#this is a terrible time to post but fuck it

[hazelfoureyes]

A Doe in Fall (part 5)

⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall

Part 1 - Pretty in Red smut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedy smut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 6 Posting Thursday April 25

Part 5 Too Much

Actions famously speak louder than words, so what did you say, exactly, to Alastor with your actions that night? You were briefly rattled by what happened in the park but not for the obvious reasons. Despite everything, despite your fears, you found the situation deepening between you two when he suddenly invites to stay the night at his home. Perhaps he had fears of his own?

「Warnings/Promises: Human Alastor x Fem Burlesquer reader, No smut! That’s next part because this part was already super fucking long 😭 , but we do flirt our asses off and get taken by the hand, crying, panic attacks, discussions of murder, dead bodies, you really have to stop smoking, deer, adorably nervous Alastor, this man owns more than one mug you fucking know it」

19 days later… 😩 please don’t kill me. 5000 words here, Another like 6000 words are posting this Thursday, also tumblr wouldn’t let me post this for like an hour , just gave me error messages, I had to copy and paste 4 times so there may be some errors in here so let me know if you find spelling or format issues🙏

When he came to, momentarily either unconscious or just incapacitated as his brain started up again, he was frantic for his glasses. He could hear the sounds of a brutal death, the crunch of anger, the squish of rage. 

His eyes focused now, slightly askew and smudged glasses helping him see you clearly. 

Leaning over the man, hands red and face twisted in a marriage of fear and wrath, you were bringing a large rock down on the man’s unrecognizable face over and over and over and—

You flinched when Alastor’s hands delicately slipped down your arms and peeled your fingers from the rock.

Full body shaking, “He was going to kill you!” You said it too loud, too fast. “He was going to—,” Your breath got caught in your throat, “He wanted to— He was trying to kill you, Alastor.”

Wet with mud and blood and the rain still left on the grass, you were pulled into Alastor’s lap. He tucked your head into the crook of his neck with a small wince and hugged you. “He was. He almost did.” Low and slow, his chest rumbled when he said it. “You did such a good job.”

You looked down at your hands, but he pulled your face back up to look at his, “Always surprising me in the best ways.”

You’d forgotten already, how when adrenaline wanes you’re left with terrible tremors and a suddenly clear head. Alastor almost died. You hadn’t thought at all when it happened. Everything had taken place so fast, faster than your brain could process.

You had seen Alastor stop struggling against the man, his body went still and your eyes were blinded with tears, there was a horrible sound that may have come from you, and then there was nothing. A flash of running Colors. Distant muddled sounds.

Maybe you saw someone grab a rock. 

You might have hit the man on the back of the head. 

You think he fell down and something didn’t stop moving against him. 

Perhaps you thought if you hit him enough you could make it have not happened at all. If you killed him fast enough, Alastor would have been fine and standing.

But you weren’t sure. You blinked and Alastor was touching you and underneath you was a pulp of a man’s face. 

Alastor’s heart was racking against his ribs. Arms tightening around you unconsciously as his eyes landed on the dead man.

He’d gotten too comfortable. He pushed too hard. He wanted too much. He was too much.

He felt himself spilling over and staining your hands metaphorically and now literally.

You didn’t feel anything. Not during. Now you felt too much.

Your mind was filled with an echoing chorus of, ‘He almost killed him. He almost died. He almost killed him. He almost died. He almost died. He almost died.” 

There was a strange fear that Alastor had died, and any second you’d blink again and be alone in the trees with two dead men. You twisted in his lap,  hands rocketing to Alastor’s face and gripping the sides of his head. You were staring into his eyes, panting.

“You can’t die. I’ll—,” tears poured down your face in streams not drops. Your throat closed around the words. Short and fast, your breath ran wild. Hands tingling, your lips felt like they were pricked with a hundred tiny needles. 

Alastor pushed down his own mess of emotions, “One deep breath in.” His hands settled on yours,  still on his face. He could feel the familiar stickiness of drying blood in his hair. “Keep breathing in.” You coughed, shaking your head no. “You can, I promise it. Would I lie to you?”

You laughed, managing to catch your breath for a moment, “Y-yes.” 

“Well, now you’re adding insult to injury.” He made a show of rubbing his neck. You smacked his chest lightly, breathing in twice in a row.

He held both of your hands in both of his, “Name a time I’ve ever lied.” He distracted you but wounded himself. He could name a time.

You tried to think. “I don’t know. Maybe you’re just a really good liar.” Your voice was hoarse. 

Alastor nodded, “That’s true, there’s actually nothing I can’t do well.”

Another laugh, a cry, “Stop it.”

His warm, clean hands wiped your tears. “You’re being aggressive again, sweetheart. You know I prefer soft spoken women.”

The laughter helped break the cycle of hyperventilating. As your breathing finally got to a manageable speed you felt exhaustion deep in your bones.

All at once the sensations became prominent. Your knees were red and muddy, your hands bloody, your left side and back wet. You were sticky and sore and cold. “Alastor,” his legs were framing you, yours now folded under yourself and digging into rocks, “I wanna go home.” You adjusted his glasses, “Together.” 

If he had a reason to say no, he ignored it. 

“I thought I was the messy one.” He washed your hands with the water cans and settled you into the passenger seat of his car. Alastor took care of filling the trunk and cleaning the ground before sliding into the driver's seat.

He turned to you, his face dirty and clothes worse. You looked down at yourself; knees a color of wine, and blue dress now dyed brown.

“I know you have to get rid of him. So, I won’t ask you to sleep over. Just,” you felt sleepy, mind asking you to let it catch up, “let me take care of you for a little bit. Okay?”

His hand slipped onto your leg, he wanted to make a joke about sex or murder hoping to make you laugh again. But it was obvious he needed to be quiet, so he just nodded.

Alastor left the car on a side street behind your building. The man whose name you never asked concealed under canvas and red oil tins.

Luckily everything was clean in your apartment. It was small, just one room and a bathroom. The other apartments you’d seen had communal toilets and showers so you were quite proud of your space. You’d made it yours, gifted trinkets here and there, walls decorated with hanging dried flowers you'd had thrown at your feet. A shrine to your abilities.

You peeled off his clothes, tossing them in the kitchen sink and wiping off as much dirt as you could with a damp rag. 

Clothing hanging over the radiator, you both got into the shower. Cold and wet now hot and soaking,  you took his hands and sat you both down in the tub while the water ran down. Taking your time, you gently scratched the blood and mud from his hair and let it all wash away.

When fully cleaned and dried off he slipped on the only bit of clothing he had left, a loose pair of boxer shorts. You had a slip, silky and soft, to comfort you. Your mother wore silk, and it always made you feel safe. The way the fabric slid around its self and others, never catching or bunching up, was something you always hoped to emulate; smooth and cool, but always in need of a little caution and care.

A small bed meant for one, but you offered it. When Alastor motioned for you to slide in too, you didn’t hesitate.

Nose to nose, the room was quickly heating up with the radiator's help. 

You hadn’t been in a bed with Alastor in nearly two months, not since that first time. His words stuck to you like embroidered messages lovingly stitched into a handkerchief you didn’t want to lose. So you kept your hands between your thighs, still and away, to make sure he had space to exist in your bed.

