#(and we Do Not need to go there particularly)

[thevoidstaredback]

"If I turn around and there's a hero, vigilante, anti hero, villain, anything or anyone related in anyway to the Justice League, I'm going to fucking lose."

It was quiet for a second, then, "Don't turn around?"

Red fucking Robin. "What did I just say?" Phantom turned on his heel to face the young vigilante.

The kid threw his hands up, "I told you not to turn around!"

"And yet here we are," he crossed his arms. "The hell do you want?"

"You seem awfully snippy today."

"Seeing as you and everyone under the sun has been stalking me, trying to get answers to questions I'm not going to answer, I think you can excuse my attitude."

With a huff, Red Robin also crossed his arms. "How do you know what I'm going to ask if no one else has been able to talk to you?"

"Because living beings are all the same. Curiosity of the unknown drags you around by your ear." Phantom turned back to continue walking away, "Now go away."

The kid matched his pace. "No way,"

His eyebrow twitched ever so slightly. "I have a meeting soon, kid. You can't come along." That was a total lie. He had nothing going on that demanded his attention now that Constantine had ditched him after getting the demon under control. Maybe he could drop by Fawcett and visit Billy?

"No you don't." This damn kid-! "You've been wandering aimlessly for the past hour."

Phantom turned again to face the vigilante. "First of all, stalking people is hella creepy. Second of all, my schedule is none of your damn business."

"Careful there, kid," Red Robin smirked, "You'll get scolded for having a potty mouth."

"I'm thirty-fucking-eight!"

"You're literally fourteen."

Phantom closed his eyes. "Nocturn give me patience," he then looked Red Robin directly in the eye, "We've had this conversation. I'm dead. I don't physically age. That doesn't change the fact that I have walked this planted for thirty-eight years. Is that simple enough for you to understand or do I need to dumb it down for you?"

Red Robin blinked, his mouth agape. What? Did he just- The nerve! The audacity! "I'll have you know," he huffed, "I'm smarter than Batman."

"He tell you that himself?"

"Yes." It was one of the only times Batman had ever praised him, so that interaction was held particularly close.

Phantom looked Red Robin up and down, his expression reading both 'are-you-serious' and 'what-do-want?-a-medal?' Without a word, he turned back to his path and began his march anew. Any attempts at conversation from Red Robin was ignored, much to the younger's chagrin. Maybe he'd go away if he ignored him long enough.

Phantom and Red Robin wandered for the better part of an hour, not so much as a word passing between them. Neither stopped for any reason, and neither broke the set pace. It could almost be considered a friendly stroll through the city, if one ignored the slight apprehension surrounding the two.

Red Robin took this time to observe Phantom. He'd never spent too much time around anyone from the JLD who wasn't Raven, so he took the opportunity to get to know another on the team.

Phantom insisted that he was thirty-eight, not fourteen, and that the reason he looks as young as he does is because he looks like he did when he died. Not a comforting thought in the slightest. He knew that, though, when B had briefed him on all the members of or associated with the Justice League.

His powerset was almost completely unknown. They'd all seen him use a flight/levitation ability, as well as some form of density shifting and a healing factor, but Red Robin was more than sre that Phantom had more up his sleeve than that. He worked as a part of the JLD team, so he had to have some magical understanding or capabilities. But Raven wouldn't tell him if she knew, no matter how much he pestered her.

Looking at the kid now, Red Robin seriously wondered if Phantom had a civilian disguise. Ether white hair, toxic green eyes, the glow he seems to give off, and the contrasting bright white and vantablack suit and gloves he wore could not be easy to hide.

There was also a slight sense of unease Red Robin felt when looking at or being around Phantom for a long time. He hadn't noticed it before, but now it was as obvious as a neon sign. It was a strange mix of Uncanny Valley and sinking horror. Why was he feeling like this?

Phantom stopped in his tracks in a dead end alley. Without turning around he said, "Alright, spit it out. What do you want to ask?"

Red Robin hesitated for a moment. Surely it couldn't be that easy? Was Phantom really going to answer his questions? He shook his head to snap himself out of it.

"Come on, kid," Phantom pulled a piece of chalk from his front pocket. "I don't have all day."

Red Robin wanted to scoff because he most certainly did have all day. But, he pushed it aside. He was about to get answers that not even the Justice League could get! He decided to start of easy. "When did you die?"

"Try again." was the growled response.

"What?"

"I said 'Try again'."

Okay, okay. Touchy. "Why'd you join the Justice League?"

"I was bored." It was clipped. Phantom's on edge. Why?

"What're the rest of your powers? I know you have more than what you've shown everyone."

Phantom walked to the wall and started to draw a door on it with the chalk. "Next question."

Red Robin rolled his eyes. "Fine. How did you die?"

Every movement from Phantom froze. Every minute, involuntary twitch, even the telling signs of breathing. For a long minute, nothing happened and Red Robin had the dawning sense that he'd just asked something he really shouldn't have.

Phantom drew a circle in the rectangle he'd drawn on the wall, completing the door. "I'm going to give you a piece of advice that you seem to have completely glossed over." The piece of chalk was hidden away as he gripped the now 3D door handle. "If you value your life, don't ask the dead how they died." He opened the door and stepped through before looking back at the red clad vigilante. "They won't be so nice about it." Then, the door closed and the chalk erased itself.

Part 6

Tag List:

@zaiothe4th @someonebored0100 @wolfeyedwitch @angelheartgamer @nymanders @princessbelix @luminanightfall @kgne-k @bianca-hooks123 @reigning-catsanddogs @sassywombatranchhorse @dontfightmecauseillcry @soul-lime @anarinette @serasvictoria02 @the-chaos-goblin-child @confusedshades @caicie @fantasticstoryteller @randomshtickidk @itsberrydreemurstuff @blueliac @i-love-mangoes @nymanders @highimpactemotions @anarinette @sleepingdead96

[yueebby]

Ok so this is a random and weird scenario i thought of after watching some INTERESTING videos on YouTube, I know but I just need to tell someone(it involves lovesick!Gojo- and no this isn’t a request, more like a rant😭)

imagine- it’s summer and all the second year students are sweating and want something cool to eat. Satoru randomly brings in a watermelon and challenges the others to try and open it without any cursed energy or a knife, just pure raw strength. Nobody can do it except him and he laughs a bit before reader crushes the watermelon between her thighs and opens it just like that…IDK Y I THOUGHT OF THIS AND IDK HOW HE WOULD REACT TO THAT BUT I IMAGINE HE WOULD BE RED IN THE FACE AND LIKE ‘me next🙋‍♂️’ IM SRY IM AWARE THIS IS VERY WEIRD😭😭

2:35pm — gojo satoru

synopsis. a certain challenge makes gojo go feral for you

contents. fluff, CRACK, lovesick!gojo, he is (highkey) a pervert, everyone in jujutsu tech is sick of him

“The one and only Gojo Satoru is here to save the day~” The familiar drawl of a sing-song voice calls over the sound of the dingy fan that you and Shoko were huddling in front of. Both of you were sprawled on a tatami mat with the door wide hoping, hoping to catch a gust of wind.

The grin adorned on his face didn't falter when his only response was three annoyed groans.

“It is way too hot for your antics Gojo,” You look up from the fan to half heartedly glare at the white haired boy in front of you. He stares at you, blue eyes slightly wider than usual before he gulps. You brush it off, knowing that you probably looked like a mess, considering you had just finished training in the sweltering Tokyo heat.

Your usual uniform is long gone, replaced with the dress shirt that you wear below it. Even with the undershirt and your skirt, you’re still suffering from the particularly hot day, skin glowing in the sun as a silent testament.

Gojo is forcibly kicked out of his trance upon Suguru harshly bumping shoulders with him.

“Show them what we got,” Suguru’s smooth voice says. Your eyes follow down to whatever he was referring to.

Without any difficulty, Satoru holds up a large watermelon proudly. Your mouth nearly waters at the sight of the large green fruit. How refreshing!

“Ah you didn’t have to go through the trouble after your mission, Suguru!” You leap from your spot, a bright smile painting itself on your face.

The pleased look on Satoru’s face turns sour. “I was the one that brought the watermelon?” He lifts the large fruit, flexing the muscles that were showcased from his dress shirt being cuffed up to his forearms.

“I should be the one getting the thanks, it was my idea to get it in the first place,” Shoko wraps an arm around your shoulder.

The taller boys in front of you look sheepishly away under her stern gaze.

You wrap an affectionate arm around her, “You’d make a good wife one day Shoko.”

Gojo’s jaw drops incredulously, leaning closer into your face, “What about me? [Name]! Wouldn’t I be a good doting husband too?”

You lean away, flustered at his sudden confrontation. His intense blue orbs never leave your face, expectantly waiting for an answer.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Shoko snorts, shielding you from his heavy gaze. “Anyways, how are we going to cut this thing? You brought a knife didn’t you?”

…

There is a long silence shared between the four of you.

You think you see an irk mark appear on Suguru’s forehead.

“I clearly told you to bring a knife from the kitchen,” Suguru snaps his head to his white haired counterpart.

“Must’ve slipped my mind, heh,” Satoru whistles. “We can just break it ourselves, no?”

TEN MINUTES LATER—

“Ready,” Satoru’s smile grows wide. “Go!”

You watch expectantly as Shoko’s hand descends onto the watermelon in a swift chop. To your shock, the watermelon stays unharmed despite the legs of the wooden table below it creaking loudly.

“Wha–?” She furrowed her eyebrows.

Satoru shrugs, “Better stop smoking and start training. You’re falling behind~”

You and Geto have to hold Shoko back from lunging at the smug white haired bastard.

“Next challenger, step up!” Satoru announces.

Fueled with hunger and the desire to get your hands on the juicy watermelon that awaits, you sit down on the cement floor of the school with the watermelon in your lap.

You gently place the fruit in between your thighs, inhaling slowly.

Squish!

The watermelon breaks in half with a crunch.

“Oh,” You blink in shock, surprised that your plan managed to work. “I did it.”

Your joy is short lived when you realize that your legs are sticky as a result of the juices of the fruit. A sheepish smile makes its way onto your lips.

“Gah–?!” Gojo chokes on air as he watches your thighs glisten with the sunlight. Though his mouth is agape, no words seem to escape. He’s nearly certain that the heat rushing throughout his body is not from the sun.

Shoko whistles, squatting down to eye level with your thigh to assess the damage done. She gives your thigh a good squeeze, “Nice legs.”

You’re too flustered to hear Gojo growl from just a couple of feet away at Shoko’s shameless attempt at flirting.

“My face next.”

extras:

- the only reason why satoru forgot to get a knife was because he was practically skipping to you once he got through the gates of jujutsu tech. suguru was nice enough to spare these details from you.

- despite all sorcerers being able to detect cursed energy, gojo satoru is pretty exceptional, being able to mask his cursed energy usage. that, and you were too tired to even notice it. (he lightly coated the watermelon right when each person went up to break it. suguru noticed immediately, but wanted to see how the prank would play out).

[jarofstyles]

Miss jars!! Can you write some aftercare please 😇

Sure thing Angel! It’s short but cuteeeee.

Check out our Patreon

——

“There we go. S’gonna be a bit cold, but I think you’ll like it.” His voice was as soft as the blanket he’d tucked under her after wiping her clean, letting her settle in bonelessly as he grabbed the cream for her ass. Harry didn’t go particularly rough, no; but he liked to make sure she felt relaxed and calm after sex, and he’d been able to tell she was a bit fuzzy after it all.

