tommy #no you haven't. be Quiet #he will be made how i see fit

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sanjisboyfie · 6 months

Text

one piece smau: married to robin edition

— kinda implied that robin is some "celebrity" but i kind of just enviosioned her just being a really successful writer or smth LOL

— male reader ! ! !

liked by nico.robin, nrs.husband, and 12k others

uso_pp: bro is definitely a mama's boy

tagged: nico.robin and nrs.husband

nrs.husband: well i call her mommy in bed anyway so it checks out

-> uso_pp: DEAR GOD.

dni_nami: they're both so whipped for each other, true love is real igggg

[liked by nico.robin, nrs.husband, and 90 others]

freeluffy: is it normal to be this clingy with your girlfriend...[name]'s behavior seems concerning guys ://

-> roro.zoro: it kills me how serious u seem about this

princesanji: IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN ME IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN ME IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN MEEEE

liked by nrs.husband, dni_nami, and 30k others

nico.robin: my husband is so thoughtful - he's never forgotten to give me floewrs whenver my older ones die <3

tagged: nrs.husband

nrs.husband: if my baby loves flowers IMMA GET HER FLOWERS

-> nico.robin: and i'll treasure them each time my love

princesanji: robin, i too, remember that you love flowers - do you love me now :3?

SUPERCOLA: i thought im the ways of being a SUPPPERRR husband well

-> nrs.husband: SUPPPPEERRRR

dni_nami: were these from your garden?

-> nico.robin: yes :) he has been tending to them ever since he planted them for me so now that they're grown, he made them into a bouqet

[liked nrs.husband, roro.zoro, and 100 others]

-> dni_nami: UGH I DONT KNOW WHY I BOTHER ASKING it's too cute i might kill MYSELF

liked by nico.robin, princesanji, and 20k others

nrs.husband: before and after the event, so proud of my beautiful girl

tagged: nico.robin

nico.robin: your support means the world to me <3 i love you so much

-> nrs.husband: if you have 1000 fans, i'm one of them. if you have 100 fans, i'm one of them. if you have 10 fans, i'm one of them. if there are no more fans of nico robin in the world, then i'm dead. i love you so sososososo much more my love

uso_pp: someone check up on sanji-

-> roro.zoro: i just heard a thump from the room over, i'm gonna assume he just fell to his knees

skullnsoul: such an elegant couple - YOUNG LOVE IS SO BEAUTIFUL

-> nrs.husband: brook you're like ten years older pls ur not an old man yet LMFAO

-> nico.robin: thank you brook :)

liked by nrs.husband, dni_nami, and 20k others

nico.robin: my favorite place in the world is his arms

tagged: nrs.husband

nrs.husband: i'll start crying right now.

nrs.husband: I DONT DESERVE YOU UGH

uso_pp: photo creds robin?? cmon now my work aint free

princesanji: what did [name] do in a past life to deserve a goddess such as yourself, robin-chan?

-> nico.robin: sanji you need to move on <3

[liked by roro.zoro, dni_nami, and 400 others]

freeluffy: mama y papa :DDDD

-> nrs.husband: LUFFY LMFAOOAA

liked by uso_pp, nrs.husband, nico.robin, and 11k others

dni_nami: the one time we get to see robin and he's hogging all her attention....wtf

tagged: nico.robin and nrs.husband

nico.robin: dw nami i reserved us a girls day at the nearby resort <3

-> dni_nami: mommy? sorry, mommy? mommy? sorry...mommy??

-> nrs.husband: hello????

uso_pp: as if he doesn't get to spend eveyr waking second with her like cmon bruh

-> nrs.husband: my BADD for loving my wife jfc i cant win w u guys

nrs.husband: omg send me this photo she looks so cute here hehehe

-> dni_nami: stfu.

nrs.husband's story:

i love lovelovelovelove my beautiful wife. everyone is just jealous she's mine <333

nico.robin replied to your story: i wondered why nami just texted me she hated you — you're very cute with this story, [name]. i love you too and am glad that i can call you mine as well <333

#≡;- ꒰ ° smau series ꒱#one piece smau #one piece modern au #one piece x male reader #nico robin x male reader #nico robin x reader #x male reader #x reader #nico robin imagines #one piece imagines #male reader imagines #one piece male reader #robin x male reader #robin x reader #one piece robin x reader #one piece robin x male reader

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herstarburststories · 5 months

Text

my monstrous boy (Coriolanus Snow x reader)

Summary: Coriolanus Snow is a monstrous boy. He's cold, merciless, brutal. And you love him. God, you love him so much. But what happens when you love a monster?

