#I promise that was not me that was a writing demon

[fraugwinska]

I'm dying to see you write Alastor opening up to Reader about his mom, maybe a little angst and lots of fluff? (- v -)''

WE NEED THAT MOMMAS BOY GETTING SOME COMFORT!

Finally Anon, I found the strengh to write this. Sorry it took so long - I hope it was worth the wait! Next story will be less sad, I promise! :'< But I think we can all find some love for our Mommas Boy today, right? (Prepare your handkerchiefs, fellas...)

❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️

Mother O'Mine

Not the kitchen. Not the lobby. Not the bar. Not the radio tower. Not his room.

You sighed and stilled for a moment, thinking of a place where he could've gone.

If Angel had just shut his damn mouth. Mother's day was a shit day for everyone in the hotel. You, who never knew a mother, raising yourself in the farce that had been the foster care system, rued the day. Charlie was still in denial about her mothers blatant absence and ignorance, Husk melancholic and tense at the memory of seeing his mother being exterminated shortly after reuniting with her in hell, and Vaggie bitterly wanted to ignore the holiday all together, feeling as though she would be betraying the mother she could no longer reach in heaven as a fallen angel.

Angel had been pissing them all off by breakfast, obnoxiously mocking their various reasons of why this day felt even heavier than others in hell. You knew it was his own way of coping with his mommy issues - something he didn't even talk about with Husk, as far as you knew, but he bordered on being not only menacing, but outright cruel.

Alastor had listened to his rambling stoically, flipping eggs while drinking his coffee with not much more than an annoyed twitch in his brow, but then the spider made the gruesome mistake to mention her.

Alastor's mom.

"What, 'ya think any of 'ya mothers could even look at 'ya without punchin' themselves? Come on, look me in the eyes and tell me Bambi's mommy wouldn't be fuckin' disappointed by what her little fawn has become... Can ya really see a sweet southern lady all happy, lovin', and coddling ol' murder-clown Alas..."

The green explosion came faster than you could blink. You were frozen in place, only staring in fear and worry when Angel landed unceremoniously into the table with the rest of the breakfast, the other residents as shocked and dazed as you were, while the radio static and greenish-black shadows seeped away from Alastor who then swiftly made his way out without a word, holding his staff while his tendrils bristled dangerously.

Alastor had vanished and the only thought coming to your mind - after giving a cursing, groaning Angel a righteous 'You fucking deserved that'-speech - was that you needed to find him before the princess did to make sure the demon had calmed enough not to finally lose it and maul her to pieces. Charlie meant well, but she didn't know. No one did know, except for you, and even you only knew so much.

It's not like it had been an elaborate talk. It just happened, after a nightmare that made him tear up in a mixture of rage and sorrow, a bad memory that had made his shadow basically drag you, half asleep still, from your bed to his in the middle of the night. Why you? You weren't so sure. Alastor usually preferred your company more than the others just because you were the most neutral, sane person in the hotel. Some would even say impassive. An introvert who didn't draw attention, silent and observing. But not once had his shadow ever acted up around you, and while it wasn't overly friendly with anyone, it seemed to watch mostly you with curious glances and interested hisses. When you had finally woken up enough to comprehend your situation, you were sprawled across Alastors stomach with his arms wound so tightly around you you struggled to breathe, strained mumbled words pressed through gritted teeth into your nightgown.

"Mother... I'm sorry... Oh mother..."

He had been sobbing into your shoulders and and shaking against your chest while he let go of a strange anger and grief he never seemed to get rid of while you had, confused but worried, whispered words of comfort in a hushed, soothing voice until you both dozed back to sleep. Morning broke, and when you opened your eyes again, he was sitting on the edge of his bed, not able to look you in the eyes. He had thanked you, gruffly and with an unsteady voice that made your heart ache, before offering his hand to teleport you back to your room. As far as you were concerned, the weirdest of it was that you felt him caress the palm of your hand with his thumb, barely audible as he mumbled that "that should have never have happened, and we shall never speak of it again." - he was usually a gentleman, and he never touched you this intimately before - but, to him, it was obviously a humiliating and horrible thing that you had witnessed him like that.

