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slutforalastor · 1 month

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Confessional

Human Priest Alastor has a particularly committed parishioner with an unholy request. NOT APPROPRIATE FOR THOSE UNDER THE AGE OF 18. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Tags: SO MANY CHURCH REFERENCES, light voyeurism, temptation, bloodletting, church AU I guess if you wanna get technical, way too many big words for plotless smut

"In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit."

You kneel before a shadow, crossing yourself. You know the shadow's face, having spent countless Sundays smiling from your lips and weeping from between your legs during his service. You know that he can see you, perhaps even recognizes you. You're aware of the purpose of confessional, the supposed tenants guiding the practice, but you are not here to absolve yourself. You seek indulgence, not purification.

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been eleven months since my last confession. These are my sins. I harbor impure thoughts, thoughts that I know have been given to me by the Lord. He is guiding us towards a union, perhaps to conceive, but for some holy purpose, regardless. There can be no other reason why you'd occupy my every waking thought, why my maiden's bed feels so cold and empty, as though incomplete without your body next to mine. Each and every night, I sin in that bed, allowing my own hand to guide me to an incomplete release. It never gives me any feeling of blessing, only of deeper desire to blaspheme. My soul is forever lost without your faithful shepherding, Father."

The shadow moves, clears its throat, no trace of emotion to be gleaned from his intonation.

"My dear child, you seem lost, confused. As a man I am flattered, perhaps even humbled, by this confession. But you must hold steady against these impure delusions, for God has placed me on a different path."

His rebuke only serves to hasten your desire. You feel yourself laden with honeyed need, leaking against the inside of your thighs through your underwear. You know he can see you kneeling, prostrating yourself before the judgment of your holy superior. Still on your knees, you lean back, hiking up the fabric of your skirt, pushing your hips up to present your ruined panties. "Holy Father, you are a servant of the Lord, are you not? Would you deny that one of your flock is in need? Would you leave them to temptation in solitude, with only their hands, the devil's playthings, for companionship?"

His voice betrays the first sign of will being tested. "This could just as easily be a test, a bit of trickery from the Devil himself."

"Who better to rid me of devilish desire than one who speaks on God's behalf? Who baptizes the young, unifies lovers, grants last rites to the condemned? Serve your Lord and banish this Devil from my loins, if you be pious, if you be merciful."

His voice is trembling now, thick with an intent you had hoped to provoke. You are intriguing him, winning him over. Summoning your courage, you draw your underwear down to your ankles, clumsily preening your sex the same way you have been whenever the heat between your legs burns like Hellfire. "See for yourself how the Lord makes me a conduit. Would you call this the will of the Devil? The need of a woman for a man?"

"I have taken an oath..." he stutters, choking on his own words.

"An oath to serve your parishioners... Would you bear witness to sin, knowing you can make it holy?" you bleat, the lamb on the altar, bound by ropes fastened to your soul. The Priest stands, and you can see his shadow making the mark of the cross, muttering a prayer to himself. Your self-defilement doesn't even slow, the low, wet sounds of hungry flesh accepting your phallic substitute the only sound in the confessional. In another moment, you hear the door opening, and your savior stands framed in the light of the jamb.

"Bless you, Father," you moan. He shuts the door, and in the dimness, you capture the full depth of his radiance. His brown hair drapes in front of his eyes, standing as a buffer between those nearly-black irises and the small circular frames that grace the bridge of his nose. A nervous sweat shimmers on his dark skin. His cassock is disheveled, his silver cross hung up on one of the higher buttons, collar greyed at the edges from sweat.

"We must make haste to rid you of this curse," he breathes, tugging at his collar. Thinking on its symbolism, he detaches it entirely, leaving it hanging on the doorknob. With rough strength, he brings you to the chair one could use to confess face-to-face, bringing your arousal level with him when he drops to his knees. He inhales, something within that bouquet seeming to pique his interest. "You reek of unholy desire."

"It has tormented me, Father."

"I can see now what you mean. It would be irresponsible to leave you in such a state. I shall grant you this mercy, my child. God will heal you through me."

With a slight tilt of his head, he partakes in your communion, his lips brushing over the outermost of your folds, murmuring a prayer against the electrified nerves. You can feel every syllable evoked against your body, sending ripples of heaven cascading through your system. You are certain that God's holy presence is being imparted from the teasing edges of his lips into your body. His tongue parts from between his pursed, muttering lips, lapping at the inside of your sex, searching for something buried deeper still. Your hands dare to caress his head, guiding him towards the spot he seeks. Charting into fresh territory, he stakes claim to it, his eager tongue seeking out places you've yet to even map yourself. Each press of it is a blessing, the burning ache in your flesh the doubtless throes of a demon being flayed from your soul.

"My dear, I'm beginning to wonder if I misjudged. Your taste is divine."

Your fingers dig into his thick locks, pressing him to persist even further, to reach past the purgatory of your desire. You feel his nose grinding against your most sensitive spot, something you have never had a name for, feeling every time he inhales and exhales, his mouth far too preoccupied with more concerning matters. You are fighting to keep your carnal affectations from becoming any louder than a whining wail you smother in the small of your throat, lest it be loosed completely unrestrained.

"You're doing well to keep your voice lowered," he praises you. "You are a true servant of your Lord."

"I-I am in his service," you affirm, your words snaring every time his tongue darts against your walls.

"Your dedication deserves to be rewarded," and he pushes himself as far as the limitations of flesh permit, lodging his lapping extremity so firmly within that you startle nearly upright, sharp nails that bite against the fabric of your clothes urging you back down. "He says 'be still and know that I am God.'"

You groan against the scripture being branded on your innards, a new sensation creeping across the tensed muscles of your legs. With a muffled moan, he is baptized in your release, and he offers a satisfied sound of approval. Your legs quake against the ceaseless undulating of his attentions, finally extricating himself when he's had his fill of you. He runs the long, thin thing that just concluded making a mess of your insides over his glistening grin, still slick from your consecration. Your focus drifts downward, to the crook that will shepherd you to salvation tenting the fabric of his soutane.

"Traces of habitation still remain, my child. We must take measures to save your spirit." He undoes the lower buttons of his robe, exposing himself to you, as he would have been in Eden. You can feel it against you, afire with purifying heat, sliding against your sopping entrance with anticipation. "Accept these rites."

"Bless me, Father," you whine, grinding yourself against him.

"Please, dear, call me Alastor." It's not permission; it's a demand. He waits, poised against you.

"Please give me your blessing, Alastor."

His lips curl into a grin, his canines so jagged and long that they're the first teeth you see. "God answers all prayers in good time." With a shove, he enters you, your teeth clenching, your breath shorting at the feeling of this union. He can't help but let a pleasured grunt leave his lips, and he catches your eyes as the last inch of him slips inside, brushing an errant strand of hair from your eyes. You feel cold, flushed at the overwhelming relief of finally being face-to-face with what you'd thought could only be in a fantasy. He gives a thrust, testing the waters, shaking your faith. You whimper against the force of it, still growing accustomed to the sensation of being taken. "Do you feel the sin drying up? The demonic need being purged?" Alastor wonders, driving himself into you with ever-increasing force, his restraint abandoned. "In its place will be holy admiration, a want to submit, as all of God's good creatures must possess."

"I will be a good creature," you promise.

"The best their ever was," Alastor croons, his jagged incisors hunting for the soft of your neck, carving runes against the submissive skin, seas of red pooling in the canyons. "Will your blood run black, as a demon's, or red, like the dust of the Earth? You have the allure of a succubus, but the taste of a virgin." His nails ribbon your collarbone, leaving oozing trails like spilled wine. He partakes of this communion with the same vigor as before, drinking it like an elixir. Your nervous hands grasp against his back, enfeebled fingers digging into the fabric of his clothing. Through all of this, his rutting has never slowed, increasing in desperation when he samples your blood. When he pulls away, you can see it trickling against his teeth, his tongue dragging over the surface to crudely clean them.

"I have dreamed of this, Alastor."

"Our lord works in mysterious ways," he assures you, clawed fingers still tracing thin rivulets across your skin. "I am nearly at my limit," he pants, burying himself against you. His thrusts finally slow, each push against you deliberate, purposeful. With his body laid against yours, his mouth is laid by your ear, and you can hear every facet of his breathing, every pant, moan, and inhale he makes broadcasting into your brain, the only sound you can hear. You are as close as he is, and you wrap yourself around him as he pumps into you one final time, his holy fire coating your insides, his assured breaths becoming high-pitched whines as he spasms against you, driving you to your own climax. It is nothing like what you've made yourself feel; it sends shockwaves through the taut fibers of your lower half, makes you cry out in uncontrollable lust, leaving your limbs clenched around Alastor as the last of his climax is left spilt within. You feel his chest heave with a deeply drawn breath, his sigh in your ear scattering chills across you. "Do you feel purified, dear?"

"I worry that I will have further need of your services, Alastor."

He pulls away from you, his smile sadistic yet sincere. "The clergy lives to serve, after all."

#alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #alastor x you #radio demon x reader #the radio demon #Priest!Alastor #Human!Alastor

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sammysdewysensitiveeyes · 1 month

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My Morph primer

Since X-Men 97 is drawing in a lot of new fans with varied levels of experience with the original animated series or the comics, I figured I could give a write-up of who Morph is, where they come from, and why you don’t see them in any of the movies or other media. This is also an excuse for me to write about an obsessive fave, seriously, they are all over my blog. I'm not necessarily an "authority," but I've watched TAS and read the comics, which are the basis for this write-up.

Who is Morph?

"Wolverine! Fall back!"

Morph is a shapeshifting mutant who was added to the X-Men team in the original X-Men: The Animated Series as a redshirt/sacrificial lamb, to be killed off For Real in order to show that the stakes are really high. Originally it was actually going to be Thunderbird, a short-lived X-Man who died in the comics just a few issues after he was introduced, and has remained dead for decades. But creators realized that killing off the only Native American character on a mostly white team was a bad look, and went with Morph instead. Morph proved surprisingly popular with (mostly child) viewers, and was brought back in the 2nd season as a result. Morph in TAS was originally presented as male using male pronouns, but I’m gonna use they/them for the character since they are nonbinary in X-Men 97.

(Btw, even Morph's TAS costume shows their redshirt nature, as they are basically wearing a variant of the standard X-Men uniform that different groups have worn, with the Original Five (Angel, Jean, Cyclops, Beast and Iceman) and the New Mutants all wearing something similar. There was a time in the 90's when all the X-Men were wearing this uniform to try to give them a team look, but thankfully that didn't last, the individualized looks are much better. Morph's amazing disappearing reappearing jacket are the only personalized touch in their uniform, and I hope X-Men 97 gives them a costume upgrade after everyone gets used to the new look.)

Morph doesn’t appear in many episodes of TAS, but here are the definitive ones:

Season 1:

Night of the Sentinels Parts 1 and 2: Morph seems to be an established part of the team, a wise-cracking shapeshifter who is so naively overconfident about their mission that they’ve practically got a target painted on their back. When the mission goes wrong, Morph pushes Wolverine out of the way of Sentinel lasers, and gets blasted all to hell. Morph’s supposed death (which was meant at the time to be a real death) is sensed by both Jean and Xavier. Cyclops orders a retreat because the team is getting their asses kicked, abandoning both the (dead) Morph and (alive but injured) Beast, who spends the rest of the season in jail. Morph is quickly forgotten as a character, BUT the impact of their death is felt throughout the season. We get Wolverine yelling “This one’s for you, Morph!” while slicing up a Sentinel, and Cyclops in the finale insisting, “I’m not leaving anyone behind! Not this time!”

Season 2:

Till Death Do Us Part, Parts 1 and 2: Morph returns as a villain, but a sympathetic, brainwashed villain under the control of season Big Bad Mr. Sinister. Sinister is an evil scientist who likes to fuck around with mutant genetics and is especially obsessed with getting Scott and Jean to fuck, because their child will supposedly be an extremely genetically superior mutant. After Morph’s “death,” they were taken by Sinister, who revived them and implanted a control device into Morph’s brain that he uses to literally torture Morph into compliance. Morph seems to have a kind of split personality, which Sinister exacerbates and encourages, shifting between a haggard-looking Evil Morph who wants revenge on the X-Men for abandoning them and cracks jokes while attacking the team, and a normal-looking Good Morph, who doesn’t want to hurt their friends, and is generally scared and confused and having a Bad Time. If you are wondering about Morph turning into that version of themselves with dark circles around their eyes in X-Men 97 “Fire Made Flesh,” it was a reference back to this:

Evil Morph lookin' reeeeeaal creepy.

Morph uses their shape-shifting trickery to fake marry Scott and Jean (as the priest), impersonate Xavier and turn the team against each other, until Wolverine identifies them by scent. The team then chases Morph to Sinister’s lair, where he’s captured a honey-mooning Scott and Jean. Morph has been struggling with the brainwashing the entire time, and breaks free long enough to attack Sinister, then runs off away from everyone.

Whatever It Takes: Wolverine, who has declared the Morph is “the only one who could ever make him laugh,” chases Morph down to Brazil in an attempt to drag them back to the team. Morph, still fighting their dark side and flipping back and forth between the two personalities, taunts Wolverine in Jean’s form, fights him, and eventually gains enough control to tell Logan to back off. (“I have to get through this by myself!”)

Fighting your friend in an abandoned mine shaft, a totally normal thing to do.

Wolverine reluctantly lets them go. This the B-plot, the main plot of the episode features Storm and Rogue confronting the Shadow King in Africa, and is also really good.

Reunion Parts 1 and 2: Morph leaves a message for Wolverine stating that he wants to return to the team, in what seems like an obvious set-up for a trap. Wolverine, Jean and Cyclops go to retrieve them, and find that yes, it is a trap. Morph attmpts to warn the group to leave, but they are jumped by Sinister and the Nasty Boys, and the fight ends with Jean being taken, and Morph (still struggling against Sinister’s control), going semi-willingly. The whole team winds up at Sinister’s base in the Savage Land and there are a lot of good character moments, like Gambit telling Rogue he loves her. Morph spends the whole time still fighting against the brainwashing, but throws it off completely at the end (with Xavier’s help) and turns on Sinister, helping Scott and Jean defeat him. Morph is then Put on a Bus to Muir Island so that the writers wouldn’t have to deal with the character but could hold them in reserve to use later. Xavier comments that he can remove Sinister’s mind-control chip from Morph’s brain, but that “removing the psychic damage will take longer.” So the answer to “Where’s Morph?” in later seasons will always be “Recovering on Muir Island, probably hanging out with Moira and Banshee.”

If you are a Morph fan, Season 2 is THE Morph season, they get a great character arc that fleshes them out, and establishes their close relationship with Wolverine. I’m glad they didn’t toss out Morph in X-Men 97, both because I like the character, and because Morph’s entire arc in Season 2 was about their struggle to come back to the team, and constantly reaffirms that Morph is one of them, and that they belong with the X-Men. Also, I know Tumblr love an angsty, suffering blorbo, and good God does Morph suffer in Season 2.

(Someone is having a Bad Time).

Season 4:

Courage: After getting only a couple of non-speaking background cameos in Season 3, this is Morph’s comeback episode in Season 4. Morph believes that they are fully recovered and ready to rejoin the X-Men, while both Moira and Xavier seem to think they are not ready, and warn them to slow down a little. Morph tries to jump back into their old role, makes jokes, and goes on a mission with Wolverine, but is clearly still dealing with PTSD and completely freezes up when Sentinels attack the mansion and kidnap Xavier. Morph is left at the mansion while the X-Men go to rescue Xavier, but follows them anyway, and manages to play an instrumental role in stopping the Sentinels and saving Xavier. Despite this, Morph decides that they are not ready to return and cannot be relied upon in battle (because the writers didn’t want to deal with using the character on the team), and goes back to Muir Island. It’s a standard “character fucks up at the start of the episode but saves the day in the end” superhero cartoon story, and I was a little disappointed that the episode focused entirely on Morph’s “near death trauma” from the Sentinels and not the much worse “brainwashed and tortured by Sinister to the point of developing a second personality” issue. The closest we get to addressing that is Morph pointedly walking up to Cyclops with “Scott…been a long time….” which sounds like a way of saying “We’re cool now, bro, I promise I won’t try to kill you.” Still, we get some great Morph and Wolverine moments, and Morph kicks a lot of ass at the end. After Morph spends most of the series either dead or suffering, I don’t mind an episode where they get to kick ass. This episode also establishes that Morph was suffering from serious nightmares for awhile, so consider that a canon excuse to put that in your angsty fanfic.

(Morph also gets a non-speaking cameo in Beyond Good and Evil Part 1, sitting next to Jubilee at Scott and Jean’s second wedding. I think it’s sweet that they were invited, but can also imagine Scott putting them in the front row just to ensure that there are no more “fake priest” shenanigans. “Let’s put Morph where I can see him….just in case.”)

Season 5:

Graduation Day: After Xavier is attacked, Morph returns to help calm mutants world-wide by impersonating Xavier and making a public call for peace. Morph doesn’t do much in the episode, but they get an individualized goodbye from Xavier while he is addressing the team one by one, and it is clear at the end that Morph is officially back with the team. In other words, the writers could give Morph a happy ending of coming back since the show was ending and they didn’t have to deal with it going forward. Thankfully, the X-Men 97 writers were happy to pick up that ball and continue running with it, and I love what they’ve done with Morph so far!

Were there shippy vibes between Morph and Wolverine in the original series?

I dunno friend, watch “Whatever it Takes,” and “Courage,” and you tell me. Morph shifting into Jean to taunt Wolverine definitely gives me vibes of “There’s something going on there.”

Is Morph in the comics?

(Note – I’m using he/him for all comics versions of Morph because those versions all apparently ID as male.)