“You saved my life.” Alastor whispered, one of you finally bringing up the obvious.

A hummed acknowledgment, “That makes us even.” He saved you before, you did the same in turn. A little piece of you worried the contract was done and he’d disappear.

“No, my dear. I owe you so much more.” A kiss to your cheek.

A terrifying thought took hold of you. “Roll over.” He looked confused but did. You were always asking him to turn away, always trying to hide your face when you said things that scared you. You hooked your arms under his and held tightly. 

“If I wasn’t there, there’s no one to have told me. How long would I have waited,” another torrent of tears into his back you couldn’t keep in if you tried, “at the phone booth for you to call in the morning.”

You were crying like a child, uncontrolled and with your entire body. Pathetic. 

He had never had someone to worry about those details. Everyone truly close to him was dead. Until now, of course. 

Of course.

What a natural addition you provided to him. He thought it like that it was a long standing fact.

He hugged your arms tighter to his chest. 

A shiver of fear in the warm bed as you continued, “I want to be there. With you. Always.” You gathered your courage. Shields completely down, if just for a moment, “I know there was nothing right about tonight but,” you wiped your tears off his back with your palm, reabsorbing that pain before he could soak it in, “Please. Don’t shut me out now. I’ll go to hell tomorrow for you but please don’t damn me to picking up a newspaper and seeing your name in the headlines; Learning you died in block letters for a nickel. I wouldn’t survive it.”

You didn’t want to meet his eyes, worried rejection was waiting for you there, so you’d asked him to turn so you could hide. He picked up your hands and kissed your knuckles one by one. “Please don’t say things like that outloud. Things like ‘go to hell’ and ‘tomorrow’ so close together. The spirits can hear you.” A kiss to your palm, “And I wouldn’t dare shut you out.” He couldn’t. The very idea of going back to how he was before, alone and mumbling to the dead, made his heart race with his own panic. If you disappeared tomorrow he was scared to think what would happen to him. “Plus, I know you’d just find me anyway. You always do.”

Had you not been there, he would have still tried to kill the man. Waiting in an alley or for a walk home through an empty space. You weren’t at fault. He’d been hurt before, but this was by far the worst situation he had been in. But he would have been in it regardless of your participation. Alastor pressed his lips into your hand, smelling the soap you’d washed him with. 

You hadn’t hesitated. He had thought you would run, that he’d slip away into death and you’d book it to safety. Something he never planned to ask you to do, to kill someone, you’d done it for him when it was the most selfless option. Did he mean so much to you? He wanted to ask, but if you said anything other than an immediate yes he feared he would turn to a pillar of salt and crumble.

If you both could find the courage to just look at each other you’d have all your answers. But you couldn’t. The fear still too strong. So you changed the topic for a chance at an escape.

A small confession, to turn the conversation away from death. “After our dates, your cologne always lingers on my clothes. Sometimes I just fall asleep in them. When I wake up, my pillow smells like you.” Your body formed against his back, pressing as tightly as you could. How was that less embarrassing than everything else you’d said when it was arguably more pathetic?

He was quiet. You worried you’d pushed too far. Alastor worried he’d already hurt you too much.

“If you asked me,” he spoke slowly, hands resting on yours above his heart, a deep breath, “I’d stop.” He would. 

But, “I’d never ask that of you.” You said it so quickly, like blinking or yawning it happened without you needing to think about it. Alastor did something he felt he needed to do, you saw that look in his eyes before and understood this was Alastor at his truest. And the people he killed weren’t good people. He provided a service to New Orleans that no one appreciated.

He smiled against your palm, making sure you felt it, “Why are you so good to me?”

Without hesitation, Because I love you.

After a beat of silence, “Because you know where I live, obviously.”

A huff, “And where you work.” 

“And the park where I like to get fingered.”

Finally, his unburdened laugh, “I didn’t expect you to say that.” That sound of his joy bounced off the thin walls around you both. He rarely expected anything you said or did. It was part of your charm. Normally he could predict what people would say like reading a bad story, but you were something else. Effortlessly entertaining, was that a compliment? He was sure you’d say no and make that face you always did, something between a pout and a glare, between sad and angry. 

He had been asking genuinely. Why were you so good to him? Why so patient? Why care at all? 

“Can you sleep? Or do you need to go?” 

Alastor thought about it, if he left early enough he could still get home in time to empty the trunk. He hummed an affirmative, when he didn’t move you understood it was the former. He didn’t want to go. He needed more time. He needed to feel you nearby. An odd sense that if he pulled away now the thread holding you two together would pull him apart at the seams with the distance. 

You would think nightmares would plague you after killing someone in cold blood, but no. You practically killed Tommy, when you considered it thoroughly. And while this night was not a joy, you had defended yourself and Alastor. You didn’t feel bad. You didn’t regret it. You were just scared you did a bad job. That you’d get caught. 

The kind of dreams you had were different kinds of scary. Of Alastor always leaving a room when you entered, of falling off the stage and landing too far down, of waking up to feel Alastor cold beside you. 

When you did wake, your arms were still tight around him and he was warm. Your forehead rested between his shoulder blades. You didn’t feel different this time, you didn’t feel changed like after Tommy.

Alastor always had nightmares so he wasn’t surprised to have them in your bed. He dreamt he awoke on the ground, the man was gone but you were there broken into several pieces.

Had it been a dream though? 

After he dressed, you brushing his hair over a shared cup of coffee (you only had the single mug), you walked him to his car. The sun was nearly up and luckily no one else was. You had just wrapped a coat around your slip, not exactly acceptable clothing for being in public.

A shared kiss, small and chaste, Alastor’s mind elsewhere. He opened the door but stopped and turned back to you. It was always in these moments before you two parted that he felt the most frantic. 

“I know we love talking in circles and making jokes, but I have to ask you, bluntly. You killed a man. Are you alright?” When you only blinked, he quickly added, “It’s okay if you’re not.” His expression was pure worry, furrowed brows and flat mouth. “Nothing will change if you say you’re not.”

When you started to smile, Alastor thought he had lost his mind. The sun was rising behind you, making the shadows on your face slowly shift. He took a second to take in the scene. Ankles naked with sockless shoes. To your right was a trunk full of a dead man. And you just smiling like he’d made a joke. Which he explicitly said he wasn’t going to do.

“I don’t feel like I killed anyone.” You said it with a levity that made him glance around, wondering if you’d hit your head a little too hard earlier, “I feel like I stopped someone from killing you. Which feels,” you fought to suppress your smile from growing any further, “kinda good. Like I’m strong. I’m just scared I made a mistake and police will find out. I’m terrified we’ll be seperated. But I don’t feel bad.”

A normal man would be deeply concerned. You didn’t feel bad? For killing a man with a rock? Arguably one of the most brutal ways to murder a person. A normal man would worry he would be next.

Luckily for you both, Alastor was not a normal man. He stared at your face, trying to discern any hints of deceit there before he fell into the comfort of trust.