And you didn't speak of it. No one knew, and you intended to keep it that way. It was a moment you shared and fragile trust was on the table. You would take it to your second grave, along with all those feelings that had come with it, to prevent it from breaking.

Back to the present, you sighed and massaged the bridge of your nose. You had checked all the obvious places that crossed your mind, so maybe, you should start to look at the not-so-obvious ones... Maybe some place you knew was connected to... His mom...

A sudden pang hit you as you got an idea of where he might be hiding.

"Is this seat taken?"

The roof of the hotel was usually restricted from access, due to the general instability and collapse-prone architecture it presented, but you and (after an admittedly awkward encounter on a hot day that had involved you in a two-pieced swimsuit sunbathing and a very flustered Alastor with a book in one and a severed hand on a plate in the other hand) the radio demon knew about a small nook between the roof's overhead window frames and the hotel's ventilation system, hidden by the growing shadow of the radio tower where no one else ever came looking. A hideout, a place to go when you wanted undisturbed solitude. You had quickly left the place, apologizing for intruding a space that Alastor had apparently already claimed for himself (explaining the existence of the lounge chair you've so rudely used), but soon enough he discreetly invited you back, second chair added, to sit in silence together every once in a while, as long as you swore secrecy. It became a place of comfort for both of you, a retreat when life in the hotel got too stressful.

Alastor's reaction to seeing you was a quickly stifled hum before going back to staring stubbornly at the horizon. He looked dejected, and if you would not have known him so well, you wouldn't have noticed the trembling twitch of his ears nor the way his claw tapped impatiently against his knee, his shadow balled in on itself while hovering at the edge of the small roof.

It looked like he was staring straight through the distant buildings of the pentagram to the faintly illuminated orb that was heaven next to hells own sun, while also refusing to acknowledge you or the world around him at all. His smile had slipped into an emotionless line of pursed lips.

"That depends" he mused quietly. "Are you here to make me return to that insolent arachnid and attempt a 'healing' conversation?"

"I think you know I know that I couldn't even if i wanted to." You tried a weak smile.

Alastor briefly met your eyes at that, giving away that, despite his aloof act, your comment got his attention and he considered it before turning back to the horizon, the tense posture relaxing somewhat. A brief silence passed until he hummed an affirmative noise. "Then you may sit, darling."

After sitting down, minutes passed without a word said. The distant roar of the bustling traffic carried the muffled sounds of hell with the usual maelstrom of catcalling, profanities and general noises of mayhem to you, while you fought to keep a certain twitch in your hands as you counted the beats of his heels clicking on the tiles.

"You must know... my mother was a rare light in a world of filth." he declared suddenly into the silence. "An honest, virtuous soul of beauty and strength." He said it slowly and, surprisingly, completely unamused, the clacking of his shoes ceasing at once. He stared at the city in contempt, hands clasped together and resting on his legs to hold back a tremble that you caught anyway.

"She, unlike me, had not a spec of corruption in her bones. Wherever she found the warmth and love she shared with me, I cannot fathom. But she did. I may have been mocked and shunned by the world, the bastard child of a black woman and a white man, but I always had her as my home to return to.” The knuckles on his hands turned white. “But the cruelty of life and the disgusting human that was my father, the unbearable excuse of a man, killed her before I was grown enough to help. Before I was old enough to kill that monster myself." He spat the words, claws digging deeper until a faint trickle of blood could be seen. "I remedied that circumstance, twice to be exact, although it couldn't make up for what was lost. Nothing I did to him could make up for it..." his smile widened bitterly as his face twitched, recalling a fond, yet regretful memory. "… and believe me, I tried. But it was cathartic nonetheless, and quite educational... for my further career."

You stayed quiet and studied his profile, patiently waiting for him to continue talking. It was painfully obvious how hard it was for him to speak about actual feelings, with his tense grin and his white knuckles dripping with crimson blood.

"I knew, of course, where I would end up after my demise, and that I would never be able to see her again. Because I was sure she'd end up in heaven, like the saint she was. Is." He cleared his throat, attempting to appear dismissive, but you saw it. The sadness, the longing, the resignation, and it shattered your heart.