The answer is yes, sort of.

Changeling:

Morph was loosely based on an obscure, long dead shape-shifting mutant from the X-Men’s original 60’s run. Changeling was a villain with a tacky costume who acted very much like a standard 60’s comic book villain, associated with a terrorist group called Factor Three. Look at this fucking dude:

At the end of the Factor Three arc, it turns out that Factor Three’s leader, Mutant Master, is an alien who wants to destroy ALL life on Earth to make way for his own people, and the mutants in the group turn on him and help the X-Men. Changeling is the first one to question Mutant Master’s motives, and that’s probably the only interesting thing he does in the whole story. Several issues later, Xavier supposedly dies while helping defeat a villain named Grotesk and save the world. This story is retconned near the end of the run, when Xavier is revealed to be alive, and explains that the dead “Xavier” was actually Changeling. Changeling had discovered that he was terminally ill, and came to Xavier seeking redemption. Xavier asked Changeling to temporarily take his place as Xavier while he shut himself up in the basement to prepare to stop an alien invasion (and no, the X-Men were not informed of this, besides Jean, and yes, that is really fucked up). So Changeling became a reformed villain and honorary X-Man who went out in a heroic sacrifice, and was almost never mentioned again. (Even now Changeling appears to still be dead in the comics, even though the current storyline has allowed ALL the dead mutants to come back. Even Thunderbird is back.)

Changeling was greatly reworked to become Morph, totally changing his personality and origins. The only similarities are the shapeshifting powers and physical appearance. You can see how this guy:

Became this not-actually-a-guy:

Or even this version:

X-Men 97 Morph got a real glow-up to their human form.

Of course, they also share the trait of being a sacrificial lamb plot device, and X-Men TAS creators were originally going to call the character “Changeling,” but changed the name to Morph because DC’s Beast Boy was called Changeling at the time.

Age of Apocalypse Morph:

In the 90’s, there was a cross-over event over all the X-Books called the Age of Apocalypse, in which a time-traveller (Xavier’s son Legion, long story) murdered Xavier in the past before Xavier formed the X-Men, and created a dystopian alternate reality in which Apocalypse had taken over and Magneto led the X-Men. This was a kind of what-if event that let writers have fun with switching up character relationships, turning good guys bad and bad guys good, and of course, killing a lot of characters off. The event only lasted about four issues before it was all undone and we returned to the main Marvel universe, so they could really go wild. In the AoA book Astonishing X-Men, Magneto’s team includes a character called Morph, a versatile shapeshifter with a pasty white made-of-clay look, and a jovial, upbeat personality that is clearly based on TAS Morph. (This change to character design is where X-Men 97 Morph’s white, featureless appearance comes from).

Just a silly little guy!

AoA Morph is also stated in the book to have been formerly Changeling, before undergoing a name-change and attitude adjustment, making him an AU variant. He explains to Sunfire at one point that he never takes anything seriously because fuck it, he’s probably gonna die anyway, he may as well die with a smile on his face. AoA Morph is pretty cool, he does great shapeshifting tricks, and has some depth and heart beneath the obnoxious jokes.

Exiles Morph:

After Age of Apocalypse, the fan-favorite character Blink (like Morph, another alternate version of a short-lived character in the main comics timeline) gets pulled out of the AoA timeline and placed on a team of time-displaced X-Men. This team, all coming from alternate realities and including some other minor neglected characters (like versions of Thunderbird and Mimic), is tasked with hopping through realities, putting things right that once went wrong, and hoping each time that the next leap will be their leap home. The team also includes a version of Morph, who is so similar to AoA Morph that Blink mistakes him initially for her old teammate. This is another AU variant of Changeling who was never Changeling, but instead was recruited into the New Mutants (a bit of an age retcon for the character, as 60’s Changeling seemed much older, while Exiles Morph is clearly much younger.) Exiles Morph was a popular hero in his reality, served as both an X-Man and an Avenger, and is an incredibly powerful shapeshifter. He also winds up being a long-running mainstay of the Exiles team, so this is really the book to read for Morph content. Exiles also fleshes out the character’s past, stating that he was born as a shapeshifting blob with X-gene already activated, and only assumed a human appearance to fit in with peers. He also lost his mother to cancer at an early age, and his obnoxious jokey personality was partially a reaction to that, an attempt to both cheer up and get some attention from his grieving father. Exiles Morph is a great character, my only complaint is that he is a bit of a sex pest, constantly making “jokes” that border on sexual harassment of his female teammates. I don’t think he’s meant to actually be a creep, he never actually does anything, and when the teammate he has a crush on reveals that she is a lesbian, he steps back and acts as a supportive friend. I think Exiles Morph just suffers from late 90’s early 2000 writing where the funny jokey character has to be all “LOL, Boobies!” all the time, just so we know he’s straight. (Funny, given how not-straight X-Men 97 Morph seems to be.)

The Other Morph: Benjamin Deeds:

Brian Michael Bendis, in his Uncanny X-Men run, introduced a new character named Benjamin Deeds who could shapeshift, and looked suspiciously similar to a teenage version of Changeling/TAS Morph. His personality was different, though (more of a sulky teen trying to deal with being a mutant than a funny guy), and the nature of his powers is different. Benjamin has what is described as “chameleon-like” shapeshifting, taking on the physical characteristics of people when he gets close to them rather than fully shifting forms. He also exudes a chemical that makes people automatically like and trust him. Emma suggests the codename “Morph,” and although Benjamin doesn’t like it, it becomes his official codename going forward. I don’t think Ben actually has any real connection to Changeling or TAS Morph, he seems more like a legacy character or winking homage, like Pyro II (Simon Lasker, who inexplicably has the same powers and looks almost exactly like original Pyro, St. John Alledyce). He’s fun character and a cute lil’ guy, though.

There are people who call TAS Morph an “original character” completely invented for the cartoon, and I don’t think they’re entirely wrong. Morph is VERY different from Changeling, But to me, it makes the most sense to consider TAS Morph another AU variant of Changeling, given all the influence back and forth between the comics and the cartoon. Morph was based on Changeling, and Morph’s popularity led to AU versions of Changeling in the comics with TAS Morph’s personality literally named “Morph,” and now X-Men 97 Morph has been redesigned to match AoA/Exiles Morph’s appearance. They are variations of the same person. And it’s not exactly the first time that a comics character has been drastically reworked in an adaptation – I’m looking at you, First Class Mystique and Evolution’s “Lance Alvers.” I wonder if people would still be calling Morph an “original character” if they’d kept the name “Changeling,” since keeping the name seems to be all it takes at times. Still, TAS Morph is kind of right on the border between OC and “adapted from the comics,” and even I tend to include them in groups of “created for the cartoon” characters like Firestar, Spyke and X-23.

Why is Morph tagged as “Kevin Sydney/Sidney”?

Because that is the character’s name, more or less. TAS Morph didn’t have a “real name” in 92, because Changeling didn’t (similarly, Rogue also didn’t have a real name because the character hadn’t been given one in the comics.) In Age of Apocalypse, characters called Morph “Sydney” or “Syd,” and Morph even referred to himself that way in a thought-balloons, but the Exiles writer apparently decided, “Nah, it’s a last name,” and officially named Morph “Kevin Sydney.” The name stuck, and the 2004 Marvel “Book of the Dead” gave Changeling that name in the entry on him. Morph’s name has never been given in the cartoon, but it’s probably safe to assume that their official “human name” is Kevin Sydney, just like TAS Rogue is probably Anna Marie (her official name in the comics.) Interestingly, even in Exiles, the book where the name originated, Morph always goes by “Morph” and never “Kevin.” Maybe Home Alone ruined the name for him. I tend to use the Kevin Sydney tags on Tumblr and A03 to differentiate from other uses of the “morph” tag. In particular, Tumblr has a lot of body modification fetish posts tagged as “morph,” and no offense to the fetishists, you all keep doing what you are doing, but that’s not the content I’m looking for. I’m sure the fetish people are probably a bit annoyed at their own tag filling up with an X-Men character, but hey, it’s their name.

How old is Morph? How long were they with the team and when did they join? Is the featureless white face their “real form”? What’s their history with Wolverine?

I don’t have answers here because we don’t know. There’s a lot we don’t know about TAS Morph, and the origins of their comics counterparts don’t really translate well into cartoon continuity. Like I can’t imagine TAS Morph ever having been a willing member of Factor Three.

Personally, I tend to assume that Morph was with the team for awhile before their “death,” given that they have an established “old friend” relationship with Wolverine and know the team extremely well. I also tend to assume that TAS Morph is a similar age to the other young adults on the team like Scott and Jean. They sometimes look older in the original series, because they were based on Changeling (who also looks older), but the voice acting and general personality of the character seem younger, plus Wolverine calls them “kid”a couple of times. And it seems like their “human form” may not be their “real face” anyway, given that they’ve now defaulted to the white blank-face look. The white blank-face look IS the real form for Exiles (and presumably AoA) Morph, so the same is probably true for TAS Morph and Changeling. But this is all just my own headcanon and speculation, based on what I’ve seen in the original cartoon and the comics. You are all free to come up with your own headcanons fleshing out the character, I’ve already seen great stuff in fanfic out there!