Your pinky came out, “I’m fine, and if I’m ever not, I will tell you. Promise.” His eyes left your face to stare at the tiny digit, “If I break the promise, you get to break the pinky.”

“Pinkies are useless, we should use a finger that matters.” He offered his index. You let yourself laugh, hooking your pointer finger with his.

Smile to smile, he exhaled his stress and slipped into his normal demeanor, “No worries, darling! No one will ever know what happened to him.” He leaned beside you and patted the trunk. “Leave it to me.”

Alastor drove away with the man, ready to disappear the body and try to sleep before work if possible. A nagging still sat in his stomach, a little pull that maybe you’d change your mind. 

He asked you the next morning, on your routine call, if he could stop by the theater when he finished with work that night. No reason in particular. He’d pull into the side street, and you could run out to see him.

When he arrived, you were in your stage outfit waiting to greet the crowd. Alastor smiled, “The prettiest bird I’ve ever seen!”

“A bird? Alastor just ‘pretty’ woulda been a fine compliment.” 

He offered an apology by way of kiss, soft hands coming to your cheek as he leaned against the door of his car. “I just wanted to see you. Steal a kiss before you stole some hearts. May I return tomorrow?”

Ah, that feeling again. Stupid school girl with her first crush, her first taste of love. “I wouldn’t complain.” 

That flow of conversation eased Alastor, things felt normal already. For you, they were. A small worry remained he may begin to act differently but the only difference was he seemed to be embracing you deeper. 

After your delivered kiss, you took the stage like a woman reborn. The warmth of the light felt like the sun. Pointed toes as you moved along the stage, hips loose and smile coy. 

As you looked around the backlit crowd you didn’t search for a good mark. The times you did play a man’s attention for Alastor were different, it felt like art when you lured men into Alastor’s claws.

A shake of your feathered fans, a very controlled lowering of your head, you let a hip rock out into view. A little flash of inner thigh. Then, your favorite part. One hand gripped your fans as you them with the aide of practiced fingers. Free hand undoing your still remarkably heavy and glittering bra and handing it behind the curtain.

Surprise reveal, a naked magic trick done behind distracting whirling feathers. Arms open, fans high, you waited for the applause to die down. Deep breaths were not possible, adrenaline and the weight of your costume keeping you from hiding the heaving of your chest. 

The whistles were your favorite. You couldn’t imagine Alastor whistling but you were sure it would be flawless in its ability to capture your attention. 

“Anyone wanna smoke? I don’t want to go into the alley alone.” You asked the room, several girls glancing your way and shaking their heads no as you hurried back in from your set.

“Just take the fire escape to the roof. That’s where we’ve been smoking since Mr. Brady said it was dangerous at night.” Florence was normally a perfect smoking partner, never talking too much. The name Brady made your stomach flip though, you had forgotten about him for a second. You’d managed to avoid him until Tommy’s bloody trail went cold, but you knew he still stalked around the jazz and music district.

A dancer laughed, “Nighttime has always been dangerous for women.”

Someone you didn’t see added, “Fuck, daytimes not safe either.” 

You climbed the creaky and seemingly forgotten-about fire escape to the roof. The breeze hit your face before your feet even left the metal railing. 

It was… a roof. Grey painted floors and brick sides. Nothing special, but you could see the bowl full of discarded cigarettes near the front of the building. You looked over the short wall that edged the front, you were able to see the pigeon shit covered marquee. What an unattractive view, the lights flashing out from beneath actual shit.

There was a metaphor there, you were sure. 

Looking around, there were a few wicker chairs hidden in the shadow of the street’s lights, thankfully upside down to keep them clean from the birds.

If more people used roofs instead of alleys Alastor would be out of luck. Tommy was difficult enough with a staircase, the fire escape would have been the nail in that coffin. 

It had been a lovely night, absolutely jarring compared to the night before. You leaned back in the chair, you knew you weren’t the best at saying what you meant. Especially when the words you offered could be used to hurt you. Words of affection and love, when true, were daggers given handle-first to someone else. 

So you hoped Alastor could guess how much he meant to you. You shouldn’t need to say it, right? Actions speak louder than words. You bludgeoned a man to death for what you had thought was a lost cause. It had seemed Alastor was already dead when you first brought down the rock. 

Diamonds are rocks, you considered. The most expensive costume the theater had was peacock feathered with shining crystals. You wanted to say you felt like a peacock, spirit large and wide and colorful. But those were males. Of course they were. The animal kingdom had males compete for mates with pretty colors and lovely songs. Now ladies pranced around in painted faces and short dresses. You didn’t feel pale or small like the ‘fairer sex’ peacock.

You felt like the swan. Vicious and beautiful, not out shone by anyone.

Well there was someone you’d allow to shine brighter. Someone you’d happily let take the lead. You’d thought letting a man walk in front of you was a sign of subservience. It hadn’t ever occurred to you that there could be respect in trusting someone else to go ahead. That the act of going first could be for protection and not power.

“Hey!”

You hurried to the fire escape, “yeah?”

“There’s a man asking for you. Tall guy named Frank?”

Frank?

Oh, Frank.

You’d forgotten about him. He’d left months ago. He was a whale, rich and generous. You took a moment to consider sitting down with him, smiling and laughing at his jokes, letting his hand settle on your thigh. It had been weeks since you entertained scamming anyone, and now you couldn’t even stomach the idea of faking interest in another man. Frank wasn’t one to scam, he just liked having a pretty lady on his arm to make him feel young and wanted, and in exchange you got into private parties and were gifted jewelry and clothing.

“Tell him I’m busy and send him off.” You hollered down. You could buy your own clothes. 

“Did he leave?” Alastor asked you the next morning, you leaning against the glass phone booth in the early morning light.

Your finger wrapped around the phone cord, “No of course not! They never do. I snuck out the back.”

There was a hum, “Well my dear, you’ve offered me a wonderful transition into my next question.” Alastor was sitting at his kitchen table, nervously turning his coffee cup around in circles, “Would you like to come over tomorrow night? I can pick you up after your show.”

Like a glacier drifting away from shore, you very slowly crouched down in the booth. “To your home?” 

“No, to Alabama.” He waited a beat, “Yes of course my home. I can show you what happens after I drive away.” A cheeky smile evident through his voice.

You pressed the phone receiver into your chest, teeth chewing on your bottom lip. What happens when he drives away? So…where the bodies go. But most importantly, the biggest part of this—where he lives. So much can be gleaned about someone from their home. A bookshelf alone could make or break an attraction. You brought the receiver back to your mouth. “Lovely! Sure thing— Alastor. Yes.” you almost added on an awkward nickname like daddy-o or mister man, like an idiot, because your brain was misfiring like you’d seen him in the sunlight again.

Ah, you could see his bed. 

Where he slept.

Did he ever dream of you?

What if it was terribly dirty? Could you still love him if he was a slob? 

“I’m quite far from downtown, pack an overnight bag, okay?” He stopped fidgeting with the mug. When the call ended he sat at the table for some time, staring around the kitchen. The home was large by city standards, but it was old. His mother’s charm was evident through every part. A finger scratched at the wooden table, heavy and solid. Why was his heart racing? 

