#this drawing gave me so much hell for absolutely no reason

[comical-icicle]

I finally got around to coloring this.

[mercurymessiah]

Something that bothered me whilst watching ‘Days of Future Past’ was the device Peter used to listen to music.

Now it’s already been discussed multiple times over the years how he is able to listen to music at super-speed, as he perceives time at a much slower pace meaning the music would be slow too. However, thats not what perked my interest per-say.

I wondered how Peter had his hands on a walkman in 1973, when Sony didn’t release them to the world up until 1979, 6 years later. Initially, I figured it was just an inconsistency that the writers either missed or ignored, but then I actually gave it a look and realised it wasn’t a walkman at all, it was something completely different!

It looks far more complicated than a walkman, which is a much more simple and portable device compared to this extensive compartment. And so, I went searching for what the hell this thing was.

Turns out it’s called a ‘Stereobelt’ invented by Andreas Pavel. Whilst it interested me to learn that it wasn’t a walkman, I still found the same problem as Pavel didn’t file a patent for it up until 1977 (4 years after DOFP). It also didn’t help that his idea was rejected and so I don’t believe the Stereobelt was manufactured and sold at all. Nonetheless, I kept reading.

The first prototype for this device was actually invented in Switzerland, 1972. So now we know that a version of this thing did in fact exist before the events of the film and its a become possible for Peter to have owned one. But it only leaves us with a new question:

How the fuck did Peter get his hands on it?

We know of his kleptomaniac activities (if that basement is anything to go by) and that he’s perfectly cable of taking it, its just the means behind what lead him to this compartment in the first place. The only conclusion that I could draw upon is that Peter for whatever reason decided to run all the way to Switzerland on a whim, somehow stumbled upon this guys Sterobelt and thought it cool enough to steal. Which is absolutely hilarious if you ask me.

Poor Pavel must have freaked out on its whereabouts but at least someone saw the genius in his design I guess?

[monimccoythings]

Alastor x daughter!Reader (Platonic)

So, I finally gave in and watched the series. It was cool but the pacing was a bit too fast for me and sometimes i felt like it was deviating way too much from the original plot for such a short series. But wow, y'all were right about Alastor. He stole the show. I wanted to write something for him, but I was not sure how to proceed given that he is aroace (tremendous irony considering that I might be aroace irl). Nothing seemed to fit, given that this dude has never had a bit of romance in his life and refuses to do so. But I came accross a wonderful fic about Alastor having an adopted daughter who became an angel, and everything made sense to me. I saw the light. Whoever you are, I will find your fic again, like it, and reblog it.

Big reminder: Alastor is in hell for a reason. TW: gory elements, blood, near decapitation, implied death threat towards a child.

This is not proof read. So please excuse any grammar and vocabulary mistakes.

Part I (You are here!)｜Part II｜Part III

This deer man has never shown interest in neither romance nor sex. So the only logical conclusion is that he adopted you when you were just a baby.

He found the idea of having that much power and control over someone amusing, molding them just the way he desired.

How unexpected it was for him to suddenly find that it was you who had him wrapped around your little finger and not the other way around!

But how could he not adore you! You were delightful! You were his little fawn, always so sweet and loving, he would have thought his own beloved mama had been secretly raising you from the afterlife!

Oh, with how much joy your eyes filled when you saw your papa return home after a long day at work! He was your everything, always smiling and fun loving, but also knowing where to draw the line.

He absolutely loved singing to you, his tunes filled with rythm along with the smoothness of his voice were enough to give you a full night of sleep filled with sweet dreams.

And while you dreamed... Your dad was outside, creating nightmares.

He made sure you never got to see that side of him. You were too naive and pure, your light could become corrupted.

Very overprotective father. Always subtly controlling who are you hanging out with and how much time (he would despise having to share his beloved child's attention with someone else) "Darling, I think you have already played enpugh with X I'm sure their parents miss them." (and if they don't, they WILL).

Finding about your Papa's double life would be entirely on accident. One day, he would take you to his job at the radio station, and some drunk and racist asshole would harass you on the streets, terrifying you out of your mind. Your dad kept a calm and collected expression never once losing that charming smile of his, but you could tell something was off. He quickly brushed it off, casually reminding you that it was just your terrified imagination playing tricks on you.

That night, your papa was taking too long from the station, so you decided to come and get him (dunno how safe the streets would be for a child that time because reader is about 13-14 years old). You wished you had waited and stayed home. Because the only light was coming from the recording studio, and peeking through the small opening, your blood froze in your veins.

Your Papa was pushing off himself the dead body of the same man that had assaulted you early that day. His pristine white shirt that he always made sure to keep in perfect conditions was drenched with blood that was quickly drying up.

You quietly tiptoed your way back to the entrance, wondering how you weren't heard given how loud your heart was hammering in your chest.

You felt like your entire world had come crashing down, and as you returned home, you tried your best picking up the remaining pieces.

Your beloved father would never do something like that, right? There had to be a misunderstanding. That was it. That man had viciously assaulted you earlier that day, maybe he came back and tried to attack your dad at his job? It had to be self defense. That was the only option.

Your dad seemed to be breathing heavily, probably from the adrenaline rush from having had to take a life in self defense, but had you not been so shocked and scared, maybe you would have noticed the manic glee in his eyes and the way his smile had widened into something outright demonic.

You decided you would never tell anyone. Yes, it was horrifying that it had ended up like this, but telling anybody could get your dad in serious trouble and in this case he was not the one to blame.

So you kept quiet. Tried to act as normal as you could in front of your father and everyone else. If Alastor noticed, he never told. Everything seemed back to normal, until...

Until one day someone knocked at your door. A police officer. He seemed to be asking questions about the guy you saw your dad kill, protect himself from, a week ago. He was the son of some big shot from the city. A very important one. Rats.

He had come knocking on your door because some witeness had said that the very same day of his murder he had saw him in an altercation with your dad. Double rats.

It was amazing how your father didn't lose composure at all, not even for a second, always keeping a calm smile on his face while he patiently described the events of that day. You could barely refrain from shaking, how was he so relaxed?.

You knew your father was lying, he had to. What else could he do? Confess that that man had assaulted him again at his studio at night and he had to fight for his life? He would be hanged. No one would believe his word against that of a rich white man.

When the officer left, you thought that would be the end of it, your father's charms having won him over as always.

Nothing could have prepared you for what happened a week later.

The first red flag would have been having your father letting you stay at a friend's house for the night. That never happened. Your father always insisting very dramatically that if he were to be apart from you for an entire night he would surely die of grief!

But that day something seemed... Weird. Your father had a determined look on his face and gave you no explanation when you asked if there was something wrong.

You couldn't sleep, there was this nagging at the back of your head that was practically screaming at you that you should return home right now.

You quietly sneaked out of your friend's house in the middle of the night and made your way back home. That unnerving feeling growing inside your mind. 'Just a quick peek, just to make sure he's alright and I'll go back to my friend's'

The lights at your home were on, but it was so dim you could barely make out anything. It was coming from the basement. Someone was humming a tune, you recognized your father's voice.

There was a terrible smell coming from there, like rotten fruit mixed with burning trash. It made you gag, but at the same time you needed to know what was going on there.

Curiosity killed the cat, that was your father always told you.

On top of the wooden table, laid a dead body that you sadly knew too well. It was the police offcer that had come home to interrogate you a week ago. His chest had been cut open and some organs seemed missing. His head had been nearly torn from his body and was only hanging by a few tendons in his neck. The blood was forming a sticky puddle on the floor.

If that wasn't horrifying enough for you the worst part had to be the look on your father's face. Joy. Pure unbridled joy and elation. It chilled you to the bone.

You tried to take a step back, tried to return to you friend's house and forget everything, pretend this had never happened. But your shoe got stuck. And you fell backwards.

That caught Alastor's attention. His joyful expression changed into one of confusion, but never once losing his smile.

"Y/N?" He asked flatly.

You bolted. You didn't know what to do where to run, but you knew you had to escape before he caught you.

You could hear him giving chase, calling your name. You could see him getting close, reaching for you.

What you didn't see was the truck that ended it all.

[marcasmacmanus]

Three Nobleman (Pt. III)

Lord Ambroys Belrose Desoleil

The last one I worked on. May one can tell this character is something really special to me.. and maybe that's one of the reasons this last portrait was a hell of a roller-coaster to me. Almost leading me to quit and abandoning the whole project. The reason why this particular painting has a different background than the other two is that I had to start over completely. The first mistake I made was the scale. At first I wanted to show way more of the character itself, what meant on the other hand, that all the details got way smaller and I just wasn't able to adequately handle that. The second problem was that I somehow messed up his face/expression and wasn't able to figure out what went wrong or what it was exactly, that make it seem so odd to me.. And last but not least, my absolute lack of understanding color.. yep, I like painting stuff but I don't really understand how colors work.. His mane/hair became my arch nemesis. Not that it is hard enough, to work with bright colors that are pretty close to each other, without outlines, no, I had absolutely no idea how many different colors are needed to mix blonde.. just to make that slight difference to his coat. The decision to use the "older" version of him wasn't helping either. His younger self doesn't have the straight mane/hair, which makes it way easier to let it look like "hair". Well, at least to me. But in the end I think I somehow managed it to a degree that it is acceptable (for my fourth time with oils). To end the part of my struggle with this one, there was one thing left I wish I had noticed earlier, and that's the position of his left arm. I just took the sketch from my first try and scaled it up, not noticing that the arm may look a little bit odd now.

But that's aside, I also had a lot of fun with the painting. I totally got lost in the rose on his revers (because I love roses the most) and there are some more details which made me really happy how they turned out. But I have to confess that I cheated a little on this painting as well. It's the only of the three portraits that isn't exclusively painted in oils. His horn is actually painted over with nail-polish to get that opalescent shimmer.

Ambroys' portrait took me about 90 hours (first try included). It's based on this drawing by @kwillow - how-much-conditioner-do-you-think-olderamby-goes -, which again means that I don't want to take any credit for the artwork itself.

Yes, Ambroys means a lot to me and that may be the reason I look more critical on this one. But the most important thing for me is, that the new owners, @chocodile and @kwillow, like them and can gain some joy out of my work. You guys gave me so much through your characters and their stories, and helped me through a very hard, and so far the darkest chapter of my life. And therefore, thank you!

[hopelessrromantix]

Content: religious themes, choking, degredation, f-slur, internalized homophobia

It was supposed to be a calm day. Nothing but the usual glances at the school freaks and maybe a rude comment from the basketball team.

But of course, Eddie and Jason were at each other’s throats. Again.

Jason had attempted to pick on the younger members of Hellfire, annoying both you and the group’s leader. Naturally, Eddie was furious. It resulted in a lovely marker drawing of a dick on Carver’s locker. Washable, yes, but enough to piss Jason off.

“You want somethin’ Munson?” Jason questioned, glaring at a very smug looking Eddie.

He’d managed to catch the group as they left that day’s session. He’d likely gotten out of basketball practice with the rest of his goons, most of which were trailing behind him.