Edit: Actually, I thought of a bit more:

How does Morph shift their clothing? Does Morph even wear clothes? How can they create accessories like Psylocke's swords?

Honestly, I dunno, this is Rule of Cool and Morph as a vehicle for character cameos in affect here. I will say that, in the comics, many characters with shapeshifter-type powers, like Wolfsbane, wear costumes made of unstable molecules that shift with their bodies, the same may be true of Morph. Exiles Morph, when commenting on his female teammates' skimpy costumes, at one point jokes that he "wears even less," so he may just be literally making clothing out of his own body. Although I would think that would get cold, or painful with no protection against the elements.

I assume that Morph does form accessories like Psylocke's swords out of their own body, which also presumably means they can't drop them. I wonder if it would hurt Morph if one of the swords broke? Exile Morph regularly turns his own body into accessories that he can hold (but not separate from his form), so presumably X-Men 97 Morph is doing the same. This is a step-up from TAS Morph, who never did that. Exiles Morph seems to be able to turn their body into whatever they want.

Does Morph copy the powers of other mutants?

Morph seems to be able to mimic only the physical-based powers of other mutants, under the shapeshifter logic of changing their body to give themselves larger muscles, claws, etc. So Angel's wings, but not Cyclops' eye beams. Nightcrawler's tail but not teleportation. In X-Men 97, Morph takes a couple of shots from X-Cutioner after shifting into Colossus, so apparently they can do the whole metal skin thing. But in TAS, when Morph turns into Wolverine, their claws are not adamantium and Wolverine easily slices through them.

I would add that Exiles Morph is also extremely durable, and can literally be ripped to pieces and shapeshift himself back together. This doesn't seem to be the case of "died from Sentinel lasers" TAS Morph, but maybe they just aren't there with their power levels yet. Exiles Morph IS especially susceptible to burns or laser blasts, and almost dies when Hyperion hits him with a beam at close range.

That’s it, hopefully this is helpful for people completely new to the character who got into X-Men 97. Mostly I just love writing about Morph. I encourage you to go back and watch the original series, or at least the Morph episodes. It’s a good show, if a bit 90’s corny, and will let you fully appreciate X-Men 97 (which has been, so far, an absolute banger of a series). Presumably we’ll see more character development of Morph as the show continues, which will maybe answer some of these questions.

#morph #kevin sydney #morph x-men

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untitled-writer-013 · 2 years

Note

Hannibal x Reader x Will where either Hannibal, Will, or both pissed off the wrong person, so Reader gets attacked for revenge, only for the two men to save her. Thanks!

Pig Meat

Hannibal Lecter x Fem!Reader x Will Graham

warning(s): obsession, cannibalism, violence, detailed murder, break in, intruder, unmerciful Hannibal

Hannibal and Will were both very intellectual men on their own. They rarely found anyone that they genuinely liked talking to. That was, until they met (Y/n) (L/n). She didn’t really keep her conversations professional, and yet Will would find himself laughing at the jokes they’d say. And it wasn’t because he felt like he had to laugh, but because she was genuinely entertaining.

Hannibal had taken notice of this, and decided to start a conversation with her when it was appropriate. Most of the time, Hannibal may let the corners of his mouth twitch up while talking with someone, but that was as much emotion he would let himself show. But around (Y/n), it was completely different. He couldn’t help but sweetly grin whenever she would comment on how lazy one of the many copycats of the Chesapeake Ripper had been. He couldn’t hold back a single reaction when it came to talking with her.

Hannibal and Will were having one of their usual sessions, when somehow, (Y/n) had come up in the conversation.

“I can’t wrap my head around it, but there’s just something about her that draws me to her. Whenever I see her laughing with someone else, it’s like there’s a heavy weight against my chest. Usually I can comprehend these kinds of things, but with her..she confuses me.” Will stated, walking through his thoughts with Hannibal as he let out a sigh.

Hannibal seemed to mull over what Will had said, even after the session ended and he had returned home. He wondered why what Will said stuck with him, trying his best to focus on fixing his dinner. It wasn’t until he had laid down that he realized why, making a chuckle leave him as he smiled. Because he felt the exact same way about her.

The two men eventually had come to an agreement, they would keep an eye on their lovely (Y/n), and wouldn’t nearly kill each other over her. Besides, the two actually liked sharing. They began to court (Y/n), first inviting her to one of Hannibal’s infamous dinner parties, and then they gradually took turns taking her on dates.

Hannibal and Will took their time with her, waiting until the time was right before they both asked her to join their relationship. At first she had been a bit reluctant, having never been exposed to the concept of a polyamorous relationship before. But with time, she accepted their offer and happily began to date them both.

Since then, the two men felt quite at peace. Will and Hannibal would do their work while (Y/n) spent her time mostly in Hannibal’s library. On most days, the two men would return home and find their darling lamb napping in the library. Though, because of this, they began to let their guards down.

Hannibal had strictly banned a patient of his from coming to see him again, since he clearly needed more serious help that he couldn’t personally offer. The patient, Ryan Louis, had taken this very personally. He began to obsess over how he had been rejected by Hannibal. Ryan had made his sessions with Dr. Lecter a part of his routine, and to suddenly be turned away had angered him.

Most would feel dejected, but Ryan felt challenged. So, Hannibal thought he was better than him just because he was some guy with a degree? Well, he’d be sure to prove him wrong. He desperately would try to get glimpses of the dinner parties Hannibal would throw, and during one of these instances, he spotted her.

(Y/n) (L/n), this was the name he learned to belong to the woman. He watched as she had one hand rested around Will’s waist, while Hannibal had rested his hand against the small of her back. It clicked pretty easily for him, figuring out that (Y/n) (L/n) was their shared significant other. He had been planning on getting back at Hannibal for daring to reject him, and this was the perfect way to hurt not only Hannibal, but those he loved as well.

Ryan had asked someone how he could contact (Y/n), pretending it was for a business inquiry, and had managed to get her place of work. He would take trips to try and catch her leaving work, and one night, he got lucky. He knew from keeping an eye on Hannibal and Will that the two would be out later than usual. This meant that there would be a period of time where (Y/n) would be home by herself, and he knew he couldn’t let this rare opportunity pass up.

A few hours later, (Y/n) had finally returned home. She let out a gentle sigh, locking the front door behind her before she took off her shoes and coat, the noise of the rain outside seemed to fill the silence in the house. She had been told ahead of time by her lovers that they would be returning home a bit later than their usual time, having found an important piece of evidence for a case they were working on. While she hated being by herself in their shared home, she decided to take the opportunity to clean up the home a bit.

She passed the time by cleaning up the few places Hannibal had missed when cleaning the home over the weekend, soon deciding to get some work done since there was little to clean anyway. As she worked at her desk upstairs, she heard a small ‘crash’. (Y/n) paused in her typing, feeling a strong sense of unease and alarm fill her. She knew she couldn’t just ignore the sound, so she took her phone and a taser she had been given by Will, he had always been paranoid about her safety. (Y/n) knew she’d have to thank him later, holding it out in front of her as she made her way downstairs. She looked around until she found the back door open, the chilly wind outside making the rain land on the wooden floor.

(Y/n) froze slightly, her fight or flight senses kicking in as she remembered distinctly checking the lock on it. It had been locked, so who the hell was in the house with her?

She soon got her answer when she felt an arm wrap around her neck, while their free hand tightly gripped onto her taser. She let out a frightened gasp, struggling to breathe as she quickly fought for her life. She kicked and headbutted whoever was attacking her, making them quickly move her hand, activating the taser as it connected with her other arm. She shook as electricity surged through her, but managed to roll out of the way of a harsh kick.

(Y/n) looked up to see a man, someone she recognized as one of Hannibal’s more rude clients. She let out a gasp as he swung at her again, coming back to her senses as she ducked, running up the stairs as she stumbled, still recovering from being shocked. She went to her shared bedroom, immediately slamming the door and locking it. She quickly moved the dresser in front of the door, and went to hide in the closet. She wasn’t taking any chances, she really didn’t want to get shot through the door in case he found the gun Hannibal and Will kept in their study.

She scrambled to get out her phone, tears blurring her vision as she called Hannibal, too freaked out to attempt calling 911. She bit her lip, holding back a sob as she heard the intruder begin to slam against the door. She let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding when Hannibal had finally picked up, keeping her eyes on the closet door.

“Darling, do you need something?” Hannibal had asked, his voice as soothing as always as (Y/n) let out a quiet whimper.

“Hannibal, someone g-got in. They have my t-taser, and they’re trying to break down t-the door.” (Y/n) quickly explained, keeping her voice hushed as it shook with fear. The other side of the line seemed to go quiet, only being able to hear muffled noises.