He walked to the screened back door, looking from the weathered patio steps to the greenhouse. 

No one had ever been to his home. Ever. A teensy part of him was panicking. Was this a mistake? Was he going to fuck up the budding relationship? Throw off the peace of his safest place?

Budding. Okay that was ridiculous even for him. The kind of intimacy gained through murder did not allow any union to be called budding. He’d shared pieces of himself no other living soul knew of. Your image of him was possibly even more complete than his own mother had held, even though he tried to always be the most sincere with her. Even people he did care for and consider close friends had never knew where he lived. Never heard what kept him up at night. Never learned his distaste for a random lay.

Opening the screen door with a signature creak, the sound many southerners could call comforting, he walked to the greenhouse.

The newest part of the property, the glass walled structure was built shortly after his mother’s death. Double doors: locked. Just beyond the glass was a forest of plants and potted trees. They had no need for a greenhouse, but Alastor had a need for them.

He set about preparing his home for another occupant, a task that brought him such a shock of joy and anxiety he began to wonder who he was. New sheets on the bed, extra pillows set against his wooden headboard. Large glass jar in the backyard full of water and tea bags.

It was also unexpected he was thinking so much of his mother. In a perfect world she’d be there to greet you. Though if she was alive, he wouldn’t have been in that alley that night. He made a mental note to not mention his mother, at least not as much as he was remembering her as he walked around the two story home tidying.

Would he have met you if he wasn’t a killer? 

A flicker of fear was quickly extinguished by romance. Definitely. You both ran in the same scenes. He’d seen you before that night, he just never approached you. He hadn’t anticipated how much more you were than the facade you put on. Nothing about your sweet face said, ‘I have a high tolerance for murder.’

Alastor spent the day at work physically present but mentally pacing his living room. He nodded along to discussions of who was to be live on set next, smile never faltering as he worried if he had breakfast foods. He rarely ate breakfast, did you? How had he not thought to ask. Sloppy.

The only outward sign he was feeling any stress was the tapping of his finger on his desk, which he hadn’t even noticed until the stage manager commented.  

“Alastoooor,” her voice was high, like it seemed many women’s voices were recently. Was it a trend? “Impatient? Hot date with a young lady this evening?”

While she meant well, she always pried, always asked questions he didn’t appreciate. 

Alastor shook his head, smile strained. A perceptive person would have picked up on it, but Brenda was not perceptive.

“Oh.” A noticeable disappointment, “That’s boring.”

Actually on second thought maybe she didn’t mean well.

“I’ve had too much coffee, is all, Brenda.” He pulled his hand into his lap. “Was there anything you needed?” 

“No,” she pouted, much less endearing than you.

If he murdered purely for fun Debra would be dead before sunset. Unfortunately her only crime was being remarkably annoying.

Alastor waited behind the theater, where it was less likely any staff would see him. It was still important to avoid connecting the two of you together, at least at your workplace yet. 

He was quick to grab your bag for you.

“Not the trunk, please.” You said, it took him a second to catch the joke. He set it on the back seat after opening your door for you. You’d only been in his car a few times but he never failed to be a perfect gentleman. 

Your palms were sweating, when his hand rested on your leg while he drove you resisted the urge to hold it. Instead you slipped yours under his. Alastor asked you about your day, about work, about if Frank came back. Typically as soon as you left the theater you were in a cone of silence until your phone call with him the next day. It was kind of nice, having someone to speak to. Before meeting him there were times you worried you’d forget how to talk naturally, how to sound like yourself.

The glowing eyes of deer popped up from the side of the road, startling you. Eerie. You held your breath, would they run, stay still, or sprint into the road.

“Is it true their antlers can break car windshields?” You asked not breaking eye contact with a doe as you drove past.

Alastor nodded, “If a buck hits your car the wrong way, not even the car will make it out of the accident.”

“Are there a lot of bucks around?”

“Will be soon, as fall— wait why am I telling you this,” he laughed, “Miss Autumn Hind already knows what makes the bucks run wild.”

You shouldn’t be smiling, it was a dumb rut joke, but it felt like a compliment. 

The car lights passed over the home as he turned into the dirt driveway. Powder blue. It wasn’t a color you associated with Alastor. He was caramel, honey, midnight blue, red. His sometimes sinister smile didn’t look quite right against powder blue. But, for a home, it was lovely.

“Is someone home?” You saw a light on in an upstairs room.

Alastor reached behind you for your bag, “No, I leave it on when I’m gone. Gives the impression that the house isn’t empty.”

A minor bit of acting, Alastor opening the door and offering to bring your bag upstairs before a tour like a good host. His anxious energy was barely contained by that grin of his. For your part you played the appropriately impressed guest.

But deep down you were very impressed. An actual house. Your mother struggled to keep apartments rented. Alastor had a home. With stairs. That went to more home, not a neighbor. What a lovely thing. What did he do with all this space?

He could probably hide quite a few bodies in there.

Alastor opened his bedroom door and motioned for you to enter.

You took in every detail as shrewdly as you could. Two circular nightstands, a wide dresser with a few framed photos and a radio. One large window facing the yard, you could see the car outside from where you were standing. “Wow a man’s bedroom. I tend to avoid these.”

“What a coincidence, so do I. Bedrooms in general, really.” He placed your bag on the dresser, offering to unpack it for you. Your smile screwed up, shaking your head no. You couldn’t imagine Alastor folding your panties and setting them into a drawer. 

Well.

“Yes please.” You took a seat on the end of his bed, watching him tenderly empty the bag before beginning to put things away like you’d come home from a trip. “A bed big enough for two people. You didn’t tell me you were a fancy man. Ooh la la.”

Alastor laughed, “Your bed was quite comfortable.” He set your dress onto a hook attached to the closet door, hands running down the fabric to straighten out the wrinkles, “But I have a feeling that had more to do with you than anything else.”

The floor was clean, the rug beneath the bed a simple but pristine white. What an odd color for a rug.  

You truly did avoid men’s homes. The power dynamic shifts too much.

“Are all men so clean?”

“Oh god no. Have you really never been to a man’s home?” Without a moment of hesitancy his long fingers flattened out your underthings and neatly folded them. You could call it erotic, knowing what else his fingers could do.

A hum, you swayed side to side, “Too much risk. I don’t know where the knife drawer is, which locks stick, what windows open all the way.” 

He set the empty bag into a reading chair in the corner, “That sounds stressful.”

You shrugged, “My mother taught me to always have an escape. From situations, from rooms, from people. Not terrible advice.”

That was true, he thought. If the few women he killed had considered that, he would be less prolific. Women tended to be easier in some regards.

Alastor finally let himself look at you sitting on his bed. Were you wearing the black garters today? He liked those. He appreciated the red dress you’d worn.

Taking off his jacket and vest, he hung them up while his eyes kept returning to you. Your legs were crossed, thighs soft and pressed together. He remembered feeling them against his ears. A little cough to clear his throat and mind.

“Are you hungry?”

You werent, but you weren’t ready for sleep either, so you asked for some bread and butter. Alastor sat beside you at the table, watching you look around. It didn’t look like a killer's home. 