“Of course not good sir!” Eddie smirked, giving the most sarcastic bow he could manage. You rolled your eyes. You’d much rather diffuse the situation, but Eddie was always one for dramatics.

“Don’t make it worse, Ed.” You crossed your arms over your chest “Just walk away, he won’t follow.”

Eddie hummed softly, as if he was considering your advice. You knew he wouldn’t take it though.

“Didn’t know you freaks had brain cells,” Carver chuckled, the comment clearly directed at you. You raised a brow. He had nerve.

“A lot more than you,” Eddie quipped. “Listen, I’d love to chat about sports or girls or whatever it is you gossip about in the locker rooms, but I actually have plans.”

Eddie Munson did not have plans.

“You aren’t leaving that easy, freaks.” Damn he was testing you today.

Eddie only laughed. “I know what you’re thinking and no, Chrissy isn’t at my place.”

The way Jason’s eyes widened was almost laughable. Fists clenched at his side, he strode forward, grabbing Eddie’s collar. You stepped behind your friend instantly, getting ready to push Jason off. The only reason you didn’t, is because Eddie gave a small wave, gesturing for you to back off.

“You stay the hell away from my girlfriend, you hear me?”

It was almost sad. How scared he was of losing Chrissy to Eddie. All the while spending most nights crying into your mattress.

“Loud and clear, big boy,” Eddie mumbled, patting the hand holding his collar.

You glared down at Jason, eyes boring into him. With one glance up, he dropped Eddie, taking several steps backward. He tried not to show his mild fear, keeping his expression cruel.

“Whatever,” He huffed. “I better not see you anywhere near her or me.” He didn’t wait for a response, instead walking past you with his group. He mumbled something to the rest of his friends before walking a different way.

“Well that was eventful,” Eddie said, sighing. “I’m probably gonna get my ass kicked, but I’m absolutely gonna find some excuse to talk to Chrissy.”

You shook your head fondly. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Eds.” He gave you a half-assed wave, walking toward his van while you went toward your car.

You weren’t very surprised to see Jason sitting on the curb on the other side, out of view from Eddie or his jock friends.

You rolled your eyes, gesturing to the car and unlocking it. After making sure the parking lot was clear (save for Eddie who was blasting Metallica so loud he was sure to go deaf), he hopped in the passenger seat, sinking down.

Most of the drive was silent, your attention focused on the road ahead of you. Eventually he sat up, his knee bouncing and fingers tapping nervously against the car door.

“You know I--”

“If you’re smart, you’ll shut your mouth.” You said, cutting him off. His mouth opened again, but he quickly thought better of it, going back to looking out the window.

You pulled in your driveway and got out of the car just as silently, whipping open the door to your house and leaving it open for Jason to follow. He did a second later, following you to your room.

No one but you was home, your parents on a week long vacation. Originally you were going to surprise him, let him know he didn’t have to sneak around this week. But now, you were just happy you wouldn’t have to gag him.

“You’ve got some nerve, Carver,” You said, smirking. He looked nervous, dropping his book bag by the door. “Comin’ after Eddie and me like that.”

“Just wanted him to stop messing with Chrissy,” He explained quietly, trying not to make things worse for himself.

“Want him to leave her alone, huh?” You asked, sympathetically. He nodded slowly, not sure where the kind tone came from. “Y’know, I think she’d hate it a lot more if she found out you were getting fucked stupid by those ‘freaks’ you hate so much.”

You stepped closer to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. He was unable to meet your eye, looking from the walls to the floor.

“I just don’t want--”

“I don’t give a fuck what you want, Jason.” Your hand moved quickly, gripping his jaw.

It was tight enough to leave red marks, though you knew he wouldn’t complain. “If you think you can talk however you want to me and get away with it, you’re dead wrong.”

He tried to open his mouth to speak, but couldn’t move with your hand in the way.

He was a sinner, that much he knew. God was surely frowning on his actions, on the way he shivered when you glared at him. But he couldn’t imagine himself stopping.

No matter how loud the voice in the back of his head was, all he wanted was to be good for you.

“Clothes off, on the bed.” You order, finally letting his jaw go. The reddened prints of your fingers stuck around.

“Bu-”

“Did I ask your opinion, bitch?” You watched as Jason shook his head, shedding his letterman jacket and shirt. He took off his jeans soon after, nearly tripping over them with how eager he was to sit on your bed. He was slightly slower taking off his boxers, eyes flicking to watch your expression.

Already twitching and all you did was call him a bitch.

It was always like this. He’d mock your friends then come home with you and get fucking railed. It was some sick fetish for him, not that you were mad about getting to make a pretty boy cry.

He felt sick at how eager he was. His eyes traced your every move, anxiously watching as you stepped closer to the bed. Your hand gripped his chin, much gentler this time. He refrained from leaning into your touch.

Fucking you was one thing. Showing up at your house or begging you to come over to his when his parents were out. Pleading until he got one of Hawkin’s resident freak to fuck him so hard he had to fake an injury in gym the next day.

But loving you? Loving you was something else. Something he couldn’t even consider, not when he was abandoning so many of his morals.

“So pretty like this,” You mumbled, just loud enough for him to hear. “You wanna suck my cock, pretty boy?”

He nodded fervently. He could feel himself twitch, a bead of precum trailing down his dick. He knew you noticed, you always did. Eyes gleaming as you held back a laugh, knowing you could torture him like this.

He slid off the bed, undoing your belt and pulling your boxers down just enough to free your half-hard length.

He didn’t wait for you to say anything, instead completely throating your cock, shoving it as far back as he could. He could feel you getting harder in his throat, forcing him to gag the longer he went.

“Aw, so eager to get a dick down your throat that you choke yourself, huh?” You smirked, voice dripping with false sympathy. He tried his best to nod, tears gathering in his eyes. “Slut like you probably likes it, though.” He tried and failed to nod again, giving a low moan of agreement.

The vibration made you sigh, placing both hands on either side of his face. “I think I like you better when you’re quiet.”

He didn’t want to admit that he twitched at that, thrusting his hips up into empty air. You took hold of his hair, dragging him up and down your cock. He let out a mix of gags and moans, his face tinted red as he struggled to breath.

A few thrusts later you dragged his head fully down, burying his nose against your pelvis. You let out a sigh, relishing in the feeling of his throat contracting around you.

He looked so pretty like this, tears streamed down his face, gagging around your cock as he pushed against you. Of course, if he wanted to stop he only needed to tap you a few times. But he never did, no matter how long you choked him on your dick. You were almost certain he’d enjoy passing out, as long as you fucked him afterward.

His eyes rolled back, stuck swallowing helplessly as he ran out of air. Eventually you pulled him off, smiling as he coughed, inhaling as fast as he could.

“On the bed,” You ordered, gesturing your head toward the bed. It took him a second to react, eyes too glazed to process your statement. “Now.”

That got his attention. He moved slowly, sitting himself on the sheets anxiously. He was hoping you didn’t notice the cum dripping from his stomach. He knew you would, though. You always did.

The second you took in his full appearance you outright laughed. “Don’t tell me you came just from that?” He looked away from you, shifting slowly on the bed. “You really are a whore, huh?” He barely processed the insult, nodding along in agreement.

You scoffed at the action, putting one hand against his side. You flipped him over, making him gasp at the sudden manhandling. None of the girls he could date would treat him like that. None would want to rail big strong Jason Carver until he cried. But you would. You always did.

And everytime, he felt worse about himself. He knew the town would turn on him the second they knew he was a faggot, much less the one getting fucked. It was odd that way. As if him topping would make it all better. But he didn’t want to top, he’d never even asked to. He enjoyed the way you treated him too much. Like he was nothing more than dirt beneath your feet.

You gripped his neck, leaning down to meet level with his ear. “I’d go nice and slow to prep you, but I know you want it rough.”

And he did. He always did.

You spit roughly on his hole, chuckling at the soft moan he let out. You held your hand in front of his face, gesturing for him to do the same. He did so, listening as you used it to cover your dick.

“Imagine if your little team could see you now,” You laughed, pushing passed the tight ring.

His mouth fell open, head collapsing against the mattress. It probably would’ve hurt more if he hadn’t fingered himself to this exact scenario in the showers after everyone had left.

But he loved the pain, he loved how you laughed behind him, mocking his constant moans and mumbling. He could barely get a word out, the noises a jumbled mess of “please”, “sir”, “stop”, and “more”.

Naturally, if he really wanted to stop, he could. Just one word was all it would take. But no matter how far you went, he never used it. Not once. Not even when you left him tied up in your closest, vibrator shoved half way up his ass while you went to dinner. He probably could’ve gotten out of it if he really tried. But he hadn’t even thought of that.

His head was clouded, barely registering his second orgasm for the night. The only thing that brought him back was the sound of your mocking coo.

“Fucking whore came again so fast?” You didn’t slow your thrusts, speeding up slightly as he attempted to answer you. All that came out was an extended whine, voice breaking with each harsh thrust into him.

“Think I should call your little friends? Party at L/n’s, right? Let them fuck their ring leader ‘til he passes out?”

He shook his head rapidly, barely realizing he was chanting “nonono” on repeat.

“No? Don’t want your friends knowing you get fucked by a freak?” You questioned, giving a harsh slap against his ass, reveling in the whimper he let out.

“Just want you,” He managed to say, the words slurred. “Just want you using me like this.”

You froze for a second, nearly cumming right there. He whined at your lack of movement, thrusting himself backward.

“You reall are a fucking slut,” You punctuated the sentence with a thrust, earning a loud moan. “My slut.”

And that alone was enough to make him cum again.

[save-the-villainous-cat]

Independent clever Hero who doesn’t trust the brooding villains true feelings for them, and keeps second guessing everything villain does!!

“Enchantée,” the hero purred. Their eyes were drawn to the supervillain, concentrated and observing quietly. Every micro-expression, every little change — nothing escaped the hero. They were highly focused on their target and they didn’t plan on failing this mission. “It’s a pleasure to have met you.”

The supervillain gave them a once over and hummed satisfactorily. All night long, they’d been in a good mood and the hero had used that to get close to them. Rare opportunities like this demanded to be taken advantage of. The hero was ready to sacrifice whatever this mission needed them to.

Everything had gone smoothly but — unfortunately — it would’ve been much easier if it wasn’t for the villain.

The villain who was currently squeezing their wineglass hard enough to make it crack and burst. The villain who kept glaring at them. The villain who had helped them get an invitation (in exchange for a ridiculous amount of money) and introduced them to the supervillain.

“We will meet again, I hope,” the supervillain said.

“I could pay you a visit once the gala is over,” the hero said. “If you’ll have me.”

Their eyes found the supervillain’s lips and they were this close to making a move. This close to gaining a drop of their trust and getting a second meeting.

“Lovely idea. I don’t think your date over there—” they nodded towards the villain who had murder in their eyes “—would appreciate that, though. But, yeah. Enchantée.” They smiled politely, did something close to a bow and disappeared in the crowd filled with boring people.