Disclaimers: angst. so much. but don't worry, the next one will be smutty.

A/N: Hello, requests are open skkskskka.

A monster is what it is. People won't beat an eye at their doings, they won't elaborate on why they are what they are. Some seeds come just bad, they say, and you're in luck when it doesn't fuck up the three.

But what does it make the person who loves the monster? What does it mean to be so intertwined to something evil? So in love with someone who wears cruelty like a fancy perfume?

Well, you've discovered it.

Loving a monster means all the love get bloodstains on it. As it comes to Coriolanus Snow, loving him means washing the stains of blood with the water in the river by the Hanging Tree.

The eldest Snow came to you in the dead of the night, blue eyes fading into anything but the mening of the color. You could print out so many emotions there, mostly shock and fear.

But there was no regret.

Looking back, that should've pushed you asay from Coriolanus. But when he trembled like he's nothing but human, you fooled yourself into beliving that he was a victmin of the circumstances.

Perhaps, he was. In the begining. You remember his childhood stories like tales of war. A kid can't leave that violence withour swallowing part of it. Snow was made to be tough, but he was never violent, he would never—

“Ouch.” he grumbles, a sight of disposture that he's not used to display in fromt of anyone but his family, and you.

It's an open wound. It's a bleeding reminder that somebody tried to fight back and lost his life to him.

“I'm sorry.” the words rott in your tongue, you spit them out anyway. “But that's the least of your problems.”

Silence. You can feel him studying you, analyzing you as if you're a lesson he can crack if he just tries hard enough. You don't lift your head, the eyes that once gave you comfort now make you nauseous.

You don't want to watch him lose his humanity like one of the tributes. You don't want to see Coriolanus become someone else.

But does one become something? Or has he always been as this?

“Are you scared of me?” direct, crude, as usual. He may not have the purity of Snow, but he's clear as one. There are no hidden meanings, no interpreter behind the door. He grabs your chin to make you look up at him, “Are you scared of me?”

The answer comes as a rather accusatory ask, “How many people have you killed?”

Quietude.

You can only hear his rapid breathing. You take a glance at him, only for the lavish boy to spare his head away. As if in shame, as if hiding.

When he's scared, he looks awfully lot like the man you swore to die with. Lately, living with him has been a harder oath to keep.

“It doesn't matter. I did this for you and us. We are free.” His tone takes up all the space of an answer. You know Snow doesn't want to talk about what happened, yet you can't stop your words.

“How much death is in your hands, Coriolanus?”

There, sitting in the mud while he bleeds, the man looks at you, and all you can see his a monster. The pieces coming together to make a image of destruction in your head, one inflected by the hands that always caressed you so gently.

He doesn't answer. Coriolanus just remains there, gazing inside your eyes. You don't leave him. You fool yourself thinking, maybe the monster is just trying to protect the boy. You know what he has seen, you still think it's not justified and—

And when he reaches out to place his hand on yours, his palm hand on contrast with his gelid nature, you are smitten, docile, even.

Love, you know, is the easiest way to perish.

Always good to the signals, Coriolanus leans in and presses a tender kiss to your lips.

It's also the best way.

A couple decades have ended. Your love has turned into blood on the snow: red, vicious, rotten. Yin and yang were never attracted, they crashed into each other, they destroyed parts of each other to make home for themselves.

Coriolanus Snow is the president. He gets redder eveqrytime. You still wash his weary hands, hoping someday you'll drown in the blood and be forgiven for being in love with cruelty.

You don't know what loving a monster makes you anymore.

But when the mockingjay cries in the cage, that's a lot like what you feel those days.

Author's: hello!! I'm just started writing this, so please give me some comments and reblogs.

TAGLIST OPEN for Coriolanus Snow x reader. Send a dm or comment to add.

#coriolanus snow #tom blyth #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #Coriolanus Snow x y/n #dark!coriolanus snow #tom blyth x reader #the hunger games #the hunger games: the ballad of songbirds & snakes #the hunger games imagines

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