"Alastor...", you knew he hated physical touch, but your hand reached out on its own, to stop his hands from ripping themselves apart. He stiffened at the contact, but said nothing.

"Don't tell me you took what Angel said to heart..."

"How could my mother love me after what I've become after her death?"

His tone was monotonous, but his hands trembled under your fingers. He refused to look at you, but you saw his eyes, glazed with wetness that threatened to turn into actual tears. How he could still smile was beyond you, you had your theories on that, but that wasn't important right now. What mattered was that he was hurting, and that fact broke your heart. You never knew motherly love, how could you really miss something you never really knew? But Alastor did, and it had been ripped from him in the must cruel way, the impact of it so hard it made him even question the very foundation it was built upon.

You moved your hand from his to cup his cheek and turn his face to yours. His expression was blank, and if it weren't for the tight grin and the eyes filled with an unspeakable anguish, it would have been an emotionless stare.

"Alastor, do you know the poem Mother O'Mine?"

"I'm afraid the memory of it fails me, darling."

"Then, I'll recite it for you."

"Why?"

You gave him a sad smile.

"Because I want to."

He eyed you with stunned curiosity as you reached into your pocket, glad for once for your mostly useless power. You've only told Husk about it, in one of your late nights where everyone else was asleep aside him and your insomnia got the better of you, drunk and as a bargaining chip for one last gin tonic.

The blank piece of paper was a bit crumpled, but it would do. You started to fold it while you spoke, your voice sounded soft and almost like a spell.

"If I were hanged on the highest hill, Mother o' mine, O mother o' mine! I know whose love would follow me still, Mother o' mine, O mother o' mine!"

Your fingers moved with a solemn purpose as you folded the paper this way and that, a skill you perfected out of boredom over the years, the edges turning into an elegant shape, the poem coming from your mouth like a song. Alastor watched your hands move in a trance, not sure what you were doing, but too focused on the faint glow of purple around them to ask.

"If I were drowned in the deepest sea, Mother o' mine, O mother o' mine! I know whose tears would come down to me, Mother o' mine, O mother o' mine!"

There in your hand, sat a little origami bird. It wasn't anything special, maybe a traditional crane would have been better, more elegant, but you were out of practice and for what you intended to do it would work either way. Carefully you reached out, silently demanding for one of Alastor's hands that were still digging into each other. He didn't protest, and slowly raised it to give his hand to you. The tips of his claws were covered in a thin, fresh layer of his own blood, and his skin was warm and slightly clammy. You put the little paper bird on his palm, a speck of his blood staining the bottom of the pristine white paper, and closed his fingers around it, holding it in both of yours.

"If I were damned of body and soul, I know whose prayers would make me whole, Mother o' mine, O mother o' mine."

His enclosed hand in your own was encased in purple light, with wide eyes he followed the soft tugs of your fingers and opened his hand. The little paper bird flapped it's wings on his flat palm, looking at him for a heartbeat before taking off and flew in a singular circle around his head before it headed into hells deep red sky, towards the bright heavenly sphere. You watched it until it vanished completely from view, hoping there was a possibility that maybe, with a bit of luck, it would find it's way to her.

"This, Alastor, is what a real mother is. She loves you, I'm sure of it. Always has and always will."

Tears fell silently on his lap, a strangled, coarse breath escaping him. Without warning, he pulled you from your chair into him, holding you pressed close to him. Just like in the night of his nightmare, his face was buried in your chest, arms wound tightly around you in a hurting embrace and shoulders trembling with suppressed grief. His grip was bordering on painful, but you wrapped your arms around his neck, burying one of your hands in his hair, stroking gently while you let him quietly cry into your shoulder, not caring that the wetness of his tears was soaking through the fabric of your shirt. You felt his heart beating rapidly, his pulse erratic and his breathing fast.

"I miss her. Oh, how I miss her."

You held him tighter.

"I know, Al... I know."

You didn't know how long you two stayed like this, him in your arms and crying silently while you tried your best to comfort him, but you didn't care. As far as you were concerned, you would stay here forever if it only meant to lift this weight for a little while from his shoulders.

