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cryptidghostgirl · 2 months

Note

could you do Alastor and Lucifer with an Living! Adams Family! Reader?

A/N duh. this idea was so fun!! It's giving Beetlejuice in the best way

I Myself am Strange and Unusual (Alastor x Reader x Lucifer)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Warnings: Mention of suicide in reference to Dante's Inferno. Bones. Art made from bones.

Word Count: 1,655

Master Lists:

Master Lists

Hazbin Hotel Master List

Y/n sat before the summoning circle as she lit the las candle. It was a Friday and she was bored, what else was she supposed to be doing besides following some probably fake spell she found in a book she'd thrifted? She took after her mother in that regard but had wound up with her fathers rather flamboyant personality.

"Now, what are those words..." she mumbled to herself, turning the odd slip of paper the spell had been written on over.

Her eyes glazed over them and she cleared her throat.

"Spirits from beyond, I call you Lucifer, who first cursed us, I call you to me. Lucifer, who commands the legions of the dead, I summon you from the last plane to the first. Lucifer, wicked, heartless beast, I bring you to your knees before me. Spirits from beyond, I call you!"

Y/n looked up from the paper in excitement, a look which quickly dimmed as absolutely nothing happened before her eyes. She turned back to the paper, squinting to read the cramped letters.

"Okay, wait. Theres another name here. Uh, spirits from beyond, I call you. Alastor, keeper of the dark defeat, I call you to me. Alastor, demonic overlord, I summon you from the last plane to the first. Alastor, both hunter and hunted, I bring you to your knees before me. Spirits from beyond, I call you."

Again, her work failed to yield any results. Y/n stayed seated for a moment, waiting. When it was clear to her that the spell had not in fact done it's job, she sighed and got to her feet.

"Well that was a waste of a half hour."

She turned on the lights before leaning forward and grabbing the nearest candle. With a short breath of air, she blew it out only, somehow, all the candles seemed to go out as she did this, even the scented one on the shelf that hadn't been involved in the ritual.

"Oh there is no way." Y/n smiled, anticipation bubbling in her chest, "There is literally no way!"

The lights began to flicker as she placed the candle she was holding on the desk. The minute it hit the table's surface, the room fell into a short spell of darkness. As the lights flickered back on, Y/n saw two men standing in the center of the circle.

Well, men was a strong word. They were both humanoid in shape but, neither really looked like people. They looked around the room in shock, taking in every detail before their eyes landed on each other.

The taller of the two demons, the one all in red and holding an old fashioned looking microphone, widened his already close to horrific smile. The smaller one, dressed in all white, narrowed his eyes.

"You." the man in white sighed, crossing his arms, "Of course I had to get summoned with you."

"There is literally no way." Y/n exclaimed, cutting off the red demon as he opened his mouth to speak.

Both men turned to Y/n, in her black dress with her wide excited eyes.

"Ah." the red demon hummed, his voice coming out like radio static as he straightened his jacket, "You must be the one who summoned us. I am Alastor, quite the pleasure to meet you. Yes, quite the pleasure."

Y/n turned her gaze to the demon in white.

"So that means you must be Lucifer. It is such an honor to meet you."

"Huh." Lucifer smiled slightly, "Now that's more like it. Wait, you're not one of those freaks, are you?"

"Freaks?" Y/n asked, her head cocked slightly to the side and her brow furrowed.

"One of those oh! You brought evil to the world! You're my idol people." Lucifer imitated animatedly.

Alastor shot him an irritated look as Y/n's eyes widened and she shook her head.

"No no no! They have it all wrong. You didn't bring evil, you gave us the greatest gift of all. You have us free will, self determination. The ability to be exactly who we are and want to be."

Lucifer turned to Alastor, crossing his arms over his chest with a self satisfied smile.

"Oh I like her. Pretty and she knows her stuff?"

Y/n blushed slightly, looking away. She clasped her hands behind her back. Alastor didn't like that.

"Yes, quite the charming girl indeed." he hummed through gritted teeth, meeting Y/n's eyes.

"And Alastor..." she put a finger to her lip in thought, "Alastor... I am really sorry, I don't mean to be disrespectful, but I don't think I have ever heard of you before."

His eye twitched and Lucifer's grin widened.

"Well, my dear, I just so happen to be one of the most powerful overlords in all the rings of Hell."

"Huh. Neat."

"So, what have you called us here to do?" Lucifer asked amiably.

"Oh, well, I hadn't really though that far. Um..." she looked around the space of her room.

There wasn't anything she really wanted. Y/n had a comfortable life, a loving family. Anyone she wanted revenge on she was more than capable of taking care of on her own. Mostly, she was just bored.

Nodding her head once, she walked up to the edge of the summoning circle and promptly sat down. Her legs crossed, she adjusted the long skirt of her dress over her knees.

"Let's just chat."

Alastor and Lucifer exchanged a confused look.

"You are going to have to ask us for something, my dear." Alastor hummed pleasantly, "Otherwise we wont be able to go home. That's how this little game works, after all."

"So, I am asking you to chat. Do you guys want any drinks or something?"

With a shrug to Alastor, Lucifer sat down on the floor with his legs crossed as well. With a reluctant sigh, Alastor followed suit.

"So, what is Hell like?" Y/n asked eagerly, "Is it dark and full of bugs? It can't really be all fire and lava pits like all the art says. I mean, Dante's version of Hell makes more sense than that. Oh my gosh, is there a suicide forest? I always loved that idea, that they turn into trees. That they get the most peaceful of the options, is it real?"

"Well, there are trees." Lucifer began carefully.

"But they are not made of people's souls. No, it's actually rather close to this world down below." Alastor finished for him.

"Really? You guys have like jobs and stuff?"

"Some of us do. I am actually currently involved in a project helping to rehabilitate sinners. 'Check out of Hell and into Heaven,' that's the whole idea of the thing."

"Like you actually believe in that." Lucifer scoffed and Alastor raised a hand to his chest in false ofence.

"You... are you questioning my motives?"

"Not cool man." Y/n shook her head, "That sounds like a pretty cool project, I didn't even know something like that was possible."

Before Alastor could reply, Lucifer cut in.

"It is my daughter's project, and we aren't actually sure its possible yet."

"You have a daughter!? Is she the antichrist?"

"We-"

"Charlie Morningstar is her name." Alastor interrupted Lucifer, "And she is quite powerful. Talented too."

Lucifer turned to Alastor, glaring at him.

"Don't start this shit again."

"It's not my fault I've been there for her more than you have."

"It's more complicated than that."

"Sure it is."

At a sudden peal of bell like laughter from Y/n, the demons stopped their bickering and turned to her. She held a hand over her mouth as she tried to calm herself.

"Are you guys always like this?"

Lucifer and Alastor exchanged another look before nodding. Y/n lowered her hand, still smiling brightly.

"Maybe I'll ask you to stick around."

"You... aren't like a lot of other humans I've met in my time." Lucifer admitted.

"Strange and unusual."

"What?" Lucifer asked.

Y/n shrugged.

"That's how most people describe me. Strange and unusual. Or wonderously strange, if you ask my dad."

"Well, there is nothing wrong with that." Alastor hummed, "Strange and unusual is the best way to be. Keeps things interesting."

"Oh, no. I know. I didn't mean it in like a sob-story way. Just like, that's how I am. I don't know."

"Not a lot of people summon us. Especially not just to chat." Lucifer stated and Y/n smiled.

"What can I say, I was bored."

"You summoned us because you were bored?" Alastor repeated, his brow furrowed.

"Yeah. My friends were all busy and I love my parents but I do not love being around them on their Friday date nights let me tell you. The dancing is cute but the sword fighting when some old flame of my mother's shows up as they do every couple months? Terribile. Nothing blocks out the clang of steel against steel."

"Sounds like you come from a rather interesting family." Lucifer noted.

"Strange and unusual. I don't come from nowhere."

"Well, aren't you a gem in this dull world." Alastor mused and Y/n looked away, her cheeks slightly flushed again.

"I don't know about that, but I certainly try. Oh! Do you guys like bones? I don't know, is that a dumb question? Was it rude? Racist? Wait. Hell-cist? No that feels wrong too."

Lucifer chuckled slightly.

"Why do you ask?"

"I have a pretty big selection. Mostly deer bones."

Alastor's ears twitched.

"Deer bones?"

"Yeah." she nodded, "We eat a lot of venison at home and ever since I was a kid, my dad let me keep the bones to do projects with and the like. I have a lovely wind chime I made using parts of a spine but, sadly, its at my parents house."

"Strange and unusual." Alastor hummed.

"Strange and unusual." Y/n nodded.

----

A/N I was lowkey not sure how to end this one, I am sorry about that. I hope you liked it!!

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pucksandpower · 7 months

Text

Ice Queen: Ice Princess

Kimi Räikkönen x daughter!Reader

(Future) Max Verstappen x Räikkönen!Reader

Summary: before taking F1 by storm as the Ice Queen, you rose up the ranks of single-seater racing (a prologue of sorts)

Series Masterlist

How It All Began: Age 5

The air smells of rubber and petrol as you approach the karting track, your small hand wrapped securely in your father’s. His face is a mask of nonchalance but the slight tug of his lips gives away his excitement.

You look up at him, mirroring his stoic expression. “Papa, is this like your big car?”

Kimi glances down, raising an eyebrow. “Sort of but smaller. And no fancy buttons.”

You stare at the kart, then back at him, your tiny face serious. “Will it go brrr?”

He laughs, a sound seldom heard by the media but common enough for you. “Yes, it will go brrr.”

Placing you into the seat, he starts explaining the basics. “This is the steering wheel. It’s what you use to turn the kart.”

You grab it, imitating every race start you’ve seen. “Like this?” You make a vroom sound.

He chuckles. “Exactly. And remember, it’s not just about going fast. It’s about control.”

You squint at the track then back at him. “Will there be red flags?”

“No, no red flags today. Just us,” he says, fighting back a grin.

You nod sagely, taking in the information. “Okay, Papa. But what if someone wants to overtake?”

He leans in, whispering conspiratorially, “Then you do what I do.”

You pause in a replica of Kimi’s thoughtful pose. “Don’t let them?”

He winks, “Exactly.”

After strapping you in securely, he shows you how to start the kart and you begin to drive. The wind rustles your hair and excitement bubbles as you make your way around the track for the first time.

He shouts after you, “Hold the wheel tight!”

“I know what I’m doing!” You yell back.

As you circle back to him, he crouches down, ready to help you stop the kart. “So, how was it?”

You smirk, “Okay, I guess.”