“Ya know, I was going to rob you. I had been wanting to talk to you, before that guy caught me off guard when I was smoking.” You said it easily. 

He smiled, “Oh, why’d you change your mind?”

“Well, you slit a man’s throat in front of me.”

“Tsk tsk, you give up too easily, my dear.”

Salted butter, soft bread. Simple. Happy. “You were so handsome-,”

“We’re?”

A snort of a laugh, rolling your eyes dramatically, “and you looked well off. I was searching the room for the lights reflecting off of your glasses all night.”

Alastor grimaced, fighting the well of his ego, and leaned on his elbows, “Is it too morbid to say I’m glad that man tried to kill you? I like this timeline more than being robbed and never seeing you again.”

“That’s very selfish. I would have enjoyed chasing you down and finessing your wallet off you.” You set the glass lid back over the butter dish, content with the snack. “Some men come back actually and confront me at the theater.”

He howled. The idea was ridiculous, “Seriously? Why not just tell the cops.”

“Men don’t like telling other men they got taken for a ride by a dame.”

Alastor stood, “What would you have done if you had robbed me and I marched into the theater demanding my cash back.” It took a second to realize he was being serious in wanting you to play along. 

You popped the last piece of bread into your mouth and stood too, “You rake!” A fake smack to his chest, “I booted you to the curb! You had more hands than an octopus!” 

Alastor tried to stay in character but his smile kept cracking through his serious face. “And my wallet? None of my hands can find it.” You took a few steps back, feigning shock at the accusation.

“Sir! You were so drunk I’m not surprised you lost it.” When Alastor closed the space between you with two wide steps and pulled you into his chest you giggled, hitting softly at him, “You should be ashamed of yourself. Trying to take advantage,” his hands wandered down your hips, making your voice catch in your throat, “of a good woman like me.”

His mouth came to your ear, “Well, miss, I think you owe me the opportunity to try again.”

You went stiff against him, the sudden turn of his voice into seduction taking you by surprise, “If you were a real mark, I’d punch you in the face for saying that.”

“But for me?” Breath against your neck.

Your hands slid up his chest and to his collar, pulling him down and into a kiss. His smile spread across your lips. 

His mouth stayed against your cheek as he pulled you into a hug, “Ready for bed?”

“Are you sleepy, hun?” You pulled away, a sincerely worried face. Two nights now you’d interrupted his normal routine.

Alastor’s eyes seemed to sparkle behind his glasses, head shaking, “No, not at all.” You felt the heat rise up your face. Wanting to avoid assumptions, you tried to temper your expectations.

His hand pulled you toward the stairs, you dragging your feet, “Did you want to show me around?”

“In the daylight.” He led you up the stairs and to the right.

“Oh okay….”, your mind was reeling, mouth dry. No dead body in sight. No blood. You hadn’t pressed him or asked for anything. Maybe he just wanted a good cuddle, or some kisses. You often enjoyed necking near the car before he would go home. Right. Let him lead.

You followed him, letting him guide you hand in hand back to his bedroom.

ᡣ𐭩ˋ°•*⁀➷ masterlist

∰ Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult (general tag list):

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @wettiny-in-smutland , @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog , @coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum ,

@ivebeenthearchersstuffn, @rubyninja1 , @simphornies , @alleystore , @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog , @thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies , @howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , @ive-no-idea-what-to-call-this , @fizzled-phoenix , @fjorjestertealeaf , @phobophobular , @surusurusuru , @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 , @whateverlololo , @simplyonehellofanotaku , @xixflower , @i-am-nonbinary-bean-deal-with-it , @roxxie-wolf , @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 , @watereddownmilk , @raynerrold , @crazii-saber-wolf , @valkyrie-expeditions , @bontensbabygirl , @sillyb0nez , @oo0lady-mad0oo , @jazzmasternot , @pseudobun , @fraugwinska✨, @alitaar,@straows , @alastorssimp , @angelicwillows , @b-o-n-e-daddy , @one-and-only-tay , @asleeponelmstreet , @tremendoushearttaco , @mutifandomkid , @sapphirecaelis , @itzzzkiramylove@saccharine-nectarine , @viannasthings , @looking1016 , @ultimate-duck-king-lucifer , @blakeaha , @astraechos , @reath-solia ,

🏹Alastor stalkers: @celestial-vomit , @amurtan

@faeoffaith , @sailorsmouth , @jeannyjaykaydeh , @jyoongim , @cosmic-lavender , @saturn-alone , @lustylita , @radio-darling , @kaylopolis , @dickmastersworld , @leviskittywh0re , @asianfrustration13 @alittletiredcry @sirens-and-moonflowers @alastorssimp , @angelxx7 , @katgirl05 , @impulsivethoughtsat2am , @sugurubabe , @zzzykiek , @phamtasic

#human alastor x reader #alastor x reader #alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel alastor #human alastor #alastor smut #alastor x you

[captainreecejames]

X2CU - LH44 SMAU

tagline : if he cheats, get with his idol.

pairing : Lewis Hamilton x FEM!reader

faceclaim : Shay Mitchell

warnings : as always, terrible men and language

your messages ----------

twitter ----------

ynusername posted --------

liked by carmenmmundt and others

ynusername in new york #tommyhilfiger

(load more comments)

username26 step on me please

username37 God please make me half as pretty as her

username82 need Mick Schumacher to comment on this post ↳ username83 wait did you see mickschumy's tweets? ↳ username82 YES, need him to come through

username19 not me being delulu thinking that Carmen is gonna set this all in motion for us just cause she liked it ↳ username20 I'll be delulu too!

lailahasanovic I'm in awe 😍😍 ↳ ynusername babe thank you!!

username19 NOPE WE'VE GOT TWO WAG INTERACTIONS IT'S COMING TRUE

liamsfriend gross ↳ bsfinstagram lol not Liam trying to stay relevant 😭

your messages --------

ynusername posted ---------

liked by georgerussell63 and others

ynusername 🧳

(load more comments)

username94 they had to have seen that thread!!

username45 that's a mercedes, she's just teasing us 😭

username74 yn babe, please give us more!!!

username15 George liked I'm convinced it's happening

liamsfriend2 you're shit ↳ username11 everyone point and laugh!!! 🫵🤣 ↳ username62 🫵🤣🤣 ↳ username74 🫵🤣🤣🤣 ↳ mickshumacher 🤣🤣🤣🫵🫵 (this comment has been deleted) ↳ username71 NO MICK DONT DELETE IT

username45 Mick is now the number one Liam hater hahahah ↳ bsfinstagram no he's not 🤨 ↳ username45 omg sorry bsf/n you're right ↳ bsfinstagram it's okay girlie

roscoelovescoco cans I's gets a rides? ↳ ynusername ofc roscoe!! let me know time and place

username10 no fucking way lewis is gonna use roscoe on yn's post ↳ bsfinstagram shush he's shy ↳ username10 NOOOO lewis don't let her violate you like this lewis_hamilton

lewis_hamilton come to our garage!