“We’re on our way, sit tight and don’t make any noise. You’re going to be alright, I promise.” Hannibal stated, causing (Y/n) nod, even if he couldn’t see her. She flinched as she heard a large ‘bang’ shudder against the bedroom door. Her eyes widened in fear, he must have found the axe they kept in the garage.

She did her best to stay quiet, tears spilling down her face as she heard the front door finally open, and she could hear Will threaten the intruder at gunpoint. Meanwhile, she almost screamed when the closet door opened, sudden relief washing over her when she recognized Hannibal.

Hannibal gently reassured her, helping her up as he held her close. He asked if she was injured at all, and looked over where she had been choked and tased. Although it would bruise and likely be sore for the next few days, it was nothing permanent. He pressed a kiss to (Y/n)’s forehead, telling her he would be right back. She was reluctant, but was reassured when Will entered the room. He rushed over to her, kneeling in front of her as he looked her over.

“Are you alright?” Will asked, concern laced in his voice as (Y/n) nodded, bringing Will close to her as she held onto him, and he gladly returned the gesture. Hannibal left the room, calmly making his way downstairs, to find Ryan restrained to a chair, just as he had asked Will to do.

Hannibal frowned, walking up to him as Ryan struggled and cursed, landing a sharp punch on his nose. Ryan yelled as his nose broke, and Hannibal tightly gripped the collar of his shirt.

“You have been incredibly rude to my darling tonight, I think it’s time I took care of that.” Hannibal stated, eerily calm as Ryan shook in fear, expecting to be arrested or roughly beat up. But nothing prepared the foolish man as Hannibal picked up a knife he had nearby, immediately cutting into him as Ryan screamed and struggled for his life.

Soon, Ryan was completely unrecognizable, his face torn with stab wounds, and his torso ripped open, his entire front drenched in blood. Ryan was somehow still alive, although only small squelches and rasps left his mouth, staring up at Hannibal through the blood in his eyes with complete fear. Hannibal tutted, glaring down at Ryan as he landed the final blow, twisting the knife as he dug it into his open chest. His body went limp, and Hannibal made sure to clean off the knife, using hydrogen peroxide to rid any traces of blood.

Hannibal knew that this man wasn’t worth being made into a work of art, seeing him as nothing else but a rude, disgusting pig who dared to target one of his darlings. He had made sure his death was slow and painful, and he would make sure to make him into a meal for one of his more..rude clients.

“It’s been a while since I’ve cooked pig.”

~fin~

author’s note: so, the ending was pretty much very light gore, so i hope that wasn’t too upsetting to anyone! plus, i found it funny that i was sitting in a panera bread smiling and laughing while writing about full on murder. if you have any requests, don’t be shy! i promise i won’t bite <33

#hannibal x reader x will #yandere hannigram #hannigram x reader #hannigram #yandere hannigram x reader #yandere hannibal lecter #yandere hannibal lecter x reader #yandere hannibal #hannibal lecter #hannibal lecter x reader #yandere will graham #will graham #will graham x reader #yandere will graham x reader #yandere hannibal x reader x yandere will graham #original writing #taking requests #nbc hannigram #nbc hannibal

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power-chords · 2 months

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I’m reading a 1985 Joanna Russ essay on Kirk/Spock fanfiction because, you know, midrash paratext etc, and this shit goes so hard:

But that's not all that's in the material. In many ways the K/S world is a great advance over the standard romances. For one thing, there is explicit sexuality instead of the old Romances' one-kiss-in the-moonlight. And I believe Lamb and Veith see rightly when they describe the androgyny of the relationship, the impossibility (despite the coding into the Spock character of so many female traits) of assigning gender roles to either partner, ever—obviously this is very different from the romances, in which a woman's problems in life are solved for her by a dominant male. The K/S insistence that the characters be first-class human beings is inevitably compromised by the social necessity of awarding that V.I.P. status only to men.

To me one important conclusion we can draw from these stories is that sexual fantasy can't be taken at face value. Another is that no sexual cues are morally privileged (though some kinds of sexual behavior certainly are) since sexualizing any kind of behavior drastically changes the meaning of that behavior. Translated into real life, the "hurt-comfort" theme of K/S would simply be pernicious, from the woman who can do sex only under the guise of pity, to the lover who wants to keep her beloved dependent and powerless, in which condition she can then "love" the beloved. What excites in fantasy is both far more exaggerated than real life and not the same as in real life; that is, fantasy isn't just a vicarious substitute for real experience; its meaning as experience becomes changed when it's made into fantasy. Without understanding the rather complicated context of the fantasy, one "reads" it literally—like the woman friend of mine (new to Star Trek) who said in disgust that K/S was about rape and power games. This is simply not true in terms of the genre. In fact, the story that evoked this response is a classic K/S tale in which Spock goes into pon farr again after pages and pages of agonized misunderstandings, thus (thank goodness!) providing a way for the lovers finally to declare themselves and make out like crazy.

What seems to be happening in sexual fantasy is that any condition imposed on or learned with sexuality is capable of becoming sexualized, either as sex or a substitute for sex or as an indispensable condition of it. Such a process is certainly at work in the K/S universe. Yet it's perfectly clear to me that K/S writers and readers don't literally wish to become male any more than they literally want their dear ones to bleed and die in their arms or to die with their lovers. What they do want is sexual intensity, sexual enjoyment, the freedom to choose, a love that is entirely free of the culture's whole discourse of gender and sex roles, and a situation in which it is safe to let go and allow oneself to become emotionally and sexually vulnerable. The literal conditions and cues of the K/S world, far from being impeccably moral, are sexualizations of situations and behavior K/S fans did not choose and quite likely wouldn't want in reality. Moreover they are situations and behavior that are absolutely antithetical to getting sexual and emotional satistaction in the real world, which fact at least some of the K/S readers and writers know perfectly well.

#I did laugh out loud at the pon farr thing #joanna russ

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 10 months

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Could you do the follower bishops with someone who is wheelchair bound and loves to draw

Narinder

All he sees is a loyal follower who serves his vessel and praises his name, so he's indifferent to you being wheelchair-bound.

But out of curiosity, he examined how Lamb accommodated you through the Red Crown's eye.

They built ramps and wooden floorboards so grass/flowers didn't get stuck in your wheels, left an open space for you at the feasting table, and punish whoever discriminated against you or tried pushing your wheelchair without permission.

He's like "yes good,,,,inclusiveness will attract more to the cult >:3"

When Narinder himself winds up in the cult, he's moping around and avoiding everybody.

The other followers said you should prank him by rolling over his tail on "accident", but you aren't a fan of bullying.

Instead you roll up to one of his hiding spots like "hey, I have a small welcoming gift to cheer you up!"

He thinks it's "fertilizer" wrapped in a box, so he makes you open it.

It turns out to be a...portrait of himself?

You explain how you loved drawing your fellow followers, some even paying you and willing to sit still while you sketched their features in great detail.

"I hope it's alright that I took some creative liberties. I tried my best given how Leader described you in their sermons and........a-are you crying??"

"....what part of me made you assume I'm worthy to receive this? I almost killed you all!"

"Well..I like you better than our most recent dissenter who refused to listen to the Lamb unless they "cured" me."

"...ah, I see. So..what became of them?"

"Their body's still in the morgue pit. It's pretty messy...wanna see it?"

"Sure."

Leshy

Tbh he had no idea you were even in a wheelchair to begin with.

So when he first begins his farming duties within the cult, he hears wheels squeaking and thinks somebody's stealing the wheelbarrow from him.

"Hey! Where do you think you're going with that?! I need the wheelbarrow to-!!"

"Actually it's my wheelchair, Leshy. But you were close." You chuckle, assuring him you're not offended when he starts apologizing profusely.

It's a rather awkward first meeting between you two, though you both get along well afterwards.

Given that he's blind, it's hard for him to get around the base, too, so he sympathizes with you on that matter.

It took him a while just to focus on one person's scent at a time with so many followers surrounding him.

But he recognizes you by the smell of wood (different from the one he smells by the lumberyard) mixed in with your scent. So he always knows if you're approaching him.

And when he should stop so he doesn't accidentally bump into your wheelchair.

You've actually helped guide him around by letting him "push" your chair (he just holds onto the handles while you take him to different places so he can get a feel for the base's layout).

Leshy learns you love to draw, being disappointed he can't see the masterpieces you've created.

But you always describe them in great details for him, eventually deciding to invest in painting (specifically with acrylics) so he could feel the textures instead.

Heket

Caravans and carts have a difficult time traversing the swampy, mucky, and uneven terrain of Anura, so she's never seen a wheelchair user before.

When she meets you as a newly-indoctrinated follower, she just stares at your aid curiously, unsure of how to approach you and ask about it.

But since she has a constant resting bitch face, you think she's giving you a dirty look--and you give her one in kind.

"If you have something you wanna say, Heket, then-"

"..sorry.....didn't....mean...to...stare.."

Suddenly you remembered that she can barely talk, and you feel kinda bad for insulting her own disability.