He pulls you into a hug. “You really are just like me, aren’t you?”

You beam up at him, pride evident in your young eyes. “Yep, Papa. We’re a team.”

He ruffles your hair, a soft smile on his lips. “The best team.”

Signing with Prema Racing: Age 16

“Sixteen and in Formula 3, huh?” Kimi muses, sipping his coffee as he leans against the kitchen counter. “When I was sixteen, I think I was—”

“Chasing snowmobiles in Finland?” You interrupt, smirking as you take a bite of your toast.

Your father rolls his eyes playfully. “Very funny. So, Prema?”

You nod, trying to play it cool but your excitement still shines through. “Yeah, they want me for next season.”

He raises an eyebrow, “Moving up from F4 to F3 is a big transition. It’s faster, more competitive.”

You lean against the counter opposite him, mimicking his casual stance. “I know, Papa. More buttons.”

Your father chuckles, “A lot more buttons. And more media.”

You groan, “Oh, not the media. Can’t I just drive?”

“Trust me, I’ve tried that approach,” Kimi smirks. “But they’re like mosquitoes. Persistent and out for blood.”

You consider this for a moment. “Maybe I can give one-word answers like you do?”

He grins, “It’s an art form. But sure, give it a try.”

A notification pings on your phone. It’s an email from Prema, detailing your training sessions and media days. “Speaking of which,” you show the screen to Kimi, “Media training next week.”

Kimi makes a face, “A room full of people teaching you how to not be yourself.”

You laugh, “Should I tell them I already have all the training I need from the master himself?”

He winks, “They won’t know what hit them.”

You put your dishes in the sink, your thoughts racing ahead to the upcoming season. “You think I’ll do well, Papa?”

Your father walks over, placing a hand on your shoulder. His face is serious but his eyes are warm. “I know you will. Remember to enjoy the journey, not just the destination.”

You smile, pulling him into a hug, “Thanks, Papa. I promise to make you proud.”

He hugs you back, his voice a soft murmur in your ear, “You already have.”

Formula 3: Age 16

The roar of engines, the buzzing of the crowd, the palpable tension in the air — this is it. Your first Formula 3 race.

“So,” your father begins, leaning against your garage, “Nervous?”

You shoot him a look, trying to channel his signature coolness. “Do I look nervous?”

He tilts his head, a playful smirk growing. “You’re fidgeting with your gloves. You never do that.”

You glance down at your hands and laugh, “Okay, maybe a little. But can you blame me?”

Kimi shrugs, “It’s your first F3 race. If you weren’t at least a bit nervous, I would think you’re a robot.”

A rival driver, Dan, walks by, giving you a condescending wink. “Ready to eat my dust?”

You roll your eyes, matching his bravado with ease. “Only dust I’ll be seeing is from the podium.”

Your father snorts, “Well played.”

After a few minutes, it’s time to suit up. As you’re putting on your helmet, Kimi leans in close, his voice firm yet comforting. “Remember, it’s not just about speed. Strategy matters. Don’t be rash. You know what to do and how to race smart.”

You smirk, “Who do you think you’re talking to?”

He grins, patting your helmet, “Just checking.”

As you settle into your car, the weight of the moment hits you. All the years, the training, the early mornings, and late nights — it lead to this.

The race is a blur of adrenaline. Overtakes, near misses, and strategy calls. Every now and then, you hear your father’s voice in your earpiece, offering advice or just the occasional sarcastic remark. You’re not sure how legal that is but Kimi has never been one to care much for authority.

You pass the checkered flag, a respectable fourth place finish in your first race.

Pulling back in, you climb out of your car both exhausted and exhilarated in equal measure. Your father approaches, a proud smile on his face. “Fourth place! That’s solid.”

You lean against your car, catching your breath. “Could’ve been better.”

Kimi raises an eyebrow, “Could’ve been worse.”

You laugh, “Always the optimist?”

He smirks, “Always realistic.”

A reporter approaches, mic in hand. “Quick word about your first race in F3?”

You channel your inner Kimi, giving the shortest answer possible. “It was fine.”

The reporter blinks, taken aback by your brevity. “Oh, um, any challenges?”

You shrug, “It’s racing. There are always challenges.”

Your father, watching from the side, can’t contain his laughter. As the reporter leaves, slightly flustered, he walks over, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “You really are my daughter.”

You grin, “Was there ever any doubt?”

Moving Up to Formula 2: Age 18

“Papa,” you begin as you both lounge in the living room, “I have news.”

Your father looks up from his magazine, one eyebrow raised in expectation. “You finally cleaned your room?”

You roll your eyes. “No. And thanks for the vote of confidence. I got the call. I’m moving up to Formula 2!”

He sets the magazine down, his eyes scanning your face. “That’s big. Ready for it?”

You shrug nonchalantly, a gesture you picked up from him. “It’s just another race car, right?”

Kimi chuckles, “In a faster race car. With even more buttons.”

You groan dramatically, “Great. Just what I needed. More buttons.”

He smirks, “You’ll manage. You always do.”

Training days for F2 are intense. New circuits, new challenges, and, of course, more media attention. As you take a break between testing sessions, your father walks over with a bottle of water.

“Thanks,” you take a long sip of it.

He leans against a nearby wall, watching the other drivers on the track. “How does the car feel?”

You pause to think about it. “A bit more aggressive than the F3. But I’ll adapt.”

Kimi nods, “I know you will.”

A few days later, it is time for your first F2 race. The pit lane is a frenzy of activity with teams making last-minute checks and media personnel swarming about. As you are getting ready to climb into your car, a reporter thrusts a microphone in your face.

“Your first race in F2! Nervous about the competition?”

You don’t miss a beat, “No. They should be nervous about me.”

Your father tries to suppress a laugh but fails miserably. The reporter seems slightly taken aback, “Any personal strategies for today’s race?”

You look straight into the camera, “Drive fast. Don’t crash.”

The reporter, slightly flustered, thanks you and moves on. Kimi has never looked prouder.

The race is a whirlwind of excitement. The faster cars, the tighter competition, it’s all exhilarating. You don’t finish first but you hold your own, making some impressive overtakes and defending your position fiercely.

Your father glares at a cameraman until he turns the lens away from the two of you and then pulls you into a tight hug. “Not bad, rookie.”

You smirk, “Rookie? I’ve been racing since I was five, remember?”

He chuckles, ruffling your sweaty hair, “Yeah but this is F2. Welcome to the big leagues.”

You melt further into him, soaking the moment up. “Thanks, Papa. Here’s to many more races.”

He nods, wrapping an arm around your shoulder, “And many more one-liners.”

Formula 2 Champion: Age 19

“So,” your father starts, watching as you prepare for the final race of the F2 season, “are you ready to make history today?”

You smirk, pulling on your gloves. “History is just another record waiting to be broken.”

Kimi chuckles, “You really have a line for everything.”

You shoot him a mock glare, "Look who’s talking.”

The race is a high-stakes event. You lead the championship but need a win today to cement your position and make you the first woman to claim the F2 title.

The cars roar to life and you can almost taste the tension in the pit lane. Your father leans in, his voice steady despite the chaos all around you. “Drive like you always do. Focused and fearless.”

You nod in determination. “Got it, Papa.”

The race is an intense battle of strategy, speed, and skill. Every overtake, every defensive maneuver, every millisecond counts. When you see the checkered flag waving and cross the finish line in first place, the weight of your achievement truly begins to sink in.

Emerging from your car, you swiftly climb onto the nose and raise your arms triumphantly, soaking in the jubilation around you. The barriers surrounding parc fermé are immediately swarmed by your team and reporters, but through the crowd, you spot your father. The pride in his eyes is unmistakable and he even smiles publicly despite all the cameras undoubtably capturing the moment. He pushes through, pulling you into a tight hug as the team erupts in cheers around you.

“You did it,” his voice is uncharacteristically choked with emotion.

You grin, pulling back to look at him. “We did it.”

The post-race interview is a blur of questions about your historic win but one question stands out. “How does it feel to be the first woman to win the F2 championship?”

With a sly glance towards your father, you reply, “I didn’t set out to be the first woman to win it. I set out to win it.”

Your father lets out a loud laugh, drawing the attention of the reporters much to his chagrin. They turn their mics to him, “Kimi, thoughts on your daughter's achievement?”

He looks at you, his signature deadpan expression in place, “She’s okay, I guess.”

You roll your eyes, nudging him playfully, but the hint of a smile remaining on his face despite the media surrounding both of you reveals his pride.

The celebration that night is a mix of laughter, vodka, and memories. As you both sit, watching the team revel in the moment, Kimi turns to you. “I always knew you had it in you. But seeing it ... seeing you out there today … I’m beyond proud.”

You smile, resting your head on his shoulder as the liquor begins to take its toll. “Couldn’t have done it without you, Papa.”

When You Really Made It: Age 19

“You’re looking at that paper like it’s written in another language,” your father comments while sipping his morning coffee.

You glance up, the dual contracts from Red Bull Racing and Scuderia AlphaTauri spread out on the desk in front of you. “Sure feels like it. Formula 1! Can you believe it?”

He smirks, “Considering you’re my daughter and I taught you everything you know? Absolutely.”

You roll your eyes but can’t suppress a smile. “How modest of you, Papa.”

A knock on the door interrupts the moment. It’s Christian Horner and Franz Tost. "Ready to discuss the details?"

You look to Kimi, who gives a nod. “Let’s do it.”

As the team principals explains the nuances, clauses, and expectations, you occasionally exchange amused glances with your father, particularly when terms get overly convoluted.

After they leave, you sink into a chair, decidedly overwhelmed. “This is big.”

Kimi sits across from you. “It’s a step up. But it’s where you belong.”

You look at the contract again and then at your father. “Think I can handle the pressure?”

He raises an eyebrow, “Are you asking me or telling me?”

You smirk, “Maybe a bit of both.”

“That’s the spirit.”

The next few days are a whirlwind of race suit fittings, team briefings, and media obligations. The latter being your least favorite part.

During one press conference, a reporter asks, “How does it feel to be following in your father’s footsteps?”

You press your lips together, “I’m not. I’m making my own.”

Another inquires, “Any fears about competing at this level?”

You shoot him a deadpan look, “Fear is for the drivers who see me coming in their mirrors.”

Kimi, watching from a shadowed corner, struggles to keep a straight face and walks up to you with the tiniest of smiles that anyone else would miss after the presser, “You really have a knack for this.”

You smile back, “I learned from the best.”

Taglist: @ironmaiden1313 @ilovedreming @jamie2305 @reidsworld @notyouraveragemochii @faithm120601

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minkdelovely · 1 month

Text

love and power

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

chapter three “is this the life that lies ahead now?”

