#the og story

[aesethewitch]

When I was a kid, we moved into a house that had a huge lilac tree out front. It was mostly rotten, and it needed to be taken down before it fell. It took a while, but eventually, it was gone.

Mostly. A couple years later, little lilac babies popped out of the ground in its place. My mom was determined to get rid of them, because she'd planted a beautiful flower garden there, and the lilac trees would overshadow and kill the whole garden. I insisted on saving at least a few saplings. She said fine, but I had to dig them out and put them in pots myself.

So, I did. I spent days digging little lilac bushes out of the ground and putting them into pots. Some couldn't be saved, but some could. When all was said and done, I had five brand-new lilac saplings. Seven or eight years old, and it was my absolute pride and joy.

Three died due to sun scorching, severe drought that no amount of watering could save, and perhaps just being moved from their place in the ground. But two survived, and I was awfully proud of them! I'd go out and talk to them every single day. I watered them by hand and made sure they were fertilized properly. I learned all about their favored environments, and I was determined to make sure they lived.

One of my mom's friends saw what I was doing with the lilacs. She asked if she could have one to put in her backyard, and I agreed on the condition that she take very, very good care of it.

It's now fucking enormous. I'm talking ten feet tall and bursting with beautiful purple flowers every spring. My mom still gets updates each year as they start to bloom, which she forwards to me. And all I can think is, "That's my friend! Thriving some twenty years on, there it is."

The other tree nearly died, too. It lived in a pot for far, far too long. I wanted to plant it somewhere in my parents' yard, but my mom was reluctant. Eventually, we agreed to put it in the far back garden. It grew okay for many years, despite the shade, but in all these years, it's never bloomed.

Last year, the massive tree casting massive shadows over the lilac and the garden cracked in half and fell. It tumbled into the garden, crushing part of the nearby shed and destroying a few plants beneath it.

It missed my lilac by inches.

The clean-up is long done. The rest of the tree has been cut down, and my lilac has full sunlight for the first time in fifteen years. It won't bloom this year, I know. But it's got new shoots up. It's taller than ever. I spent half an hour a few weeks ago praising it for surviving all this time, dreaming about its future and telling it how I believe it'll become the tall beauty it's always been meant to be.

I think next year, I'll see flowers.

[ghost-town-story]

what would be your characters' email signature? please be creative.

I am unfortunately the most boring person ever with my email signatures, but! a creative attempt shall be made (for my OG kiddos, bc I'll at least make it easy on myself and choose the characters from our world lol)

Will: Jared would set Will's with the intention to poke fun at him, except Will can't figure out how to change it so he's stuck with it. Brain is blanking on what it would be exactly, other than "Wolf Boy" in place of Will's name.

Jared: Changes his at least once a month, usually. Tames it down for school/work stuff, but anything else is signed off like those emails people send to their profs when they're hella sick.

Finn: Boring, most of the time. Signs off emails to Melody with a line from a poem, often something romantic after they start dating. Signs off emails to Jared with some variation of "Don't burn down any buildings."

Melody: The same as Finn, but substitute the poetry for song lyrics.

[noodles-and-tea]

Some good ol’ ACD Holmes and Watson

[mikuyuuss]

“You'll see my face in every place

But you can't catch me now”

[watermeringue]

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Gaslight, Gatekeep, Girl found dead in a hidden room.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[bluerosefox]

Summoning the Summoner

Another summoning/long lost family au but with twist!

So Damian and his class are at Gotham museum for a small field trip for a school project. Thing is none of them knew until it was too late that the new museum curator was part of a cult that had plans to kidnap and sacrifice this class of kids for some ancient god/deity/spirit.

Damian barely manages to send a message to one of his brothers and to the cave before being knocked out when he sees his classmates dropping from knocknout gas.

When he wakes up the preparations for the sacrifice are almost ready. Damian being the most prominent person in the class is going to be the one chosen first. He is then taken to the alter and it begins after the whole villain speech. Damian does manage to get out of his bindings and tries to fight back, does lead them on a merry little chase to get more time for his family to come, nothing to Robiny though, but is forcibly restrained again.

Just as they bring Damian back to the alter none of them notice, or rather, care that Damian was bleeding from getting hit when they recaptured him. None of them notice when the blood dropped from his chin onto the summoning circle because the Batclan (any) just dropped into the room.

They did notice however when the summoning circle started glowing beneath them however.

And none of the cultists had time to finish the summoning chant.

Meaning the summoning circle was not under their control.

And before any of them could do anything, they are all ripped away from the Mortal Realm and everyone, Damian, his class, the cultists, and the Batfam in the room are pulled into the Infinite Realms.