Y/N tensed momentarily as his hands coated with the cool cream worked over her ass lightly before going to the dimples on her back, spreading it around with a soft apology for the chill. “ Shouldn’t be too uncomfortable now, baby.” He hummed, gently massaging it into her skin. It was routine after sex for him to get rags and wipe her clean, one for her face and one for her bottom half.

He liked to do this sort of thing. Taking care of her had always been something he enjoyed but it really shined when he got her in this vulnerable state. It was an honor, he said, to be the one trusted with her. That he’d been the one she chose to date. Even if he worked later nights and sometimes had to pick up calls when they ate dinner, he made up for it later.

Y/N fell further into the relaxed headspace, moaning softly as his thumbs massaged over her hips and got exactly where she was tense. He had magic hands, she swore it. Always able to find the places she needed soothed. “Feels so nice. Thank you.” Her voice was slightly slurred as she stretched out her legs, sighing as he pressed kisses over her shoulder blades and up to her neck.

“I’d do anything for you, my girl.” He murmured. “Love you so much. You do incredible every time, make me feel better than anything I’ve ever experience… listen so well, you’re perfect.” He was gentle when turning her over, watching her bleary eyes meet his own. “Back towards me. M’gonna braid your hair.”

The constant contact was something that soothed the both of them. Letting him climb behind her, she stayed sitting up as his finger ran through her hair, gently pulling it all back and away from her face. The action was sweet, legs sprawled out on either side of her body. “Can’t get over how beautiful every bit of you is.” The low voice echoed in her ears. “Your body, your eyes, your fingers, your hair… m’so lucky that I get to touch you.” The sigh was wistful as fingers slowly spun the tendrils into the plait, the repeated motion making her eyes lull. “It’s an honor to love you, Y’know that? M’gonna take care of you for the rest of our lives.”

[colonelarr0w]

Promised Protector

Sypnosis - When a particularly pushy Araj begins to make Astarion revert to a past self that he had been trying so desperately to grow from, it leaves you to step in. It leaves Astarion with a small realization -- you did care for him, really truly cared for him.

Warning(s) - mature themes, foul language, mentions of abuse (physical and sexual), Araj being an ass, slightly OOC Astarion

Word Count - 1.8k

A/N - Trying my hand at BG3 fanfiction. I have yet to actually play the game, so I'm going purely based off of the playthroughs of others and random clips that I've found sprinkled around YouTube. I do plan to write more for this little vampiric shit, so y'all can leave requests for him as well!

“Must we be here darling? I’m not rather fond of dungeons with … medieval torture devices.”

You bite back the breathy chuckle in your throat as you continue forward, eyes expertly searching your surroundings to ensure that no creature in the dark would ambush you or Astarion. 

“For a creature that usually prefers the dark, you’re quite the complainer,” you bite back, tilting your head to cast a glance at the vampire over your shoulder. He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, shooting you a warning glare – one that you laugh off. 

“And for a creature as clumsy as yourself, you’re doing quite well in avoiding any potential traps.” Astarion’s eyebrow raises as you now shoot him a glare. His shoulders rise and fall in a nonchalant shrug as he moves to walk in sync with you, scarlet eyes scanning his surroundings before they allow themselves to return to you.

“I am not clumsy. It was one time,” you roll your eyes, continuing forward and clenching your jaw as Astarion dares to chuckle at your side. “Rich coming from the one who threw a tantrum even after I revived him.”

“Darling, need I remind you that you dropped an entire building on my head?” Astarion whips his head to the side to face you, his eyes narrowed now in a pointed glare that only brings a wide smile to your face. In any other situation, he too would have smiled simply at the sight of your own, but your revealed teeth only make his chest twist in faux anger. 

“And need I remind you that it was an accident?” 

“In what world is dropping a building on someone an accident?” Astarion murmurs under his breath, stopping when you do. Your eyes flicker to a figure standing just a few feet in front of you – a drow. 

She turns as your footsteps and Astarion’s become more audible, curiosity painting itself onto your face as you both approach. Her eyebrows raise, and you’re not sure if her expression is one of intrigue. 

“Hello,” you say politely, bowing your head in greeting as the drow eyes you curiously, irises raking over the entirety of your figure before they curiously flicker to peer at Astarion. 

“Araj Obladra, a pleasure,” the drow returns just as politely as you, her head dipping in the same bow that you had offered her. “How nice it is to stand in the presence of a True Soul … and her paled companion.”

Astarion’s eyes roll at the nickname, you catch it just out of the corner of your eye. But you choose to ignore it for the sake of not wanting to stir up any unnecessary drama – you had come to Araj for a reason, after all. 

“I’ve traveled to inquire about your services if you’re willing to provide them,” you explain, already noticing a glint in Araj’s eye. You’re not quite sure what expression it’s meant to convey, but from the way that she shifts from one foot to another, your gut tells you that it may not be the most positive. 

Another thing you notice … how her gaze continuously flickers to Astarion. 

“But of course,” Araj replies without hesitation, angling her body so that it faces Astarion rather than you. Your eyes narrow, brows momentarily pinching together. Just what was she playing at?

“You seem … interested in my pale friend here,” you think aloud, immediately wishing that you could swallow your words the moment that you register both Astarion and Araj’s reactions. 

“It is not every day that one encounters a vampire spawn,” Araj notes, the term bringing a disgusting taste to Astarion’s tongue. His nose scrunches in that same disgust, and for a moment, a flicker of anger dares to flare up within the depths of your chest. “After all, in exchange for blood, I craft potions.”

A hum rumbles in your throat, though you say nothing. Araj continues, choosing to ignore the expression you wear – the anger that you so clearly display. 

“All I truly need is a single drop, and then whatever potion you require … well, I can brew it,” she explains, finally moving from where she stands to circle you and Astarion. It reminds you of a predatory lion, one with slit-like pupils that eyes its prey before promptly pouncing on it. 

“And with the rest of it?” you prompt with a raise of your eyebrow. “My blood, I mean.”

“I shall keep it for myself … other potions need to be crafted, as you well know.”

She steps forward, extending her hand and holding her palm out to you. For a moment, you simply think, pondering whether or not you should even trust the drow – especially considering how her eyes still dared to flicker to Astarion. Why was she so interested in him?

You can sense Astarion’s worry from over your shoulder, the feeling rippling off of him like rolling ocean waves. But even with it, you lay your palm over Araj’s. 

“There, finished,” Araj says, already stepping back from you the moment that your skin comes into contact with her own. Her eyes, once again, meet Astarion’s. 

“And now wh—“

Araj’s attention turns completely now to Astarion, who momentarily falters underneath her gaze. His worry for you morphs silently into disgust directed at the drow. 

“There’s still much to discuss,” Araj comments, a smirk just barely pulling at the corners of her mouth. “Such as your paled companion.”

Astarion glances at you, and in return, he’s met with an expression of suppressed anger and jealousy — that would be a conversation for later, he dictates. 

“He’s a vampire, is he not? Or vampire spawn?” Araj’s eyes wander over Astarion, drifting down his entire body and ignoring the way that his eyes narrow in a glare at her. She turns then back to you, once again choosing to ignore the fury that glints in the depths of your eyes. 

“He belongs to you, am I correct?”

If you weren’t angry before, you were now. Your eyes flicker to Astarion, his expression a mixture of hurt and shock – it was one that you had never seen him wear before, and with the way it made your heart positively crack, you never wanted to see it again. 

“The last I checked, he was his own person,” you turn to Araj angrily, “he does not belong to anyone.” 

Araj bites back the chuckle that threatens to crawl up her throat, lifting a hand in front of her mouth as she laughs breathily into the skin of her palm. Your teeth grind against each other, jaw setting into place as the drow regains herself. 

“Oh, you were serious?” Her eyebrow lifts, the sight of it taking everything in you to not lunge at her and promptly wedge the blade of your dagger into the skin of her neck. “It’s adorable really … if he truly believes you, that is.”

Astarion swears he could hear one of your teeth chip with how roughly you set your jaw into place. His eyes wander down to your hands, taking note of how they clench into white-knuckled fists. Your fingers itch towards the blade in its holster, but you fight the urge to remove it. 

“Does your spawn have a name?” Araj shifts her attention back to Astarion, eyeing him once again. He opens his mouth to speak, but with a speed that feels almost inhuman, you answer for him. 

“His name is Astarion, and if you dare to call him my spawn again, I will surely–”

“Now, now darling!” Astarion’s hand closes around your mouth, palm pressing to your lips as he flashes you a too-sweet smile – hoping to whatever God was above him that you wouldn’t turn your anger onto him and plunge a dagger between his eyebrows. “Let’s be civil, yes?”

You bite back the angered insult that bubbles up in your chest, swallowing your words and settling back on your feet. Astarion nods, slowly removing his hand from your mouth before he turns to Araj.

“It’s been quite the dream of mine, being bit by a vampire … spawn or the like,” Araj explains, her tone taking on an almost dream-like lull. You can already feel the bile rising in your throat.

And it seems that Astarion shares your sentiment, what with the way that his eyebrows raised and his lips curled in that adorable little scowl. 

“I’ll have to decline,” Astarion is quick to answer, shaking his head and taking a tentative step away from Araj, almost as if he’s trying to hide his body behind your own. You allow it, going so far as to then sidestep him and stand protectively in front of him – an action that he smiles gently at. 

“I’ll compensate–”

“He said no, thank you very much,” you butt in, glaring down your nose at the overbearing drow. She falters on her feet for a moment, but just as quickly, she recollects herself. “We’ll be going now.”

You turn on your heel, reaching swiftly for Astarion’s hand before promptly leaving – not once sparing a glance to the disappointed drow over your shoulder. 

< … >

“Darling?” Astarion hesitantly lifts the flap of your tent, ducking beneath it and entering. You hum from where you sit at your desk, tilting your head slightly to show your acknowledgment. “Are you alright? Your lively presence was missed. You left me to deal with … them … on my own.”

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose as you turn in your seat to look at Astarion. At the sight of your face, he falters, his expression softening. 

“You’re still upset over that vile drow, aren’t you?”

“Of course I am Astarion!” you rise from your place, throwing your hands up. He flinches, not having expected a violent outburst from you. 

“She … she thought that I had ownership of you! All because of what, the fact that you’re a spawn and not a vampire? The nerve of some creatures disgusts me! I mean honestly–!”

“Darling.”

You pause, head lifting so that your gaze finally meets Astarion’s awaiting gaze. His eyes are soft as they gaze at you, lips turned upward in a smile of equal softness. He approaches you, offering his hands to you – which you take without hesitation. 

“I want you to know that I … appreciate what you did for me today,” Astarion admits quietly, speaking low enough that you could barely hear him. “It has been many years since I was able to choose my own.”

You soften, squeezing at his hands. “Astarion, you deserve to have your own voice. Nobody should be able to control what you do besides … well … you.”

He draws you closer to his chest, arms locking around your waist as his face buries itself into your hair. You chuckle lightly, returning his embrace and laying your face against his shoulder. 

For 200 years, Astarion had never known the sound of his own voice. 

But now?

Now he knew the sound of it, and he knew that it mattered. 