Alastor x Fem!Reader ; MDNI 18+ ; [y/n] used sparingly ; Alias in Hell is Sylvie

tags/warnings: drinking on an empty stomach (do not attempt in real life, but this is hell baby), allusions to poisoning, reader is hungover and has a poor appetite, uh oh art thou pining?, slow burn eventual: smut

word count: 2.8k

prelude ; chapter one ; chapter two ; chapter three ; chapter four ; chapter five ; chapter six ; chapter seven

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

After getting some water you tried falling back asleep to no avail, tossing and turning for at least an hour before deciding to call it quits.

Leaving the hotel in the middle of the night wasn’t the best idea, but you felt like you’d start tearing at the wallpaper if you stayed in your room. Cliche as it was, fresh air had always helped you relax while you were living. You thought back to the family garden and sighed. You’d give anything to be able to sit there now.

Your thoughts drifted to your father as you changed out of your pajamas. Things had changed so much in your day-to-day after coming to the hotel that you realized you couldn’t remember the last time he had crossed your mind. You felt a tightness in your throat when you tried to remember what he looked like. It was hazy, but he was mostly there; strong with a brilliant smile. How long would it be before you couldn’t remember him at all? Even the way you heard his voice in your mind didn’t seem completely right, an imitation of a memory.

Was he doing okay? Was he still mourning you? Or did he think you were just missing? Did the money go through? Did he know what you did for him to get it? There was no way to know.

“Can’t sleep?”

You jumped at the sound of Husker’s voice, so lost in thought and determined to get out of there that you hadn’t noticed him at the bar. It wasn’t surprising that he was still down here, though, being just before midnight. In fact, the real surprise was that he was here by himself. You decided to put leaving on pause and made your way over to him, taking advantage of the rare moment of privacy. Besides, what good would it do to dismiss Husker when he had been so discreet about this morning?

“More like slept too much,” you said, sighing as you took a seat across from him.

“Could’ve fooled me,” Husk jabbed amiably, turning to grab an empty glass.

You groaned. “Well there goes my hope of looking better than I feel. I was thinking maybe a walk would help, but—” Husk gave you a look, rightly making you feel sheepish.

“Didn’t go so hot this morning, huh? Thought you’d have better luck at night?” he said, half-joking, and passed you an amber-colored drink. The worry must’ve been showing on your face, as he cooly added, “Don’t worry, it’s been a ghost town in here for over an hour. It’s still only me and Angel who know about what happened.”

“Is he at work right now?” you asked, relaxing a little and took a casual look around. “I really don’t know how I can make it up to you both. This morning I…,” you sighed again and ran a hand through your hair, feeling the exhaustion seep back in. “I don’t know. Hopefully I’ll just forget about it, or convince myself it was a nightmare or something. But I’m sorry you had to see me like that.”

You recalled your reflection in the mirror before you showered, unrecognizable to yourself under the layer of gore caked to your skin.

Husk waved his hand, but the softness in his eyes felt like a rock in your stomach. “Don’t worry about it, we’ve both seen crazier shit in our time. But yeah, he’s been gone for most of the day. Said Valentino was having an ‘emergency’ but I have my doubts. He’s always pulling Angel in for dumb shit.”

You nodded and finally took a sip of your drink, shocked by how much you enjoyed it. A pleasant bitter taste lingered in your mouth, and you had to actively fight the urge to chug down the rest of it.

“Valentino’s his boss, right? Alastor’s done a pretty good job of keeping me preoccupied, but I think I’ve heard you guys talking about him before.”

“That’s the simplest thing to call him, I guess, though I prefer to call him an asshole,” Husk grumbled and you both shared a small laugh, the alcohol already making you feel lighter.

A comfortable silence fell between the two of you, Husk refilling your glass as you rested your head in your hand, gazing through the windows to the city below. Would you be able to pinpoint the alley if you concentrated hard enough? Someone had to have stumbled on him by now, right? Like his little sidekick… Did he ever go back for Donny? Something else clicked into place as you thought of him and the events of the morning: unless someone came after you for retribution, you would get away with it. That’s just how life is here.

No missing person report, no investigation, no forensics, no trial, no jail sentence. Weren’t you already “doing time” by being here? It’s not like you could add on to it. Not that you intended to do it again, but it was a step in the right direction of making peace with yourself. Maybe you really would forget about it someday, maybe not. There were some things that stuck with you forever.

The image of your grandmother came to you then, the last time you had spoken with her. She was sitting in her favorite chair near the fireplace in the library, her face set in the ever-present scowl you resented so much. She really was such a miserable creature. You saw yourself place the tray of tea and almond shortbread cookies down on the dark-lacquered, antique coffee table between you, knowing it would the last thing she ever ate. And tried to fight the smile pulling at your lips.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

“It occurred to me in the night that you still owe me something from the butcher,” Alastor said casually, his face buried in the newspaper. Irritation shot through you quick as lightning, but you prevailed against the urge to dump the coffee you were bringing him all over his lap.

As the grandfather clock in Alastor’s room chimed the hour, the pulse in your head threatened to kill. Apparently hangovers were very real in Hell (because of course they were), and this one was a doozy. Husk had only given you three drinks, but since you had wrung yourself so dry it was enough to leave you feeling like absolute shit. Beyond some water, the only thing you managed to ingest so far this morning was a piece of plain, burnt toast to try and soothe your aching stomach. It had taken all you had to keep it down. Needless to say, you weren’t starting the day in the best of moods.

Not that you ever thought Alastor would take it easy on you anyway. The look he gave you when you showed up in your new dress was so self-satisfied that it made you want to crawl under a rock. And when he said that you looked like death warmed over, you wanted to use said rock to knock his teeth in. It was the first you had seen of him since the incident in your room yesterday, though you tried not to dwell on the fact that he had returned at some point while you were asleep. In the grand scheme of his behavior you’ve been exposed to, that was really the least of your worries.

Through the veil of annoyance you found yourself looking at the mug in his grasp, remembering the strength of his hand holding your chin. Your breath shallowed as he brought the rim up to his lips. Fuck. Tearing your eyes away, you did your best to swallow the lump in your throat. This couldn’t be happening.

He was just toying with you yesterday. Nothing new, you told yourself. It’s obvious to anyone with eyes how much he enjoys feeling superior. Not that you had ever seen him pull a stunt like that on anyone else, but who knows? It’s not like you were with him every second of the day. Even in this very moment, he was messing with you.

Was it your fault that he had only grabbed his clothes off the filthy floor of that alley and left the other bag to rot? Of course he’d see it that way, and if your headache wasn’t as terrible as it was, you might have told him exactly that. Especially considering that you were already out money for the liver, and he was more than likely expecting you to pay again.

“I’ll head out after I’ve finished with your room, unless you’d prefer I go now and clean when I get back,” you answered smoothly, hoping he’d give you permission for the latter. How he had even managed to track in the dirt you saw on the area rug was a mystery. You just knew that it would keep you busy for a decent amount of time and you weren’t looking forward to more scrubbing on your hands and knees. “And if the clothes are ready to be picked up again, I can get those, too.”

Alastor peered over the newspaper, eyebrow raised, his eyes and smile alight with mischief. “My, someone’s eager to be in my good graces today! No need to bother with the laundry, but I hope you won’t mind if I join you going into town. I don’t feel like staying cooped up in the hotel. Go ahead and clean now, I’d hate for those stains on the rug to set. Besides, you know how I despise coming home to a mess.”

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

While he waited for you to return after freshening up, Alastor took a look around his room, admiring the results of your hard work. You were turning out to be much more resilient than he had anticipated. Though your expression was hardly ever enthusiastic, you’d never be able to tell by the way you cleaned. Someone taught you well, he thought to himself, breathing in the scent of cleaning products that nearly overpowered the floral almond you always left behind. So pleasant.

Though if he was being honest, he was starting to run out of ideas on how to keep you busy. He would mess up the bed, despite rarely sleeping in it, and leave his housecoat, shirts, and bowties draped over various pieces of furniture for you to pick up and put in their proper place. The mud and dirt on the rug had been a last-minute stroke of genius, but it wasn’t something he cared to repeat too often. God forbid he became predictable.

There was part of his room you didn’t have access to, and Alastor doubted that he’d ever let you see it — nor anyone else, for that matter. It’s not like it was a space you’d be able to clean in a traditional sense, anyway. After the hotel was rebuilt he thought it would be a nice idea to separate his serene bayou from the rest of the living quarters. Remembering how Vaggie had so rudely barged in on him in the past, it wasn’t something he was keen on happening again. And it was comical to watch you glancing at the locked door, pondering what could be behind it.

He knew he couldn’t keep you cooped up as his personal chambermaid forever though, unless he wanted to be hounded by Charlie and Vaggie about it. Which he decidedly did not want. And he could admit that this cleaning game was getting stale… How could he switch things up before he tired of you completely? How could he get you to show him another spectacle like yesterday?

A knock at the door snapped The Radio Demon out of his thoughts.

“Alastor? Can I come in?” Charlie said from the other side of the door. By the tone in her voice, he could tell she was here to discuss business. He sighed quietly to himself and went to the door, swinging it open with a charming smile.

“Why of course, my dear! How may I be of service?” Alastor closed the door behind them and led her to one of the chairs by the fireplace, taking the one opposite her and crossed his legs, neatly folding his hands over one knee. “It’s just the two of us. Sylvie left to go spruce up before we head into town,” he said, noting how Charlie was glancing around the room.

“Oh, good!” she sighed, putting her hand over her chest in relief. “That’s, um, kind of what I came here to talk to you about. I know you’ve been…,” she paused, hands dancing as she searched for the right word, “…acclimating her to working here — and I don’t want to step on your toes — but I think it would be really nice if she could join in on daily activities. No one has really gotten a chance to get to know her yet, and I’d hate for her to keep missing out on opportunities to bond with everyone.”

He had jinxed himself, but at least it was only the princess he had to deal with.

What to do? It’s not like he could say that your cleaning skills needed improvement when evidence to the contrary surrounded them; the room was pristine. He could argue that it would be prudent to keep some level of permanent staff unless they wanted to be in a never-ending state of training new hires, but something told him that wouldn’t be the best approach. At least not for now. Alastor had no intention of letting any souls under his contract be taken from him, for redemption or otherwise. Still, seeing the others develop their relationships with each other had been fun to observe. How would little Sylvie fit into the dynamic?