They are no longer in the warehouse they were about to be sacrificed in but in a throne room. Surrounded by glowing floating people and some don't even look human.

And sitting on the throne was a teenager with a shoulder wrapped cape made of stars and galaxies, a crown of ice, stars, and aurora borealis lights shifting in between them, about Damian's age, with white hair and glowing green eyes who looked rather shocked.

The reason? Both him and Damian shared the same face.

-x-x-

Danny was annoyed as heck.

Ever since his crowning it was like every magic user from legendary to mediocre got a notice that a new Infinite Realms King had been crowned and that gave them the go ahead and try to freaking Summon him!

Luckily refusing a summons was well within Danny's Ghost King rights, he's King now he does what he wants (Sam's wise words), and the only summonings Danny answered were his friends and family (Dani is such a troll with it though, butttttt it does get him out of those annoying meetings sometimes and they get to hang out wherever she decided to stop at), sometimes he'd answer the odd teenage morons just to scare them (it's always fun)

Although there were a few summonings outside of that, that he had answered. Thankfully he could sense what kind of summoner was summoning him and intent was always a huge thing. And those that didn't feel like insane fruitloops well... Danny's curiosity often took over.

So imagine his annoyance when he felt another summon happening in the middle of a meeting with his council. But also imagine his surprise when the normally tight demands on the summoning wasn't there...

That meant...

Oh Danny was going to have a lot of fun with this.

This meant they summoning but don't have control on which way the summoning was going to go. Meaning, Danny could reverse summon them to him instead.

With a wide grin he instantly waved his hand and the meeting room shifted to his throne room, might as well pull out all the stops and play the "Big Bag Ghost King"

He could see his council (and good friends and allies) raise their eyebrows at him or tilt their heads but could also sense the attempted summonings power of him and knew he had something planned.

With a short laugh, Danny raised his hand, grasped on the invisible summoning line, and pulled.

Now he was expecting a good amount of people, the summoning felt large so that normally meant cultists but he was expecting so many! Heck some looked to be teenagers his age, and a few oddly dressed people besides the cultists! Oh boy did that mean sacrifices?! Well he'll be happy to put those cultists in their place if that was the case.

But first, find the summoner. Separate them from the group and -

Oh... why... why does he have Danny's face?!

Danny took a quick look at the normally invisible to everyone but him Summoning line and almost choked when he saw it was a sibling line, a blood sibling line.

[krazieka2]

I've played the Fire Emblem Husbando Dating Simulator Games

[batcavescolony]

Jason *dying his hair black*: you know I started dying my hair before Robin.

Dick: yeah why?

Jason: their's like five red heads in Gotham and I knew as a kid for a fact that one was Ivy and one was Riddler. Then I became Robin to find out the other was Batgirl/Barbra and finally Kate Batman's cousin who's now Batwoman-

Dick: Yeah Red Heads in Gotham are either heroes or villains

Jason: -yeah so I didn't want to draw attention to myself.

Dick: ...Jay?

Jason: what?

Dick: I don't think it worked you've been a hero, villain and now anti-hero.

Jason: ...

Dick:

Jason *slams down color brush*: FUCK

[choccy-milky]

I can imagine Clora reading the "Final Problem" where Sherlock "DIES" and being depressed for like a month and sending hate mail to Conan Doyle while Sebastian tries to cheer her up.

THATS SO FUNNY YOU SENT THIS BECAUSE I LITERALLY DECIDED THE SAME THING A WHILE BACK BAHAHA i plan to mention it in my fic too

seb would 1000% find clora crying during their seventh year when "the final problem" is published LMAOO and he'd freak out wondering whats wrong. and when i read about how tons of doyles' fans sent him hate mail and were outraged i was like yup, clora would've been one of them BAHAHA. ["Obituaries for Holmes appeared everywhere. Petitions were signed and “Keep Holmes Alive” clubs were formed."] CLORA WOULD HAVE FORMED ONE OF THOSE CLUBS TOO LMFAOO

all the outrage made doyle resurrect sherlock a decade later, so that also means when they're older + married + have kids, clora's just gonna burst into the room one day and be like "HES ALIIIIVEEE!!!!!!!" BAHAHHAA clora's hate mail to arthur conan doyle is what brought back sherlock, CONFIRMED!!💯💪✨

[oifaaa]

As I begin my umpteenth rewatch of fullmetal alchemist brotherhood I am once again reminded about how amazing it is that this show actually exists in the form that it does like can you imagine if a show like fmab was released today an almost 100% faithful adaptation of the source material not squeezed into 8 or 10 or 12 episode blocks so it can fit a season but given just the right amount of episodes needed to tell the complete story start to end