[madaboutmunson]

Perfectly P-awesome

For Stranger Things Writer’s Guild Daily Prompt

‘Daddy’

Summary: Drabble of Steddie at the dog rescue

Word Count: 700

——————————————————————-

“Eddie, this was a mistake,” Steve whispered out the corner of his mouth, as they walked between the enclosures.

“No it wasn’t, my love. You’re just upset we can’t take them all,” Eddie replied in a whispered sing-song tone. He looked smug, and he had every right to, because he knew his boyfriend, and he knew he was correct.

Steve channelled his annoyance into a grumble as he avoided eye contact with the dogs they passed by.

“Imagine what a wonderful thing we’ll be doing, giving one of these sweet things a new home,” Eddie encouraged swooping into his side and linking their arms, “A new leash of life, if you will,” Eddie wiggled his eyebrows and stifled a laugh.

Steve rolled his eyes but the smile he was wrestling to hide became too obvious. He sighed, “We don’t have the space.”

Eddie made an incorrect buzzer noise, “Wrong! We had three whole humans in that apartment, a dog is smaller than a human.”

“Ok well are you gonna walk them every day?” Steve said, putting one hand on his hip.

Eddie pouted, “But baby, you go for a jog or run every morning, if you took the dog you’d have some sort of protection, when you’re out on your own.”

Steve was about to say no and stopped in his tracks, “Ok, alright,” he said throwing his hands up, “A few conditions. You join me on morning walks and you can walk the dog. The dog cannot be so big it takes up half the sofa. It must be a mixed breed, and no puppies! You got that?”

“Yessss!” Eddie hopped and punched the air making his wallet chain jangle. With a wild look in his eyes he grabbed Steve’s arm and yanked him along behind him at top speed.

“Eddie, what the hell, calm down! Where are you dragging me?” Steve complained as they nearly pushed past several families and couples until Eddie came to a sudden halt and Steve crashed into his side.

Eddie, completely unaffected by a half speed Steve crashing into him, points at the enclosure.

“This is the one, babe,” Eddie’s smile was huge as he rocked on his heels.

Steve sighed and wondered what kind of hell beast Eddie had picked out. He took the plunge and stepped forward to look at the dog.

Steve looked at the creature behind the cage door.

This wasn’t a dog. This was some kind of gremlin muppet from outer space.

Its ears stuck out like the little green funny guy from Star Wars. Its dark fur was patchy in places but generally short and wiry apart from on top of its head where it had an accidental mohawk. Its lower jaw jutted to the side giving it half an underbite and it was about the size of a Beagle. It had an eyepatch over one eye, a missing leg and a tail with an almost right angled kink in it.

“See, Daddy follows all your rules, aaaand,” Eddie pouted his lips and clasped his hands together, “He weally weally needs a home,” he said, with his own biggest puppy dog eyes.

Steve put up a finger, “What did you just call him?”

“Daddy,” Eddie repeated and the creature from the depths of hell replied with a yip. Eddie crouched down to the door at the response, “Who’s a good boy? It’s Daddy isn’t it? Daddy’s a good boy!”

Steve didn’t particularly want this walking nightmare fuel in his home, or to shout Daddy at something in the park, but when Eddie looked up at him with such joy, he rolled his eyes and sighed, and went to look at the information sheet.

Steve realised the huge mistake he’d made by reading this. This dog was a hero, a loyal pet, and was only in here because his owner passed away and no one would take him in. Not only that, but he was an old dog. He knew right then he couldn’t leave him here. He was coming home with them

Steve felt a hand on his shoulder, he turned to meet Eddie’s compassionate expression, “So is he gonna be a Munson or a Harrington?”

[himexyandere]

As promised, here's my yandere!octopus OC! His name is Dr. Mikka Lapan, and he's a mimic octopus/marine biologist. No one knows his secret: not even you, his faithful assistant.

Not yet, at least.

“[Your Name].” 

“Yes, Dr. Lapan?” 

“Do you like sea creatures?” 

Equal parts bemused and amused, you ceased shuffling through the papers on your desk and turned your full attention to your boss. 

“No offense, doctor, but I wouldn’t be here right now if I didn’t.” 

Dr. Lapan gave a light hum in response, seemingly satisfied with your answer. With no further questions, you went back to reorganizing the messy stack of research papers the doctor kept in the lab. According to him, he had his own system for remembering where everything was meant to go. Needless to say, you didn’t exactly believe him. 

A few minutes had passed, and you found yourself sneaking a peak at the doctor, wondering what prompted him to ask such a question in the first place. He was uncharacteristically quiet, peering blankly into one of the many tanks situated in the far corner of the lab. His hand was pressed against the cold glass, fingers aimlessly tracing along with the movements of the creatures dwelling within. 

“Doctor?” You called out to him. 

Without turning to look at you—or even stopping his motions—he responded, absentmindedly, “Yes?” 

Concern creased your brow, leading you to stand up and fluidly cross the room until you were standing beside him. His eyes were still fixated on the tank before him, the soft bluish light mirrored in the thick lenses of his glasses. 

“You seem preoccupied today, Dr. Lapan.” 

“Do I?” 

“Yeah— is something wrong..?” 

Your voice seemed to be just what he needed to be brought back to reality, as he finally turned to look at you with a guilty smile on his face, eyebrows upturned. 

“Nothing is wrong. I’m sorry for worrying you, dear [Your Name],” Dr. Lapan’s eyes softened. “As always, I appreciate your assistance and concern. We should get back to work now, shouldn’t we?” 

Having returned to his usual chipper attitude, you saw no reason to press him any further, opting instead to push his out-of-character behavior to the far recesses of your mind. 

That night, you dreamt of the ocean. 

Alone and drifting amongst the unforgiving waves, dark and opaque in a way that not even the moon could ever hope to illuminate. Your limbs wouldn’t move. Your mind was racing, but you remained still — even as one particularly zealous wave carried you further and further away from the shoreline. 

You willed your hand to move, outstretched toward the receding sands that were becoming blurrier by the second. Something—or more accurately, somethings—cold and slimy wrapped around you; limbs and all, until you were fully encumbered and immobile. The thought to scream came next, naturally, though it was all too soon thwarted by another thing coming up to cover your mouth in cold sliminess.  “If I could have you for more than a night… If I—”

[wtfsteveharrington]

I need a just the tip smut with richie jerimovich

a/n: richie my beloved <3 thank you for requesting!!

contents: richie's a menace and badgering the reader in a playful way, unprotected p in v, fingering, semi public (we all love that damn office), reader referred to as princess once. when i say this is a quickie i mean it!

word count: 1,420 (lol)

•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*

Richie annoyed you - A lot. Constantly annoyed you in fact!

And things haven’t improved since you made out with in the heat of the moment a few months ago. Arguing outside the restaurant after a particularly rough dinner service. He blamed the way you ran front of house, you blamed him for sending table 18’s second course to table 31 (which he promises he didn’t do) and throwing off the flow of the kitchen.

There was a moment when the arguing turned to silence and the two of you staring at each other. Both trying to read the moment. You still don't know who moved first but it was passionate, sloppy, and seared into your memory.

Thus began a mess of touching and kissing when you shouldn't be. It hadn't gone all the way yet, much to Richie's dismay. The closest he got was eating you out in the backseat of his car which you promptly left after you finished and flipped him off as you skipped to your own car. Richie had to drive home hard and annoyed and teasingly gave you a cold shoulder the next day but you'd catch a wicked grin on his face whenever he turned away from you. Both of you loved this game.

You secretly loved the power it gave you when he'd beg and whine and grab any inch of skin you'd let him. Rutting himself against you, shamelessly needy. You made him feel like a teenager again. Stuck with the urge to fold his pillow around his length and fuck into it to get some source of friction besides his hand. It made him feel pathetic and you feel pride.

He loved it too, don't let him lie to you.

That's how you found yourself in the nice office, hips pressed against the edge of the desk while Richie stood behind you. His hands were cupping your breasts over your shirt, savoring the weight of them in his hands while he grinds against your ass. You, on the other hand, try to act unbothered while you look over paperwork even if the both of you know it's getting to you. Thighs turning slick and warm and God he feels good.

“C’mon, Babe. My dick is fuckin’ rock solid. Help me out, yeah? Don’t you want me focused for tonight or are you really gonna let everyone drown because you won’t help take care of ole Richie?” He’s grabbing a hold of the hem of your skirt, pushing it up at your waist and admiring the way your ass looked covered in some white lacey number you totally didn’t buy with the hopes of him seeing it.

You huff and pretend to be inconvenienced but you're reaching the end of your resolve too. Letting go of the papers you were hyper focused on and instead sliding your hands around your body and pulling your underwear to the side so he, finally, has access to you. There's a loud, drawn out groan coming from the man behind you which has you whipping your head around with a sharp, "Shut the fuck up, Richie."

He's looking up at you now and innocently holds his hands up in the air as an apology. There's wicked smirk as one of his hands come down to trace over your core. A rough finger dragging along the folds, bumping your clit before he presses two into you. "Knew you wanted me too, Princess." You can't help but roll your eyes, still adjusting your position on the desk so you're better able to arch your ass back towards him. "Just the tip."

Richie's motions stall, brows knitting together. "You fuckin' serious?" Which makes you laugh while you roll your hips back, chasing your own pleasure by using his hand that's still against your warm core. "Serious. Now - Just the tip and hurry up before we get caught. Think I'd die if anyone knew I was letting you fuck me raw in here."

His hand slides out of you and delivers a sharp smack to your pussy before he's taking your command and making quick work of his pants. Fine, if you wanted to play this game still he'd make sure to drive you just as insane as you were driving him.

You feel the head of his cock tapping against you now, teasing the both of you by rocking himself against your clit. "You're tryna give me shit but you're this fuckin' wet? Bent over the desk and begging. Play tough all you want but you need me."

"Jesus Christ, Richie. Are you gonna keep running your mouth or fin- Oh!" He's cutting you off as you feel him push into you. The head of his cock barely tucked between your folds as you both adjust to the sensation. He's giving you a second before pushing in another in, letting the tip of him rest snug inside of you.

Richie's rubbing his hands over your ass, the texture difference between your smooth skin and the lace of your underwear driving him crazy. Fine, maybe he was clowning you at first but there's something so... Intimate about this. Or maybe you just already had him whipped and he was hopeless.

He's fucking into you just barely, fully content to play along if that’s what it took to finally find himself inside of you.

There’s a pounding on the door snapping you both out of it. Richie’s startled and accidentally sinking a few more inches into you, both of you fighting every urge to moan. “Dinner service starts in twenty! Finish up your paperwork and get out here!”

You're in the clear. No door handle jiggling, no one barging in.

Everyone knew you took some time right before dinner to ensure there were no missed allergies, reservations, and nothing running short. Everyone knew Richie would take off his suit jacket so it didn't smell like smoke before taking a few minutes out back to burn through some cig's. Splashing on cologne from his car before coming back in. They all probably assumed he was somewhere in that circuit out back.

But yet, here you two actually were.

The two of you stand there, still connected, in silence for a moment. Making sure the coast is clear before continuing this already risky game. Once a few seconds have passed, neither of you know quite what to do.

So you take the initiative.

Rolling your hips back and fucking yourself on the few inches Richie has managed to sink into you. His hands are on your ass now, pulling it apart so he can get a better look at the head of his cock slowly pushing in and out of you. Neither of you dare make too loud of a sound.