The hero turned around immediately, burning from the inside as they approached their “date.”

“What are you doing?” they hissed. They took away the cracked glass and placed it on the bar behind the villain. They didn’t have time for this nonsense, god, they had almost nothing.

Unfortunately, the supervillain was someone who would come to social gatherings once in a blue moon. How the hell were you supposed to build a relationship with someone who lived like a fucking hermit crab? How the hell were you supposed to get all the information on them when they revealed absolutely nothing?

The hero sighed and the villain just stared.

“You did this on purpose, didn’t you?”

The villain blinked, looking confused, then angry again. The hero knew they didn’t talk much but god, if they were acting suspicious enough for the supervillain to notice…it sabotaged the whole operation, it ruined everything.

“What were you doing anyway? Destroying wineglasses?”

“The other one was a champagne glass,” the villain said.

“Christ, you’ve got some nerves.” The hero stared at the crowd, trying to spot the supervillain but it was useless — they were probably in their hotel already, or even worse, scheming in their home.

Eventually, the hero eyes fell on the glass again. The cracks looked like spiderwebs, drawing across the glass. And then, they realised there was blood on the glass.

The hero looked at their nemesis’ hands and indeed, they were bleeding.

“Hell, why did you…” The hero didn’t finish the sentence nor the thought. Instead, they took the villain’s hand into theirs and observed once again. Suddenly, it didn’t matter that much that the supervillain had gotten away.

So what? They’d have to improvise, as always. The hero’s intuition was brilliant, something they’d trained to perfection. Next time, if there was a next time, they would get them and they would finish this.

“What made you so angry?” They hadn’t found any shards, so they stole a napkin from the bar and dabbed on the villain’s skin, soaking up the blood carefully.

“…don’t you know?”

No. No, the hero didn’t know. The hero did not know. And maybe, the hero didn’t want to know. Maybe they shouldn’t have asked, maybe they shouldn’t have done this.

Because this couldn’t be the reason, right? This couldn’t be the explanation.

“No,” the hero lied.

“Oh.” The muscles in the villain’s fingers spasmed whenever the hero came close to the cuts but the hero held them gently and was careful. “It was just an accident.”

Somehow, hearing that was more devastating than watching the supervillain leave.

[shsy7573]

Random Lucifer (Hazbin Hotel) Character/Song Analysis Kinda Thing… I Guess

Okay, so yeah, Luci has 100% taken over this page. So what? I’m not obsessed, you are.

Anyway, I’ve been listening to “More Than Anything” on repeat since it dropped, and like a lot of the fandom I tear up every single time… but unlike a lot of the fandom, it’s not because of the sweet father-daughter moment (which, don’t get me wrong, doesn’t help the situation because it’s just so damn wholesome).

No, what gets me is how, just through a couple subtle moments, the show is able to convey just how absolutely shattered Luci is as a character. And, you know, because he’s my favourite, bestest, snek-baby-duck-boy, it makes me a little emotional…

So now you’re all gonna hear about what goes through my mind every time I listen to it. YAY!

“Charlie! You don’t understand, Heaven never listens. They didn’t listen to me. They won’t listen to you!” / “You don’t know that—” / “I do!”

It starts before the song even truly begins. When I’m listening, it’s usually these first few lines that grab my attention. I end up replaying the first 4-5 seconds of the song over and over again because the pain in that “I do” is so fucking good! (And because I like to suffer apparently cuz I end up sad. Life of an angst lover I guess).

It’s the first time we see him with actual tears in his eyes. The raw delivery of that line is so attention grabbing, and manages to say so much in such little words.

I think the reason this particular scene tickles my brain so much is because it’s the breaking point for his character in a way. I am, and always will be, a sucker for moments where a character’s walls finally come down, and we get to see what’s been festering inside. When their deepest thoughts and how much they’re hurting are revealed. The entire song is what that is for Lucifer, starting with these two words right here. I truly cannot put into words just how much my breath is taken away by Jeremy’s delivery of this line. I cannot articulate how much I love it, and how important it is for Luci’s character. it just hits so deep and so right for me and I love it.

Lucifer isn’t just saying that he knows Heaven isn’t going to care about her plan (I don’t think anyone thought that’s all he was saying but whatever). He is saying that he knows what Heaven does to dreamers. He knows what they’ll do because he has already been there, and it destroyed him. They took his ideas that they saw as too outlandish, and they squashed them. Cast him aside. And he paid the price for it when he went bashing their back and did his own thing anyway.

Luci is a broken dreamer. Throughout the entire episode, and the series as a while, we are given very strong hints of this. However, it’s not until this song that we really see it in action. It’s not until these moments that we are able to see past both the veils of “Imposing King of Hell” and “Goofy Guy who’s trying his best but not great at Dadding,” and get a look at how genuinely depressed this man is.

“My dreams were too hard to defend.”

This scene eight here. The more I see it, the more I fall in love with it. Just a great example of ‘show don’t tell.’

He’s talking about having big ideas, he’s talking about giving people a chance and reaching outside the normal, he’s talking about being cast out of Heaven. I just love the parallel he’s drawing between Charlie’s mission, and his own past.

Charlie created the hotel in an attempt to give people who have been seen as lesser to all of Heaven some sort of chance. She is choosing to have faith in them, and to open up opportunities for them to lead a better life.

Lucifer, when he gave Eve the fruit, was taking a chance to allow humanity the chance to have free will. He wanted them to experience everything life had to offer for themselves like angels got to. He offered a chance for them to lead a better life.

He had everything, and he had complete faith that what he was doing was right. All the light and hope of his dreams was right in the palm of his hand. He had so many ideas that he thought, if they were saw through, would make the world a better place.

But it didn’t work out for him.

“And in the end, I won’t lose it all again.”

Now, the first seconds of dialogue may be what I keep rewatching, but this has got to be my favourite visual of the entire song. It’s such powerful imagery, and I fangirl over it every time.

Look at how small he looks in that shot (I know, I know, he’s tiny regardless, but like seriously). He is completely outnumbered, hopelessly overpowered, totally at the mercy of all his Heavenly superiors… and he’s all alone.

He lost everything because he had the gall to dream. It’s not hard to look at the song (and the episode at large, really) and find not only his feelings of being wronged, but also his immense guilt. It shows in how much he hates Sinners. They are basically the worst of what he did, a constant reminder of the day his mistake caused him to lose his home and everything he held dear, and they are all he gets to see. Only being permitted to see your failures for all eternity? No wonder he’s fucking depressed.

The day Heaven cast him out was the day he stopped dreaming. Because dreaming big only leads to pain, failure, and suffering.

“I just don’t want you to be crushed by them like… like I was.”

This next moment is kinda self explanatory and obvious and really doesn’t need any commentary, but I’m gonna talk about it anyway. Because I love it, and I love him, and… you know… angst. I’ve mentioned my lust for it several times now throughout this post, you really shouldn’t be surprised.

I just feel so bad for him. Lucifer made one mistake. One simple, misguided mistake that ended up introducing evil into the world, and all of Heaven came down on him for it. And, you know what, in the narrative presented by the show, what he did wasn’t that bad. He just wanted to give the world’s newest creations the same freedom angels had, and it backfired horribly. Lucifer, like Charlie, was an idealist who saw the best in people and wanted to help.

And what did he get for his good intentions? Shoved into the cesspool he unintentionally created, and forbidden to ever see anything good that came from his dream.

If I had to guess, Lilith was the only thing keeping his mental health afloat for a long time… and then they had Charlie.

“The tales about your lofty dreams. I’d listen breathlessly, imaging it could be me.”

His daughter became the light of his life. Something that he cherished and indulged more than anything else in the world. To him, she was perfect, and he wanted to do right by her in any way he could.

Lilith told their daughter stories of all her father’s dreams regardless of what he thought of them, and when the little princess came asking him… how could he refuse? How could he refuse her anything?

So he shared them with her. All the tales of grandeur, and fantasies of everything he wished the world could have been. All the dreams he had long since let go.

“And in the end, it’s the view I had of you that show me dreams can be worth fighting for.”

Now, the scene where Lily take’s Charlie away has always been excellent brain fodder for me because of how somewhat ambiguous it is. You could interpret his sadness to have SO MANY meanings. However, I have inevitably decided on two potential head-cannons/theories to share here for what could possibly be going through Snek-King’s head.

One: Lucifer loves his daughter, but he feels estranged and like he’s failed her in some way. She’s such a joy, such a wonder, and in a way it's his fault she’s trapped down here with all of human ties worst. He wasn’t to be close to her, and to make the world perfect for her… but he already feels like he’s failed her in the most unforgivable way. He keeps his distance because part of him doesn’t want her to have a super high of an opinion of him. It’s kind of his depression manifesting, saying that ‘she shouldn’t admire you and your stupid dreams when they’re the reason she’ll never see true light and happiness.’

The angst addict in me likes this one more, but still I’ve got another one that always pops.

Two: He feels like he’s selling her false hope, and he can kind of see the place her innocence is headed. He’s seen the horrors of the world, and he knows the more he indulges her dreams and fantasies, the more she’ll suffer when she sees that’s not what the world is like. He knows from personal experience how much it hurts when your dreams come undone, when you lose hope in the world.

Listening to Charlie’s actual lyrics, she tells him that he was the one who inspired her to dream, that he was right to dream, and that she’s not going to back down. In the song, Luci realises that 1: maybe he didn’t fuck us as badly as he thought and that she actually doesn’t blame him and wants her in his life and/or 2: she has her mother’s willpower, and she’s never going to stop dreaming or let her world be sullied like he did. She’s so much stronger than he was.

So he lets her in.

(Side note… AWWW, look how TINNYY he is! He’s so small. The start contrast in the second image gets me every time)

There’s a bit of symbolism in the song which I ABSOLUTELY adore, and it has to do with the wings. In the flashback, Charlie mentions his “lofty dreams,” when we see the duck, which later transforms to have multiple sets of wings. Later in the song, when Lucifer finally lets her in, he also sprouts those wings.

And I just love this, because I think it acts as the perfect symbolism of him finally opening his mind again. Not just to his daughter, but to the possibility of dreaming in general.

He takes her to a circus, a place filled to the brim with spectacles and thrills, a place where humanities wildest imaginations seem possible.

But even though he’s beginning to open up, and he’s willing to help her in whatever she does, he’s not ‘fixed.’ His depression and self doubt and feelings of hollow emptiness and guilt and apprehension aren’t gone.

And he’s still terrified of seeing her spark go out like his did.

This tiny smile break is so addicting to watch for me. It speaks volumes. Once again, my angst loving heart eats it up every time. It says, “I’m still worried, and there is still so much shit going on in my mind right now about all of this, but I’m here for you.”

And that’s what counts.

Luci’s character showed a lot of colours, and came a long way in this singular episode, but he’s still got a big uphill battle to climb. He still has to come back into his own where dreams are concerned. Maybe he never will, not completely. Realistically, he’ll never go back to the way he was.

But maybe, just maybe, in helping his daughter he’ll find something worth believing in again.