Mick's messages --------- your messages ------

ynusername posted --------

liked by roscoelovescoco and others

ynusername oh to be wined and dined

(load more comments)

bsfinstagram and who's doing the wining and dining? ↳ ynusername me duhhh, I got that CEO money

username23 yn said i'm the money maker here ↳ ynusername he does make more than me but I can spoil a man sometimes

username12 THIS HAS TO BE LEWIS PLS CONFIRM bsfinstagram ↳ bsfinstagram i can't

georgerussell63 what a lovely restaurant, looks so cozy and also like it has vegan options ↳ username13 George!!!! share what you know ynusername he knows nothing ↳ georgerussell63 I am stupid ↳ username14 not the charles ref ↳ charles_leclerc mate why bring me into this ↳ georgerussell63 you need to help your future teammate if you love him so much ↳ carlossainz55 yeah!

username15 george and charles indirectly confirming this is lewis with those comments ↳ username16 as they should

lewis_hamilton you look very beautiful ↳ ynusername 🫶🏼🫶🏼

username17 when he cheats on you get with his idol ↳ liamsfriend3 I don't idolize lewis, max is clearly better ↳ username17 lmao still stalking her with your friends account this is pathetic ↳ maxverstappen33 and i don't want your shitty support ↳ username17 NOOOO MAX

bsfinstagram max i was unfamiliar with your game ↳ maxverstappen33 I'm not a total monster

#lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x fem!reader #lewis hamilton smau #formula 1 smau #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #my stories #read

[sitp-recs]

hi! please feel free to delete this! but i read through your rec list (and found some amazing fics, ty!!) but i was wondering if you had any recs for fics where harry is helped by draco after the war? like he’s struggling with PTSD and being a public figure and going through it emotionally and draco takes care of him and helps him and they become closer for it and harry learns he doesn’t always have to be this Savior he can just be Harry with Draco! thank you in advance and sorry to bother you!

Not a bother at all, anon! I definitely have some recs for you. Some are set in the immediate post-war, some are set years later but they all explore Harry struggling with war/childhood trauma, fame, loneliness and the unbearable weight of having to find your way when no one else is telling you what to do anymore. Such a relatable feeling tbh. I hope you enjoy these!

Unseen by astolat (M, 11k)

When he wasn’t wearing it, he got jumpy, always waiting for someone to come at him wanting something—and now they did it even more urgently, if they ever saw him, because most of the time, nobody did.

Holly and Hawthorn, Thistle and Thyme by bryoneybrynn (T, 31k)

After the war, Harry can’t shake the feeling that something is very wrong with him and he has a terrible feeling he knows what that “something” might be. He has a terrible feeling Malfoy might know, too.

Expecto Patronum by @writcraft (E, 35k)

As Draco Malfoy negotiates his feelings for the wizarding world's brightest star, he becomes increasingly attached to Harry and unravels the secrets he keeps hidden from the rest of the world.

(Un)wanted by @aibidil (E, 36k)

Ginny's pregnant, then she's not and Harry's single. Harry, again with no family, doesn't know what to do with this turn of events, or how to find a new life—post-war, post-Ginny, post-abortion—in which he belongs. He doesn't expect that life to include dancing to the Backstreet Boys with Hermione and Draco Malfoy. A story of finding belonging in the unexpected.

He Who Must Not Be Normal by lettered (E, 41k)

Potter has fame and fortune and posh clothes and all he wants is a simple life. Draco has a flat and a cat and a steady job and all he wants is a complicated life. Which makes you think this story has something exciting like body-swapping, but it doesn’t.

Unseen by RenVeree (T, 47k)

Harry Potter finally has the chance to leave England and its expectations for The Chosen One behind for good. All he has to do is survive one Auror training conference overseas with Draco Sodding Malfoy.

Modern Love by @tackytigerfic (E, 61k)

Harry Potter, of all people, knows that life isn’t always fair. And no one gets to be happy all of the time. But surely there’s something more—something better—than a rubbish Ministry job, and a lonely old house, and that feeling that everyone out there is doing a better job of living than Harry is.

The Way Down by lettered (T, 65k)

Harry is overwhelmed by his own power and fame and angst, so he's become a hermit. Draco Malfoy is tired of the melodrama.

Harry Potter and the elusive day off by pleasebekidding (E, 71k)

Auror Potter needs a fucking break. He is wiped. He is exhausted. He probably didn't intend to put himself into a magical coma but these things happen. And who cares, really? He is comfortable in a house where he has hidden away all the shit he can't deal with.

I Am Not Who I Became by mab_di (E, 93k)

Draco left England after the trials and has travelled the world meeting wizards and Muggles from different cultures and with vastly different relationships to magic, each other, and the natural world. Now he's a fisherman in Finland on commercial vessels. Harry has been struggling since the war and has become a recluse while trying to write his autobiography.

Who we are in the shadows by @quicksilvermaid (E, 100k)

What happens when you’re forced to become the very thing you despise? Ex-Auror Harry Potter, tossed out of the Ministry for something he had no control over, has been looking for a way back to his former life. When he comes across Draco Malfoy in the criminal underbelly of Wizarding London and in need of protection, Harry figures bringing him in to face the Ministry's justice is his ticket back to everything he's lost.

A Sword Laid Aside by korlaena (E, 128k)

When Draco’s cover is blown during a deep undercover operation and the Ministry is compromised, Ron takes Draco to the only safe place he can think of—Potter. Hiding out with a taciturn Harry Potter, who has been missing from the Wizarding World for almost two decades after a shocking fall from grace, is nothing like Draco thought it would be

By the Grace by lettered (T, 140k)

Harry is an Auror instructor. Malfoy wants to be an Auror.

where all the veins meet by @saxamophone (E, 146k)

It's the summer of 1998. The battle is over, and Voldemort is dead, but Harry still has more questions than answers. Who is he without a piece of Voldemort's soul in his head? What is he supposed to do now?

#asks #anon #Drarry reclist #Draco helps Harry heal his trauma

[elliespuns]

This question is simple but it’s been swirling around in my head: do you think Ellie is the type to do drugs? God, just thinking about it automatically sends excitement running through my veins lol I know, I’m messed up.

Oh, I probably disappoint you, but I don't really think she is the type. I mean, look at the dork. I know people like to romanticize her like this; I see a lot of posts and art of Ellie smoking or possibly even doing drugs. But, to be honest, I can't see it.

Not saying she would never try it. I can definitely see her trying to smoke cigarettes, for example (because she's already doing weed), but I don't think she'd be a fan of those long-term, let alone drugs. 

There's a possibility that if she lived in the modern world, she'd be prone to trying drugs under peer pressure—that I can only imagine with someone she's really close with—you know, like, "C'mon, try it. There's a first time for everything." and she'd be like, "Ugh, okay. But just this one time." or something like this, and even after that, she'd probably be like, "What is this shit? That's fucking terrible. Why do you do this to yourself?" (once she'd sober up).

I never really understood the appeal of making Ellie reckless (it's the same as when writers portray Ellie as dominant, bossy, and sometimes even violent). I guess it's something that turns people on? But honestly, it's so far from what Ellie is like (or what she would be like) if we had a chance to see her in these scenarios. I just can't see it.