“I suppose I’ve been a bit selfish with her, haven’t I? I’ll be sure to leave room in her schedule starting tomorrow, but I hope you’ll understand that mornings are sacrosanct,” Alastor said agreeably, straightening his coat as he stood up from the chair. “Unless there was anything else, I’ll go and tell her the good news.”

Charlie followed suit, grin wide and eyes sparkling as they made their way back to the door. “Of course! Oh, thank you Alastor, you have no idea how excited I am!” It was impossible not to. Her enthusiasm was nearly contagious. “Vaggie and I are thinking something up right now as a surprise for everyone, but the details haven’t been totally worked out yet. I’ll let you know as soon as possible though — gah! I can’t wait for tomorrow!”

Alastor merely smiled in response and they parted ways in the hall. He wasn’t thrilled to be losing his monopoly on you so soon, but knowing that he now had to be more intentional with his time was invigorating. Curious to see how you’ll react to being invited to group activities, he made his way to your room, already hard at work thinking of new ways to push your buttons.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

You were surprised to see Alastor in the hall when you opened your door, since you had been instructed to return to his room when you were finished touching up. The quick jump-scare he caused sent a fresh wave of throbbing to your head and you hissed under your breath, unable to stop yourself from massaging your temple.

“You’re up to something,” you grumbled, walking past him to make your way to the elevators.

He feigned offense, easily stepping into stride with you down the hall. “Chivalry is lost on you twenty-first-century souls! I don’t know why I bother.”

You glared at him from the corner of your eye, taking in the sardonic look on his face as you stepped into the elevator. It was best not to push your luck with him, considering you still had an entire outing in Cannibal Town to get through. You were about to say something when the elevator stopped after going down a couple floors, the doors opening to Angel Dust. He looked exhausted.

When the two of you made eye contact, he glanced away, the air in the elevator quickly turning nervous as he walked in. Was it because of yesterday? Maybe Angel hadn’t been as comfortable with it as Husk made it seem… Suddenly he hit a button, stopping the elevator in its tracks. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, steeling himself.

“Hey, so… you know how you came home lookin’ like fuckin’ Carrie yesterday?”

You felt Alastor’s static humming in the space between you; the first reaction he’s had since Angel came into the elevator.

“I wanted to apologize sooner but—”

Angel waved his hands, cutting you off. “No, no, please, you don’t have to,” he said, a small laugh escaping him. “Look, uh… I’m only bringin’ it up cuz I just gotta know.” He was actively fighting a smile as he continued, “The trouble you ran into? His name wasn’t Donny, was it?”

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

tag list: @fairyv-ice, @wat4r

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fan fiction #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #alastor x female reader #alastor smut #hazbin hotel smut #slow burn #song fic #if i can’t have love i want power #love and power #x reader #alastor the radio demon #the radio demon #hazbin hotel slow burn

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mysteryshoptls · 1 month

Text

SSR Lilia Vanrouge - Platinum Jacket Vignette

"Happy 100th Anniversary"

[Land of Dawning – National Museum of Art]

Lilia: Seeing all these paintings on display, unchanging from when they were painted hundreds of years ago… it sure does bring me joy.

Lilia: Ooh, that painting over there is of the Thorn Fairy's men!

???: The Thorn Fairy's men, huh… Were they really that strong?

Lilia: Epel, so you were checking out this painting too. Are you curious about them?

Epel: Ah, yes! I was thinking they're rather head-empty lookin'… I mean, they look real sweet!

Lilia: Mhm, they are adorable. And despite that, they would always be carrying their weapons so as to respond to the Thorn Fairy's whims immediately.

Lilia: That means they must have been wonderfully loyal and brave soldiers.

Epel: I see… They don't really look like it, but when you put it that way, I can kinda see how cool they are, I guess?

Lilia: Right, right? And it just goes to show how great the Thorn Fairy was to be able to command such men.

Epel: Aren't they just following her because they've pledged loyalty to her?

Lilia: You should take a good look at this picture. See how they're all just filled with character?

Lilia: It's actually extremely difficult to folks like them in line. Isn't it the same with the students in our school?

Lilia: Everyone's so self-confident, they just do as they please. Those that actually listen to others, or follow orders are actually in the minority.

Epel: Ahaha… I'm getting what you're saying, I think.

Epel: Now I wonder how the Thorn Fairy was able to keep her men in line, then.

Lilia: Kufufu… You're a student of Night Raven College, you should already understand.

Lilia: You get them to understand just who is in charge by a show of force! It's the simplest method.

Epel: True… So that basically means that her men followed her because she was super strong.

Lilia: Mhm. But even so, a show of force won't be able to garner true loyalty.

Lilia: The most important thing when leading a legion is to build a trusting relationship with your men.

Lilia: Trust can't just be achieved overnight. I'm sure the Thorn Fairy put in a lot of effort to get to this point, too.

Epel: "Build a trusting relationship," huh… How would you do it if it was you, Lilia-san?

Lilia: THE BEST WAY IS TO SHARE A MEAL TOGETHER!

Lilia: I've actually served meals to the other Diasomnia students, hand-made by me.

Lilia: Everyone was so moved that they were utterly speechless. They couldn't even bring themselves to touch it.

Lilia: When they finally ate it, there was a whole range of reactions, including some who laid themselves out on the dining table, or those who covered their face with their hands. There were some who even burst into tears.

Epel: Wow, your cooking must be amazing!

Lilia: Mhm! Once I set my hand to it, I can make any petulant kid fall in line.

Lilia: Ever since then, I've tried to make more home-cooked meals to try to deepen the relationship between our dormmates…

Lilia: But they would all band together, saying they don't want to trouble me. They're all such humble boys.

[Land of Dawning – National Museum of Art]

Lilia: This is a painting of the Sorcerer of the Sand's companion. His red and blue feathers are bright and vibrant.

Epel: Kinda unusual to have a parrot as a sidekick, huh.

Lilia: Mhm. However, this parrot is said to be able to perfectly imitate human voices and speech.

Lilia: I'm sure that alone was something of use to the Sorcerer of the Sands.

Lilia: Ahh～ how envious. I wish I had a special ability to do something like that.

Epel: Would there even be something worth changing voices for?

Lilia: There's a lot to choose from. The best way to use it would be…

Lilia: FOR A VIRTUAL AVATAR STREAM!

Epel: A virtual avatar stream…? What is that?

Lilia: Oh what, you don't know? Basically, people create avatars that represents them on the internet…

Lilia: And they use those avatars to promote their content of food reviews and let's plays of video games.

Lilia: I didn't know myself, until one of my online gaming buddies recommended it to me…

Lilia: But I think it would be cool to use an avatar to become a different person and chat away with my viewers.

Lilia: Don't you think it would be fun to see my cute little self stream videos in an avatar of a big, strong, burly man?

Epel: Does that mean… I could be strong and burly on the internet, too!?

Lilia: Oh, are you interested too, Epel? Then we should collaborate and both become buff streamers!

Epel: That could be fun! Oh, so this is what you were talking about when you said you wanted to change your voice to become another person?

Lilia: That's right. Normally, you'd need a voice changer to change your voice.

Lilia: But that is just a whole different hassle to deal with. Sounds like there's no end to the amount of equipment you might end up needing for it

Lilia: I keep thinking I'll ask my online gaming buddies who might know more about it, but I get so absorbed by our quest that I keep forgetting.

Lilia: I'd sure love it if I got super popular and was drowning in likes, subscribes, and superchats.

Epel: I don't really get it, but… I think it's fun to think about becoming someone you really want to be!

Lilia: Right? Although, I do have a wonderful voice, you know… It could be a terrible shame to hide it with a voice changer.

Lilia: And if I'm going to use my velvet voice, I guess my avatar should be good-looking to fit…

Lilia: But if I do that, then it wouldn't be much different than my real self… Hrrrm, what to do?

Lilia: Ah…! Does that mean streaming with my real face would be on the table too…!?

Lilia: If I did that, I wouldn't need a voice changer, or the ability to imitate voices. That might be the quick and easy way to solve it.

Epel: Eh, what happened to collaborating with each other using buff avatars!?

Lilia: Oh, right! Ah, I'm getting forgetful in my old age.

Lilia: Maybe I could have two different avatars? Kufufu, this is starting to tickle my want for a new kind of challenge again.

[Land of Dawning – National Museum of Art]

Lilia: This old woman… This is the Fairest Queen in disguise. This painting depicts the scene where she is handing an apple to a princess.

Lilia: Maybe you're more familiar with this painting than I, since you're a student in Pomefiore?

Epel: In the Shaftlands, there is a well-known story about how the Fairest Queen donned a disguise in order to hide her identity.

Epel: I think Vil-san was saying that there's actually a lot of different interpretations for why, but…

Epel: I wonder why the Fairest Queen chose to disguise herself as an old woman?

Epel: If she was just trying to hide her identity, she could have also just chosen a cool and ripped figure…

Lilia: Perhaps she didn't want to frighten the princess. A muscular physique can be overpowering sometimes…

Lilia: And if she is too beautiful, she would also be difficult to approach. So, maybe that's why she thought an old woman would be a good choice?

Epel: Hmmm. I never even thought about how it'd be hard to approach someone because they're "too beautiful."

Lilia: Well, that makes sense for you. Nevertheless, human thought process is both inconsistent and interesting.

Lilia: To tell you the truth, even I had a time in my life where which people would only stare from a safe distance…

Lilia: But then during my travels, sometimes I would get random freebies at markets by people who thought me just a "cute little boy."

Lilia: That's when I realized for the first time, that I AM SUPER CUTE!!

Lilia: Ever since then, I've made it a point to share my cute charm with everyone as much as possible.

Lilia: I'd get things like free carriage rides, or steep discounts while shopping… You do it too, don't you, Epel?

Epel: I don't!! Although, yeah, I have gotten free snacks while running errands before, sure, but…

Lilia: So you're able to reap the benefits without actually showing off…! Mhm, I still have much to learn.

Lilia: But don't count me out yet. Like, even after enrolling at Night Raven College…

Lilia: I'd have classmates who'd save me a seat in the cafeteria, or carry heavy luggage for me…

Lilia: Everyone was just fawning over me ☆

Epel: That's… Aren't they just mocking you, though!? It's like they're looking down on you, I'd never let that pass.

Lilia: Kufufu, you still have a lot to learn, too. There's no harm in using what's available to you.

Lilia: But that is all old news, anyway. The longer I've spent time on campus, the more people have learned the extent of my abilities.

Lilia: There were times that I've completely shut down students from other dorms who lazily tried to pick fights with me, too…

Lilia: By the next semester, everyone was treating me completely different.