That is, of course, if they decide to give him a character arc beside ‘Dad who is trying and doing better,’ but for that only time will tell.

—

And THAT concludes my rant on the Rubber Ducky Ruler. If you stuck around this long, good for you! I wrote this whole thing on a limb at midnight, and NO I’m not going to go back and edit it because why would I ever want to see all the horrid grammatical and spelling errors I’ve inevitably made.

Maybe I’m off the mark on all of this. Maybe I’m head-cannoning too much. Maybe I’m just trying to suck out every hint of potential angst out of a song that’s supposed to be sweet and wholesome. That’s for you to decide. But for me, I’ve decided that I’m satisfied with this analysis. In the end, I just needed to express all the thoughts bumbling around in my head SOMEWHERE before I exploded, and unfortunately, I feel like I’ve run all my friends dry talking about this baby to them, so now it’s your turn. But, anyways, I think that about wraps things up. It’s time to go to bed.

Farewell, stay hydrated, and have a lovely rest of your day/night :)

[whooambouttamakeanameformyself]

Dating Crowley includes...

When you started dating Crowley, you had no idea exactly what would happen. Boy were you in for a surprise....

Warnings: fluff, angst, cussing, trust issues, talks of marriage.

(Let me know if you want any of these Headcanons to have their own story!)

~~~~~~~~~~

First date:

Crowley actually had to ask you out several times over the course of four months before you actually said yes.

The first date was honestly a little over the top. He took you to an extremely upscale restaurant, insisting that it was nothing.

If you don't or can't drink he won't shame you, he simply orders you something else to drink before ordering himself some form of alcohol.

If you do drink he'll order the most expensive bottle of wine.

He showered you with compliments, though he was very confused when you looked down at the table after every compliment.

You brushed it off, telling him you were just tired. He obviously didn't believe you, but chose to drop it.

When the date was over, Crowley took you home, giving you a quick goodbye kiss on the cheek with a soft "Thank you for going out with me". Then he was gone.

This whole situation was confusing. Usually Crowley was one to do anything in his power to get what he wanted, worrying only about himself. But tonight... This whole date... He was doing nothing but complimenting you and making sure you were comfortable... You didn't understand.

You shrugged off your confusion, deciding to go to bed, absolutely sure you'd never see him again after tonight.

But you did....

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Second date.

He appeared at your doorstep two weeks later, holding a bouquet of deep red roses.

You froze when you opened the door and saw him standing there.

He gave you a small smile and a "Hello, love."

You began to stutter out a response but he cut you off, handing you the roses as he began to apologize for being gone so long.

"It's okay.." you responded softly.

He asked you on another date and you agreed without hesitation.

This date was much calmer, like he'd paid attention to your reaction to the first date.

This date was a simple walk through the park at night.

You had no reason to be scared of being out so late at night since you were with the king of hell, someone who wouldn't hesitate to kill someone if they made you uncomfortable.

You both talked for two full hours as you walked.

~~~~~~~~~

Crowley gives you roses at least once a week.

He loves bringing you down to hell, having you sit on his lap while he sits on his throne.

Being a tailor when he was a human, he loves to make you clothes that fit your exact body type.

He loves having his hands on you at all times, it could be just holding your hand, it could be a hand on your waist, it doesn't matter what it is, he loves it.

Speaking of hand holding, the reason why he loves it so much is because he wasn't able to do it when he was human, no matter how much he wanted to.

He loves to watch you indulge in your hobbies. You do art? Can he watch you draw? Oh! You like to write? Can he read what you're writing? Even if you just like taking pictures with your phone, he wants to look at each and every photo.

Despite his position in hell and how he treats other people, this demon is one gentle and attentive lover.

Crowley constantly checks up on you, making sure you've eaten.

Crowley is a major cuddler! He enjoys physical touch, but yours just feels so different to him and he loves it! *

Literally almost cried the first time you snuggled up to him.

Yes, he acts all big and tough, but this man just wants to be loved, and I'm talking real, genuine, passionate love.

He does tend to get upset, yelling at demons, yelling at the Winchesters, yelling at everyone. But never once has he yelled at you, he'd hate himself forever if he ever did.

Crowley will kill for you. (Let's be honest, he probably already has, but he won't ever admit it to you.)

After a month of dating he proposes to you. It's not that he didn't like waiting, he has an eternity to wait. He knows you're a mortal and don't have as long as he does, so he wants to do everything with you.

~~~~~~~~~~

Speaking of being mortal.... You were on a hunt with the Winchesters and Crowley popped in just in time to watch a rogue demon attack you, leaving you in the ground bleeding.

Cue pissed off king of hell.

He could let you bleed out.

But he doesn't

Choosing instead, to use his powers as king to turn you into a demon.

He just couldn't lose you... Not the only person who ever truly loved him.

He panics for a bit when you stop breathing, thinking it didn't work.

But it did, and you start to breathe again causing a wave of relief to wash over him.

You were alive.... He wasn't alone again..

~~~~~~~~~~

He asks (begs) you to move down to hell with him.

When you finally say yes, his excitement is very visible on his face.

Getting to have you by his side every day is a dream come true.

Hello everyone! I know it's been a while and I'm quite out of practice, but I hope you enjoyed this! Thanks for reading!

My requests are still open!

[ang3l-fac33]

I have a request for a singfic with Lucifer and either a male or gn reader who’s a lounge singer who works at the hotel. They have been dating for a bit but the relationship is still kind of new so Lucifer tries to still hide his Depressive episodes from the reader because he doesn’t want to burden his partner. The partner can always tell when he’s having one though and wants to console him that it’s okay for Luci to open up to them.

One day during a particularly bad mental day for Luci where he’s scared the reader will realise how much better the reader can do then him and leave him, and the reader uses their singing as a means of quelling those fears and that they aren’t going anywhere and are more then happy to help him during his Depressive episodes because Luci’s their partner and they want to take care of him and support him.

I recently came across a song that makes me thing of this scenario called “Someday” sung by Spencer Day particularly the end when he sings about how he’ll be there for Luci for eternity and he hopes Luci will realize this someday. I wish I could link the song but I don’t really know how to link music.

lucifer x male! singer! reader. (always and forever)

genre: hurt/ comfort, fluff.

—

lucifer sighed as he rested his chin on the palm of his hand, gazing over at the stage where you often sung from where he sat at the bar, which was all the way on the other side of the room.

he wasn’t drinking anything, just sitting there as he watched a crowd form by the stage. the hotel had managed to get quite a crowd tonight which was pretty impressive due to the hotel’s reputation.

you were really talented in the singing genre so he wasn’t all that surprised that you managed to draw in such a large amount of people, wether they chose to stay at the hotel afterwards or not.

husk had left his position some time ago, leaving lucifer by himself with just his self deprecating thoughts. it had been a hard day for him and all he wanted to do right now was to curl up in your arms and cry.

but he couldn’t do that.. you deserved so much better than him and his pathetic self. all he was waiting for was for you to realize it and dump his sorry ass. he was nothing compared to you. you were smart, beautiful, kind.. he could just go on and on.

and what was he? absolutely nothing. the status of king of hell didn’t really mean anything when he did nothing with it. he felt like no king, just some sad and pathetic man. you’d see that at some point and he was dreading it.

the sound of soft music beginning to play snapped him out of his own hateful thoughts, and his eyes were once again brought back towards the stage where you now took place in, looking as beautiful as ever.

some sinners clapped while others whistled, and you smiled kindly as you picked up the microphone and began to sing, making the sinners pipe down to listen. your voice was as angelic as ever, so very soft and gentle. it was enough to soothe even the restless of sinners.

a stab of pain hit him in his chest as he watched, feeling absolutely terrible. the thought and sight of seeing so many sinners be enthralled by your voice alone, maybe even your looks. he knew that sometimes you would get offers from others to take you out, rather it be a restaurant date or to simply take you home.

but for some reason you never did. you always declined, saying that you had a partner already. but someday you would find the right one, someone way better than him and run away with said person.

you continued to sing even when you’re eyes locked on lucifer’s from across the room. your smile instantly brightened as you gave him a wink, still singing.

he cringes, not wanting you to see him when he felt like this. he often tried to hide how he felt but for some reason you were too good at spotting out when he was upset. he just wanted your eyes off of him for tonight.

he gave a half hearted and slightly pained smile in return before looking away, aware of your lingering gaze as you continued to sing. damnit, he totally gave himself away. he already knew you knew he wasn’t doing good just by his forced smile.

panicking, the only thing he could think of was to run upstairs and to his room, which he proceeded to do.

—

your smile immediately faded from your lips as you saw lucifer run upstairs, and an uneasy feeling settled in your stomach. you paused the song, making the sinners watching grumble in confusion and anger.

you ignored the confused chirping of the sinners below and headed off the stage and up the stairs. you could hear charlie, who had been watching, call your name, but you paid no mind. your only focus was seeing what was going on with lucifer.

—

lucifer groaned to himself as he flopped down on his bed, putting his face in his hands. why did he react like that? why couldn’t he have just smiled and moved on. now you were going to be worried and would waste time on him.

tears welled up in his eyes, and his bottom lip trembled. he hated how he was about to cry over something like this. it was pathetic, the king of hell in his room crying? what a joke. it was just another reason why he was afraid you would find so much better.

suddenly there was a soft knock at the door, startling lucifer out of his spiral. he wiped the upcoming tears from his eyes and scrambled off the bed, all while trying to make himself look as presentable as possible.

with a deep breath he opened the door, putting on his best charming smile as he could. but.. it immediately faltered when he saw who was on the other side. a flash of panic crossed his face, and his body tensed. what the hell? he wasn’t expecting you to chase after him!

you stood there, arms crossed, a stern yet worried look on your face. “luci..” you began in a much softer tone than the look on your face, stepping forward. he inhaled sharply and looked away, feeling the familiar sting in his eyes start up again.

“yes, darling?..” he spoke, his voice a bit wobbly. he was once again trying to hide how upset he was, but as always you could see right past it. “shouldn’t you be singing right now? you never got to finish your song, aha..”

you remained silent as you took another step forward, your hand coming up to rest on his cheek. lucifer inhaled sharply, and he had to resist the urge to lean into your touch. after a moment you sighed.

“let me in, please?”

lucifer bit his lip. he knew that if he let you in he would end up breaking down, because for some reason you always had that affect on him. but how could he say no to you? you were always his sort of weakness.

so with a sigh, he stepped aside and let you in. you hummed as you walked deeper into the room, settling yourself on the edge of his bed. “..do you want to talk about it?” you asked quietly after a moments silence.

lucifer moved to sit next to you, but made sure to keep his distance. “it’s just that..” he cuts himself off with a sigh, trying to figure out what he even wanted to say. there was a lot of things in his head right now.

you gave a gentle smile and rested your hand on top of his, letting him know that you were going to be patient and listen to whatever he had to say. and that’s what seemed to finally make him outwardly break.

in an instant the tears he had been holding back finally fell from his face and down his eyes, his breath hitching. you drew your hand back with a look of surprise, but was quick to pull him in your arms.

you gently stroke his hair soothingly as he cries into your arms, letting him get everything out. “i’m scared that you’re going to find someone better than me and then i’ll be all alone again.” he finally admits.

this made you pause, your body tensing. you knew that he went through these bad depressive episodes but you never knew this is what he thought.. you were quiet for a few seconds, just sitting there as you thought of what to do. you wanted to reassure him, to be there and make sure he knew you would never leave.