[wolfythewitch]

In my brain somewhere the hadestown au is cyclical in a way where everyone, once, a lifetime ago or now, has in some way been Orpheus and Eurydice. Jon and Martin were Orpheus and Eurydice before tim and Sasha were, and the story was still the same. Jon turned to look and came up to the surface alone. Their Hades and Persephone were Peter and Elias. Maybe even before that, maybe Peter and Elias were Orpheus and Eurydice once. One of them must have turned. Someone will be Orpheus and Eurydice after, and maybe Tim and Sasha will be their Hades and Persephone. Orpheus will always look back. Eurydice will always forgive him

[ghost-town-story]

You ever just have moments where weird coincidences happen and you just sit there like “huh. that’s uh. some timing.”

(context below the cut bc uh. rambles)

So yesterday I got to thinking about things and the gist of it is I decided I’m going to change some characters’ backgrounds. Specifically, Maria is now half black, specifically Caribbean black for reasons that ultimately boil down to that’s my fam yo.

So, obviously, that waterfalls down to her kids and grandkids, which means I have a bit of character redesigning to do. nbd. I decided to go picrew hunting tonight to redesign Jazz, Hayden, and Nick specifically bc they (Jazz n Hayden at least) already had picrews made, and I would like those updated at least for my own mental images of them.

Now, as I’m making those picrews, I decided to hop over to facebook to pull up a pic of my uncle because, again, part of the reason why Maria is specifically Caribbean black is so I have a very quick reference system of “are these features reasonable for these kids?”

The first post I see on fb is from my aunt. Apparently yesterday was my other uncle’s birthday, and my grandpa’s was earlier this week (and before anybody questions why I didn’t know this before, they’re both gone, and I never really knew either). And now I’m sitting here like “huh. that’s uh. some timing. deciding to change my characters’ family to more reflect my own the same day/week as some of their birthdays.”

idk man. I’m just gonna go back to making these picrews now that I’ve gotten the refs I wanted

[thebramblewood]

Helena and Caleb have been busy burying the hatchet and starring in their new hit sitcom. Currently accepting theme song submissions!

Clue card designed by @surely-sims! I thought it would be a cute detail to add. 🥰

Previous / Next

Caleb: Miss Scarlett with the dagger in the lounge.

Helena: Are you sure you’re not just describing your sister on a bad day?

Caleb: Oh, you mean every day?

Helena: Speak of the devil and she shall appear.

[canned audience laughter]

Helena: Regrettably, Miss Scarlett is out of contention. My turn!

-

Helena: Caleb, look! Poor little thing. Where did you come from?

Caleb: More importantly, how is it still alive? Animals don’t have a tendency to thrive around here, wild or domesticated.

Helena: She’s a girl! We should keep her!

Caleb: Lilith would hate it. She might even…

Helena: Lilith will not touch a hair on her body! [in baby voice] I’m going to name you Drusilla.

Caleb: Hold on. Is that a Buffy the Vampire Slayer reference?

Helena: Oh, well, I went down this research rabbit hole after… you know. It may have included a Simflix binge. Is it forbidden media now?

Caleb: Of course not! [sheepish but excited] I actually have the full series box set upstairs. Should we…

Helena: HELL YEAH, WE SHOULD!

Helena: Drusilla, come back! Don’t you want to meet your namesake?

Lilith: Disgusting little goblin. What particularly loathsome circle of hell did you claw your way out of?

[canned audience laughter]

[aspiring-house-husband]

“forgive me, father, for i have sinned…”

I relish in breaking priests. 

“I have been lustful.”

contrary to popular belief, a demon has no difficulty stepping foot in church. surrounding myself with all of that holiness, it only heightens my hunger. i keep my face looking human and my clothes modest and i remember what i’m here for. a priest… you, the gorgeous and beautiful priest with a body to make me drool. a body that deserves so much more than to be locked behind the church. 

“tell me more, child.”

you’re young, for a priest. young and pretty and lovely. i want nothing more than to have you as mine, but i have been patient. i have visited you in the past, devout and mournful of my sin. supposedly. 

“I have pictured you, father. in my nights alone, i have pictured you on my bed, devoid of clothes. i have imagined your supple flesh quivering with pleasure from my touch.”

you do not respond but with a sharp intake of breath. my lips reveal sharp teeth as i smile, a scent of shock and arousal slipping through the slatted holes separating us. 

“i have imagined your soft thighs opening for me as you plea for my touch. you beg vulgar things of me, father. you beg for me to touch you and breach you and spear you onto me.”

“i- i see.”