So you cooked her a meal as an apology, to which she forgives you right away and warms up to you quicker than expected (though only bc you made great food).

She learns you love drawing and kinda wants to learn it herself. It could be a good way for her to better communicate her feelings.

Albeit her skills are.....novice at best.

She can draw runes, sigils, and demonic circles to perfection but drawing a simple frog is....tricky.

You give her some advice, and when she gets better through practice, you decide to draw portraits of each other.

Eventually she's comfortable enough to ask about your wheelchair, admitting she likes how you designed it.

Kallamar

He's likely no stranger to having followers with disabilities during his ruling of Anchordeep.

He may have been a ruthless paranoid bishop, but he's not cruel and has crafted mobility aids for whoever asked for one. Canes, wheelchairs, prosthetics--you name it. He even commissioned Kudaai for ones with weapon augments.

So he doesn't treat you any differently when he's indoctrinated into the cult, introducing himself like he would anybody else.

As narcissistic as he is sometimes, he's actually cool to be around.

But you feel like he only acts polite bc of Lamb.

While Kallamar knows you like to be independent, he's willing to help you out if asked.

Whether it's pushing your chair if your arms get tired, or to position it during a ritual you're attending, he's on the case.

The only con to this friendship is that he's deaf af and may have to lean down to hear you better.

But you don't mind it.

When he learns that you love to draw, he wonders if you've ever considered drawing him (he's far too shy to ask though).

However you must have a sixth sense...because you made him a portrait as a gift for a special occasion (aka the day the Blue Crown chose him as its bearer) and put it in a beautiful frame lined with crystal specs, leaving it wrapped up by his shelter.

After he sees it, he hugs it and rushes over to Lamb like "look at what Y/N made for me!!"

"That's nice, Kallamar-"

Do I have your permission to marry them?"

".....huh..?"

Shamura

They become an avid observer of everybody in the cult. Just to get a read on their personalities and what they do on a daily basis.

You're no exception, and they're impressed at how you get yourself around in a wheelchair.

Despite their damaged mind, it's still forever hungry for knowledge.

So they respectfully ask you how long you've had your aid and why, how Lamb has accommodated you, etc.

They're forgetful, but they hope to remember at least this for once and not have to ask you again.

You don't mind it at all, appreciating their politeness.

Whenever you're done with tasks and spend your free time drawing, Shamura often comes over to ask what inspired you today.

But one evening, they have a bad migraine attack while talking to you, forgetting who you are mid-conversation as they hissed, before skittering off....much to your bewilderment.

They couldn't sleep that night, wrought with guilt for acting that way in front of you, and the next morning they still can't remember your name despite it being on the very tip of their tongue.

They think it's wise to avoid you, but you track them down with a gift to assure them you weren't mad:

A simple portrait of themselves, signed with your name in the corner so they'd always have a reminder of you.

Least to say, Shamura hasn't forgotten your name since and is forever grateful.

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emiliaoleary · 6 months

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Hooking rugs that look like dogs

Here's how I do it:

The process I use is called rug hooking (not latch hook or punch needle or tufting, though it is the forerunner of the latter two techniques). Rugs are hooked by pulling loops of fabric strips or yarn through the holes of a base fabric with a coarse open weave, like burlap, or linen, or rug warp. The loops are pulled through the fabric with a squat-handled hook whose business end is shaped like a crochet hook. There are no knots and the loops aren't sewed down in any way. The whole thing stays put just by the tension of all those loops packed together in the weave of the foundation fabric.

This isn't a true detailed tutorial but a walk-through of my particular process. The same information is on my web page, emilyoleary.com .

I hook with yarn, rather than with cut strips of wool fabric, which is what many rug hookers use. I can get a looser, more organic distribution of loops with yarn than I could with wool strips, which are hooked in neat lines.

Mostly I use wool yarn. In terms of yarn weight, I can use DK, worsted, or Aran. If I'm using thicker yarn, I leave more holes un-hooked; if I'm using finer yarn, I hook more densely or double up lengths of it. I particularly like using single ply yarns (like Brown Sheep Lamb's Pride or Malabrigo Worsted). I don't keep count, but I think I usually use around two dozen types and colors of yarn per dog.

This is my yarn wall in my apartment. Mostly brown and gray yarn!

I start from a small drawing in my sketchbook, then I head to FedEx office to use a copy machine, blowing up the drawing repeatedly and experimenting with how big the dog rug should be.

After transferring the image onto my linen, I immediately go over it with Sharpie, because the Saral is really difficult to see and really easy to rub off.

The rug is held taut by a PVC quilting frame that I set on my lap.

I push my hook down through the fabric with my right hand and my left hand stays below the fabric and guides the yarn while I pull it up and through with the hook. Not every hole in the fabric is hooked. Hooking every hole would make the rug too dense. I do hook pretty densely, though-- If you pick up one of my rugs you’ll see they have a slight curl to them, which is because they’re hooked pretty tight. I'm using all different weights and types of yarn, so it's a challenge to keep the overall tension even.

I hook my loops at varying heights to create a very low relief. Sometimes I trim the loops to make them fluffier or wispier or to shape a particular part. I look at a reference photo while I work and pull out and redo sections a lot.

My q-snap frame can accommodate the growing dog rug. I have extenders to make it bigger and I can clamp around my hooking.

The back of a rug looks like lines of little stitches. The lines are little worm trails snaking around because lines of hooking are not supposed to cross over each other. It's important to start a new length of yarn rather than cross over a stitch you already made! I read this when I first started and took it to heart. It makes it much easier to undo and redo hooking if you have to (and I redo sections A Lot). It also keeps the back from getting too bulky and resulting in uneven wear on the back of a functional rug that gets floor use.

When I’m done hooking everything I turn the rug over and brush watered-down Sobo glue on the edges of the dog, making sure to get one or two of the outermost lines of hooking. I do a couple coats of this thinned out glue. I'm careful not to use so much that it seeps to the front of the rug. When the glue is dry I cut the rug out, but I don't cut so close that the loops don't have any linen to keep them in.

It generally takes me at least several months to finish one dog rug. My hooking frame and yarn bag are very portable (though bulky) so I can hook out and about at coffee shops or the library or a brewery if there's enough space and light.

Hooking in the wild makes me an ambassador for making things in general and rug hooking in particular. I answer people's questions and always emphasize how relatively easy it is to get started hooking. Sometimes I get anxious that other people will hook rugs that look like mine but better, but I think that working in a traditional medium means you should share your knowledge for the good of the craft.

#tutorial #rug hooking #rug tufting #rug art #dog #dog art #yarn

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fanofthelamb · 18 days

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Hey just wanted to say about the most recent comic, I hope you dont feel bad or shame about it!! Its very lovely and I will personally fight anyone who says otherwise.

hehe ty,,,,,, this ask has been on my mind for a while tbh. it makes me feel so nice <3 so here's some sketches, new and old!!!!!!!!! ill throw it all under a cut so ppl dont drown in all the pics. enjoy anon!!!!!!! (sketch dump the squeakquel!!!!!!!!!!!!)

i made these like 3 weeks ago but i only really posted a cropped version w/ just the giant kallamr squid , featuring @aychama and @paintpaintpaintman lambs :D

i've been sitting on them bc i wasnt entirely sure about how everyone felt about each other, and while i still am not I feel like everyone likes each other at least!!!

i also wanted to draw people's lambs reliving a bunch of my childhood memories, but i felt the idea wouldn't be accepted because i don't know how many people would related to em. these sketches are new since all i had was a jpeg of thumbnails, but they are @paintpaintpaintman , @spiderin-space , and my lambs!! the first pic is just them enjoying some honeysuckles, trying to buy some candy at the weekend market, and visiting kids in better looking neighborhoods than they lived in AHHSASHHSA i dont think i care to complete this but it is really fun drawing the lambs being lambs.

a sketch of heket nd leshy i appearantly NEVER posted because i wasnt happy with how leshy turned out. a shame, really.

i also wanted to draw all the cultists in different outfits, but it turns out i really was not interested in finishing it at the time. i do think valefar and narinder turned out kinda cute tho !!!!!!!

some motherfuckers WAY too happy to see a corpse (i still think its hilarious when my whole cult gathers around a corpse and makes googoo eyes at it what is their problem LMAOOOOO)

i ended up changing how i draw the 3 wives so the wifestack is no longer relevant (also there's 2 more that werent existing when this was drawn) but i still look at it sometimes. i think we should stack every wife on top of each other.

and the last one is part of me figuring out how i wanted the lamb. ive always known i wanted them JACKED i just cant decide how ripped i want this lil bastard. i think the current lamb is a good fit for me personally.

anyway that's doodlestack jr,,,,,,,,,,,,, SORRY FOR THE PINGS TO EVERYONE I PINGED I LOVE U GUYS LMFAO <33333333333 and everyone else CHECK OUT EVERYONE I PINGED THEY ALL MAKE ABSOLUTELY AMAZING CONTENT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

#this was my last ask so im done for now!!#i didnt have many and the others ive gotten i decided to delete for various reasons #I HOPE YALL ENJOY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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mochiimiiki · 1 year

Text

| Butler’s Pet |

A/N: oh yandere barbie has my heart, pls whisk me away to the demon lord’s castle and keep me hostage, i’ll b good i promise

Warnings: Yandere! Barb

- - -

To be fair to yourself, it wasn’t like you intended for your life to unfold as so. You hadn’t expected that on that day, as you tiptoed through the weaving streets of the Devildom, that you would fall prey to your beloved Butler’s charm. That with seductive phrases and whispers of wonder, you’d find yourself within his clasp. And by the time you came to your senses the ordeal had occurred and it was too far too late.