It took him some time, but eventually his breathing evened out, and he calmed down, his hold becoming less desperate and more... affectionate. You didn't realize it at first, but he had moved, his head resting under your chin and his forehead leaning against the hollow of your throat, his antlers slightly poking the thin skin. It felt strangely intimate, and you wondered if he was aware of what he was doing, but the moment he moved to get up and leave, you knew the spell was broken. He didn't let go of you entirely, but instead helped you to stand up and held your hand, his gaze firmly planted to the ground, avoiding your eyes.

"Darling, I..."

"Don't worry, Alastor. Although I'm glad I was able to be here when it happened... we shall never speak of this again."

You could feel his hesitation, a strange nervousness radiating from him. His shadow hovered next to him, a hand reaching out towards your face. You smiled at it, and, just for a brief moment, allowed yourself to lean into it's warm, buzzing touch as it caressed your cheek, before you turned and made your way back inside without a glance back to the sudden sound of a longing hum.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #fraugwinskawrites #angel dust #charlie morningstar #quickfic #light angst #comfort #alastor is a mommas boy #alastor needs a hug #and a good cry #and some sleep

[zoologicalcartoonvampire]

Was having a conversation with a friend about how Badly Helluva boss effed up its Premise.

Only having 5/15 (or 8/16 if you include the pilot and the episode s i marked as "kinda") as actually being what the show was supposed to be... IMP, a group of hitmen assassin demons going to the human realm to kill humans.

If a THIRD up to a HALF of your episodes (especially the "big" and "impressive" eps DON'T EVEN BELONG IN THE SHOW, that shows a MASSIVE writing and world building issue in your story.)

i remember being so exited for Helluva due to the pilot. I myself am A MASSIVE geek for action comedy episodic cartoons. One that has a twinge of violence and swearing and somewhat offensive humour? Are you kidding!?? That sounds great! And i loved the series while it was JUST that. I loved it when it was what it PROMISED. Until it decided to become a stolas romance drama tragedy sob story, gay man noncon fetishy melodrama that had NOTHING to do with... I.MP.?? like. One episode from the 5 is from season 2. ONE. Almost every episode is more interested in shipping material THAN ACTUALLY HAVING A COOL SHOW ABOUT ASSASSINS. i feel scammed, for caring about this stupid show. And these characters. And god awful world building. Cause what we were given is not what they had offered.

Had we wanted a shipping material melodrama (which i know a lot do love) make THAT the pilot. Make THAT season 1. Dont throw the fans that liked what you offered under the bus for catering to the shippers.

I thinks its pathetic, as an artist myself. Changing your visions, characters and world-building with every episode to cater to a group of fans rather than your own vision for a show.

But hey thats just me! Thats how i feel about it lol

#hazbin hotel criticism #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #Helluva boss #helluva boss critical #helluva critical #helluva boss criticism #vivziepop critical #vivziepop criticism #vivziepop critique

[flooftyfizzlebeans]

Not me thinking about the desperate situation that would lead to cannibalism

I'm imagining the temperature drops. Over the course of a few days, the snow on the mountain creeps downwards until the whole town is soft and blanketed. Maybe the island drifted north. Maybe it's a Snakolyte plot to save us from the hivemind. Maybe it doesn't matter.

Crops die. Bugsnax disappear. Soon the town scatters once again.

Some stay put where Filbo dependably makes a fire every day. Some try to flee to the desert, only to find the temperatures are only slightly warmer. It doesn't make up for the lack of shelter.

Lizbert and Eggabell are forgotten.

Of course Snorpy and Chandlo flee. Beffica too. They'd rather go alone than see what is inevitably going to happen.

Those that remain take refuge in Grmables barn. As the snow grows heavier, we have to huddle for warmth. Make fire indoors. It's too cold out to chop trees. My frostbitten fingers are proof enough of that. We're running low on firewood. Everyone is so hungry. Our paradise frozen before their very eyes.

Cromdo drops the salesman bit and uses all of his stock trying to keep the group alive. Shelda's meager rations keep hope in their eyes. Floofty has a few chemicals that won't kill is to burn for warmth.