“it’s a shame that my love won’t come, so you.” you began to sing, your voice soft and comforting, something that got lucifer’s attention instantly.

“tender words keep you running away.” you sing softly, wiping the tears from his eyes with your thumbs. he sniffles, looking up at you, making you smile.

you pull him even closer, and lucifer instantly melts into your hold. your singing mixed with his horrible day was making him quite tired, and he had no energy to protest.

“it’s a shame no one ever told you, but i hope you believe it one day. because you shine like the stars in the evening, and you’re as soft as the break day.”

lucifer felt emotional all over again but in a good way this time. he hadn’t recognized the song, but the sweet and tender words were enough to bring tears back to his eyes.

you stroked his hair gently, closing your eyes as you continued to soothe your upset partner. “its a shame that you don’t see it, but i hope you’ll believe it someday.”

as you continued to sing the rest of the song lucifer grew more and more relaxed in your arms, listening to your angelic voice, feeling his eyelids grow heavy. he didn’t even realize that you had finished the song until you spoke in your normal voice.

“i’m never going to leave, luci. you’re the only one for me. i love you dearly.”

lucifer suddenly felt a wave of calmness wash over him, almost as if all his fears and worries vanished. it was a little startling, but not unwelcomed. the tears had long dried on his face, and his tense body had relaxed.

you had switched to humming now, watching as lucifer slowly started to fall asleep. “i love you..” the king of hell mumbled, looking up at you with tired but loving eyes.

you smiled and leaned down, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “i love you too.” and with that, lucifer had fallen asleep feeling loved and comforted.

you knew that the people downstairs would be pissed that you just left mid song, but you didn’t care. they could wait a while.

[spacemonkeysalsa]

I read about an evil magistrate in another Faerûn city, a few decades after Astarion had that job in Baldur's Gate and it has me thinking about his pre-vampire days, and my irl time as a Las Vegas law clerk. A lot.

Full disclosure: I feel a little guilty that I wrote so much on this topic rather than on one of my fics.

I wrote very little in July 🫣but it's because I was drawing and reading instead.

I read 13 books, but they were the first 13 Legend of Drizzt books.

And while writing fic, I've avoid details about Astarion's background as a magistrate, for reasons I've talked about a lot before, but I might need to rethink that, because one book in the Drizzt series just gave me SO MUCH context for what the world was like around the time that Astarion would have had this job, and also, what that job was like, and how it was very effected by geography and race. And I have THOUGHTS. Thousands of words of thoughts, apparently, below the cut.

TL;DR - The popular idea that pre-Cazador Astarion is the biggest possible asshole so he "earns" his fate is boring as hell, not actually supported by canon, or the examples of magistrates that we see in FR (who don't even need to be corrupt to satisfy cruel inclinations) and I deeply prefer going in a totally different direction. Below the cut is me working through my headcanon, and why I came to these conclusions.

I tagged this appropriately I think, but to emphasize, topics of relevance include horror movie tropes, torture, the deeply flawed American justice system, and the even more deeply flawed one in Faerûn as described by the Forgotten Realms novels I've read and the mentions/demonstrations in Bladur's Gate 3.

If you feel you need to avoid thinking about all of that, you are valid, and probably more correct than me for doing so.

And as always, it's just my opinion, based on my experiences. All headcanon is equally headcanon.

To start, I'm going to briefly reiterate that:

Astarion's canon backstory is thin on purpose and that all we really know about him is that he was a magistrate with not-red eyes who made an unpopular ruling that was unpopular for an unspecified reason and got jumped by Gur for a (heavily implied to be unreliable narrator influenced) reason.

That artbook is a developmental tool that is actually less likely to ever be considered canon than even a later stage developmental tool like a full manuscript outline precisely because of its position in the process.

But, before I get into what I read in Drizzt, I want to establish that my head space started from thinking about how much sadder it is if Astarion actually did have compassionate ideals and a balanced sense of justice prior to Cazador. The reason I think it's sadder is best illustrated by the choice to either make a doomed horror movie character sympathetic or an asshole. What happens to Astarion is basically a horror show, and some people prefer those fates are reserved exclusively for asshole victims. There's reasons to write this way, and it can be done well, but it's very easy to make it feel cheap and contrived and it's usually a sign of an amateur production, and a quick way to make an accessible film rather than a good one. Another option (which can also be done well or done poorly) is to harm characters who did absolutely nothing wrong.

To be clear, whether or not we like a character doesn't affect whether or not they "deserve" death. Horror movies often deal with totally disproportionate consequences, and the gruesome fate not really being "earned" can be an inherent part of the horror regardless of our sympathy.

But, I'm not sad when the evil teenagers in Toxic Avenger are killed. I am not that sad when Jigsaw's traps prove to be too much for his chosen victims. What happens to Julia's marks in Hellraiser doesn't move me as much as what's going on with Kirsty, even if they didn't deserve it, because they aren't particularly sympathetic.

And the thing about using characters like that is that it's not realistic. And to be clear, I don't think you always have to be realistic to tell a good story, in fact, please don't always cling to realism. But realism in characterization is usually a stronger choice, and should be considered generally. Most people are not as flat and unsympathetic as the asshole victims in slasher flicks. Even people who do bad things are not so one dimensional as to instill no sympathy in irl humans. I think people like to flatten Astarion in their mind, so that they don't have to confront the fact that very bad things happen all the time, and that most people didn't do anything to earn a horrible fate.

In the specific case of what happened to Astarion, even if he was a bad person, it's very difficult to ever make 200 years of torture, the loss of autonomy, exploitation on every level, including physical, sexual and psychological abuse, ever feel proportional. So at this point, some people need something to make it seem more just. Either because they hate the character, and want to feel that hating the character is objectively correct, or their worldview includes an idea of justice that can't accept such disproportionality.

And if you need that for your headcanon, dope. you're allowed whatever headcanon you want.

The "corrupt magistrate" thing isn't canon. It's headcanon. I understand that some people who really seem to know what they are talking about said it was canon, that's because they are wrong. People are wrong sometimes.

I recently became aware that although I thought we were all playing the same game, a bunch of players have never seen what I've seen, because it's all missable content. And, because everyone knows there's a bunch of stuff they haven't seen, it's real easy to just believe any random person on the internet who tells you something is buried deep in the game that you don't know about.

This specific situation with Astarion's canon backstory is that you'll never find much in the game, no matter how much you play, because there's nothing to find. Here's the facts: -There was never anything about Astarion being corrupt in the game, in early access, or in any of the writing that made it to recording. It was an idea that was discussed very early on---like back when we almost had a werewolf companion, (RIP Helia, you would've loved what I put you through) and they went in a totally different direction. Essentially, just imagine what they ultimately ended up doing with Gortash, and know that they were thinking about doing something similar with Astarion, but a long, long time ago.

-In the game, he'll lie and tell you he's a magistrate in Baldur's Gate and that it's tedious.

-Or, if you wait to ask him about himself until after you know he's a vampire, he'll tell you he was a magistrate, punishing troublemakers.

-Backstory complete!

-Art books are great, and beautiful, and it's baffling to me to see fans treat them like canon content, because if anything, they demonstrate various attempts to put together a story that ultimately didn't land for the creators. I love using materials like this when I write, I create character sheets and artbooks for my work all the time, and part of their charm is the features that didn't make it into the final work. Minthara is no longer an elven cleric, Shadowheart isn't covered in tattoos, and Astarion isn't one of corrupt elite of Baldur's Gate, or even elite, or a courtesan. Stop bringing up the artbook, you're embarrassing yourselves.

-There's actual explicit dialogue in game in which Astarion says he doesn't remember much from before he was turned. He says the person he was is gone, nothing left but a name on a rock. That's what's intentionally in the game. I think this is brilliant, because I think his character represents loss in a really poignant way, and that if they included anything too detailed about who he was before he got turned, that would undermine this theme, in a way that's especially unnecessary. It's better to keep it purposefully blank. A void of nothing. I'm actually really surprised that they didn't do this for Shadowheart, given that she's a Sharran, but in her story, we actually see a really nice counterexample: she does recall small details about her time in the city. Coming back there triggers memories and if you find all three of them---[spoiler deleted, please message me if you want to know about this, I've been informed I shouldn't just shout this out, because some people like to discover this stuff on their own. But also I'm not a gatekeeper, if you really want to know, I'm happy to tell you]. There's none of that for Astarion, in fact, if you go to the cemetery looking for his grave, which is something I think a lot of us did, you won't find any mention of him anywhere, but you will find one of those Shadowheart memories if she's with you. You only get to see Astarion's grave briefly, if you're romancing him, and even then, he once again takes the opportunity to talk about the person he once was truly is lost to him (and to us) and gone forever, long before we ever had the chance to know him.

It's tragic, and kind of perfect.

And in the meta of all this, it's intentional that we'll never known him. We might think we do, but we literally can't, because it's not in the story.

Which is good because it would ruin the scene a bit if he'd been like "btw I was a real piece of shit lmao." Just like it kind of ruins the affect of the empty backstory to go ahead and add a backstory.

But. We're curious, we speculate, and we expand, that's what fanfiction is for—it exists outside of the canon. I usually write post-canon, canon-consistent content, but there's a possibility I'll need to add a few scenes from Astarion's mortal life in this one fic—maybe not, idk—but in preparation for maybe doing that (or not), I had considered working through what I think his life was life before he was turned, and the events leading up to Cazador capturing him. I wasn't sold on the idea, but I was thinking about it.

And, then I started reading Spine of The World, which features an actual magistrate from DR 1365. This one is um. Corrupt. Or, at least, we would consider him to be corrupt? He's actually doing his job perfectly according to the very messed up justice system in Luskan, where he works. They don't have a concept of burden of proof there, or of innocence at all after you manage to get yourself arrested, and instead essentially just torture people to death publicly and explicitly for entertainment. It's not chill. It's not subtle. They call it Prisoner's Carnival.

This magistrate has Astarion's exact job, in a different city and a few decades later (and those differences matter, we'll get to it) but the important features are the same. So, here's some things to note: being a magistrate is a position of limited power, you have total discretion over the prisoners given to you for punishment (minus a few notable exceptions that come up in Spine of The World), but that's it. It's not like an influential political position of respect or anything. It can't be, because they are beholden to laws they can't change, and cultural traditions that are non-negotiable parts of the community.