Lilia: Now, I'm stuck as "Reliable Lilia-san." And I really just wanted to settle into the role as the "Cute Little Brother."

Epel: That means they all recognized you for your abilities, right? Lilia-san, you're so cool!

Lilia: Kufufu, my cuteness is supposed to be my selling point, but I guess it's not bad to be called cool, neither.

Epel: No way, being cool is much better! It's great to hear a story like that of what could be.

Epel: …Ah, it's gotten pretty late. I'm going to start checking out other exhibits.

Lilia: Mhm, see you. Okay, since Epel has wandered off, I think I'll just meander a bit… Hm?

Lilia: Oh this… This is a painting of fairies gifting blessing to a princess. Heh. I can't help but chuckle every time I see this painting.

Lilia: If they were to gift her blessings of happiness, then they should have gifted her the strength to break her own curse. And yet…

Lilia: They chose to give her beautiful looks, and a beautiful singing voice. What fools

Requested by Anonymous.

#twisted wonderland #twst #lilia vanrouge #epel felmier #twst lilia #twst epel #twst translation #twst birthday #mention: vil

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redslug · 7 months

Text

NEUROSLUG NEUROSLUG NEUROSLUG

Ahem. So, I spent the last day force-feeding Stable Diffusion my art to teach it the concept of an anthropomorphic insect. As a result, I have a working LoRA that imitates my coloring style fairly decently and it can kinda do bug anthros. Emphasis on "kinda", it still needs a lot of iterations to be able to maintain proportions on it's own. However, it does quite great when provided with a simple line drawing as a quideline. Here are some examples I whipped up in like 2 hours. Input image:

AI's pure output:

After touchup:

There was quite a bit of touchup on this first attempt with the generation serving mostly as a rough under drawing, but then again I didn't stress the network with details too much. Then I tried squeezing more definition out of it. Attempt 2:

It can be quite competent when I supplement it with styles it knows well. I only used 30 of my own images to teach it, so it might be a little starved for examples at the moment. Adding "Bob Eggleton" seems to knock some sense into it for now. Okay, still images are working, now let's bash Neuroslug against some animation.

For something named Stable Diffusion it's not the most stable, huh. I'm still pleased with the result though, it's pretty cute. And while trying to make it cute I learned a little thing. AI art isn't art. It's a mixture of alchemy, gambling, detective work and demon summoning it seems. And a bit of just art. What I mean by that is that it can attach very unexpected meanings to words. Since I trained the AI on just anthro insects, it follows their defined anatomy quite closely. Specifically, they do not have breasts. As a result, adding "with big boobs" to the prompt changed the shading style and colors but not the actual anatomy. And so, most of my prompts have this lovely phrase just to improve the colors. 'Kay, time for the freak show. At some point during testing the machine decided that my moth isn't decent enough and put panties on her suddenly.

Now that's a booty

Look at those eyes

They have seen things As you can probably tell these have no sketch to guide the result.

It's still bad but it's got the right spirit.

THICC

Surprisingly cute even if janky.

Looks better than it has any right to Now I'll crawl back into my hole to play with settings for an indeterminate amount of time. I'll publish my mini-me for you all to mess with once I deem it stable enough.

#slug's experiments #anthro #insect #moth #wooo i'm giddy #all the things I can do now #It's like i was gifted double length days to make stuff #with this i can make comics in painterly style that would be too time consuming otherwise

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ugh-yoongi · 2 months

Note

Jewel, I know your requests are closed but I desperately need to hear your thoughts on who in BTS would do this: https://www.tumblr.com/writing-prompt-s/739417828719034368/you-a-powerful-demoness-have-just-been-summoned

and why is it Namjoon (the potential for crack with this 148 IQ man who is also way more innocent than we think acc to one park jimin just takes me out)

i'm so sorry it took me so long to finish and post this but thank you so much for sending it bc i have been cackling about this scenario ever since.

the prompt: you, a powerful demoness, have just been summoned to earth. this man, this human, wants you to pretend to be his girlfriend for a few days so his parents will get off his back about it.

the gang summons a demon

pairing: namjoon x f. reader genre: supernatural au; crack warnings: reader is a demon and engages in demon behavior, swearing, namjoon makes mention of not being straight, heteronormative parental expectations, jk learns about arcane things on tumblr (which is not an original idea; i read a fic ages ago where taekook are tumblr witches but i cannot find it, so credit to that author or whoever came up with it first), unedited so any mistakes are mine. rating: e for everyone wordcount: 2k

It’s been years since you’ve been to Earth—even longer since you’ve been to South Korea.

“I haven’t been here since 1910,” you say, staring at the gobsmacked man across from you. He’s tall, with tanned skin and a bleached buzz cut; a smattering of tattoos dotting his toned arms—whites and rich hues of blue, imitations of some kind of ceramic art, you think; a golden hoop through his nose; cheeks with dimples so deep you’re sure they’ll crater. “People here definitely didn’t look like you back then, so I’m going to assume we’re pretty far into the future.”

“It’s 2024,” he answers, seemingly still a little dazed. He’s staring at you with wide eyes, jaw dropped. Normally it’s nice to be looked at like that, with all the reverence and awe you deserve, but Earth is not your favorite place to be. Doesn’t even crack the top fifty, if you’re being honest. “Did you say 1910? As in the beginning of the—”

You sigh. “Uh-huh. Hey, if you wouldn’t mind hurrying this up, I’ve got things to do.” The man continues staring. Could be a trick of the light, but you think he’s turning paler by the second.

Minutes tick by. Nothing but silence.

“Are you even listening to me?” you snarl, quickly losing patience you were never given. “I said I’ve got shit to do. My schedule’s booked solid for the next eight centuries, so I really don’t have time to be dilly-dallying in mundane human affairs. Your problems are always so boring.”

More silence.

Which is irksome, sure, but what’s worse is this stupid fucking circle you’re trapped in. Drawn crudely on the floor of (seemingly) this human man’s actual apartment, which would’ve told you all you’d needed to know, if you’d taken ten seconds to take in your surroundings upon first being summoned. This place has got books stacked floor to ceiling in every available inch of space, but you’re certain this person is a fucking idiot.

“Hello?”

The man shakes his head. “Oh, sorry, I just—I’m Namjoon? Kim Namjoon.”

“I don’t care.”

“Right, right.” He sucks in a deep breath. “Well, you’re probably wondering why I summoned you here today”—you roll your eyes—“and, uh.” Namjoon scratches at the back of his neck, anxiety oozing from every pore on his body. Definitely paler. “I am too, to be honest.”

“You what—”

“I didn’t mean to!” Namjoon hurriedly adds, all of that anxiety shifting quickly into pure panic. “It’s just—it was a joke! Mostly! Jeongguk said it as a joke, because everything he says is a joke, and I should’ve known that, but—I don’t know! I’ve tried everything else, and the longer its gone on the more desperate I’ve become, and suddenly what Jeongguk said as a joke didn’t sound so much like a joke anymore! I’m sorry! I didn’t think it’d actually work!”

It takes your brain a minute to translate and decipher the useless slush that just came out of his mouth, but when it does… oh, when it does, you feel absolutely murderous. “You summoned me as a joke?”

Namjoon must see it, too. There’s no way you’re looking cool, calm, and collected right now, because you’ve seen the faces of others that have witnessed your wrath, and they were almost always on the brink of (if not outright) shitting their pants. This stupid, clueless human in front of you doesn’t appear to be faring much better.

So you continue, just to watch him squirm. “Do you have any idea who I am?”

“Um,” comes his brilliant response. “Yes?”

“And who am I?”

He holds up his pointer finger and digs through the back pocket of his jeans. Pulls out a crumbled scrap of paper, nearly soiled from ass sweat and time, and his eyes squint as he tries to read it. “I—well, it’s probably not an accurate translation, you know, since—”

“What does that piece of parchment say, Kim Namjoon?”

“Nothing,” he lies. “I can’t read it anyway, so… a-haaa…”

Patience officially worn thin, you snap your fingers, delighting in the startled shriek that escapes him as the paper goes up in a plume of smoke. “I am going to give you one chance to be honest with me,” you explain slowly, leveling him with a look. “Who do you think I am, and why am I here?”

Namjoon pales further. Looks like he’s trying to melt right through the floor into a puddle of useless slush, and you’d be more than willing to speed up the process if it weren’t for this god forsaken demon trap.

“Can I—can I sit down for this?”

Kim Namjoon, you learn, has a friend named Jeon Jeongguk.

Jeon Jeongguk, you also come to learn, has learned magic from a website called Tumblr.

“There, uh. There are definitely blogs for that sort of thing,” Namjoon explains, tattooed fingers scratching at the back of his neck. He takes a very quick glance at you. “Clearly not very accurate ones.”

You hum. “That’s the only smart thing I’ve heard you say since I showed up in this shithole.”

Namjoon gawks. “Hey, my apartment isn’t a shithole! It’s the best I could afford, alright? There was just an article in The Business Times about how archaic of a system jeonse is—”

“Uh-huh. And this… website?”

Namjoon goes red. Coughs into his fist. “Oh, right, yeah. I’m gonna be honest with you—”

“I already said that—”

“—my parents are coming to visit from Ilsan in a few days and I need a girlfriend.”

You blink. Once, twice, three times. Long enough to replace the rug that had been pulled from under you, because you’re pretty sure you heard this human man allude to having summoned you so you can pretend to be his girlfriend.

All things considered, you’re impressed by how calm you are. This is not a trait most demons have, you especially, and it makes you nostalgic for the days you used to rip men apart limb by limb for less.

“Are you insane?” you ask simply.

“In my defense,” he explains around a wince, “Jeongguk said it was a love spell.”

“A love spell.” Namjoon nods. “And you wound up summoning a demon.”

“It… appears I may have done that, yes.”

“And you want a demon to meet your parents?”

“I mean… when in Rome, right?”

“I’ve committed at least four-hundred and sixty-seven separate atrocities there, so no, probably not when in Rome.”

Namjoon’s jaw drops. He tucks his knees closer to his chest. “Christ, that’s a lot. How did you have the time?”

“I’m immortal,” you deadpan.

“Right, right. Anyway, to answer your question: yes.”

Your eyes narrow. “How bad are your parents that you’d want me to meet them?”

“They’re fine, mostly. I just… am not what they expected in a son? Like, I have the hair and the tattoos and I dropped out of my engineering program in university to pursue art and poetry, so the least I could do is find a wife and settle down and give them grandchildren, but I don’t even know if I want to ever settle down. I’m also not… heterosexual? Entirely? Do you see that a lot—”

You sigh. “Misconception. Not to launch you into some kind of existential crisis, but the gods really don’t give a shit who you humans sleep with.”