Your head falls forward, pressing your mouth against your upper arm to muffle any sounds that threaten to slip out when Richie pulls all the way back just to resink himself halfway in. It's a quick motion but the sound of him just barely gliding through your wetness was sinful. Richie's torn between throwing his head back and savoring the sensation or focusing on what's happening right in front of him, "Fuck you, gonna make me come like this." He's squeezing at the handfuls of your ass, fighting the urge to bury himself completely but knows that isn't your game for now.

You can feel his resolve breaking so you decide to prolong this game. Giving him a squeeze of your muscles around his cock before leaning all the way forward so Richie has to slide out of you. His jaw goes slack and you hear a breathless whine from behind you as he instantly wraps a fist around himself to keep the feeling going. Your underwear are getting put back in place, skirt being folded down as you grab a towel from the pile of clean laundry in the corner of the office and hand it to him with a smirk. "Use this to finish in, don't make a mess of your suit."

Richie can't decide if he loathes you or wants to kiss the ground you walk on. You lean up, letting your lips work his jaw for a moment as you feel the head of his cock press against your thigh while he continues to jack himself off. "Don't fuck up tonight and I'll let you come home with me."

You pull back, throwing him a wink before sneaking out of the office door to go clean yourself up before dinner service. Leaving Richie standing there fucking himself into a rag and laughing at the mess you've made of him.

[shinynewboots]

The Alchemy: Adam x AFAB Morningstar!reader Part 1

Prompt/Summary: She’s Charlie’s older sister and when Charlie first has a meeting with Adam and Lute he couldn’t stop staring at her! To him she was like a goddess her beauty, her voice! Almost everything to him was beautiful. But she gets pissed off when he doesn’t take them serious not in his meeting room in hell or in heaven.

But he bribes the older Morningstar that he will stop the extermination and would talk to the higher ups and try to convince them about Charlie’s idea if only she agrees to be his (as in marriage).

She was considering it, ( Lucifer and Alastor were definitely against it), everyone in the hotel were also asking her to reconsider this plan. (But at the end she says yes).

Also if u can… like add a part where he betrays her at the end and does the extermination but before Nifty stabs him she’s there to save him.

For @jennieyeager Your request darling that I accidentally took forever to write! I have loved writing this prompt so far and I hope you enjoy it at as well! I intend on it being a 4 part series so please stay tuned!

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Warnings: 18+ eventually, somewhat dubious consent, language

“Are you coming, Y/N?” Charlie asked, practically radiating excitement. You looked up at your little sister (who had been the sibling to inherit your mother’s height) and sighed. You were not particularly optimistic about Charlie’s meeting with heaven (hell, you weren’t optimistic about anything, you left that mostly to Charlie), but you didn’t want to rain on her parade.

Besides, Dad had asked you both to represent him at the meeting with Heaven. And there was no way you were going to let Charlie face the wolves alone.

“I’m coming,” You replied. “But I think we need to tone down the singing in your presentation. You remember how well that went over with Katie Killjoy.”

Charlie smiled awkwardly, her permanently flushed cheeks growing even redder at the reminder. She reminded you a lot of Dad at this moment. Full of dreams and hopes for a better future. You wanted to believe in a better future. You did. But all your hopes had been smashed when Mom had gone off the grid without even a single phone call and Dad holed himself up in the castle.

However, you did believe in Charlie. She had always been the best of your family. And if Charlie wanted to use this meeting with Heaven to try and convince them to cease the yearly Exterminations, you would be right there at her side.

You and Charlie stood outside of the Embassy, both hesitant to open the door. Neither of you had ever gone inside before as your parents had you avoid the building like the plague growing up. And now the building seemed daunting and out of place with its glow of angelic light. You and Charlie looked at each other and pushed on the door together.

The foyer of the Embassy was empty and dark. You weren’t sure what you had been expecting but this certainly wasn’t it. Rows of sofas made a path to a desk and set of elevators that stood at the other end of the room.

“Hello!” Charlie called, her voice echoing through the room. No response.

“Creepy,” Charlie said. You nodded in agreement, taking in the embassy. It smelled old and unused. Almost like moth balls. You both walked slowly to the desk where Charlie rang the bell. A flash of blinding light revealed a golden document with the words “sign here”. You both shared a glance before signing the document. The document disappeared as soon as it was signed and a glowing light appeared from one of the elevators.

You both walked towards the elevator and ascended to the top floor. Rock music played in the background as it made its slow journey. You looked over at Charlie. “You’re going to do great. And I’ll be right here by your side through the whole thing.”

Charlie beamed at you, her face bright. She pulled you into a fierce hug “I really appreciate you, Y/N.”

The elevator stopped abruptly and you broke the hug. “Now or never.”

You and Charlie walked out of the elevator and were met with a pair of open double doors, beckoning you to step inside.

“Anyone here?”

Charlie walked through the doors first.

“Hello!” She called out, you following behind her. Light began to emit from the room through the doors and you hurried to catch up with her.

“Sup.” You hear a voice call out. Your eyebrows furrow. Why was Charlie so fast? How dare you inherit your father’s height.

“Holy shit!” Charlie calls out. You finally make it to her to see to angels at the other end of the table. The one sitting wore a black exorcist mask with gold trimmings along with purple and white robes. The angel standing wore an traditional exorcist mask complete with the gray armor.

You stand behind Charlie, nervous but letting her do her thing. She was so much more jovial and charismatic than you were. You knew she would win heaven over.

“Um, hi! I’m Charlie! My dad asked me if could meet you.” Charlie said, a grin on her features. She reached out her hand for the angel to shake.

“Yeah I know.” The angel responded. He looked uninterested in the conversation. In anything. Fucking angels. He looked down at his nails and seemed bored.

“And this is my sister, Y/N!” Charlie said, moving aside so the angels could see you clearly. The lead angel glanced up and suddenly you could see the eyes of his mask fill with interest.

“Hi.” You said sheepishly, throwing the two angels a wave. The exorcist scowled back. The lead angel looked at her with curious eyes (could a mask be curious?).

There was an awkward silence as no one spoke. You and Charlie glanced back and forth until Charlie decided there was no time to waste. She fumbled in her pockets for her schematics of her plan (maybe crayon wasn't the best option but there had been no arguing with Charlie).

“Well um I guess we can go ahead and get this meeting started. So we all know Hell’s biggest problem right?” Charlie asked, holding up the crayon drawing of exorcists raining from the sky on extermination day. She glanced over at you nervously. You tried to give her an encouraging smile.

At this, the lead angel stood and walked towards you and Charlie.

He doesn't look at Charlie and instead his attention is solely on you. He looks you up and down and you suddenly feel very exposed under his gaze.

“Hey, my sister’s trying to speak to you.” You said, meeting the angel’s gaze.

The angel looked back and forth between the two of you before sighing. “Fine, let’s getting on with it.”

“Uh thank you,” Charlie stammered, trying to collect herself. “So again as well all know Hell’s biggest problem is it's overpopulation and subsequent exterminations. I have a plan to redeem sinners through a program at the hotel I recently opened!”

Charlie was actively shoving the crayon drawings into the angel’s face. He rolled his eyes. He barely gave Charlie a glance however, and kept most of his attention on you.

“Listen, let me stop you right there sweetie. You’re wasting everyone’s time.”

You saw red. Who did this motherfucker think he was? Charlie looked visibly defeated but tried to collect her presentation.

“But they're human souls.”

“Human souls that made a choice,” The exorcist angel said, walking up behind the lead angel.

“But-” Charlie started but was cut off by the lead angel.

“And there's no fucking way in heaven or hell that anyone would choose to stop the exterminations. Not only does it control the disgusting sinner population but it's so fucking fun to come down here and kill demon ass.”

You could feel your demon form starting to bubble to the surface. Horns began to sprout from your head and you knew your eyes had taken on a reddish hue. You glanced at Charlie who was in full demon form, her face red and full of anger.

“This isn’t fair. What makes you or anyone else in heaven any better than these souls?” Charlie exclaimed, her voice taking on a deeper, more sinister tone than you were used to hearing.

“Woah, settle down sweetheart. Chill out. They’re just sinners.”

“They're our people,” You replied, glaring at the fucking arrogant lead angel. Fuck, you wanted to punch him in his stupid face.

“And that must fucking suck for you guys,” The angel answered, laughing. He had grown in height, his golden wings unfurling around them. You hated to admit it but they were magnificent to look at. Smug asshole.

“Anyways, the real reason we’re here is because the angelic council has made the executive decision to move up the next extermination.”

“What?” Charlie exclaimed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, sweetheart, that we will be back in six months.”

“You can’t do that!” You argued. The lead angel looked at you with a grin on his masked features. He pulled out a guitar (where in the fuck did he get a guitar) and strummed a cord.

“I think this meeting is over,” He said, the sound wave of the guitar creating a force strong enough to push you and Charlie out of the meeting room and out the double doors. The doors slammed close and you both landed on the floor with a thump.

“No, no, no!” Charlie cried out, her eyes brimming with tears. You had to do something. Anything! This was Charlie’s dream and you weren't about to let some asshole angel with a god complex stop her. You jumped to your feet and pushed against the doors with all your might.

The doors opened (shockingly easy considering how loud they had slammed closed just seconds earlier) and you rushed into the room.

“Who in the actual fuck do you think you are to just ignore my sister like that? And to move up the extermination? Who in the actual fuck do you think you are?” You yelled as you entered the room. The double doors behind you closed with a bang, leaving Charlie out in the hallway alone. The lead angel gave you a long look and stood from the table. His hands moved to his mask and he pulled it off of his head.

You hated to admit it, but he was very handsome. His hair was light brown and messy in a boyish way. He had dark circles under his eyes, as though it had been a few millennia since had a slept. But what really got you were his eyes. They were a gold color that you had never before seen on another person.

“I’m Adam.” He said, a smirk crossing his features.

“Like, like the first man?” You asked weakly.

“The fucking same,” He grinned and began to walk towards you.

“That explains so much.” You whispered to yourself.

“Pretty awesome, right?”

You scowled. “No it's not ‘pretty awesome’, it's fucking rude of you to not even give my sister a chance and to be just a total fucking dickwad.”

“Because I don’t think your sister's idea is a good one. I mean, redemption for sinners? There’s a reason they ended up in this godforsaken place in the first place. And dickwad? Real original, sweetheart.”

Emboldened and full of anger you marched up to Adam and pointed a finger at his chest. You did not, however, anticipate that he was a hologram and so you fell right through.

“Falling for me already, sweetheart?” Adam’s hologram laughed, turning to the exorcist angel and giving a fist bump. You felt a blush rush to your cheeks.

“You’re impossible!”

Adam shrugged. “I might have an idea that benefits both of us. It would require a little effort on your part though.”

“You mean stopping the exterminations?” You ask warily. “And redeeming sinners?”

“You know that's a very heavy ask sweetheart, but yeah. I can talk to the higher-ups about it and see what I can do. Just in exchange for one thing.”

One thing standing between you and helping Charlie achieve her dream. Someone could have pinched you, this was like a dream come true. Charlie had always been the ray of sunshine and full of hope and optimism and dreams. You would give anything for that to come true!

“What is it?”

“You.”

“Uh, what?” You asked, not sure you heard him clearly.

“You. I want you. Come to Heaven with me and be my wife.”