But.... The morning when Floofty desperately tries to shake Shelda awake to no avail... Neither Filbo or I are strong enough to keep the fighting from breaking out.

Blows are exchanged, the shouting becomes too much. Harsh words turn to claws on flesh, blood in the deep snow. Filbo drops like a stone. I feel a paw take mine and drag me out of the town.

When I come out of my daze, Cromdo's made a fire in a cave, put a blanket over my shocked form. Hes making pine needle tea. Surprisingly, going up the mountain might save us.

"Who am I kidding? There's no hope." I sigh.

"I know, but that doesn't mean you stop fighting. Just means you change tactic." Cromdo scolds me.

"And run like cowards?" I poke the fire aimlessly. "They're dead down there. We're all dead."

"We survived because we're cowards. We'll keep surviving like cowards."

I sit with that. He pours me another cup.

"Yknow, I chose this cave because I hid some booze in here. Think Beffica took it before I could though."

I smile. The thought is nice.

I stare into the fire, replying the images in my mind. I know what I must do.

When Cromdo falls asleep, I tick him in, and leave him alone.

When he awakes the next morning, he awakes to a fantastic smell. Bacon? Hamburgers? He's never smelled anything like it before in his life.

He gets out of his cocoon of stolen blankets, catching me setting the table. One of my blankets for a tablecloth, plates from.... somewhere. Forks and knives. There's a stick in the middle I'm trying to light on fire to try and simulate a candle.

On the plates are large cuts of meat, cooked and served beautifully.

"Hey, kid? What are you-"

"Have a seat, sir."

....and he does. He sits across from me, both of us bundled up.... but keeping up the charade that it's a fancy restaurant. I see him hesitate... before taking the first bite.

"Wow, I didn't know you could cook."

"I didn't need to, until now."

We chat. We talk about our normal lives. What we did in the city. The lives we left behind for this dump. He talks about his daughter. His ex wife. I talk about the string of unlucky articles that put me on thin ice.

His hand finds mine once again. This time, it's an invitation to stay near.

We finish our dishes.

"I really... enjoyed this." He starts.

"Me too."

"So uh.... who did we just eat?"

...

"I don't think it's best to know." I say.

Cromdo thinks for a moment.

"Yeah, you're right."

We sit in silence.

His paw on mine, he leads us back to bed. We're both so tired. We lay down on the cold stone floor, wrapped in each other's arms, under all our cloth and blankets and insulation...both deciding...

not to keep the fire burning.

The sun sets.

The sun rises on an empty Snaktooth. No grumpsues. No bugsnax. No life.

Only blood and ice.

#soph talking bugsnax #bugsnax #major character death #cannibalism #Cromdo face #what the fuck did I just write #I promise that was not me that was a writing demon

[ender1821]

cast a spell on my heart

Posted on ao3: read here!

Standing in front of the town’s record shop, now fully redecorated to appear as though it’s a magic shop, Pearl has started to feel just a bit too out of her element.

She cranes her head awkwardly to the side to read the sign out front, which displays the words ‘The Crystal Cliffs Emporium’. Apparently, it’s where she’s supposed to go to find the next key item for her quest— collect three magical stones to unlock the seal on something called…a Rune Blade…?

So, Pearl might not be the best person to LARP with.

— — —

(In which Pearl is absolutely clueless on how to pretend as a Queen and discovers that flirting works just as well as actually roleplaying. — For @mcyt-yuri-week Valentines day 2: Royalty/Knight)

#ender writes #gempearl #pearlgem #empireshipping #hermitshipping #mcytyuriweekvalentines #empiresblr #hermitblr #yeah. yeah you read that right its a modern au for the prompt royalty/knight #listen the demons got to me and the demons said that scene in LiS true colours. but gempearl #and now we’re here #i promise my other yuri week fics are less oddly specific lmao #yippee!! yuri!! #mcyt fanfiction #mcyt