“Gods? As in plural?” You snap your fingers. Namjoon’s fingers immediately go to his temples. “Damn, I have a really bad migraine all of a sudden.”

“Yeah, that was me.”

“What’d you do?”

“Made you forget something.”

“Oh. What’d I forget?” It takes a second. “Oh, right, yeah. Um. What was the last thing I said?”

“Your parents wanted you to be an engineer and have a ton of kids but you like art and also not-women, sometimes.”

He flushes again. “I—yes.”

You sigh, arms crossed over your chest. All you want to do is sit down, or open a window. This apartment smells far too strongly of patchouli. “Look, I haven’t been to this place in a long time, but surely you aren’t undesirable by your society’s standards.”

“Are you saying I’m attractive?”

You scowl. “No. I’m saying there had to have been easier ways of doing this, and also can you open a window?”

“It’s February.”

“That means nothing to me.”

“It’s really cold outside.”

“I’m literally from Hell. Go put on a sweater, then.”

With a roll of his eyes, Namjoon stands and moves to the window. Cracks it open a millimeter, just enough for the cold to seep in, before he’s stalking off toward—you’re assuming—his bedroom. You think he’s shoving a garment over his head when he calls out, “You know, you’re really fucking bossy for someone stuck in a trap.”

You vow to kill him as soon as you’re free.

It isn’t often you’re held hostage.

Usually you can spot a trick coming a thousand miles away, but since Namjoon hadn’t meant to summon you at all, you’d been caught unawares. Doomed to be stuck in a demon trap, just like he’d said, which meant you didn’t have a ton of bargaining power.

At least that’s what you’re telling yourself, because as you sit across from Namjoon’s parents at some fancy restaurant, you aren’t convinced he isn’t a crossroads demon himself.

“So,” his mother begins, turning her attention to you, “what do you do for work?”

Namjoon elbows you beneath the table, giving you a silent warning to stick to the script. You’re only here under threat of force—because Jeongguk had stopped by Namjoon’s apartment, saw you in the summoning circle, and nearly fainted before going back to Tumblr to find a binding spell.

Except that one wasn’t great, either, because it only bound you and Namjoon together for three days instead of forever. And, as penance for all the chaos you’ve sown across the universe, Namjoon’s parents’ visit fell within that time frame, so here you are.

Out to dinner. With humans.

You’re pretending to be someone’s girlfriend.

You’re in for the most embarrassing ribbing of your existence once you’re home.

“I work with idols,” you respond, as convincingly as possible, because Namjoon had thought it’d be really funny. Get it? he’d said. Like false idols? You hadn’t laughed. “It’s very secretive, of course, but—”

You don’t finish your thought, because Namjoon’s mother looks delighted: face lit up with mirth, smile blinding, eyes half-lidded under the weight of her happiness. “Oh, how exciting! Has he told you he used to do performances to old H.O.T songs? Namjoonie, what was that one song you liked—”

“Eomma, please—”

“Wasn’t it ‘Candy’?” Namjoon’s dad offers from behind his menu. It’s the first thing he’s said all evening.

Namjoon whimpers, foregoing all social decorum and lectures on posture to sink further in his chair.

You do not, under any circumstances, feel a hint of fondness.

(Which dissipates not even twenty-four hours later.

“The blog was deleted,” Jeongguk says, eyes wide as saucers. “I—the blog is gone, I don’t know how to—”

“What do you mean the blog is gone?” The poor kid is overcome with panic and fear, tries to stutter out a response that makes no sense to you at all through his sobs. “Jeon Jeongguk, what do you mean the blog is gone?”

“I—it’s—I had it bookmarked, I swear! Once the binding spell wore off I was gonna send it to Namjoon hyung so he could send you back, but the blog is gone so the post is gone, too. I don’t—what do I even search for—oh my god, please don’t kill me, I think I’m having a panic attack, I’m gonna—”

And then this human man vomits all over your feet. Namjoon sighs as he goes to fetch a bucket, and you think it’ll be a miracle if any of these people—yourself included—live to see the end of the week.)

#namjoon x reader #bts x reader #namjoon fanfic #namjoon imagine #namjoon scenarios #bts fanfic #bts imagines #bts scenarios #jewel writes #jewel answers

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perdvivly · 2 months

Note

🔥 beauty

*abhumanex0, bubbliterally, perdvivly and tranxio are sitting around a fire*

abhumanex0: 🔥 beauty bubbliterally: How are you doing that with your mouth? perdvivly: I'm trying out beauty. bubbliterally: What does that mean? perdvivly: It means that for a long time a particular brand of brainworms I've had comes from the Platonic conception of beauty as this horrible deciever. I'm trying to shed that. tranxio: That's an anachronistic genealogy of the idea. perdvivly: Huh? tranxio: Plato does talk about the interplay between truth and beauty. Notably in the Ion and in The Republic, books two, three, and ten. Plato is worried that the arts and specifically poetry in the Ion, as Ion of Ephesus was a rhapsode, are persuasive by means of rhetoric rather than an appeal to the truth. Specifically, an account of truth that Plato takes to be his idea of Forms. But Plato is chiefly concerned with the interplay between mimesis, from the Ancient Greek mimos, meaning "imitative" and diegesis roughly meaning "narrative". For Plato, the poets are doing a bad job of representing the beauty of truth; they are unable to capture its virtue. But that doesn't mean that Plato doesn't care about beauty or reviles beauty. Plato considers the Form of Beauty to be very important! He talks about it at length in the symposium and does note the associations in many more dialogues. e.g. phaedo, phaedrus, parmenides. I think this is most obvious when you consider what surviving writings we have from Plato. They're dialogues. He was writing creative fiction. He was engaging in a memetic artform, but one that he hoped would transcend the pitfalls of poetry. A "pure crystalline theatre of the mind". I think that the idea you had in mind dervies from the Neoplatonic tradition as it was interpreted by Christianity. The works of Plotinus come to us by way of his pupil Porphyry-- bubbliterally: --wait! You're saying that Christianity takes its philosophical foundations from Neoplatonism? tanxio: That's right. Dean Inge emphasises this point in his book on Plotinus. He says there is "an utter impossibility of excising Platonism from Christianity without tearing Christianity to pieces." Or if that isn't convincing consider that Saint Augustine-- perdvivly: --the saint who fucked. tranxio: That's right, the saint who fucked. Consider that he says of Plato's system that it was the "most pure and bright in all of philosophy" and he talks of Plotinus as a man in whom "Plato lived again". The early church owes a great deal of philosophical debt in this regard. bubbliterally: That's fascinating, so you're saying that Plotinus distrusted beauty and that's where the seed that Viv is picking up on originates? tranxio: Aha, no. Not quite. There is nothing in the mysticism of Plotinus that is hostile to beauty. But he is the last religious teacher for many centuries of whom this can be said. Plotinus founded the Neoplatonic tradition but he wasn't the sole arbiter of their beliefs. Beauty and all the pleasures associated with it came to be thought to be of the Devil. Pagans and Christians alike came to glorify ugliness and dirt. Julian the Apostate, like contemporary orthodox saints, boasted of the populousness of his beard. bubbliterally: But how did all this happen? tranxio: That's a matter of historical debate. The Neoplatonists found themselves in dialogue with the Gnostics for long while. And Porphyry suggests that there is precident in Plato for turning away from the physical world of matter. Perhaps it happened as an extension or outbranch of these dialogues? I'm not certain. But I can go and do more research on it if you would like? bubbliterally: No pressure, but I'd really enjoy the answer if you could find it! tranxio: Of course! *tranxio leaves, presumably to go to the library*

bubbliterally: That was an interesting historical perspective, but can you say more on what you meant Viv? You're "trying out beauty"? perdvivly: Right. I grew up in a pretty heavily Christian dominated soceity and personal environment. My grandparents were missionaries and I went to Sunday school. And because I grew up in England, you can bet that that sect was Anglican. Protestantism is... Austere. It's in a really sharp contrast to Catholicism. You know, you imagine these elaborate ornate robes, the alters decked-out with gold and you have these huge buildings with complicated architecture... And then you have, what I was raised in, which is, sort of an extreme embodiment of the famous saying "simplicity is the ultimate sophistication" so imagine like, wooden pews so upright they could fix quasimodo's posture, plain homespun clothing, nothing ornate or elaborate just this very bare aesthetic. And gradually through a sort of cultural osmosis I think I took some of this in without meaning to or critically evaluating whether or not I wanted to. abhumanex0: So, that's a more personal etiology, it doesn't really answer the question of what you mean though. perdvivly: I know, and I don't want to mess you about, but let me give one more take on why this feels so forceful to me before I expand on what I mean and why I want it. abhumanex0: Go ahead. perdvivly: Have you ever seen something really beautiful and been compelled by it? Or, someone even? bubbliterally: I think we all know about being horny. perdvivly: Right! Sexual desire is actually a really good use-case here. abhumanex0: Not what use-case means but continue. perdvivly: It feels deep down gut-level wrong to be forced by my own body to want something without regard for its... wholeness? Without regard for all of it and all of its interactions with me... Have you ever been compelled against your better judgement to eat junk food that you know will make you feel ill? That to me feels like the same pernicious facet of force that beauty compells. Beauty in this way, sort of forces a passitivy of choice. bubbliterally: the same kind that David Foster Wallace was talking about with Eric the other day? perdvivly: Exactly! Think Catullus 85. I am beset on all sides by emotion and the waves of those emotions are bigger and stronger than I am. I'm afraid of being drowned by them. I'm afraid of being killed by them. Beauty is chief among these emotion makers. abhumanex0: Have you considered that when you say "It feels... wrong to be forced by your own body" that's an extension of the cultural Neoplatonism you absorbed through Christianity? Seeing this sharp distinction between mind and body? perdvivly: I... Hadn't... That's actually a really astute point. bubbliterally: I see... So that's why the issue is so forceful for you. But you want to try beauty out? Okay, maybe I don't see. You love and you hate beauty at the same time? perdvivly: There's no escaping it. So what I mean when I say, "I'm trying out beauty" is that I'm trying to integrate an appreciation for beauty into my life. And there are so many things I find beautiful. That I'm slowly realising I can appreciate without being destoryed by... It''s a long and hard journey. And I'm nowhere near being very good at it yet. But I think it's probably a pretty crucial step on the path of fully realising my own autonomy. bubbliterally: I think it's interesting that this whole discussion has had the locus it's had. That you've situated yourself as the desirer in world of objects to be desired, but you haven't really talked about the effects of being desired. perdvivly: Oh, well. One thing at a time. But I pretty much think that the feminists of the 80s were right about most of it. I could say more but maybe that's a story for another time. *abhumanex0 and bubbliterally both nod* perdvivly: So, how about you guys? bubbliterally: Us? perdvivly: Yeah.🔥 beauty bubbliterally: Okay seriously, how the fuck are you doing that with your mouth?