Your mind automatically went the worst (oh my satan did he want you as a sex slave?). Your mouth had run dry and you felt your palms grow sweaty. Why would Adam, the first man, want you as a wife. Oh my satan, wouldn't that be weird because he technically was married to your mom. This was so wrong on so many levels. And he was such an asshole.

“You want me as some weird sex slave?” You questioned, looking warily at Adam.

“Ew fucking no, that's disgusting. No, nothing sexual unless you ask,” Adam said. “Which, you know, you probably will.”

Adam winked at you. Fucking pig.

“Why me?” You were never picked first for, well, anything. No one had ever gone out of their way to make you their first choice. It had always been Charlie due to her charismatic nature and people pleasing tendencies.

Adam blinked and looked you up and down. “You’re beautiful. Hot as hell, no pun intended. And you're loyal. Doing anything to help your sister accomplish her pathetic dream? That takes guts and I respect it.”

Butterflies fluttered in your stomach. Could you do this? Marry this strange man who played a villain in your bedtime stories as a child. He was a pig but if he made it to heaven, maybe he wasn't all bad.

“Can I take some time to think about it?” You asked weakly.

“You’ve got 24 hours,” Adam said, snapping his finger to make a digital countdown watch appear on your wrist. 23:59, 23:58, 23:57…

“You can meet me back here when you've made a decision.” He said, smirking at you. Suddenly, his form appeared more real and you realized he had somehow materialized in front of and was no longer a hologram. His large hands grabbed your face and forced you to stare into his golden eyes.

You suddenly felt his lips crash into your own. His lips were soft and tasted like a cherry hard candy. One of his hands fiddled with the ends of your hair and you couldn't help but moan as his tongue lightly flicked at your lips, leaving shivers down your spine. Your tongue wrestled with his own and you felt so lightheaded.

You had been kissed before but never like this. Suddenly his many millennia of living seemed to be paying off in his favor.

You heard someone clear their throat behind you and you pulled away, a blush coming to your cheeks as you realized the exorcist angel had been present.

“Yeah, yeah Lute I know. I’m leaving.” Adam pulled his hands from your face and smirked at you.

“24 hours, sweetheart. I hope to see you here.”

And with that, Adam and Lute disappeared in a cloud of light and smoke leaving you alone in the board room. The double doors opened and Charlie rushed in, pulling you into a big hug and was frantically asking what happened. You couldn't make anything out that she was saying, however. All you could focus on was the way your lips tingled and began to swell from the ghost of his touch.

You were totally fucked.

[chaosclimber]

shop assistant

Emily kept the smile firmly fixed in place as she watched the man in front of her vacillate. Engagement rings were always a long sales pitch, but at least this one seemed to know his partner’s taste. She only wished he would take her concerns about budget seriously–but then, that was fairly standard for the men she’d helped thus far. As if feeling her patient stare, the tall, pale goth glanced up from the displays and at her. 

God, his eyes were gorgeous. Whoever he was shopping for was a lucky girl. 

“You need not hover over me. I will be some time making this decision–it has to be exactly right.” 

Wow. Someone certainly talked like a period drama. Emily dialed her Customer Service Smile up another notch. “Alright, well, I won’t be far if you need me. Please, don’t hesitate to ask.” With that, she gracefully departed for the main sales counter, where Eric was wrapping up a sale with a perky blonde.

“Hey, Em, is your guy who I think he is?”

Emily rolled her eyes. Eric was constantly thinking people here were celebrities. It never actually panned out to be true, but it didn’t stop him from speculating. She honestly couldn't care less, though. As far as she was concerned, celebrities were just people. There was no need to make a fuss over them–and she wouldn’t, even if this turned out to be whoever Eric was thinking of. “Probably not, but tell me who you think it is anyway. I know it’ll eat at you if you don’t say it.”

“I think that’s one of the Aeturnus family. They’re like...Vanderbilt rich. Old money. Hell, I think if you go far enough back, they’ve got some royal blood from some European country or other…”

“Well, that would explain why he just waved me off when I asked about the budget.” She shrugged. She wasn’t sure she believed it, but there was something just a little off about Tall, Pale, and Gorgeous. And there always seemed to be something with that level of wealth. She would count herself lucky he still treated sales people with respect. She shrugged it off, gossipping with Eric about the tech store across the street–rumor had it the owner was trying to romance one of their employees and not being particularly subtle about it. The employee was into it, but literally everyone else around them was not. 

It was a half-hour later that the man approached her. “There is one which will do nicely with a bit of customization.” He must have seen her open her mouth to talk about the budget once more, because he held up a hand. “Money is no object, I promise.”

“Alright. Let’s see what we can do.” They walked back to the display case, and he pointed out one of the thicker wedding bands marketed towards men. The one he chose was lovely, with a deep red wood polished to a shine. The outside was rose gold–and that, it seemed, was the problem.

“The rose gold does not quite suit my partner’s taste. Perhaps white gold could be arranged.” It was a statement, not a question. 

“Of course. Are there any other alterations you’d like to make?”

“I…” The hesitation seemed…out of character. Whatever the request was, it was clearly the emotional heart of the matter. Emily silently vowed to see it through, no matter what. “...I would like  an engraving on the inside.”

“Of what?”

“I’ve written it out.” He pulled a folded paper out of his pocket. On it was a delicate script, in Latin. Amor Aeturnus Est. Love is eternal. 

“Would you prefer a regular cursive script, or shall we replicate your handwriting?”

There was a blink, the only outward sign of his surprise. “You can do that?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Then, by all means, please.”

“Very well, Mr…” She prompted. Was she fishing for Eric’s sake? Maybe. But she would never hear the end of it if she didn’t at least ask the name. He smiled–only barely, but that was a contrast to his previously neutral expression. “Aeturnus…for now. We shall be hyphenating.”

The rest of the transaction ran smoothly. As soon as Mr. Aeturnus left, Eric all but bounced over to Emily’s station. “How did it go? What is he like?”

Emily rolled her eyes. “He’s normal, Eric. He’s just a guy, buying a ring for his partner.” Even as she spoke, there was a soft smile on her face. She hoped that Mr. Aeturnus’s partner liked the ring–there was a lot of heart that went into choosing it.

As if reading her thoughts, Eric kept on badgering her. “Was it a good ring? Please tell me he picked a good ring, I can’t stand it when rich people have no taste…”

“It will be once his customization is done.”

“Awesome~”

@domaystic All the prompt fills are cross posted to AO3

[gwenllian-in-the-abbey]

To piggyback off of @shunnedmorlock's post here about the relative justification for both the black and green causes, and how the show presents Rhaenyra's cause as sympathetic.

The in-world choice of who to support in an internecine conflict is, for a lot of lords, ultimately going to be based in self-interest rather than legal, ideological or moral justifications. This fandom fixates a lot on who is in the "right," but the houses that throw their support behind Rhaenyra or Aegon mainly do it for self interest or self preservation. Every lord is going to have multiple literal dragons breathing down their necks, many lords are going to be offered enticements from one side or the other, and some will be considering their own personal circumstances and the precedent their choice sets. A great number of the houses seem pretty determined to stay out of the conflict altogether, even several of the houses that pledge their support in theory, wait until the risk of being caught up in a dragon battle has passed to take any action.

For viewers, our reasons for supporting one side or another are different. Strictly speaking, looking at things from a modern framework, no one has a "right" to the throne. Usurpation is not a human rights violation or even a crime by our standards. Imagine fixating on women being unable to own slaves and thinking that a woman fighting for her right to do so is an expression of feminism. Ridiculous! Certainly it is bullshit within an already bullshit system that a woman comes after her brothers in a hereditary monarchy, but in a just system this conflict wouldn't exist in the first place, not because Rhaenyra would automatically be queen, but because Westeros wouldn't have a king or a queen at all. Liberation doesn't start at the top and trickle down, but rather the opposite.

That said, to modern viewers, Rhaenyra's cause is sympathetic because it feels like an injustice. Most of us don't live within a feudal system and do not have the framework to understand why it's not a form of oppression to be denied the throne. We see it more like a presidential race, in which Rhaenyra is the Hillary Clinton who might have defeated Trump in 2016 if not for misogyny, in which even if we didn't particularly like her, we were disgusted by the fact that that man beat a woman who was at worst no different from many of the men who had occupied the seat before her. To the average vaguely liberal American watching the show, it's insane for fans to support Aegon and the greens and clearly you'd only do it for horny or antifeminist reasons. And you see that a bit in even the showrunners' comments on Alicent being a "woman for Trump," how both they and much of the audience fail to fully understand the historical framework, but in a way that's kind of understandable, because while what happens to Rhaenyra might not be injustice, it is unfair.

If you're looking at things from a historical in-world framework, this is a world in which stability takes a higher priority than equality. Inequality is everywhere, completely baked into the system. If you want to bring about gender equality in a feudal monarchy with a large agrarian population, you have to have first the stability necessary for the rise of an urban middle class which allows for more women to move into the trades, you need the printing press for widespread literacy, which means that more women are getting educated, you need movements such as the reformation to challenge the divine right of kings, and you need to reform the political structure so that leadership is not based on birthright in the first place, because that concept inherently reinforces patriarchal norms even in modern countries that allow women to become queens regnant. So making one woman queen is not going to make things better for women across Westeros, but that woman going to war to reclaim her "stolen" birthright could make things a whole lot worse for a pretty much everyone. This is why you see a lot of history nerds on this site going well, yes but Rhaenyra does have the weaker claim because common law was a big deal in the medieval world and her becoming queen is going to lead to long term succession crises due to the circumstances of her children's birth, so the thing to do would be to take the peace deal. Because while on an emotional level you can understand why she doesn't, it's not the choice that prioritizes the good of the realm.

I think on some level Condal understands (and I think GRRM probably hammered this point home) that you can't really grant anyone the moral high ground in a war of succession if you want to approach the issue with any level of nuance; Rhaenys' speech in the previews for S2 seems to indicate as much. The problem with HotD is that it wants to have its cake and eat it too. It wants to say war for the throne bad, but HBO also wants to make up for the way GoT fumbled the ball with Dany and give the people their likeable dragonriding princess triumphant.

Except Rhaenyra isn't triumphant, she is felled by her own Targaryen hubris and belief that nothing could possibly overcome the might of dragons. It's not Aegon that defeats her, truly, it's the people emboldened in various ways to act against Targaryen interests. It's the dragonseeds she hands dragons to who wonder why they have to take orders from a queen or king when they have control of the kingmaking weapons of mass destruction, it's the smallfolk who face down dragons with pitchforks because they've had enough. They've backed themselves into a bit of a corner with what @shunnedmorlock called the "engoodening" of the black faction, but they can turn it around by showing that it's not enough to be nice to your family, you have to actually care about the people and at the very least (the bar is on the floor, it's fuedalism!) not throw them into chaos, famine, and war for no reason. Give us payoff for Rhaenys' dragonpit scene, have Mysaria and Alys Rivers play a role in their sides' downfalls, show how resentment on Dragonstone allows Aegon to infiltrate. And yes, show Rhaenyra losing herself and becoming a worse person, but in ways that the audience can't excuse as justified. This is how you sow the seeds for that actual progressive change that people seem so desperate to find in the dragonshow, you show how the Dance emboldens the regular people who for the first time realize they can slay dragons, dovetailing into the new show, which stars Dunk, a commonborn man from Fleabottom, and Aegon V, the only Targaryen who ever cared about the smallfolk.