This guy is referred to multiple times are a carnival barker. And there's loads of magistrates, they all have different reputations and and ymmv on how sadistic they individually are in Luskan. In a later book, when this particular magistrate is brought up again to another magistrate in Luskan, it's clear that the carnival barker thing isn't entirely universal and that he's considered one of the really bad ones, but regardless, they all acknowledge that what he does is legal and "serves a purpose" and they all direct and orchestrate the torture and slaughter of prisoners, and they all admit that many of them are probably innocent. The magistrates, and more importantly, the people in charge of them, maintain the necessity of the system, and the fear it instils to keep troublemakers in line.

One of the more reasonable and intelligent wizards in the series (a guy called Robillard who I can't help but envision as Gale of Waterdeep, because almost everything he does and says makes him sound like Gale of Waterdeep) shocks Drizzt by defending this system of justice very passionately.

Actually, Drizzt's thoughts in general about the Prisoner's Carnival are S-tier Drizzt musings, I love a man who keeps a journal. Likes cats too. Drizzt is lovely.

Drizzt also notes that this is a popular system in human societies specifically. Other races don't go in for it so much, and tend not to participate unless it's as... um... you know... as the prisoners being tortured. I think it's interesting that he mentions that elves in particular (in his experience) are universally disgusted by it. It's also explicitly stated that Baldur's Gate is different, and a much preferrable place to get tried by a magistrate. That isn't in his journal entry though, that's earlier in the novel. A moment of foreshadowing.

The whole world is brutal, but Baldur's Gate is a bit more modern and open to change than other places. That's probably one reason it keeps getting featured and mentioned even though we've barely spent any time there in Drizzt's series so far. It's a bit more relatable a place to actually live in long term than somewhere like Luskan, where you may have to seek out real estate that's far enough away from the square that you're not constantly hearing the death screams of someone being drawn and quartered in front of a cheering crowd. So that's the basics of it, and getting back to Astarion and the backstory that I would personally novelize for him, we have options:

If I'm going to try to fit this into the context that I now have though, it's important to keep in mind that 1) Baldur's Gate is considered one of the "nicer" places to be tried and 2) culturally, elves don't go in for cruelty, especially not as systemic "justice." None of this has to apply to Astarion, but if I'm writing it, I'm not going to ignore this cultural context. At a minimum, I'm going to say that appointing an elf as a magistrate in a city that's known for being more progressively compassionate about their treatment of prisoners was probably pointed on the part of tptb. Baldur's Gate wanted him to set an example for these bloodthirsty humans about mercy and justice and the balance between them. Racism dictates that you don't go to a human for that. They're carnival barkers. If you want a more compassionate magistrate, appoint an elf. And from there, we get to decide whether or not Astarion met their expectations, or if he defied them. Because maybe he was an asshole. Maybe he was just as bad as his human magistrate counterparts. That's not outside the realm of possibility at all, there's an argument to be made that we write him as a counterweight to the stereotype. Astarion is written to be capable of anything, so you can literally go in any direction with his disposition.

But, considering how Cazador rages that he "made" Astarion, and Astarion doesn't even argue with that sentiment. I think it's more likely (and loads sadder) if this unmaking and making included a complete and total overhaul of Astarion entire sense of justice. I actually think the harsh sentiments that Astarion expresses at the tribunal in Ansur's trials are a really good example of the flickers of Cazador and the person he twisted Astarion into, than they would ever be indicative of who he was before getting turned.

That guy's gone, remember?

And if it's not obvious, I'm going in that direction with my fanfic. I'm going to say he actually thought he could help his community. He studied. He got this civil servant position. It was a bit disillusioning. It's better in Baldur's Gate than in other places, but the system itself is cruel, and he's rewarded for being cruel within it. It doesn't even matter that he originally got the job because they hoped he would be a compassionate elf judge amongst bloodthirsty humans, once he's actually in position, it's all about maintaining the status quo. That's what they actually want from him, in spite of their "progressive" leanings.

If anything, he's getting in trouble, and getting noticed by not quite being status quo. A soft-hearted elf, letting his charges get away with all kinds of mischief. I'd write him this way, because I think it then easily follows that Cazador takes note of him and targets him, precisely because he's too merciful. It's annoying.

And, little bit about me, I'm an attorney, and early on, during and right after law school I worked for a few judges.

If Faerûn is anything like the USA I figure that after a few years he has figured out that being a magistrate only gives him a limited amount of discretion and authority over the specific individuals who are brought before him.

It's really legislation that makes a difference and he is specifically forbidden from that. He rules from the bench, and hopes that if he's consistent and fair, and if nothing disastrous results from his rulings, (and if he doesn't get reversed too often, idk if that's a thing in Faerûn but it's a thing in America) then maybe he could eventually influence those who do legislate, but like, that's not his job. And it's going to take a long time because most of it's quite tedious and people don't pay attention unless it's someone they care about standing before him. Nobody cares about the vast majority of these people. His job is to stare at "troublemakers" who have supposedly broken the law, hear witnesses and confessions and denials and lies and decide what the truth is, and decide what's fair.

And it's emotionally heavy work. A lot of people describe being a magistrate as a political position, and that's not incorrect, but there's a valley of difference between Astarion's very hands on job, and what Gortash/Duke Ravenguard do. You are beholden to powerful politicians (like actual politicians) with a lot more influence who figured all this out long before they made the mistake of having ideals or believing in anything, or taking a job in which they would have to a) actually work with people to probable burnout and b) inevitably make a lot of people very angry regardless of what they did.

But, Astarion is still young, he's still got energy, he's not lost himself yet, he thinks he can handle this responsibility and he's wrong.

One day, someone is brought before him. This person is Gur and has supposedly broken the law. Other Gur are upset about the way Astarion ruled. He was way too harsh, or maybe he wasn't.

Quick sidebar: in court, I have watched people literally receive the death sentence and have zero reaction. Same with life w/o parole and other life ruining sentences. In my experience, what triggers an emotional reaction and anger targeted at a judge isn't the severity of the sentence, it's how the severity of the sentence stacks up against their expectations. The defendants (or their families, with proxy outrage) who get really angry, who try to attack the judge, or the ones who are so disruptive that we have to call it and go wait in the hallway while the baliffs calm things down, all have one thing in common: they legitimately thought they were going to just be sent home. They didn't think they were going to be held at all. For that reason, I actually saw a lot more rage from people who had committed minor offenses, because they didn't think what they had done was that big a deal, showed no remorse, ignored their atty, made no effort to express any respect for the law, or any victims, and then when the judge just decides to go with whatever the statute says, in light if zero mitigating factors, the defendant hears "60 days" for the very first time and assumes that the judge just made that up and hates them.

And like, I know it's fiction, and I'm speaking on a very niche experience that most people can't relate to. It's unlikely the writers had anything (let alone realism) in mind at all when they decided to be as vague as possible in the details about a character who embodies "loss" as a concept. I think they were vague because of the theme of loss. I think they were vague because of the theme of loss. I think they were vague because of the theme of loss. I think they were vague because of the theme of loss. I think they were vague because of the theme of loss.

But this sidebar is just to explain why whenever someone says "well he got beat to death for it so his ruling must've been racist and harsh" my knee jerk response is "not necessarily."

And sidebar within the sidebar: if I was going to fully novelize the story, I would actually go in the direction of having the ruling in question be uncommonly fair. I might hint at some racism though—nobody really talks about it below the surface level obvious stuff that's in the game, and part of that is because information about the Gur as a people isn't super accessible. But there is information, and synthesized: racism against the Gur seems pretty standard, especially for an elf who has had it up to here with human bullshit generally. Especially during that time period. He probably didn't have a good opinion of the Gur in life.

But, I have to assume that his animosity towards the Gur that we see in the game was at least affected by the fact that they beat him to death, and then, he spent two centuries as an undead being that they kill on sight with absolutely no justification needed. Like. I don't think it's wild to suggest that. I'm actually very confused by how much people push back on the idea that this could be responsible for his attitude, in part. And that's as far as I have combed through all this so far. Idk how much of it will end up in fic, but it's my personal headcanon now.

I love horror movies. I have watched so many of them it's embarrassing. My letterboxd is embarrassing. I do love several horror movies that feature asshole victims, but as I look at my very favorites, I'm noticing a pattern. I like to feel hurt. I like it when a movie doesn't shy away from dealing out universal, apathetic and disproportionate punishment to everyone. I can't think of anything quite so sad as seeing a perfectly normal, maybe even morally progressive person with their whole life ahead of them, and choosing to unmake them and twist them into a broken puppet in your own image. Sparing/saving no one and nothing in the process. Just make them lose everything, including their entire sense of who they are.

So, I'm going to hurt my own feelings with my Astarion headcanon.

[danfrik]

IT IS I, ONCE AGAIN.

Did'ya miss me? Probably not, anyway.

I'm here with another drawing that I kind of procrastinated to finish until today-

It took me like five hours to finish what I already had started...

But whatever, welcome again to my impulsive (and kind of stupid) little brain, I'm going to talk about this and you will read everything.

⚠️Minor/Major Spoilers Ahead⚠️

First things first.

I want to make clear that, yes, Miles and Phoenix switched bodies just like Aziraphale and Crowley did.

Those marks on Phoenix's face? Let's just say that that one headcanon about holy water tears is a thing here (because I'm a sucker for angst).

I also want to point out some details about the switch thing because... well, I just want to talk about every little detail, let me cook.

• On Good Omens (the TV show, of course), Crowley (as Aziraphale) has an ice cream while Aziraphale (as Crowley) has a popsicle, but here I decided to be special and reverse that because, honestly, I see Phoenix being more of a popsicle guy, and Miles more of an ice cream type of man, don't ask me why.

(Also, I gave Miles a strawberry ice cream with sprinkles and Phoenix a grape popsicle, I'm sure you know why.)

(Because Miles likes pink and Phoenix likes "grape juice", that's why.)

• One of the things that I did to make the switch slightly more obvious is the frown, more specifically Miles' frown, the old "Edgeworth glare™️".

So, no matter how hard Miles is pretending to be Phoenix, we cannot take away his glare. On the other hand, Phoenix is really expressive (even behind those shades, yes), so he'll try to keep it either slightly neutral or keep that rest bitch expression (did I say that right?).

I mean... he is pretending to be Miles, y'know?

• Other thing that I did was change Phoenix's clothes while Miles is pretending to be him.

Gave him a waistcoat and his tie back because, of course, Miles thinks they suit Phoenix just fine (and he is absolutely right) and because he could never dress like a basic bitch, he is a classy bitch after all.

Oh, and I gave Phoenix a little handkerchief, like I said, Miles is a classy bitch... with questionable fashion sense *stares at his jabot*.

And, not gonna lie, Phoenix has no fashion sense, at all, the only reason he slays like he does in his usual outfit, is because he takes Miles' advice every now and then, but if it were for him he would wear crocs with socks (I mean, based, I do that too).

• Oh, I almost forgot about a tiny detail.

Miles also managed to brush Phoenix's little flick of hair, you know that one.

He likes to be presentable, no hair out of place.

• Phoenix didn't change anything of Miles, he is perfect as it is (jabot and all, I guess).

Now that I covered those little details, I can proceed to talk about other things >:)

Actually, is more of the same topic anyway.