I'm not saying she's a saint or even a buzzkill. All I'm saying is that she's a shy dork who loves comics, superheroes, and space. She would most likely be spending her days reading books, drawing, or hanging out with the few of her closest friends she'd have, watching movies at her or their place. I can't really imagine her partying and doing drugs. Not even in the modern world. 

Ellie is the type of person you could give your child to, and you'd know she'd take care of her or him. You'd trust her with responsibility even when you know she's a firecracker. Be it young or adult Ellie.

I believe that she wouldn't do drugs. Not saying she wouldn't try some mild ones... but to imagine canon Ellie, I say it's a big NO.

#the last of us #tlou #ellie williams #ellie tlou #the last of us game #tlou game #the last of us part 2 #tlou part 2 #elliespuns answers

[soaricarus]

artificer has done genuinely terrible actions btw there's no way to put it lightly that slugcat went out of its way to kill scavengers to the point there's really no reason behind it. you can't justify artificer's actions. artificer set back the scavengers generations to the point they haven't even recovered by saints time.

artificer's entire ordeal is "kill every scavenger you see no mercy". sure they lost two slugpups, but that's not justifiable for the likely hundreds of scavengers they killed at this point. it's far beyond saving and it's a genuinely fucked up character. they nearly drove scavengers to extinction. you do not see elite scavengers or electric spears or singularity bombs made by the scavengers post-artificer. less scavengers spawn post-artificer.

i don't think any slugcat would justify artificer's actions, especially not if you see them as sapient.

i'm not saying don't do this etc etc etc but i'm just saying canon artificer's actions are downright terrible and unjustifiable and personally i dislike how fanon seems to brush off how artificer nearly drove scavengers to extinction, at least from how much i've seen.

[and as a sidenote, im not saying "dont do this or that with your aus" - i just personally feel like it's kinda. yknow. erasing one part of artificer's whole entire character to just say "nope! didnt kill any scavengers! nuhuh!" or just completely ignoring it like fanon seems to do. do what u want forever ig just keep in mind That Slugcat Fucking Sucks As A Character]

#words on the wind #rw artificer #i actually like artificer as a character. thats one fucked up cat alright.

[rozeliyawashereyall]

Boy oh boy get ready for another Rant

This time about my bug insert in Obsidian lanterns gator boys series!!

Again, doing this so I won't mix up her backstory with my other listeners

Korey Adiel is maybe 18-20 years old, I haven't decided yet

She/They pronouns :3

Half Korean!!

While energetic and optimistic with her friends, she can be a bit wary with new people

Fucking thrill seeker /hj

Became a hunter solely for the thrill (and because of a deal she made that I'll probably talk about in a later post)

Half of her scars are literally just from her being an adrenaline junkie, once (multiple times) when she was 13 years old, she climbed up a tree to see if it'll hurt when she jumps from it, proceeded to break her leg in the process

Her family is actually doing pretty decent in wealth, not really struggling with money, only with their children's chaos

Parents are pretty neglectful since they kinda just let her get in trouble and barely spare her a glance when she gets hurt

She has a homemade star necklace from her dad, and she treasures it dearly despite the negligence

Silly little gal just wants validation from others :(

Korey's grandparents are the complete opposite of their parents though

They watch her like a hawk when she's spending the night at their house. Bro is NOT getting in trouble while they're watching

They have 2 brothers, Ezra is the oldest at 24 years old, and Noah is the youngest at 14.

Basically, Korey is the forgotten middle child /hj

Korey was actually raised as a boy for most of their childhood as their parents didn't really want a daughter. Noah was basically treated as her "replacement"

Ezra fully indulges her chaotic behavior, and sometimes, they string along Noah into their shenanigans

Jesus christ, they rain hell fire when the 3 of them team up. The Adiel siblings all have a very strong bond with each other!

She has heterochromia! Blue and Hazel eyes :3

They have a scrapbook where they journal and doodle flowers and bugs 'n lil facts about them, her favorite is the rosy maple moth!

Wasn't even supposed to be at the swamp. the girl just has a terrible sense of direction

Even when they got their leg injured, they still had the urge to run around and cause as much chaos as possible

They get along with almost all of the hunters they work with! Almost. (cough, Anthony, cough)

She has a LOT of warmth in her. In consequence, she gets fevers a lot but barely ever gets a cold!

Will stab you AS a warning /hj

Thanks to her risky adventures, she's pretty agile and fast

Has hangouts with Raine and Esther from @willowve01 and @asmrbrainrot every weekend where they just talk about their day :3

And that's all! Might change a few things as the story goes on tho

#my art #backstory #obsidian lantern #gator boys #this was actually fun to do

[edandstede]

ed and stede would not fuck izzy hope this helps <3

#stop making me see stizzy and edizzy and fucking steddyhands they all suck shit #even if you weren’t shipping ed with his abuser and stede with the man who tried killing him multiple times #it just straight up is a terrible set of pairings #izzy would literally hatecrime you for it. he’s calling you slurs from beyond the grave for suggesting he’d fuck stede #and as for ed. the show told you all you need to know on that front #bro was repulsed and i cannae blame him. ‘i have love for you’ ‘LMAO GROSS’ #anyway this is a hater post go fuck yourselves #quill to paper

[kookoofufu]

He follows up with something like “that doesn't answer my question” or “that wouldn't stop you." She then beats him to death.

Inspired by nonebrainer's on twitter (reposted by @katmatuis) about Doflamingo giving Tsuru earrings for mother's day.

#one piece #one piece fanart #one piece comic #tsuru #monkey d garp #shitpost #the idea wouldnt leave my brain but i hated it the more i worked on it but i spent so much time on it i might as well post it. oh well. #i am not an artist. one day. that is why this is terrible #did you know tsuru is 6'8 and garp is 9'5? I found out while making this #she doesnt respond with “im a marine” because she knows marines are sex freaks who would absolutely fuck a warlord

[druidshollow]

EDIT THESE ARE OUTDATED IF YOU NEED REFS FOR THESE GUYS PLEASE DONT USE THESE. no i DONT have finished refs LOL. UM. OkAy root is still technically up to date bUT ANYHOW

finalized little refs for the walkerators!!! rivers and phrases have had a bit of a rough time evidently, lmao

decided to throw root into the au!!! love that guy. think he deserves it. phrases, rivers and root are travelling to hopefully meet a fleck of flame. glass splits from the group to stay at her brother nights' structure

#rain world oc #iterator oc #druid draw #off string au #rivers #phrases #root #glass #glass is so fucking small im still not over it. her anatomy looks terrible (i see issues all around the board actually) but i cant be fucke #tiny tiny thing. throws her faaaar #i fucked up rivers arm because when he collapses in canon timeline that arm rips off! maybe its like finns arm and hes just destined to get #-it messed up. might still rip it all the way off sometime depending on what i decide. you're not safe rivers #oc posting #i think its really funny if phrases was a murder machine this whole time and nobody knew

[loveromeo1641]

I recently reinstalled tiktok and GOD it was such a jumpscare remembering how god awful the tiktok tdlosk fandom was compared to tumblr. Like jesus christ why is everyone so negative and shitty all the fucking time, do they not get like exhausted from it