Your day had a routine. Far more structure in comparison to your previous life, which now felt like a fever dream of freedom. Barbatos would come to you in the morning, softly calling your name, and disturb your slumber. He’d pick out the outfit he expected suited you best, waiting for your hum of approval and he’d respectfully leave you to change. Instead, he’d busy himself with his duties. Upon his return he’d prepared only the finest dishes in the three realms, a range of choices that he always made sure sated your desires. You’d then be left for time of leisure, the time in which you hated the most as the separation from your dear demon was too much to bear. After he’d return with lunch, then to be followed by a visiting guest, to which they’d only be granted an hour, and he was to stay to observe. Afterwards the butler always made sure to set aside time in his day to spend one on one before he’d prepared dinner, in which Diavolo would dine with you two. During the night the butler would be by your side, drawing you a bath, trailing a lazy pattern into the skin of your back, reading to you, pleasing you in every thinkable way.

Today, you expected, would be no different. He returned from his duties with a smile curling on his lips, eyes slight in pleasure at merely being able to gaze at your face. “My dear.” He hummed, pushing in a cart of luxurious foods, he always made sure to be present for your meals. How else could he adequately ensure you had a balanced and proper diet? The last thing he’d ever want was for his pet to fall ill.

You lifted your head, nose buried in one of the many rare books he had acquired for you. “Oh! Barbatos, this book is simply fascinating. Is Satan coming over today? I’m certain he’d love to borrow this.”

Barbatos shook his head with a frown, softly clearing his throat. “My dear, please sit.” His gentle words were an undeniable command. Sliding off the silk sheets you tiptoed to his side, the stone floors of the ancient castle cool against your bare feet. “I have taken it upon myself to deem the brothers unfit to entertain you, it seems they pose a threat to you.” He gently strokes your head, brushing back the curls of your hair behind an ear. “It would not be right to put my lamb in such a perilous situation, do you not agree?”

Your face fell. You worried your lip between your teeth, if the brothers couldn’t see you how were you supposed to occupy your time? It was already unbearable having Barbatos away from your side too long, without the need for him to observe you you’d be left alone for an even longer period of time. “But Barbatos, you’re always here to oversee.” You whine out, slipping into the chair he so graciously pulled out for you.

Barbatos shakes his head, a deep sigh falling from his parted lips. “Whilst that may be true it is without a doubt that they are too unpredictable. A simple disagreement could put you in harms way.” He hums, leaning down to softly kiss your temple. A gentle reminder of your soft spots, you’re not a demon after all. With a sigh you had to agree; he was right. He was simply protecting you, so he insisted.

“Regardless, since that time was already designated towards your safety Lord Diavolo should have no issue with allowing me to remain by your side, as designated.” Your face immediately lit up. Being in a castle by yourself was lonely to say the least, there were only so many books you could consume before the feeling resettled in your heart. You were entirely dependent on the butler, he made sure of it. You craved his attention as much as he craved your being.

Your eyes drifted from his emerald ones down to his lips. “I just want to spend time with you.”

He softly chuckled, hooking a finger under your chin and directing your gaze to his once more. “Who are you talking to, my darling, me or my lips?” His laughter reverberated throughout the still room at your flustered exterior. Craning his neck downwards he met your lips with his own. They pressed against you, soft at first, luring you in for more. His free hand hooked the back of your head and his gloved fingers lightly tugged on your hair. At last he parted, granting you breath, as a string of saliva attached your mouths before he leant closer and chastely pressed his lips against you in order to break the string. He pulled back with an adoring smile.

He pulled his hand away from your hair and gently patted the top of your head. Adoring the way your flushed face lit up at the unspoken praise. “How about you eat something now, Okay pet?” He hummed, pulling his chair to sit beside you; his pet.

#yandere barbatos #shall we date barbatos #barbatos x reader #obey me headcanons #obey me x reader #obey me #obey me barbatos #barbie is the loml #yandere barb #barbatos x mc #obey me nightbringer barbatos #obey me shall we date #obey me nightbringer

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psalmsofpsychosis · 2 months

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"#Alfred basically catches a lamb and goes

#''you're a beautiful wolf; i know you are; now you're gonna bite my hand until you draw blood so we both believe it;

#because that's the way we know how to be men.''

#and then 10 years down the line he looks at Bruce and he whispers in horror; ''that's a wolf''

#GIRL YES HE IS; YOU MADE HIM ONE. IT WAS YOU"

Your tags are so- Idk I don't have the words. No wait I DO-

THIS IS FREAKING BEAUTIFUL OMG

The way Bruce wasn't born with sharp teeth and claws to defend himself against the world. The place he was born into removed any need to grow them, but at the same time the place he was born into was the catalyst for him to turn into stone. Hard, unyielding to pressure and with its own jagged edges that you can hit until your knuckels bleed.

But the thing about stone is that you can chip away at it until it looks like what you want.

So Bruce was a lamb at the beginning, possessing talc for a heart, easy to rub to dust, but after the murders, he was molded into something different. He grew teeth and claws so big and strong it became difficult to be gentle, his heart was rubbed to dust and reformed and compressed and rubbed to dust and reformed and compressed until it turned into a diamond.

Alfred taught him how to be a wolf but didn't account on what would happen once Bruce's claws were bigger than his own.

CAN YOU TALK MORE ABOUT BRUCE AND ALFRED'S DYNAMIC PLEASE? You're literally rearranging my brain chemistry as I'm typing, wow. This feels so freaking strange. Thank you so so SO much

I wish you an AMAZING day

GOOD MAD MONDAY NOON TO YOU ANON YOU'RE KILLING ME. Like i'm over here lying face flat on the ground, head fucking full 99 thoughts per second this ride is going straight to hell—

You actually made them sound a lot like the Pygmalion myth, which is so right and true and also a very delicately apt interpretation of the way Bruce and Alfred's dynamic unfolds, particularly in Bruce's childhood, and particularly as portrayed in the Gotham series (which is my all time favourite Bruce&Alfred dynamic anyway, so excuse me for being annoying and immediately nosedive down that rabbithole)

See, to me the thing is, i dont think Bruce and Alfred understand each other at all. They're cut from very different clothes, and Alfred doesn't understand what Bruce /is/, but he understands what Bruce /can become/, maybe even what he's supposed to become, Bruce is the fifth element to him. Combine that lack of understanding and all the love and affection Alfred holds for Bruce and of course he makes a project of perfection out of him; Alfred molds and makes Bruce. Batman as a persona and as a purpose precisely exists *because of the way Alfred raises Bruce*, this is something that Gotham TV puts extra emphasis on. In many ways Alfred does carve Bruce into an idea of perfection, *his* idea of perfection, and Bruce lets him too. This is where stuff get a bit complicated though; Alfred is someone who struggles with his own humanity and darker side. He's so loving and loyal, but he's also bitter and mean with a vicious bite and he handles Bruce with such cold hands sometimes, and he hates every second of it, he hates his own humanity. So he pushes Bruce to get rid of his too, and they have this constant push and pull because Bruce has those exact traits. they're similar not in what they own about themselves, but in their shadows, when the sun shines on them their flawed humanity has the exact same shape and they both don't want a shadow; eventually the way they resolve this is by standing back to back and protecting each other and now they share their shadows and it's not so scary anymore. The Pygmalion myth as a parallel interpretation of their narrative fits so darn well because you are right, Bruce is made into stone and Alfred sculpts him to something beautiful and almost horrifying, almost inhuman, he sometimes forgets that Bruce is a person and not an idea, and it shows. But Bruce breaks mold, he always does, he forces Alfred to live with his own humanity and Bruce's, and this brings up a lot of grief for Alfred, but he loves Bruce so he finds a way to live with it and he does.