#thank you so much for the ask #sorry it took me so long to respond #<3 #being the change i want to see in my dash re: ficticious dialogues

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fandonnavyce · 1 month

Text

Jason In Wonderland - Part 2

Part 1 Part 3

AO3 Link

Jason asked once again why a King in this Supernatural Dimension would have any interest in him. But the couple only gave cryptic answers before speeding away on their motorcycle. The two giggling, "You're his type", was the straightest answer he got before the couple disappeared out of view.

“OK so it doesn’t matter which way I go; it’s only a short Hunt away,” Jason tried to psych himself up. His eyes roved the unnatural expanse before him. Jason decided to pick the direction which could only be labelled as Away.

He kicked his feet and felt his body push forward.

...

Jason had been a little too busy screaming in agony and then being stuck in maddening conversation. But (as he felt his body bob along merrily) Jason realised something.

He was flying!

There was nothing solid beneath his feet; nothing was supporting him. Gravity had no hold on him. He was floating in a green-tinted void!

Holding his arms in an aeroplane pose, Jason allowed his body to tilt. And he started flying in his leaned direction. Giddily, Jason did loop-de-loops. Because he was flying! Jason did a few laps, picking up speed, getting faster and faster, circling and tumbling everywhere. Spiralling high at accelerating speed, before nose-diving below headfirst, burrowing into neverending depths. Then freezing in place. At the instant of a thought.

A massive grin was on Jason's face as he laughed in delight. How did Kyrptonians bear not just flying all the goddamn time?

...

Skulker’s Island really was unmissable.

Jason spotted the floating island with its landmark Skull and soared over. He made sure to climb high and ascended over the island. With his bird-eye’s view of the Island, like an optical illusion or a trick of the light, he could now see the Revolving River of Doors. An uncountable number of purple doors of abstract design floating in corkscrew spirals, drifting in orbiting revolutions. A swirling river of doors as far as he could see. Jason tried to spot which door might be the one to Gotham from a distance. But all the doors looked as spooky and avant garde as each other from here. He decided to get closer.

Jason hemmed and hawed in front of a purple door. Out of all the purple doors it surely did match the description, ‘A Purple Travesty to Gothic Art Deco’. However, there was one little problem. It was far too small. It was the size of a mouse hole.

Jason crouched down and patted his finger tip against it in an imitation of a door knock. The door warmed at his touch, pulsing in mirrored response. Jason blinked in wonder. “Huh. Ok. Excuse me, sorry, is this the door to Gotham? I would like to go through.”

The tiny door warmed again but this time with the whirring of a buffering electronic. Then it materialised a black bubble. Which burst and Jason reflexively caught what was inside into the open palm of his hand. It was a thimble-sized bottle. A whiskey decanter with a fancy crystallised stopper with a black ribbon wrapped around its neck which read in cursive silver,

“DRINK ME”.

But Jason wasn’t an idiot. He was a born and bred Gothamite. Uncorking the bottle he lightly sniffed it. It didn’t smell of Joker Venom, any of Scarecrow’s fear toxins, Poison Ivy’s preferred pheromones, or any of the less specialised and more common drugs and poison.

Cautiously, Jason dabbed a drop onto his fingertip and licked. It tasted like one of Alfred’s hot chocolates, thick, sweet, and creamy. In unthinking delight, Jason gulped the rest down.

As he savoured the aftertaste, Jason felt pins and needles crawl all up and down his arms and legs. Then between one blink and the next, the door was the perfect size. Jason lifted his hand onto the adorned black brass door handle and swung the door open. Arrogantly rolling with shadowy furls, thick smog languidly spilled out into his face. Jason smirked. ‘Good ol’ Gotham,’ Jason thought to himself.

For the second time that day he stepped across dimensions.

Unfortunately, it became real apparent that Jason had not returned to Gotham City, Earth.

Jason Todd sorely wished that he’d been more specific when asking for directions. For he had landed in Gotham. But it was even more obvious that he had arrived in Gotham, the Supernatural Otherworld Edition. (The sky was still a void of swirling haunting preternatural green. But there was a misty haze to everything, a blur that went beyond Gotham’s smog.) Or at least an Impressionist version of them. It was like the defined lines of reality were brushing up against each other and smudging; the glances leaving each other more indistinct with each faint touch.

Jason walked down semi-familiar busy streets amid Gothamites who were the shades of people and echoes of walking crowds; indistinct and blurry; a constructed memory re-enacted. Jason eyed up and down the front window of Tony’s. One of his favourite pizza joints, who’s owner was one of Red Hood’s. Unlike its neighbouring buildings, Tony’s was brought into sharp relief.

“Curiouser and curiouser.”

“̷̼͗My̸̜̍ ̷͎̈b̴̬͋el̷̻̉ov̸͇̌e̵͚̓ḓ̷̓ ̶͇͒Re̶̫͗d̵̬͌ ̸̩͝Kń̵̲i̷̘͌g̸ĥ̷̡t̴̮̓,̵͎̿ ̶͙̋wh̸̽a̶̼̍t̸͔̉ ̷̢̿ma̵͕͝ỳ̵̧ ̸͔̀ȳ̶͎o̶͉͠u ḇ̵̕e̴̖͊ ̵̝͒dǫ̴͘i̴n̴̠̄g̸̪͝ ̶̭́h̵̺́er̶̢̈́e̴̪̋?"(surprise, delight, wonder)

Jason spun around. His surroundings blurred out-of-focus and were swallowed up into indistinct smog. All of the reality’s focus was concentrated on the figure before him:

Lady Gotham.

There was no way else to describe them. Just like how the Statue of Liberty was Lady Liberty; this blood-headed figure begowned in the velvet black of a shadowy night’s bewitching mysteries; bedecked in the poor man’s sweat and tears turned oil-black svelte evening gloves, and adorned with the anguished screams trapped in resplendent pearls that hung like noose around her neck and dripped like spilled blood from her earrings.

Of course she was Gotham.

Jason bows. “Lady Gotham” he greets. “I seek your help. I’m not where I wish to be.”

Gotham laughs. It’s the screech of a night owl, the scrape of fork against a porcelain plate, the mirthless titter of a socialite. It puts Jason’s teeth on edge.

“Not all who wander are lost.” Gotham smiled. It was cruel. It was uncaring. It was welcoming. “A̵̍̑͜r̶̞̳͋e ̸͍͜͝ÿ̶̢̥́o̸u No̸̖̯̽t̴͘ Họ̸̅̅m̸̿ẻ̸̩͘?̷̅ M̴̢͙̜͇͓̂̑̉͝͝¥̶̖͙͖͇̳̃̿͑́͠ Sð̶͓͚̟̟͚͗̅̃̋̒ñ̸(Mine, mine, MINE)(My-Twice-Born)(My Red Knight)(My Beloved Bloody Butcherbird).”

#dpxdc #danny phantom #dead on main #jason todd #crossover danuary week 2024

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14dyh · 1 month

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hey! im the one who requested 17 with hange and loved it :) was wondering if u could write an other where hange catches feelings for reader, maybe from hanges pov? still angsty cuz hanges afraid of getting rejected, your choice on how it ends:)

Nebula | H.Z.

Pairing: Hange Zoë x gn!reader Summary: Hange recognizes their inner conflict about falling in love with you. Word count: 1.3k A/N: aaeegghh I'm glad you like it! sorry this took so long lmao but i already have that kind of part 2 in mind so here you goooo

Sunlight dappled Hange's desk from where you sat. It was a little too early to get up but you wanted to admire the nebula-shaped flower on Hange's desk. The shape, the edges, and even the colors imitating the swirls of light and the glowing stars and clouds that make a nebula made this flower so fascinating to look at. It felt like a cosmic wonder that could be held in mere human hands.

Hange remained asleep in your bed, cuddling your pillow close. They might have a hangover from last night so you were quick to make the both of you a cup of tea. Hange stirred slightly when you entered the room and closed the door behind you, two cups of tea in both hands before placing it on the table beside you. Hange noticed how much you admire that flower from where you're sitting.

"How long have you been growing this? It's beautiful," you mused, a finger hovering over the flower petals. Long ago, Hange's mind wanted to say but maybe you would ask how long would that be so Hange found a safe answer and said, "Certainly not as long as it would take to form a nebula, but it's been quite long."

Hange smiled, dragging a chair beside where you sat. They couldn't find the courage to tell you that the growing flower was there with every thought of you in mind. It was something that they planned to grow a year ago, convincing themself every day that it was just a testament to the admiration and friendship they have for you. Every day they would watch over that plant, waiting for it to bear a flower.

"It was something I planned a year ago," Hange explained, sipping on the tea you gave them. "Pretty quaint, huh?"

"It is... Looks like a nebula," you observed, looking at the flower from different angles and finding it beautiful all the same.

"That's what I'm aiming for. I'm glad it didn't turn out with a weird shape," Hange chuckled. There was a silent pause, and only the sound of the morning filled the room. Hange tried to tear their eyes from you but couldn't.

"Hey, Y/N?"

"Hm?"

Hange noticed that your eyes were still on the flower and thanked the heavens, you don't seem to notice how they're looking at you.

"Can we go to the ball together?" they asked. "I mean, it's not really our cup of tea but maybe we could have some fun and go to the art museum afterwards. What do you think?"

Hange saw your eyes brighten at the suggestion which made their heart leap.

"Sounds good to me."

Later that evening, both of you attended the simple ball hosted by the school to celebrate the patron it was named after. Hange would excitedly pull you on the dance floor, both of your movements rhyming up with whatever music played. But most importantly, you talked and talked, exchanging ideas one after the other until the event became too commonplace for the both of you. Hange held your hand and sneaked you two towards the exit, giggling to yourselves for successfully escaping the party.

A few people crossed by, sometimes art critics and sometimes lovers. Hange's eyes walked with them and wondered which of the two groups you would both belong to at the end of this night.

You walked together in the tranquil silence of the night. Birds would hum as if in a gentle serenade as Hange held your hand. Neither of you spoke until you reached the art museum you both longed to go to. Eventually, you stepped into the place, taking in the gentle atmosphere of being surrounded by beauty and color, the soft hues of red and pink settled on each painting depicting love and romance.