The whole switching bodies trick, that is.

Aside from the details about costume and mannerisms, I want to talk about both sides.

How Phoenix will act in heaven and Miles in hell?

I picture it kind of like this:

For Miles side, pretending to be Phoenix is not as difficult as he would've thought, at least for the bantering and body language part.

Quite surprisingly, he does pretty great, the only difficult part might be the facial expressions, but he managed to not catch anyone's attention anyway.

Like in the TV show (Good Omens, I mean), Miles exaggerates little things about Phoenix, like being a bit more dork, maybe even a bit nonchalant or flamboyant, slightly dramatic but not too much.

Now for Phoenix, it is kind of difficult for him to not react at the petty coments and keep a neutral face but he manages, though his eyes speak for him, of course.

He keeps this solemn atitude, even spoke with the same flourishness that Miles tends to speak with, and bows before the Archangels.

Not that he wants to, but he knows that Miles does that out of respect for any higher being.

His body is mostly stiff, not daring to make any sound unless necessary, he only dared to glare when the hellfire came and when they insulted Miles.

Miles, much like Aziraphale, played with the holy water, splashing just enough so it won't reach anyone but also enough so no one would dare to get close to him.

Also joked around and asked for a rubber duck and a towel (and almost dared to ask for some scented candles).

"Y'know? It is quite relaxing being like this, it feels refreshing, a demon could get used to this."

With Phoenix is quite similar as to how Crowley messed a little with the Archangels, but he didn't stay silent.

He took a deep breathe once he was on the fire, did the "breathing fire" trick as well, and made a little joke, as if taunting them for not being able to destroy Miles nor him.

"I've been to hell recently, it was really lovely if you ask me, warm and cozy... you'd like it."

And so, both sides let them go and switch back again.

Leading to a small talk about both sides leaving them alone for a while, the not-apocalypse, the "antichrist" and all that.

Of course, finishing with that date- I mean, dinner at the Ritz, cheering for the world while a nightingale sings not so far away.

Oh, and I want to add a little thing too!

When they stand up from the bench, after switching again, I kind of want Phoenix to make a little joke about his own name, kind of like:

"I'm gonna be honest with you, angel, I really felt like I raised from the ashes back there."

"Must you be so foolish all the time?"

"Aw, c'mon, you think it's funny, I can see you holding back!"

"Nonsense, I would never consider funny that ridiculous and foolish joke of yours..."

[Spoilers: He did]

Anyway, I think that's all, at least for now.

Thanks again if you have read all the way down, if you didn't... well, that's understandable, but thank you anyways!

Hope you have a nice day, stranger!

[werewolfsmile]

tysm for answering my qs about werewolf!eliot !! not to keep bugging you lol but i remember you mentioned in the tags of a post one time about a hc/au of parker being some sort of fae or otherworldly being who’s just kinda found herself here in the non-magical world - could you elaborate on that? like how come she’s in the non-fantasy part of the leverage universe, or whether the other characters know, etc? only if you want to of course, no pressure :) i’m really enjoying reading your posts about all these ideas!

You're welcome! And you're definitely not bugging me, I love getting the chance to ramble about my thought lol (werewolf!eliot post here) (link to the post and my tags that started this)

Honestly I don't have as clear ideas for Parker as I did for Eliot, but I imagine her being some kind of changeling or air/wind sprite that was left with humans for whatever reason.

(ooh i'm getting more ideas for this the more i think about it..)

okay, Parker is actually half-fey, half-human

no one really knows who her parents were or how she came to be on her own (me included lol), she was just found on a doorstep as a baby

the people who took her in had their own issues and the state eventually intervened and sent Parker into foster care

she found out at a very early age that she was different to other kids - she could move around without making a sound, she could fit into tiny spaces - all very helpful for a young girl in a foster system that was chewing her up and spitting her out

she also discovered that she could ... not turn invisible exactly, but she could be less visible if she wanted to be; all she has to do is think about not being seen and people's eyes just drift over her

Archie had absolutely no idea what she was when he got his hands on her, but even he knew that she was beyond just a gifted child

he only realised there was something magical about her after she fell off the roof of the warehouse he'd been training her in - then walked it off like it was no biggie

fey creatures love puzzles and riddles, so of course Parker has always had a natural affinity for puzzles (aka locks)

her super artistic talent is a trait that is Entirely Parker and, given that she entered a life of crime early and was surrounded by artistic masterpieces all the time, she never even considered that other people would draw/paint/whatever with any lower skill level

this contributes to her not understanding what the fuss is over art

she gave herself the name Parker when Archie met her and asked her name; it was the first thing that came to mind

she doesn't remember her birth name and isn't bothered by that in the slightest

Eliot was the first of the team to figure out she was fey - being a werewolf, he can smell and/or sense that kind of thing on others

Hardison suspected something was up with her, but then felt bad for thinking that, but then strange things kept happening around her so he started to keep a list ...

pretty much Hardison has a red-string conspiracy theory-style board of Parker Things. He's too terrified of offending her to ask her outright, but he's more convinced every day

(he's also more in love with her and just thinks her fey-ness is another thing to celebrate)

Parker finds Hardison's board of Parker Things and is utterly fascinated. It's like he understands her better than she understands herself. He's super flustered when he finds her poring over the board and tries to make excuses, but Parker's quick to steamroll over that and demands if he knows what she is

Eliot finds them 15 mins later, stuck in an endless loop of confusion over which of them actually knows what Parker is

he just rolls his eyes, says she's half-fey, it's obvious, like, "what? it's a very distinctive smell!"

which leads to how the hell would he know what the fey are and Eliot's like, oh crap, right, they still don't know I'm a werewolf whoops

Hardison and Parker stage a coming-out for her to Nate and Sophie

(Eliot refuses to be involved but still gets roped into carrying the banner. He's still finding glitter in his hair weeks later)

Sophie is thrilled about the reveal and confesses to being a siren (or some other supernatural/magical creature that can manipulate people, idk i have less thoughts about her than i do about parker)

Nate is all like are you kidding me right now what the hell is my life

after a lot of badgering, he confesses he didn't know about Parker, although he has been ... aware of magical beings for some time

no he will not be discussing this any further, can we just get back to the con now??

Parker finds that, now she's aware of her fey-ness, her magical abilities develop further

she doesn't quite gain the ability to fly but ... yeah okay, she can pretty much fly

she wants to test how far this flying ability goes - by, of course, jumping off tall buildings with Hardison in her arms (and no harness for either of them)

Hardison flat out refuses this, so Eliot somehow finds himself the unwilling victim

of course, Parker masters flying while carrying people in no time and proves it to Hardison by just grabbing him and jumping off a building one day

(he's still in therapy for it)

Parker also discovers she can make herself kind of ... misty

this skill is harder to learn but she's already been able to make her hand go misty and whoosh inside a lock

picking the lock is harder in this incorporeal state but Parker's instincts say there's a way to do this, so she keeps practising until she can pretty much disintegrate herself and float through locked doors to rematerialise on the other side

it's a nightmare for the whole team because, sure, it's not like locked doors stopped her in the past. But now she's so excited about it all the time that any concept of privacy completely leaves her brain and she jumps in and out of rooms and safes etc any time of day or night

Wow. This ended up longer than expected! Guess I did have some ideas about fey!Parker after all..

[gaspshichat]

hi chat. pearl made me cry at 9:30 in the morning so y'all know what time is it. warning there will be swears [i say the f word ☹️] bc i haven't slept but i'm somehow not sick rn which. hasn't happened in weeks

[and a quick health update: pretty sure i have narrowed down what's making me sick to three possible things. i'm hopefully seeing my doctor soon bc the refill on my meds expires in june. we're so close and i haven't been able to breathe]

.

.

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OH MY GOD. Y'ALL. IF YOU'RE FOLLOWING ME AND SOMEHOW AREN'T A PEARL FAN. HOW ???? GO. GO BE A PEARL FAN. IT'S A THREAT

pearl is funny and kind and caring. there is a reason i gave her 10k bits the other day. she deserves the entire world and more. i don't know what the world did to her that made her so kind

i'm not the only one who has a message though !! here are a few messages from people but i've seen so many in reblogs and tweets and whatnot

.

from my lovely partner tay aka twitter user PandoraRxse: I can’t catch streams very often but your videos always make me smile and I always look forward to a new upload. Keep doing what you’re doing, you’re amazing Pearl

from lovely twitter user SKYBL1NGS: shes like genuinely super funny and has great content that everyone can get into and shes really pretty and i loce pearlecentmoon

from a lovely anonymous twitter user: she is genuinly such an amazing artist, both in minecraft and in real life, all of her art is so lively in a way that i'm not sure how to describe best. also she is such a kind human being :))

from lovely tumblr user sapphicwhimsy: pearl is such a lovely and sweet person. shes SO kind to everyone in chat, new or old, and creates such a lovely environment to hang around in. her streams are the only ones i can sit through fully, and she has SUCH a lovely voice! i could listen to her read the dictionary, because im sure she would make it interesting. she has such a way to make everything interesting! even things like sitting still for thirty minutes can be something interesting in a pearl stream, because shes always got such amazing things to say. shes absolutely beautiful, inside and out, with a kind soul that matches her through and through. the fact that she always tries to read everyone out personally, and tries to pronounce their names correctly - and accepts corrections wholeheartedly - is so nice. and shes so wonderfully accepting to all of her community, and always has well wishes for everyone. shes truly a very wonderful and accepting person, who deserves the world! honestly the sweetest person ive ever came across.

.

anyway onto the next part of why i made this post

HOW THE FUCK IS SHE SO PRETTY. WHAT. IT'S GENUINELY UNFAIR. SHE LOOKS LIKE SHE COULD BE A GODDAMN SCULPTURE

LIKE COME ON. I WISH I COULD DRAW SO I COULD DRAW HER. SHE'S BEAUTIFUL. WHAT THE HELL. LOOK AT HER

featuring other GORGEOUS women. my god. i am so

anyway :)) it took me an hour and a half to write this bc i kept getting distracted. in short. pearl is so amazing and wonderful. it's weird how she remembers things about me and actually cares ???

also. SHE PRONOUNCED MY NAME CORRECTLY ???? I'VE HEARD SUCH TERRIBLE PRONUNCIATIONS BUT PEARL. SHE SAID IT RIGHR FIRST TRY. WHAT. i kind of want to hear how karn would attempt to pronounce it

[bc yes. i'm okay with anyone, including streamers, calling me vyren. you know me better than my dad does. it's okay to call me vy, vyren, gasp, or gasps]

sleepy brain wrote this post and i want to say so much more but i can't. i had a better message when i did my 10k bits message but that thing is long gone. the only way pearl knows about those bits is if she sees this

and to her community: i love y'all. y'all are lovely. thanks for helping make my shitty life a little brighter. the world may not be kind to me, but y'all are. thank y'all for that. y'all are so lovely

pearl, if you see this, sending all the love to you and your three cats. and yes. karn is the third cat

[candyhoiic]

Here’s my contribution to sinner! Adam because I just think he’s neat 👉👈

Anyways as one of my favorite characters of course I made his design with suffering in mind uwu /hj /lh

The reason why his collar and bracelets/cuffs are on even without his clothes is because he literally can't take them off, and honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if the 'accessories' are actually fused with his skin. It's a part of his divine punishment as a physical means of constantly reminding him of how much he's a slave to his own desires and anger. It can also be interpreted as a physical manifestation of him being a prisoner to hell now tehehe

Actually, now that I think about it, the spikes we can see on his collar and cuffs most definitely go out both ways, so he has spikes piercing into his skin at all times.