Can HBO pull it off? Ehh. But I remain eternally hopeful, against my better judgement.

[lamardeuse]

This is not a Wendy's, and my story is not your burger.

A note up front: the following does not refer to the serious issues of racism, anti-Blackness and white supremacy in fandom spaces, which deserves a much more nuanced discussion than a ridiculous food metaphor could ever hope to express. This is a general discussion of fandom standards around tagging and warnings.

Over the three – now nearly four – decades that I've been in fandom, I've seen a lot. I've seen a lot of foolishness, and a metric fuckton of toxicity, and even some good faith, honest debates about how we should conduct ourselves as we move through fannish spaces and interact with one another. So from the start, let me explain that this is not the old lady crabbing at the kids. None of this is particularly new, and fandom culture ebbs and flows. Heigh-ho, nonny nonny, the wheels roll on.

That said, we need to have a talk. Because some people may not be as experienced as the rest of us, and need to understand some fundamental truths about fandom that they may not have picked up, because no one reads Fanlore from top to bottom for fun. That's not inherently a concern. We all learn from one another – I've learned so much from younger people in fandom, particularly here on tumblr – but there are occasions when younger fans could also benefit from some knowledge flowing the other way.

First, fandom is vast. It was huge when I started in the Dark Ages, and it's increased exponentially in the last fifteen to twenty years, since “geek culture” has gone mainstream. That widening of the circle – and more importantly, the naked commercialization of it by media giants who smell our money like vampires in a blood bank – is both a blessing and a curse, because on the one hand, more people who love a thing means more love for everyone! On the other hand, though, I think it's unmoored us in some senses from the fundamental truth that fandom is unhinged, joyful obsession, the fulfilment of a need for communication, creative expression and connection, and most importantly – community.

Yes, fandom is – or should be, at its best – a community first and foremost. And just like any community, it's filled with individuals who form groups, subgroups and cliques. And none of those groups have ever, in the over half a century since the first Star Trek fan made Kirk and Spock fuck, agreed upon one single, overarching view of what 'community' means. Which means the minute you as a fan come striding up to another fan's little electronic nest on the AO3 or Youtube or tumblr demanding that standard X be applied to their fannish creation in the name of 'fandom courtesy' or 'fandom etiquette'? All the old ladies (gn) in fandom realize that you are desperately, painfully new*.

Does that mean that we shouldn't strive to be a community? Of course not. But I would argue that the single and only “rule” of that community is that we make an effort to treat each other, first and foremost, with kindness and grace, and the understanding that the person you are interacting with is not you. They're not even one of the fifty-two people you interact with on Discord who all agree to the same “rules of fandom” (newsflash: they probably don't). And if you come into their fannish space as a stranger demanding they cater to you, you are probably going to be in for a shock.

Commercialization complicates this issue, because I think one element that's new is that some of us have lost sight of the fact – or never learned – that fans do not place their creations in front of you like a server handing you a bag at a fast food drive thru window. They are not producing a commodity to be consumed for which you paid hard earned money that entitles you to certain rights, such as the right to complain if you ordered a burger with mayo and received mustard instead. You would certainly have a right to demand compensation if you're allergic to mustard and had to go to the hospital as a result.

Fandom is more like a potluck, a gigantic potluck with literally millions of dishes. At some tables, there are agreed upon warnings for certain allergens, but others are not required to be mentioned and if you have an allergy, you will need to ask directly. At some tables, you are told that there may be allergens in any of the dishes and you proceed to eat them at your own risk. That risk and your assessment of it is, for better or worse, entirely your responsibility to manage. And your preferences – level of spice, aversion to certain textures and flavours – those are not allergies and there is no prior agreed upon standard to break down every possible element of a dish so that you will always be able to avoid any contact with the foods you personally don't like. There never has been, and there never will be.

The only thing you can be certain of is that on every single table, there are dishes that people have created for you for free with love, effort, experience and care. If you walk up to that table and take a bite and then politely turn down any more, that's fine. If you take a bite, spit it out and loudly tell that person that is not what you were expecting, you wouldn't have tried it if you'd known what it tasted like, and you are appalled that this person did not inform you of every single ingredient before you tried it? You, my friend, are not going to be welcome at the potluck.

Fandom is not a Wendy's. The stories, songs, costumes, artwork, edits that we put out into the world are not mass produced burgers made in a giant factory and shipped to restaurants where you can rest assured that the burger you eat in London will taste the same as the one in Dubuque. And no, the time you invested in reading a fic, watching a vid or contemplating a piece of artwork posted freely on the internet is not something you have the right to demand a refund on either, because again, fandom is not a fast food restaurant, and our interactions with one another in fannish spaces are not transactions. Every creation you choose to put in front of your eyeballs took that person time and energy, and they are putting that out in the world to make a connection with other human beings.

The next time you leave a comment, choose connection. It's easier than you think.

(*I'm going on good faith here and presuming most people who do this are relatively new to fandom. I'm not counting the people who think it's fine and dandy to hurl abuse at strangers for not obeying their standards – those people should be blocked and excluded on sight. I sincerely hope that they get help for the demons that are chasing them and telling them this is an acceptable way to live.)

[haveihitanerve]

Superheroes Aren't Supposed To Sleep In Hospitals-

Bruce was so still. Sooo still. He was never still. He was always moving. Always. Maneuvering around the cave, one hand holding a cup of coffee the other a wrench as he fixed and tweaked and fiddled with everything. One leg bouncing as he read some reports Tim had printed out, finger tapping when he was working on a particularly hard case. He was constantly moving. No movement was ever without purpose and every movement was a comforting, familiar tick that made Bruce Wayne who he was. Father, friend, JL Member, son, and the best husband anyone could have ever asked for. The best one Selina had ever wanted and needed anyway. But he wasn't moving now. Alfred had changed him into some of his favorite black pants and a nice soft shirt, a stark contrast to the chrystal white linoleum floors of the hospital. Selina hated it. Hated the clean, crisp white sheets. Hated his cold, lifeless body. His closed eyes. His cracked lips. Hated it and hated it and hated it. But oh how she loved him. 

Dick couldn’t go through this again. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. He couldn’t. He couldn’t lose another family member. But Jason, Jason had come back. But Bruce, his father, his dad, there was no way his dad was coming back. He was dead. He was dead. He was dead. Dick was screaming. Yelling at the top of his lungs. But no one could hear him. 

Jason couldn’t eat, couldn't speak, couldn't hear. All he could feel was his heart, his traitorous, horrible heart, as it continued to pump inside of him. As it kept him alive. How could he be alive when Bruce, when his father, when his dad was dead? The machines and tubes and other medical equipment that were hooked onto the lifeless body of his father were daunting? And jason wanted to scream, to cry, to rip them all out and away and pull his father close, be held by his dad because he was lost. So lost. And he needed to be home. 

Tim was a ghost. He couldn't even feel his hands, even as they lay limp in his lap, even as his fingernails dug into his palms hard enough to draw blood. But he was numb. He couldn't feel anything. Except for his heart. His horrible, traitorous heart as it shattered into a million pieces as he watched the monitor of his fathers heart beep. And then stop. 

Damian couldn’t move. He was stuck, sitting in that uncomfortable chair in the hospital room, staring at the bed. At the bed that single handedly held his entire world.  Because his father was on it. His father. All he could do was watch, watch and sit there, even as an uncomfortable cramp flew through his body from sitting too long in the hard hospital chairs, as his father died. Right in front of him. And Damian was powerless to stop it. 

Stephanie closed her eyes. Maybe, if she tried hard enough, when she opened then he would be there. Either because it was all a bad dream or because she herself had died. But when she opened them, he was still there. Lying there. Lifeless. Cold. His hand had turned to ice in her hand but she couldn't let go. Couldn't release it. Because that meant he really was gone. So Stephanie kept holding onto that cold, stiff, lifeless hand. And prayed that her warmth could somehow, somehow bring him back. Because if he wasn't alive it wasn't a world she was interested in living in. 

Cass screamed. She screamed and screamed and screamed until she couldn't scream anymore. Her already ruined and straining vocal cords giving out. And then she wept. She wept as everyone filed in to offer condolences or sit at her fathers side for hours. Staring, just like her, at his chest and hoping, praying, to the gods, to their maker, to whatever power they believed in or didn't. Just to bring him back. She wept as the monitor flat lined. She wept as the doctors came in, faces masked in sympathy as they recited the same script over and over again. “Im so sorry. We did everything we could.” Cass wanted to rip their throats out. She wanted to practice every move she had ever learned as an assassin because clearly, clearly they hadn't done everything they could. Because then he would be alive. Cass’s tears had dried by the time they moved him. No one ever saw her again.

It is said that if you wander down a forgotten street in Gotham, you will stumble upon a house. It is old, and it is crumbling, but it is vast and it is clean. Because one man still lives there. An older man. A butler. Alone, he cleans the stairs and the kitchen and the toilets. Alone, he walks the seven stories and dusts the king sized library. Alone he cooks, and cleans, and waits. Standing by the front door, an arm extended, waiting for the coat that will never be handed to him. He isn't the only one. Once a year, for one day, the manor is full. Full with laughter and food, and people from around the world. They spend the day together, talking and reminiscing. But when the clock hits nine, the chatter stops. And the food grows cold on the table. Because the house is empty once more. And on one night, on one singular night of the year, Gothamites sleep peacefully. Because their city is protected. Guarded by the fiercest superhero that ever walked the earth. Batman. 

(this was inspired by one of those 'you sing' videos for how do i say goodbye when the guy sings 'superheros dont sleep in hospitals' or something, highly recommend looking for the video absolutely heartwrenching anyway hope you enjoyed)

[its-unapologetic-apathy]

Fitting it All Inside

Good Omens After Dark Writers Guild Presents: Fitting it All Inside

length: 666 words

CW: smut, mild hurt/comfort

Thank you to SecretlyWingedPhantom on AO3 for the beta read!

“Aziraphale, I don’t think it’s going to fit,” Crowley whined, digging his fingers into Aziraphale’s thighs. He was perched on the angel’s lap, facing away from him, and Aziraphale could see the tension in Crowley’s shoulders as he struggled. Aziraphale leaned forward and planted a kiss behind his ear.

“My dear, sweet boy,” Aziraphale whispered as he stroked Crowley’s waist, “I know you can do this. You are so strong, so brave, and so wonderful. I couldn’t think of anyone else I would rather help through this process. Oh, my little prince…” Aziraphale trailed off. 

A strangled ahhhh was all Crowley could manage in return. He wasn’t used to having someone else help him through the pain, and he felt more comfortable knowing that Aziraphale couldn’t see his face as he grimaced and clenched his teeth in agony. Aziraphale couldn't resist the opportunity to put a positive spin on things. 

“You know, my love, plenty of people come to enjoy this feeling after a while. You just have to make it through this part, and I will be here with you the whole time.” Crowley whipped his head around.

“Of course you’re going to be here the whole time! Who the heaven else am I going to let see me like this? Jim? Did you really think I would- OW!”

They both tensed. The force on a particularly tender spot took away Crowley’s ability to speak. He turned back around slowly, hissing at the change in position as Aziraphale grabbed his hips to steady him.