The Lamb/wolf metaphor is a different face to this same transformation process; in the early years Alfred has little space for Bruce's terrifying softness, but neither does Bruce. Bruce is scared of his own vulnurability and tenderness, this lamb *wants* to become something else, something less weak and helpless, something that could've saved his parents. He doesn't want to become a wolf persay, but the thing is, he has the makings. This is the reason Alfred can bring it out of him; he very much has the makings of a wolf. to juxtapose it with the pygmalion allegory; you cannot carve out of the stone what is not already in it. (this does bring up the question wether Bruce was ever a lamb at all, but that's a different topic for another day✨️)

anyway yep, i love your mind Anon, and thank you for the question! Hope you have an absolutely wonderful day too ❤️❤️

#i'm gonna put my brain in the Bruce&Alfred vibe juice and put in the lab fridge #let it soak for 79 hours i need to THINK #this is so so good so many good ideas happening here #and i'm always a sucker for Gotham!Bruce&Alfred talk 😩😩#Bruce Wayne #Alfred Pennyworth #Bruce Wayne meta #Alfred Pennyworth meta #Batman #Batman meta #batfam #Gotham #Gotham TV

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carelessflower · 10 months

Text

finders keepers

or the war prize alec plot bunny keep refusing to hop away from me

There was screaming, vicious curses, and wailing noises piercing through the palace. Another kingdom fell. It wouldn't be the first time, and far from the last.

Alec just didn't expect to be caught in between.

It was supposed to be simple. Alec knew the in and out of this forsaken place like the back of his hand. He knew what he was getting into the moment he caught his father's eyes. It was an order, and better if it was him than Isabelle. The Lightwood needed any support they could get.

It wasn't that hard to understand. His parents' past mistake had been waging war against the four kingdoms, and the peaceful sky of Alicante burnt scarlet.

Alec's fateful run-in with Valentine wasn't that up to fate, he had made sure of it.

A man such as Valentine wouldn't be merciful to a guildless lamb, and why would he?

A predator wouldn't need a prey's input.

Indeed.

So Alec bathed in lavender and bare except for the white fur wrapped around his body, watched as Valentine coughed up blood, stream of darkness pooled around the carpet till the gold goblet smacked against the floor with a hard thud. His eyes were wide open, a sense of bewilderment and rage, frozen forever. But Alec's mission was far from over.

He sprung towards the nearest exit when the ornated doors burst open and many hurried inside, whose armors indicated their foreign status to the land.

Alec scurried to the side, face hidden while hugging his knees tight, shaking his body enough to signal distress but not draw any attention. He could feel the guard's footstep near and then far from him. One even let out a pitiful sigh looking at Alec's state of undress.

He couldn't blame them. The former king had built a reputation for himself, and it wasn't uncommon to see fresh faces being taken in for a night and forever forgotten in the harem. At least, this time, the dead king's lothario nature was useful. The men, whoever they were, would group him along with the other concubines and servants, and Alec could escape from there.

In and out.

In-

"Oh, oh my, what do we have here?" The voice was smooth, soft as silk, and it tingled all the right parts in Alec's ears, down to his very core.

Alec stilled. It was only years of training that prevented him from looking up at the man standing in front of him, and that much wasn't enough. He needed to get out of, and fast.

"Won't you mind a little introduction, perhaps?" The mysterious man continues, his voice gone softer than before. "I'm Magnus. How do I call you darling?"

Magnus. Magnus? But it can't be, his Magnus. It can't be his Magnus. He can't be here. Couldn't. His mother, his mother clearly said-

Alec's stubborn no-answer must have intrigued him, as a pair of patterned leather boots soon appeared in Alec's vision, a swirling pattern of black sun and star. Symbols of Edom's royalty. The higher the position they hold, the darker the sun and stars they were allowed to wear.

Alec felt a hand caressing his hair as if only they were in the room. The movement was painfully familiar, Alec's hand sook, not so lightly anymore. "You must have been so afraid, though rest assured, your tormentor can't harm you anymore."

Another heartbeat.

"You've certainly made sure of that, didn't you Alexander?" Magnus whispered.

Suddenly there was a coil of blue magic curled around his neck, his head lifted instinctively. At that moment, Alec didn't care how his arms and legs suffered the same bound fate, the way the hasty movement had the fur slipped off his shoulder, the perfect backdrop against his inky hair and red bitten lips, faded all except for Magnus.

Alec had dreamed of the day when he could stare at those burning eyes again and beg for forgiveness, he would let Magnus unleash Edom's fire on him until Alec was nothing but dust and shadow. But there was something different in Magnus's gaze, growing heavier by the minute. It's a welcoming burn if Alec was being honest, from face to chest, down to his exposed thighs.

"Magnus, I'm sorr-" His last word muffled into Magnus's shirt, Alec could do nothing when Magnus carried him. (He wouldn't want to anyway)

"Your Highness, how gracious of you to show your presence with us" Another voice appeared, seemingly bored. "I assume you've found the treasure you keep blasting dear Catarina about?"

Magnus paused to look at Alec in his arms, and smirked. "Yes. Definitely."

#malec #alec lightwood #magnus bane #shadowhunters #tsc #tmi #the mortal instruments #the shadowhunter chronicles #anh writes stuff #anh and the plot bunny #warprize alec #will update? if its a go??

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alice-angel12x · 1 year

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I wonder what NRC's reaction would be meeting life for the first time?

Let's set the scene:

Far away deep in the hidden celestial forest, lies a hidden grotto. In the center was a simple shack, and inside was the god of Origin, Life. In the shack, tools and instruments lay scattered across the ground. On many shelves were both finished and unfinished clay sculptures. Beings that were not given the flames of life just yet. Around a cauldron were many different potions, herbal editions, and a large assortment of plants. And at the sketch table sat life. Paper and blueprints were scattered around him, all with failed Ideas of new life. The God Life sat and stared blankly at the blank parchment. He was having the work creative block, and the only thing he could draw was love hearts around a doodle of the apple of his eye, Y/n Death.

"Where did you disappear to this time Y/n," Life sighed in loneliness.

Life held out his hand as his staff floated over to him. With a soft tap, the staff tilted so that the orb was right in front of him. A couple of Sugar gliders helped him as they brought assortments of herbs and potions. Life gathered the ingredients into his hands and crushed them together. With a gentle breath, Life blew the ingredients into the orb.

The liquid in the orb began rapidly changing color, and swirling in the orb. In the light, Life saw an image of a castle with many statues.

"Night...Raven...College?" Life asked.

------------------------------------------------------------------

(1 week later)

'' Well, this looks like the place,'' Life said as he stepped through the gate.

As he walked through he saw the statues of 7, each one he remember when they were just clay in his workshop. Though he was happy that they should so much talent, though he wished they used their talents differently.

As he walked toward the school, a bunch of Savanaclaw students stood in his way. They towered over them, as they took in this stranger's appearance. The lamb ears, Deer antlers, and tail, immediately identified him as an herbivore beastmen. Yet they have never seen one with hooved feet.

Life was unfazed by the intimidation attempt, and simply observed them till he finally spoke up.

"Excuse me gentlemen, but I am looking for a friend of mine. I think they attend this school?" Life asked politely.

"Did you hear him?" Student A mocked.

"Gentlemen, He thinks he's so fancy," Student B laughed.

Life just stared in surprised disappointment, just questioning what is up with these generations of Humans and Beastmen. The poor God thinking these boys were a lost cause decided to ask for help from someone else. Someone less, beastly.

"Well, I guess you don't have the answers I seek. I wish you a good day, young fledglings," Life bowed as he tried to walk around the delinquent boys.

But the delinquents didn't let him pass as they grabbed him by the antlers. The commotion got the attention of many of the other students.

"I bet you are an RSA spy," Student C spat.

"Yeah you and your posh classmates," Student A growled.

Life winced slightly but didn't cry out in pain even after the harsh tug. The accusation of this antlered person sparked a rivalry flame, as the students gathered around. Cheering for the students to bet up the "RSA" guy.

Life looked around with a disappointed glare. "Please let go of my Antler. Grabbing someone like this is incredibly rude," Life said calmly, but sternly.

Sadly this only annoyed the aggressive students, as one tried to through through a punch. But Life quickly yanked his head, pulling the boy holding his antlers off his feet. To slam the boy into his attacker. The third guy tried to guy Life from behind, but Life used the bottom of his staff and jabbed him hard in the stomach. When the boy clutched his tummy, life flipped his staff to use the hook to throw the boy in front of him.

The first boy tried his luck again, only for Life to kick him hard in the jewels with his powerful legs. The crowd cringed as they could feel the pain just by watching. Student B growled at Life baring his teeth, only for the being to return in kind. Showing just how much larger and sharper his carnivore teeth are.

Life grabbed the student by the collar of his shirt and effortlessly lifted the muscular boy off the ground.

"I wish to ask again. I am Looking for Y/n of Death," Life said gravely.

Suddenly Life dropped the boy as someone jumped down between them. When the dust cleared Life could see who this was.

"Life?" asked a familiar voice.

"H-hey, Y/n you know that...guy?" Ace asked.

"Yes, he is a good friend of mine. He is the very embodiment of life itself-" Y/n was suddenly cut off When they were pulled into a sudden bear hug.

"Death, it's so good to see you, I missed you so much," Life gushed as he rubbed his cheek against theirs.

Y/n didn't seem bothered, but Everyone was just having a huge cause of emotional whiplash.

#Falling Pegasus answers #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #Death Au #Death!reader

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