His "hood" is actually apart of him too basically like a cobra's hood ^^ I did this since I like the idea of a sinner's appearance being somewhat determined by how they died, and while Lucifer didn't deliver the final blow, he definitely played a major role in getting him there. So, that's why I gave Adam some snake-like attributes (i.e the hood, split tongue, and scales) the very creature associated with the devil himself!

Plus, with the hood, he kind gives off grim reaper vibes, which is fitting since he was technically hell's very own grim reaper along with the rest of his exorcist.

He also has some goat attributes ie the horns, hooves, ears, tail (not that I actually drew it lmao sorry), and sideway pupils for his hood eyes because of their connection with the devil and well that's the first creature that comes to my mind that has horns tbh.

His face and horns are meant to mock his exterminator mask because I'm a sucker for that trope. Just imagine how pissed off he was to find out he couldn't take off his 'mask'

I gave him piercings bc their hot /hj I mean they are but let's be honest canon Adam should have definitely had piercings because they fit his vibe so well.

He also has a nicked eyebrow because he so would. He's just that type of cringe /j

As for the rest of his outfit? I don't really know what to say I just wanted to give him rock n' roll vibes while also capturing that fact that he is in fact an old man no matter how young he might look.

Also, for anyone wondering the belt was absolutely necessary. There was no way I wasn't going to add it when the thought first came to me. It just says something about his ego.

I did my best to make Adam somewhat out of shape, but I don't have really any experience with different body types so some of it might look off, but I did my best.

The headshot in the corner was a very quick drawing of what his full demon form may look like. If I ever actually give it a full design don't be surprised if it changes significantly because I definitely have some thoughts about it but I'm just too tired to actually pour the energy into drawing it rn oops

However, I did have enough energy to draw what I imagine his wings to be like. And of course, I could pass up on another chance to give him a mocking reminder of how far he's fallen. He kept his wings technically but there next to useless as he can't actually fly with them. And honestly, they're not actually all that durable as one can imagine since well their just bone.

So, it's a big weak spot for him but luckily, he can detract them into his skin. Although the process is painful, and he has to let them out every now and then or it'll feel like his back is on fire. They also glow making it hard to hide them when they're out.

The marking/tattoo/brand on his back is a cross with his A over it. I like to think it symbolizes how he put himself before God which is a big no, no. It can also be interpreted as a nod to how he was basically acting like he was God himself by passing on divine judgement and punishment onto others for things he himself was guilty of.

Anyways the red glowing exes over the symbol are simply to show off the killing blows Nifty delivered to him.

Last but not least, I made him caked up and I won't apologize for that either.

Anyways byeee! Thanks for reading my rambles about my sinner! Adam design. Hope you enjoyed!~

[skadilothbrok]

Given The Chance - Chapter 2

In the two weeks that you’d been at the house integrating with the rest of the Ministry, you’d grown particularly fond of Marjorie, Anders and Freddy. Not that you disliked any of them but those three offered you the most entertainment, a certain tall Dane in particular.

“You’re not aiming high enough” the Dane in question commented from behind you.

“I’m aiming exactly the same place you did” you defended as you maintained your aim with the arrow.

“Yes, but you don’t draw back as far, so the arrow won’t have as much speed” he reasoned before moving to nudge your aim higher. Deciding not to argue with him, even as he watched you with that smug look, you loosed the arrow. Rather irritatingly, it was a direct hit, meaning you would have missed before his correction.

“You’re insufferable” you rolled your eyes at him as you handed his bow back to him.

“I believe you mean to say ‘thank you for the brilliant lessons Anders’” he did his best impression of you.

“I do not sound like that” you laughed as you started the walk to retrieve the arrow “and I was never a terrible shot to begin with”.

“I never said you were” he called over to you now that you about reached the arrow “I’m just much much better”. You knew he was right, but you also knew that you were stubborn.

“You’re so sure of your faultless aim?” you challenged. He nodded in response. In a moment of madness you leaned against the target, barely leaving the centre visible at your side of your head. You raised your eyebrows in challenge, and you watched him grin before he proceeded to notch an arrow in the bow.

What on earth were you doing this for? There wasn't a rational answer in your head. You held your position as he aimed and released the arrow seconds later. The arrow hit the target right beside your cheek.

“I can’t believe you didn’t move” Anders shouted in disbelief as he jogged over to you.

“I was assured the archer had faultless aim” you shrugged as you finally moved to pull the arrow free of the target.

“What the bloody hell are you pair doing?” Appleyard appeared and made his way over to you both.

“Archery” you deadpanned.

“I just saw this giant aim for your head” he argued back.

“I was never aiming for her head” Anders defended “it would be such a waste of a pretty face”.

You let out a laugh at that and Apple looked at you both like you were insane. “Why do I bother?” Apple shook his head in defeat before returning to the house.

“I have my throwing knives in my room” you suggested to Anders, too hyped up on adrenaline to finish yet.

“Are you inviting me to your room Y/n” Anders wiggled his eyebrows at you.

With a roll of your eyes you answered “I don’t know, you’ve been flirting with Freddy more than me lately”.

“Oh, so you’re one of those jealous types” he joked back.

“Absolutely” you replied, “I don’t share my toys”.

“Do I look like some toy to you?” he scoffed.

“I don't know" you smirked "you look like I could have some fun with you". With that you turned and headed back to the house, off to get your knives.

Since that archery session, you and Anders had really upped the flirting. The past few days you were sure that the rest of the team dreaded whenever the two of you were in the same room. Freddy had seemed relieved until you had begun throwing comments his way too.

“It’s like I’m being ganged up on” he shook his head as you and Anders sat with him in the common room.

“Oh, is that something you’re into Freddy?” you smirked.

“Lots of people enjoy sharing” Anders backed you up.

“You’re both tireless” Freddy answered.

“Oh, come on, now you’re just making it too easy” you laughed happily, quickly joined by Anders. Freddy gave up entirely and left the room at that point. “Alone at last” you quickly rediverted your flirtations to Anders.

“We have plenty of time alone” he shot back “because you’re always on my mind”.

“Is that so?” you leaned forward in your chair “and just what is it that you think about me?” He grinned wolfishly at your comment and you actually felt your heart jump a little at the sight. You were certainly playing with fire with this whole flirting business.

“I’m not sure there are words to describe some of the more interesting thoughts” Anders doubled down, also leaning forward in his chair “they simply have to be experienced”.

“Perhaps you’re just struggling to find the right words in English, should I fetch a dictionary?” you stood to make a move to the bookshelves along the far wall but a hand on your wrist held you in place.

 “You have no idea what I’d do to you given the chance woman”. The Danish left his lips and you had to fight the victorious smile that wanted to appear on your face. He had no idea you spoke Danish perfectly well.

Moving around the back of his chair, you ran your hand up along his arms before leaning down to speak into his ear “and what if that chance were to appear before you” you whispered to him in perfect Danish and felt him tense up. You completed your circuit of his chair and came back round to the front of him.

The look in his eyes was more heated than you’d ever seen him. He seemed to think for a moment longer before his hands found your hips and pulled you down to straddle his hips. Your lips met in a passionate clash soon after.

You took the opportunity to explore his glorious body, running your hand beneath the hem of his shirt. The other tangled at the base of his hairline, gently tugging. A low growl escaped his lips, and you grinned wide as you pulled back from his mouth. “I think it’s time for you to show me some of those interesting thoughts of yours” you told him.

“It would be my absolute pleasure” he answered before lifting you up and heading for the stairs.

[historia-vitae-magistras]

It makes my heart soft for Arthur to treat Zee so gently not because she's his daughter but because she's a woman in a time where it was particularly awful to be a woman. He tried his best to respect her as a person and as his child without making her feel she's 'just' a woman. I'm curious how Lord Father would react to some poor bastard coming to ask him permission to court his daughter. I imagine it's that best laugh he's had in a long time, straight up doubled-over with tears in his eyes. Let's him know he'd have a better chance asking her directly but considering this start he's going to have a hell of a time. To quote Thedore Roosevelt: "I can either run the country or I can attend to Alice, but I cannot possibly do both."

ALL of this. It's not like the man isn't sexist because he is, but in a way that isn't purely Victorian. He's lived a long life; the first British person we know much about is Boadicea. He is the last son of a goddess who ruled with blood, sacrifice, fear and cunning. Brighid and he will have a testy relationship, but she was the high-status centre of the Celtic Christianity he will draw upon again and again. England's wealth before the empire was caught up in cloth. Women's work created him, and he knows that. As a child in the world of late antiquity, he sat at his mother's and Brighid's feet as they worked the loom. Disrespecting women's work disrespects most of his own history. Plus, if you read Anglo-Saxon poetry, there are these tantalizing hints that women's work was seen as more important to civilization than men's. He isn't a fantastic father, but he does view her as a person if nothing else. The sheer amount of regnant queens he's had.

And I do feel like he and Zee did direct any potential suiters to him first because very late Victorian/Early Edwardian courtship and society meant that his rejections on her behalf would pull any social blame of her being a bit haughty or potentially deviant and redirect it to him where it was fine. After all, a daughter's marriage is still much the father's prerogative. It was socially acceptable for her to remain unmarried as widowed men or even just men fond of their daughters often gave them the choice of staying home if they so wished. It could be a better setup, but it maximizes her freedom. Answering a question about why she is unwed with "because I'm a lesbian and I don't bloody want to be" is unacceptable and degenerate. But "Oh, I could never leave my poor dear Papa; he utterly depends on me" makes her ultra respectable and dutiful even if she hasn't seen the old fart since Christmas. It's also a way for Arthur to keep an eye on her. If people are writing to him about courting Dearest Eleanor, it's intel.

But the first time it happened? Oh, good lord, the man lost his absolute shit. Partially because she's his baby and just absolutely not, that's his last child. She's not even a century old; he does not care. She is a teenager now she is a baby. Two, the audacity some of these potatoes have. Whenever Zee puts effort into playing the part of being the beautiful young socialite in just the prettiest clothes, putting on her best manners, and utilizing all that intelligence for social purposes, he's got a line out the door. When Zee is cranky with him, she puts on a particularly flattering blue or green dress and goes to a dinner party and just fucks up the old man's week lmao. She goes on a social campaign to get her way about something, and Matt might end up taking a nap in a coffin on the dining room table to shut it all down if he's particularly irate with her because no one can come courting to a house in mourning lol. But man yeah, there is a reason her slightly anti-social ass wears so much mourning black to keep off.