Outside the bedroom, Jim’s ears perked up. He was looking for the right spot to shelf the book beginning with, “It was a queer, sultry summer.” He placed it gently on the carpet and tiptoed to stand outside the bedroom. He stood so close to the door that his nose ghosted over the wood, facing it directly instead of pressing his ear against it to listen.

“Now Crowley, my dear,” Aziraphale crooned, “You’re going to take a deep breath and then we will go a little further. Can you do that for me?” Crowley gulped. He was already so sore, but he trusted Aziraphale not to hurt him beyond what he could endure. Slowly, he concentrated on inhaling while Aziraphale continued his delicate task. Crowley was too distracted by the intense pressure to notice as a tear ran down his face and landed on Aziraphale’s thigh. The angel noticed immediately.

“My dear boy,” he soothed. “You’re so good for me.” Crowley tried to growl but only produced a soft grunt. Aziraphale knew what he meant.

“So obedient,” he corrected. “And so pretty. We’re just building up to the finish, love. You’re going to look exquisite once you’re all settled. Aren’t you excited for that?” Crowley patted Aziraphale’s thigh in response. Aziraphale frequently conjured the image of Crowley adorned with a pearl rosary. He wondered if holiness would have imbued it sufficiently to sting a little when it made contact with his skin. He rather liked the idea: just enough of a reminder to be worth wearing.

“Aziraphale… angel… you can go a little further.” Crowley braced himself for another jolt of pain. Instead, he felt Aziraphale gently massaging him where he needed it most.

“I don’t indulge greed, Crowley, and I certainly won’t let you be hurt by your own hubris. Now, let me guide you through this.” Aziraphale was focused on Crowley’s lovely backside. Crowley relaxed a little, soothed by the reminder that he was in the care of a very experienced angel.

“Now, if you would be so kind as to listen to me, what I need is-” 

The door swung open. Jim stared at them, confused and intrigued. Crowley froze. Aziraphale was wide-eyed and slack-jawed.

“You said you needed something. I was listening, so I came in to see if I could help.” Jim stated without much intonation. “No, thank you,” Aziraphale almost sneered. “I am more than capable of getting Crowley into this corset all by myself.”

Thank you to the awesome people at @goodomensafterdark

[beesspacedotorg]

beebebebebebebeebee… kitties minbin grooming each other 🥹🥹

hihi. there's no porn in this. just kitties being kitties! I was gonna write porn, and then decided I just wanted cats!!

Minho hated Changbinnie when you first brought him home. Hate … might be a strong word, but your Lino certainly didn't like the other cat. Went so far as to hiss at him whenever he sat in the wrong spot on the couch. It took a while, and several long, tough conversations where Minho was being exceptionally stubborn before they warmed up to each other.

(To his credit, Changbin seemed ecstatic at having an older friend. Wanted to be attached to Minho’s hip despite the other cat's best efforts.)

Looking at the two of them now, though, you'd never know that they used to not get along.

When you walk in after work, your job which you hate, Lino has Changbin pinned to the couch, licking his face while Binnie fusses underneath him.

“Yah!” It comes out as more of a yowl than a yell, “Let go!”

“Changbinnie,” Minho's voice is cloying and sweet, “stop wiggling or hyung will accidentally bite you.”

“I'm not- stop it- I'm not dirty! You don't need to clean me!” Changbin says, and Minho pulls back to stare at him with a frown, tail twitching behind him.

“I don't need to do anything. I'm doing this because I want to.” Changbin’s ears turn pink. “Or does Binniecat not want me to?” Minho pouts, fake and even though his back is turned to you, you can see the way his cute lips turn down.

“Ohhhh,” Minho flops over onto his back, trapping Changbin beneath him and giving the other a mouthful of hair, “Our Changbinnie doesn't like me anymore! Jagi,” he reaches out to you, “Changbinnie hates me.”

You snort. “I'm sure that's not true, Lino.”

“It is,” Minho yowls, rolling around on top of Changbin and causing him to groan in discomfort. “Changbinnie hates me and doesn't love me.”

“And why do you say that?”

“Because he won't let me-”

“Because I told him to stop licking my face.” You coo at how put upon your Binnie sounds, walking around to kneel on the ground next to the two of them to pinch at one of his full cheeks.

“Aigoo, is our Binnie sick of Lino’s grooming?” Your voice is high and pitched and you can see out of the corner of your eye how Minho’s ears have pinned themselves to his head in annoyance and you can feel when he flaps his tail hard against your arm.

“I just wanted to watch my shows.” Changbin is pouting at you, reaching out with his little hands to grab you in a bid for more affection. It works.

You are notoriously weak for displays of cuteness, willing to let anything slide if one of your kitties apologizes sweetly enough, and the two of them take advantage of this at any opportunity.

“Jagiiii!” Minho's drawn out whine sounds alarmingly close to your ear and when you turn your head to look at him, you're met with more of a Minho-shaped blur than anything else. You reach out to scratch between his ears.

“Yes, kitty cat?”

“Pay attention to me!” You giggle.

“And what about Binnie-bug?” Changbin headbutts your shoulder at the mention of his name.

“He doesn't love me anymore. Put him outside and let him become a stray.” Minho turns his head away, eyes closed and chin raised in the perfect image of distaste. The way he has one leg resting overtop of Changbin's gives his nonchalance away.

“Yah! Why don't we put you outside and let you become a stray?!” Changbin is leaving his post at your side to start wrestling with Minho.

“I lived here first!”

“I lived here second!!”

You laugh as their fighting takes them off the couch onto the floor, and you move from your spot next to the couch to take Changbin's now empty seat.

It's funny watching them wrestle, watching the way Minho's tail poofs up and the way Changbin’s ears disappear into his curly hair. If they were any closer to you you'd be able to see the way their pupils are blown wide from the fight.

Changbin gets a particularly good hit in and Minho lets out a high pitched meow, they're just playing, and you know now to only step in if hissing gets involved. That hasn't happened in a long time though, so you aren't worried.

Minho steps back and wiggles a little before pouncing on Changbin and you coo loud enough that they both turn their heads towards you.

“Oh, don't stop on my account, cuties.” Minho lets out a huff of air through his nose in that catty way of his before he goes back to wrestling Changbin to the ground.

Changbin usually lets Minho win. Something about cat hierarchy that you don't understand despite their attempts to explain it to you.

“It's the same reason we let you win, jagi.” Minho had said to you once.

“You don't let me do anything. I win based on my own merit and strength.” You said, crossing your arms over your chest. Changbin snorted.

“Yeah, sure. You're very strong.” He’d said, kissing your cheek.

“I know I am! Thank you!” Minho had said something about feeding delusions and then the three of you had gone to sleep. Or, you went to sleep and the two of them started wrestling on top of your body in the middle of the night.

Either way, Changbin usually lets Minho win, but today he doesn't. He pins the older cat to the ground and grabs the scruff of his neck between his teeth. Minho struggles, tail thrashing wildly and growl building in his throat. Changbin answers with his own growl and Minho flops uselessly underneath him.

“You cheated.” Minho says, faced smushed into your rug.

“You're a sore loser.” Changbin replies, letting Minho turn over so he can straddle him.

You smile at the two of them and laugh, bright and joyful, when Changbin starts grooming Minho's face.

“Hey! Knock that off!” Minho says.

“Not so fun, is it?” Changbin says, pinning Minho's arms down when he tries to shove him off.

[charly1902]

Analysis of Charles and Edwin's friendship/love: a thread #DeadBoyDetectives

1/ Right from the start, it's clear that they've known each other for a long time. They know each other, they know how to react and how the other will react, and beyond that, they're really complementary, which we can see from the very first scenes of the series, particularly in their different approaches (mental for Edwin and physical for Charles) to solving a case.

2/ Later, in this same first episode, we also discover their complementary way of being. Edwin is fussy, organised, cold and thinks a lot before doing anything, and can even be described as "uptight". On the other hand, Edwin is much more spontaneous, unthinking, funny and cheerful (at least at the time, that's what we see of him).

3/We also immediately see the attachment they feel for each other. From the very first minutes, they both express their desire to stay together, hiding from death so as not to be separated. What's more, Charles' instinct to protect Edwin is immense throughout the series. Whether it's the Cat King's attitude towards him or the boxing training he undergoes to learn how to defend himself.

4/ Still in this first episode, we have the arrival of an element that will upset this balance, Crystal. Charles, unlike Edwin, likes her quite quickly, but we begin to see that the relationship between the two becomes a little strained by a difference of opinion about whether Crystal is welcome or not. After 30 years of just the two of them, it's understandable that Edwin seems to be jealous of Crystal, who has Charles' undivided attention. But then again, you might think it's just friendly jealousy, or maybe just a lack of familiarity with a third person on their team.

5/ It's in episode 2 that we realise (in a way, at the same time as Edwin) that this isn't just friendly jealousy but something deeper than that. The arrival of the Cat King shows Edwin something he didn't want to see, his romantic love for Charles. This creates a real rift in their relationship. Edwin becomes hateful to Crystal and Charles can't understand why Edwin is so strange and refuses to talk to him about what's bothering him. For his part, Edwin is kind of hurt by how nice it is for him to have someone new their age (and alive too).

6/In episode 3, this is further emphasised by Crystal and Charles talking in front of Edwin and Niko about how much they like each other and how much further they could go together without any problems. For Edwin, this reinforces the rift between him and Charles by his desire to have a relationship with Crystal, but also by Edwin's inexperienced/"uptight" side, as he realises that he's not on the same wavelength as Charles, who thought he was. (Still in friendship, I mean, they never seem to have talked about it).

7/ In this episode, the crack in their relationship almost reaches its climax. We discover Charles' violent past with his father. Charles is going through hell with this violent father who slaughters his family over and over again. At this point, Edwin discovers another side of Charles that he didn't know before, and at the same time realises that Charles would rather talk to Crystal than him about it. But for all that, Edwin still loves Charles, and it's this paradoxical feeling that will trouble him enormously over the next few episodes. He sees both his best friend of 30 years, whom he knows by heart, and he discovers a complete stranger in this episode.

7bis/ It's worth noting Charles's great distrust of Monty from the start, which could be akin to a feeling of rejection of his best friend with a friend he doesn't know and doesn't really like at first.

8/ This paradoxical aspect of knowing Charles and at the same time not knowing him is once again supported in the fourth episode. First of all, Edwin plucks up the courage to talk to Charles, explaining that if he needs to talk, he's there for him. Charles politely refuses. Edwin feels a fracture again, understanding that Charles doesn't feel the need to discuss it with him. However, he is still very disturbed by his new feelings for Charles, looking at him intently for several seconds.

9/ As a viewer, in this episode we learn even more about the circumstances of Charles' death and his behaviour. But for Edwin, it's all the same: he discovers a violent Charles who even sends someone into the belly of a fish to protect him and Edwin. However, Charles doesn't seem to realise how extreme his actions are, once again coming into conflict with Edwin.