“i have seen it in my dreams, father. you ask me to break you open on my cock and keep going even if you cry. you beg me to take you, body and soul. to make your hole and so your entire body feel as though holy, bewitched by god’s light.”

“interesting…” you sound breathless. you smell desperate. 

“you promise me that you will save me from my sin, and that you can only do so by letting me release it within you, as you, holy father, can handle it. that you will cleanse me with your touch and your hole.”

“they say…” you say, and it comes out as a whimper. “they say that dreams are sent by god.”

“as guidance, father?” 

“indeed. That god offers us answers and communicates with us through our dreams, should we only listen.”

“how must i repent, father?”

you try to hide it, but i hear the soft thump as you rest your temple against the wall between us. so too can i hear your thighs rubbing together for the slightest relief, and your hand making way of your clothes to reach your own heat. 

“if god has so graciously shown us his path, we must take it,” you answer, and i can hear your robes shuffling as you dig your hand down further between your legs. “but you must finish confession, first.”

“only after you beg of me, in my dreams, do i take you viciously,” i answer, listening to the sweet sounds of your wetness as you shove fingers as deep into yourself as you can reach. “i satisfy you with my cock and you cry out at how it feels. i thrust into you with enough force to bounce your voice and force you to cum around me and again until you shed tears of ecstasy, father, and told me that i was cleansed with the holy light of god’s love within your body.” your breathing and the scent of your arousal both spike as you near your own orgasm, every word of mine and every thrust of your fingers bringing it closer until you tremble and shake through it. i see the shadow of you leaning back into your seat as you listen. “and i felt the euphoria, father, of the holy light that i spilled into you. i was cured of my sin, father. surely my lust was balanced by my connection to the spirit.”

“in the dream, it was,” you answer, breathless and smiling, “but you have not repented from your waking lust. i shall save you, as such i did in your dream.”

“i’m so glad,” i say, my teeth sharp and claws sharp as i tear aside the wood between us, revealing to you my muscular frame, my slitted eyes, my wicked horns, my predatory smile. “for I shall make my dream real.”

it takes me only a moment to lift you from your seat and strip you, demonic magic only helping in pulling your robes from your body, before i spear you deep onto my cock, your hole loose and wet with orgasm. 

“cleanse me, father,” i growl, forked tongue circling your ear before my lips latch to your neck, working your blood to the surface. “free me of this sin and i shall worship you as i worship our lord.” 

you grip onto my shoulder with one hand and my horn with another, locking your ankles behind me, dropping your head back and moaning like the best succubi i’ve seen. your hips buck lewdly and your hole grips around me with the tightness and heat of hell itself. your spend drips from you and joins my precum, smearing both your thighs and mine before painting the floor. 

i cushion your head from slamming into the wood, feeling it as your so-called holiness slips from you. i drink it up from your veins as it escapes my demonic power, which i pour into you with every kiss and caress and thrust, which you accept with every cant of your hips, every tight grip onto my body, every moan to be heard throughout the cathedral. 

you flutter and clench and ripple around me with your second orgasm, body going taught and earthquaking in my arms. i can’t help but sink my teeth into your perfectly pleasured frame, my magic following my fangs and pouring ever further into your body. it has you trembling even more, whimpering in prolonged pleasure the likes of which you’ve never experienced, shaking and tensing and ignorant to how your holy light shatters and focuses into tying you to hell, where a tempting sinner belongs. 

i can only withstand so much of your perfect sloppy hole before i cum into you, spilling into you with unholy light and darkness. i watch the glow of it fill you, and watch as your orgasm drags ever on, even to where your eyes roll back in your skull and you go limp in my arms, still trembling through the pleasure in your sleep. 

this means that, lovingly, i can watch as my glowing demonic magic reshapes within you, to a binding mark so beautifully painted between your hipbones. i watch it climb your veins to your hairline, where it spouts nubby horns from your perfect hair. finally, it bleeds down to your face, and when you open your eyes, they resemble a snake’s. 

“you are cleansed,” i whisper, reverently, kissing you softly. “an angel all for me.” 

“angel,” you breathe in response, tremoring still around my cock within you. “an angel you are, sent to rescue me.”

“to raise you to the unholy light you deserve. to rapture you to your higher purpose.” i kiss you as i speak, all over your chest and neck, with worship and adoration on my lips. 

“higher purpose,” you simper, clenching yourself around me again. “take me to this higher purpose. show it to me. fill me with it.”

“as you wish, my angel,” i tell you, invading your mouth with long tongue and loving kiss, and fucking you anew. 

[tart-miano]

angry that your parody has a degree and you don't, victor