#“saiki is aro/ace so if you ship him with anyone youre a terrible awful person” have you ever experienced joy in your life #“*insert ship here* is such a terrible ship i dont know why anyone would like it” have you ever experienced happiness #anyway this post was prompt by me seeing someone complain about the saiki x satou ship saying its terrible and bad #like girl its not that serious #if you dont like it you can just scroll away????? #i seriously dont understand why people cant just live and let live #being negative all the time about fandom stuff is so fucking awful #it must be exhausting #saiki k #tdlosk #the disastrous life of saiki k. #saiki no psi nan #im too lazy to tag

[penelope-kat]

I cannot BELIEVE no one else is talking about this:

You people make me sick 😤 /j

#nah but fr poor simon #man can't catch a single break ever #i thought it was hysterical cuz theyre like full on on top of each other #i was watching w my dad and brother 😭 #imagine being upset about ur dead wife and child that doesnt need you anymore and two people are fucking each other 2ft away from you #simon petrikov #fionna and cake #fionna and cake spoilers #adventure time #man tf do i tag this? fan art? shitpost? #terribly sorry for the awful posts it will happen again

[charismabee]

about the livestream ama

Jonny Sims saying the Contrarian and the Skeptic were a buddy cop duo was so based and real of him

(And that the Opportunist thinks everyone loves him but they don't)

but what interested me most was him saying the Hunted and Cold would be friends. I've never really thought about that pairing before but it does work. The Hunted's main thing being keeping the body alive could help balance out the Cold's general blasé nature when it comes to death, while being rational enough (focussing on his senses and what he knows is real) for the Cold to actually take him seriously. While the Cold being able to push the Hunted to act somewhat like the Stubborn, but slightly less strongly. He's confident that they can get the job done, and with the Hunted keeping them alive they could get a lot done without either really getting sick of the other. Just two reliable guys.

A little off topic but I think they'd work pretty well as a trio with Paranoid too, given a little time for Paranoid to get used to it. Cold's confidence plus Hunted's survival instinct could give him something reliable to work with, and I think he could help him by pointing out when they're going to far in either direction and going to get themselves hurt, as both can be rather single minded (on different things, mind you, but definitelythings that could leave them with blind spots) while Paranoid thinks of every possibility and could probably bring up flaws in any given plan that the others wouldn't notice, and at least Hunted would probably take it into consideration if its going to get them hurt or killed. Like a scared little peer reviewer of any plans the other two would execute

#rambles #slay the princess #voice of the hunted #voice of the cold #voice of the paranoid #voice of the contrarian #Just me thinking too hard about my little guys again #Voice interactions intrigue me so much #I also feel the contrarian and Paranoid could get along #But specifically in a post Canon state where they're allowed to grow and be safe and have a nap #They'd be terrible in a danger situation no question #But I firmly believe Contrarian would find Paranoid's snark hilarious like here's this mess of a man and he's secretly full of banter #Basing this off that moment in nightmare where first time he's given a real opportunity to say anything he's immediately like #'Fuck the Narrator' Contrarian would love that you can't deny it #And Paranoid could use something fun to distract him from his own thoughts #voice of the skeptic #voice of the opportunist

[suffarustuffaru]

hi i made a tier list of how homophobic rezero characters are

hello in the spirit of valentine's day and the very welcoming community here on rezero tumblr i decided to make this with the help of my lovely mutuals.

#anyway heres some fun little explanations if youd like to read: #otto has. so much internalized shit going on i dont even know where to begin. not as severe as like subaru fr and def not in the same way a #whatevers happening with ferris but like by the time u get to arc 8 hes a total shitshow LJSLDKF #like ottos. transphobic. canonically. with natsumi schwartz. and then hes def got More going on bc his attachment style is soo.... #wilhelm and heinkel i think would def be homophobic outside of reinhard/reinhard related things but its funnier to describe it like that ok #and either way the main target of their homophobia is gonna be reinhard LMAO #oni elders suck ok. theyd all be homophobic #rams got a strong case of comphet rn but when she doesnt have comphet shes chillin with subarus gf and having wlw mlm hostility with subaru #and otto. the entire judges your taste tier is all insane teen girls or frufoo and patrasche (who DEFINITELY judge otto and subarus taste) #frufoo patrasche are like that one reddit post about that one guys dog being homophobic after seeing their owner get topped in gay sex #also als in that tier bc al. #alcor is technically subaru but he gets to be a tier lower than subaru bc. hes also not technically subaru its very complicated but #at least he doesnt have the entire boy drama subaru has LSJDF #reids iconic line is the ones where he calls julisuba boyfriends u know. its extremely iconic. #a dear mutual of mine has informed me tivey is in lol ok while his triplet siblings wouldnt know what being gay is which LKJDSLFSD thats #fucking funny i had to do it #id argue satella is in lol ok bc she lets subaru do almost anything ok. this includes being terribly into men. she knows shes got his heart #either way. and also elsa dont care unless it affects how ur guts taste #rems reaction is gonna be lol ok unless its subaru coming out to her. then shes gonna have some Mixed Feelings #rezero #re:zero #i forgot to add but u could def argue garf knows what being gay is bc his two older brothers are just Like That #but also neither of his brothers would be caught dead explaining what being gay is to him

[quaysmash]

#quay art #pillars of eternity #aloth corfiser #he's happy to be interrupted btw #that grimoire is hiding a smile #this is probably a terrible time to start posting art to tumblr #but as iselmyr would say #fuck it we ball

[swaps55]

...did I really just see a poll asking how much art an artist should be EXPECTED to produce?

The answer is zero expectations, jesus fuck. Art you consume for free is a fucking gift, and if you're paying for it, the schedule is between you and the artist.

Can you even imagine feeling that entitled to someone else's creativity. What kind of capitalist dystopian hellscape do we live in.

#adventures with swaps #hell i put an awful lot of expectations on myself to produce stories #to the point i am rewarding myself on finishing fugue by playing god of war guilt-free #as if that wasn't something i could just DO whenever i feel like it #because i don't get paid to write fanfic #AND YET I FELT GUILTY playing a game instead of writing #and even devoting MOST of my free time to it #I STILL went without posting an update for over three months #which i felt TERRIBLE about #HOW MUCH ART SHOULD AN ARTIST BE EXPECTED TO PRODUCE? #fuck right off

[autism0fadown]

Some of my Scary sketches n drawings!

I know the lighting is bad, just uhh… turn up the brightness on your phone or smthn..

I also fixed some minor details that were bothering me

Read the tags for context r whatever :)

#i was only gonna post the last drawing again cuz the first time i posted it the photo was kinda blurry. but the sun was already down so #i had to wait till today to take another pic with semi-okay lighting. but its fuckin cloudy today but. whatever. #and i figured i could throw in some older drawings i made of scary just for fun. #there not even that old but the way i draw scary now is a bit different from when i first drew her #the drawings are in order from oldest to newest. #and also the fabric in the background is my pillow bc i draw in my bed. yes my posture is terrible. and yes my back is fucked up #scary marlowe #scary dndads #dndads #dndads s2 #dungeons and daddies #dungeons and daddies s2 #dndads spoilers