Hange still remembers the nebula-shaped flower whenever they look at you. They mused over how things in nature are bound to connect in one way or another and how such an infinitely strange world could be thought of just by looking at you. Everything sings and the world loves randomness enough to give it its unique pattern. Hange was deep in thought of you and the universe. They only snapped back in reality as they heard your gentle query.

"Hange, do you perhaps think that love has a place in every art no matter how tiny it may be?" you asked. Hange thought over your question as your head leaned against theirs. They observed how you sat beside them, eyes wandering over the painting before they spoke.

As you walked home together, Hange held your hand tighter this time. Their heart rammed against their chest, their mind broke itself apart by brimming with the thoughts of love, of the universe, of you— all the good things that make up their world.

"I think it is. Love has a place in everything, it is either too much of it or lack of it that makes up an object. And either way, it leads back to love," Hange answered softly. They speak of such love in a room full of romance paintings but they only looked at you with a smile etch across their lips. Your presence made them think of art and science — all the wonders and inventions born because one mind loved another. It may be an idea or a person but it all led back to passion.

This time it would hurt them to deny how much love they have for you from the beginning. Their heart held you dear too much but their mind refused for the sole reason that they don't think they deserve you enough to be in a special place in your heart.

All friendships and acquaintances they made so far flourished out of tolerance and need. People loved them through time and tolerated them because of that love, but it was never like this. To be loved and to be understood rarely comes along together. So Hange's mind racked itself and often wondered how you managed to give them both.

For a long time, their heart clammed up, tricking themself that they would love someone else, that they loved the girl who rejected them, and all because they wanted to avoid this situation. This very minute, they wanted to confess and recognized that their great fear came from being rejected by you. Given a day or week, they could get over any rejection from love or work but feared that your rejection would become their ultimate ruination.

And it was as though you could hear their thoughts as if their heart whispered their love to you. When you both reached the room you shared, Hange was taken aback by the sudden hug from you, their knees turning so weak that they had to grip the edge of the table. The nebula-shaped flower remained still on the desk as if watching things unfold.

The loving embrace you gave them just now triggered their desire to confess so they started slow.

"That flower... I must admit that it was for you. I made it for you," they let out before their throat could clam up. Hange finally found the courage to hug you back at this moment without trembling.

"And it means that I..." they tried to continue with much struggle. "That I..."

That I love you, it was so simple but they couldn't take it out of their mouth.

But somehow you knew, and it reached your heart nonetheless. You pulled away slightly to give them a gentle kiss, your lips careful around theirs. Hange freeze momentarily but something in them awakened their courage to kiss back and hold you tighter. Perhaps it was the relief that you love them as well, or perhaps it was the overjoy of their heart for letting themself open that love to you.

For a long moment, Hange refused to let you go and when they did, their mouth couldn't mutter anything but the love that tormented them for a long time. They wanted to cry or even scream in relief as all their fears became powerless to hold them back. Many things born out of fear ran through their head, thoughts of losing you or ruining the friendship they treasure the most but everything changed, knowing that you love them back. Hange wanted to ask how or why but realized that maybe your heart found true haven within theirs as well.

Hange's heart found delight when you let them embrace you throughout that night. And when the words “I love you too” came from your lips, Hange thought about the universe again and they were sure that right that moment, everything was in synchrony favored towards them.

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mirkwoodshewolf · 9 months

Note

Hi, if you’re still doing Doctor Who fanfics, I was wondering if you could please write a silly little 11th Doctor x Platonic!TimeLord reader where they are best friends and have a relationship dynamic like Joey and Frankie from the Basement Yard Podcast.

Like they’re in a dangerous scenario and one of them makes a joke and they both just start laughing. Or when they’re on the TARDIS they’ll be arguing and then one of them says something that reminds them of a song and they both just start singing it. And they use insults and a term of endearment.

I think this would be really fun and silly, but no worries if you don’t want to.

Thanks<3

okay I’m gonna be honest, I have no idea who those guys are but I’ll still do this idea.

Okay so one thing the 11th doctor is the best next to Tennant (yeah I’m biased cause Matt smith is MY doctor).

and yeah being friends with 11’s doctor is a WILD ride!!

yet at the same time you guys just click with one another from the moment you guys meet.

let’s say both of your chaotic energies just mesh together like fish fingers and custard hehehe

and that sometimes can be pretty strange or confusing to others especially when it comes to saving the galaxy

like this one time when you, the doctor and the Ponds got ambushed by the Daleks.

“Resistance is futile. Prepare to be exterminated!”

“Damn and I think I left the stove on in the Tardis.” You say.

at that comment 11 couldn’t help but say.

”how many times does this make? The fourth? The fifth?”

”lucky number seven actually my friend. But you’ve forgotten plenty of times. Remember when you thought a grease fire could be extinguished with water?”

“And you could’ve told me that?”

after briefly glaring at one another you both start to laugh.

“What is all this?” Proclaimed one of the daleks.

”it’s better you go with it” Amy said.

There was also another time with some space pirates that had taken a town hostage for their crops and money (real bugs life type situation)

they had you and the gang in cages along with the villagers and the pirate captain was going on a villainous monologue of how he was superior than these foolish villagers.

"With the subordination of these meek-little farmers, soon the entire galaxy will know my name! BLAZER THE WRATHFUL!!!" the pirates soon uproared in celebration, but soon a loud laugh overcame that.

It was your laughter.

"Something funny monkey!?"

"I'm sorry, I-I'm sorry my dude, did you say your name is Blazer-fury?"

"Yes!"

"So do you--shoot blazers out of wrath?" you ask.

"Enough out of you! Or we'll kill you first!"

But you couldn't help but snicker under your breath. The Captain turns back to you demanding what's funny.

"I'm sorry. My guy I am soo sorry. I just keep thinking to myself of how every morning you standing in front of them mirror saying to yourself, 'You know what would be a real kick-ass name! BLAZER THE WRATHFUL!!' HAHAHAHAH! That's how I hear you in my head. Remember Doc like that movie?!"

"Which one? You mean the Dinosaur one? Ahh I remember when we got to have those dinos on a space ship. That was a fun time."

"No, no, no Doctor you know the one with the talking Raccoon."

"Oh yeah. Huh? Art imitates life."

"RIGHT!?!? HEY! HEY CAP! What was your second choice gonna be? BLAZER THE SCROTUM HEAD!?"

At your comment, you had his entire crew laughing when Blazer the wrathful puleld you against the bars, his sword to your neck as he sneered.

"That's it wench! You die now!"

"Well, dying would certainly be better than living in a galaxy where a misogynistic moron who thinks Blazer the Wrathful is a kickass name." you said bluntly before using your taser gun that River gave you the last time you both met.

In the end, you all saved the village and defeated the piarates.

Overall, when it comes to being you and the Doctor, you better watch out cause there's bound to be some chaos, mischief, and a bit of eye-rolling due to their chaotic energy together.

"Hey Doc! Where's the flux-capacitor on SEXY?"

"She doesn't have one of those, this is a TARDIS, not a Delorian."

"Do you think she'd be able to transform into that?"

"No! I like her this way and this way she'll stay."

"Then can you make me a time-machine Delorian?"

"No."

"C'MON DOC!!"

Yeah, chaotic energy at the max.

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creaturing-your-faves · 4 months

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(If you're comfortable with this) could you make a tutorial on how you make your creations??? It'd okay if not, thank you for making them :D

WAA i can try!! baby's first tutorial ft. this guy

🐾 first, a picture of your blorbo

i use waifu2x to up the quality, not always neccessary but it makes everything a bit easier and prettier. i use firealpaca to edit but you can use whatever you like, im not your mom

🐾 probably get a reference

yeah i dont always do this. but you should! i should! so google whatever creature you want to turn blorbo into and maybe scroll for a bit to get a feel for what they look like :3

try to find one at a similar angle to your blorbo picture and paste it/open as a layer. look this is close enough ↓

🐾 onto the actual editing! human ear surgery

in case you prefer just one pair of ears. you have to understand the style so you can imitate it.... so look at their hair, maybe theres more colors or gradients than you can see at a glance or something ! i colorpick a bunch of them and put them over their ears, then blend them together with a low opacity watercolor brush

ALSO, notice the.. lighter glowy aura thing around his ear in the og? i try to imitate details like that too, used watercolor for this again

now maybe you wanna make it look like theres something covering that spot, since theres kinda nothing there now. soo if that looks weird to you, (open a new layer and) put some hair over it. i cant tell u how to imitate Any style so just. study it and keep trying

with enstars here the lines are pretty soft, so i go over it with watercolor brush after doing the general shape. with a higher opacity you could probably just use a softer brush from the start, i just like starting with the basic pen

🐾 the lines!!!

nowww i lower the blorbos opacity to around 50%, bring the reference somewhere i can see and just kinda... start sketching. lot of redrawing and transform tooling here sometimes

TIPS 1. you can clean the lines up at the end so dont stress

2. think of your blorbos new ears as a real tangible part of their body and how they fit on their head since you dont wanna make it look too flat !

3. and for the placement i always end up at roughly one human ear length above their og ears if that makes sense. tried to visualize it

as for inner ear fluffs phew i dont know either. draw a circle and start from there? maybe there are actual animal ears in blorbo artstyle out there you could reference

🐾 coloring 🏳️‍🌈

finally some progress huh. i color the lines in a contrasting color first so i see the lines properly and dont miss anything, then fill it in with the actual color :3 OH and for gradients i just use the airbrush at the ear tips or sides

noww shading! new layer, basic pen brush and try to follow the shapes in the og art. it's best if you pick the colors from the actual picture!!! take notes mentally and just do your best i dont know how to explain this more

taking this as an example, the shading is mostly in pretty simple wider areas, so not a lot of seperate strands in there. and its again pretty soft around the edges of shades and highlights, so i'll go over it with my beloved watercolor. keep things like that in mind so the creaturing blends in well :3

if you like more detail better you can still go with that. or less detail on a complex artstyle. the world is your oyster

🐾 and the rest

what else could there be???? making the lineart more cohesive for example ★ oftentimes it's not one solid color, thicker or thinner than yours, things like that.

for things like piercings or fangs you can just draw them on top i believe in you <3 if its like an intricate earring use the lasso? magic wand? the one that lets you select an area to copy and move on top of your ear layers

+ remember details like shadows, if you put a tail on top of say blorbos leg there's gonna be a shadow under it! put a layer under the tail ones and freehand draw the shadow, OR copy the tail layer, put the copy under the og one and change color/opacity until it fits

#ask #i hope this is good........

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