10/ At the end of this episode, we witness a heartbreaking scene in which Charles finally expresses himself. He explodes with sadness as he explains that he didn't feel ready to die, that he hates the fact that he's dead and that he's keeping a smile on his face because Edwin isn't the positive type and prefers to react cheerfully to everything to balance things out and keep his spirits up. Edwin falls flat on his face, hurt by Charles's words. But Charles continues, this time on another subject, the fact that he's good for nothing, pointing out that he can't reassure Edwin about what's happening to him. This shows us that the situation doesn't suit Charles at all either. Up until now, we've seen him detached from it all, occasionally trying to find out what's bothering Edwin but not seeming to be hurt that he's not responding. In truth, he's just as hurt by Edwin's silence as Edwin is by his own. At the end of this scene, he even rejects Edwin's reassuring hand, showing once again the chasm that has been created between them. At the end of the episode, Edwin again reminds Charles who can talk to him, Charles nods and heads off to Crystal's room. I find this scene quite striking. The 2 characters are pitted against each other and end up in opposite rooms. This can be seen as a reminder of the characters' estrangement from the beginning.

11/ At this point, the two find themselves in a new situation with new people in their team and a misunderstanding between the two of them that disturbs them enormously and which really reaches its climax in this episode (in my opinion).

12/ However, in the following episode, we notice a desire on the part of the 2 friends to get closer again, finding themselves once more in a case they know and can handle as usual. On the one hand we have Charles telling him that he kissed Crystal, which is a bit disturbing for Edwin but we can see that he's still trying to get interested, but he still manages to come back to the fact that Charles doesn't like being dead. Charles realises at this point that Edwin was really hurt by his words and that he was still thinking about it. So he reassures him, explaining that he was very angry and that if he's going to be dead, he's delighted it's going to be with him, his best friend. Edwin feels better after these words and things seem to be slowly returning to normal.

13/ Things continue to be positive for both boys as, at the end of the episode, Charles finally confides in Edwin about his desire to be a good person, not to be like his father and his distress at the anger he's been feeling all the time lately. Once again, Edwin reassures him that he's not a bad person. The scene ends with a hug, which seems to please Edwin but also upsets him a little.

14/ We finally understand at the end of the episode that Edwin has finally accepted his feelings for Charles and so he explains to Monty how he feels. This episode is a sign of renewal in their relationship. After a long, dark period when the two couldn't understand or get along with each other, here the two protagonists finally talk to each other and accept their feelings. They also accept themselves. It's a really lovely episode where you get the feeling that things are finally going to work out.

15/ In episode 6, there isn't much to say about the relationship between the two, with the stories focusing instead on Monty and Crystal and David. However, we still get a nice show of love and protection from Charles for Edwin when they're both caught by Teeth Face and, faced with the possibility of their demise, Charles puts his hand on Edwin's as encouragement. This is a particularly beautiful scene too, as we can see that Charles is frightened by the idea of disappearing, but at this point he prefers to be reassuring with Edwin rather than lamenting. We can assume that, for Charles, Edwin will always come first whatever the circumstances, which makes us wonder about the nature of the love Charles feels for Edwin.

16/ So at the end of episode 6, we had Edwin being dragged back to Hell by a creature, leaving Charles totally helpless and distraught. Within minutes of this happening, we see a Charles determined to find a way to get Edwin back to him. Once again, he thinks no further than that, by which time he is already sure to be going to Hell to look for Edwin. Finding no other solution, he even agrees to the Night Nurse's deal, obliging them to return to her once he's managed to find Edwin. At this point, he prefers to leave his "life" on Earth and go to the Beyond if it means having Edwin by his side.

17/ At the same time, we discover the true circumstances of Charles's death and his meeting with Edwin. And so we understand why they are so close. In both cases, they were the first people to meet in their new "lives". Charles is dying and has learnt a lot about death from Edwin, and Edwin has just escaped from hell and discovers a Charles who is about to go through the same stage as him: dying by someone else's hand without ever having asked for anything. However, what really stands out for me is Charles' trust in Edwin from the outset. He asks no questions and seems at ease with him even though he doesn't know him. Edwin is the same: he's not frightened, he's happy to spend the last moments of Charles's life by his side, and he naturally confides in him that he's a ghost. Right from the start, he seems connected by something, without knowing what would happen next, they both trusted each other in a situation where they should no longer trust others because of their past. This trust has evolved into a totally natural, fusional relationship that makes them, in my opinion, true soul mates.

18/ And it's clear from the start that they love each other beyond measure. Even though they don't seem to realise the extent of their relationship and how lucky they are to know each other in death, they would do anything for each other without hesitation.

19/ Charles's arrival in Hell shows us how determined he is to find Edwin. As he passes through the different rooms, he doesn't understand what Edwin has been through. It's only when he reaches him that he realises what his best mate went through during those 70 years in Hell. When he finds him, he immediately tries to reassure her, using a series of gentle gestures towards Edwin. You can see in his eyes how relieved he is to have found him. But Edwin is both delighted to see him and panicked. First, he's afraid for Charles, he doesn't want him to get hurt or trapped in his own Hell, especially if he's coming to save him. Secondly, Edwin felt very vulnerable. He'd never told Charles about what he'd been through in Hell, and he has to show Charles a part of himself that he wouldn't have wanted him to see. Charles is obviously very worried about Edwin when he finds out what he's been through, but here he's acting as a guide to help him escape. He relies on him completely, not having the strength to do it on his own.

20/ Towards the end of Hell, Edwin finally manages to express his love for Charles, even though Charles doesn't really seem to listen or understand him at first, replying that he loves him too but without conviction. Even though he is completely honest in his words, he doesn't respond at all to Edwin's love for him. It's when he finally understands that he makes a speech that I find incredible for Edwin. In my opinion, this speech doesn't close any doors and Charles doesn't even seem to think about what he's saying, pouring out his words as if they were completely natural. He tells him that he loves him very much, admittedly not in the same way that Edwin loves him, but enough to go to Hell for him, which he wouldn't have done for anyone else. And above all, he tells him at the end that they have all eternity to work out their relationship. For me, with these words, Charles doesn't close the door at all to a possible relationship with Edwin, even explaining to him that they'll have time to understand the nature of their relationship. It also shows us that even Charles is aware that they have a strong bond and that he may already be wondering about the nature of their relationship with Edwin. For the moment, he doesn't feel the same love as Edwin, but he loves him like he loves no-one else and he leaves the door open to their relationship. Frankly, I can see why Edwin is happy with this answer, which I think is the best answer he could have given her in return. I find it really perfect and full of love. To conclude this episode, we even get Charles reassuring Edwin one last time that his revelation hasn't upset him and he even responds with an honesty and a smile that can raise a lot of questions.

21/ In the final episode, we find them both much more at peace with a relationship that never seems to have been so positive. However, this is short-lived as Esther puts her plan into action and goes to find the 2 ghosts to take them home. During all the moments when Edwin is suffering and being tortured by Esther, we see Charles being totally helpless and he is extremely worried about Edwin. It's not as strong as it should have been, but you can see it in the few scenes. Charles is subjected to a kind of psychological torture that prevents him from intervening to save his soulmate, and he can only listen to Edwin's cries of pain. When it's all over and after SPOILER's death, we see him once again being the rock, pulling Edwin and Crystal out of the house so that they don't get swept away by Death.

22/ Towards the end of the episode, we have a final discussion between Edwin and the Cat King. Edwin seems much more at peace with himself than he has ever been. He's done some real soul-searching about his resemblance to the Cat King, realising that he's finally accepting himself and his feelings. You can tell from his speech that he knows he is no longer alone and never will be again.

23/ At the end of the episode, after their near dismissal, we know that he's once again worried about Edwin's fate, reminding us that he's there because of a mistake. Eventually it all works out and they're very reassured for each other by the end of the episode. I think that at this point, their relationship is healthy, they no longer have any secrets from each other and it can only get better. At this point, they're in tune and they seem to want to move forward together in their "new death", away from their fugitive lives and happy to be together.

24/ I'll just conclude this thread by expressing my love for these 2 characters, because for me, their relationship is so beautiful but at the same time, so complex. That's honestly my favourite thing about TV shows, the relationships between the characters, and sometimes I struggle to be truly satisfied with the way the characters are treated. But in this show, in my opinion, it's flawless. Every character reacts as they should and that's why I'd really like to see this series renewed for a 2nd season at least.

[ask-pomni-blog]

Ok this may seem like im grasping at straws here but i need you guys to let me cook for a sec-

HUGE TADC EPISODE 2 SPOILERS

We start off the episode with Pomni’s nightmare, which is a reflection of Pomni’s fears and feelings that are going to be expanded upon throughout the episode. Her main fear isn’t abstracting here, it's the feeling of helplessness, the feeling of not mattering to anybody in the circus. This is seen clearly when Ragatha, Jax, and Caine are shown above the cellar, basically saying “good riddance” upon witnessing Pomni abstract.

And it makes complete sense that Pomni would feel this way once you look back at the circus’ reaction to Kaufmo abstracting (before the second episode). He doesn’t get acknowledged as someone who has just passed away, he doesn’t even get a moment of silence. Pomni notices this, and after she wakes up from her nightmare, she seems almost reluctant to bond with the rest of the circus members because this fear is still on her mind.

This is seen particularly when Pomni is speaking to Ragatha. Ragatha attempts to be helpful at any given chance, but most of the time Pomni is lost in her thoughts. Pomni doesn't seem very open to conversate with Ragatha because of her fears. But this isn't unwarranted, Ragatha literally calls the situation from the day before a “doozy” which brings up the fact that Ragatha constantly dismisses important issues, saying that they should just forget about the situation that happened the day before when Pomni left her for the exit. I understand that she’s trying to ease the tension between them, but I fear she might be making it even worse. Additionally, Ragatha dismissing a very important issue like that makes Pomni’s fears stronger, it may seem to Pomni that Ragatha doesn’t care…

When it’s actually the opposite! The whole episode she tries her best to motivate Pomni (“look, Pomni. We’re already friends with the princess!”, “So, Pomni, I’m sure there’s some way you could help out here.”)

and she’s also very concerned for Pomni when she’s gone (“...Pomni’s still on board!”, “Oh man, Poor Pomni. I hope she's alright.”, “I’m more worried she’s having another horrible experience.”, “Pomni! Are you okay?”)

However, all these remarks could be seen as condescending from Pomni’s perspective… And on the other hand, Ragatha feels like Pomni blames her for the situation, and that Pomni dislikes her. 

Returning to the topic of Pomni’s fears, a lot of this is also reflected in her conversation with Gummigoo:

—

G:“I don’t matter in the slightest. I’m nothing. My life, my memories… my friends… it’s all fake.” 

P:“...I think I know the feeling.”

P:“...I guess I just don't want you to feel like you’re nothing. I don’t want anyone to feel like that.”

G:“But I'm not even a real person. Would I even belong?”

P:“I’m sure you wouldn’t belong any less than me.”

—

Pomni relates to Gummigoo’s fears!! And Pomni is so compassionate and understanding too! …sadly their friendship didn’t last very long… and that brings us back to Ragatha and Pomni. Ragatha tries her best to be reassuring… unfortunately that didn’t work either. AND THIS WHOLE INTERACTION IS JUST- OH MY GOD... LET ME PUT A HUGE EMPHASIS ON THEIR BODY LANGUAGE HERE:

Also the WORDING HERE:

and this scene ooohhhhhhh,,,,,,,, this scene...!!

POMNI IS REASSURED ONCE SHE SEES THAT THE CIRCUS MEMBERS DO CARE. THEY WOULD CARE. HER FEARS DISSAPEAR AND AND- ohhhhmy god this is so sick and twisted.. this ep was.. soooooo good. holy smokes. anyways thank you for listening to my TED talk.