[space-writes]

find the word tag

tagged this time by @serenanymph, thank you! my words are drag, bloodshed, moon, and strain

no-pressure tagging @andromedaexists @ahordeofwasps and @revenancy with the words forget, conceal, and liar

these are all from current-wip, claws:

drag

Halloween at Wonderland. Everyone trying to out-goth each other, and when that fails, displaying as much skin as possible beneath tasteful mesh and leather and fishnet. Up front on the stage: a drag show in full swing, horror-soundbite mixes mouthed out from painted lips ranging from dainty to Doug Jones.

bloodshed

i don't have bloodshed but i do have bloodstained:

“I had to,” he whispers. Fresh tears slide down his bloodstained cheeks. “Jaimie’s going to kill me.”

moon

Without knowing how he knows, Vivien is at once certain that Dante is Pacted to Mohden. Nightflyer, Moonwing, He Who Flies Between All Worlds and manifests as moths, whose fragile bodies Arachnis can easily consume.

strain(s)

And what other truths will be contained within those sacred pages? Vivien sits cross-legged on his bed, turning the vial of ichor over and over in his hand. The black ooze strains towards his fingers with each turn, a slow chase it can never win; not unless he lets it out.

claws taglist: @belovedviolence @foxboyclit (ask to be +/-)

#writeblr #tag games #find the word tag #snippets #wip #original writing #wip: claws #c: vivien webb #c: rainier mortem #ask me for context on bloodstained. i promise it's very normal #also excellent news: i've named all but one of my demons now!

[demon-of-ikebukuro]

I miss talking to people about durarara, about Shizaya, about aus and ships and drabbles and fics! Durarara is my happy place!!! AUGHH SEND ME IDEAS OR THEORIES OR HEADCANONS OR QUESTIONS, ANYTHING

#demon talks #any moots I am more active on twitter if anyone wants to find me #people on twitter do be talking about old men Shizaya though #I want to write more short drabbles again but I should finish my other wips first lol #next chapter of a mile in his shoes is on the way I promise #durarara

[yxstxrdrxxm]

Ello, it’s me again with an important question~ Since Boss wears glasses, how bad is his eyesight?? Or does he only wear it for aesthetic reasons??

…….And would he allow Friend! Darling to take his glasses and try them on, or would he grip their wrist before they can remove it?? :3

(First scenario may or may not include Friend! Darling staring at his face and saying he looks more handsome with glasses)

how bad is his eyesight?? Or does he only wear it for aesthetic reason??

For the sake of possibly getting 🍀 going through a crisis, he wears it for the sake of being able to see. He struggles a lot because (correct me if I'm wrong cause its been a WHILE) he's actually far-sighted! However, when he doesn't have his glasses, he just wears contacts instead.

…….And would he allow Friend! Darling to take his glasses and try them on, or would he grip their wrist before they can remove it?? :3

Jessamine. Jessamine. Friend! Darling would have somewhat of those rights but heaven forbid you pull that away for an hour, he will hold you on a death grip. This man wouldn't mind if they do it though, because he doesnt really need it and has his contacts, but... Well.

Let's just say he likes them better.

(First scenario may or may not include Friend! Darling staring at his face and saying he looks more handsome with glasses)

THE FIRST SCENARIO LMAOOO PLEASE TELL HIM, PLEASE FEED INTO HIS EGO. I will laugh because he'd be probably "oh, so you're into glasses, are you? :)" while internally going "hm... interesting..."

#💌 ;; messenger writes #💌 ;; a letter from: jessamine-rose #💌 ;; fine print: ''boss'' #;; love how boss is just 'oh. you like those?' #;; if this were to be a sfw fic you'd catch him getting thick rimmed ones just for friend darling #;; alas. this aint a sfw blog #;; but in a way they KINDA got some form of favoritism/nicer treatment than others... chuckles. #;; also i promise i'll reply to the messages i am. not having it with my college classes. #;; anyways expect me to come in to feed ur demons (/exag) more thoughts of friend darling and boss. please. i need to hold ur shoulders #;; and shake you with them. #;; fucking blorbos. i love them. #;; would steal friend darling from boss to piss him off though 10/10

[gingerbreadmonsters]

friendly warning: weird fucked up demons incoming at some point

no like seriously, they're pretty fucked up

^series link

#this is for those of you who may be new around here #and who may not be in the habit of checking cws too closely #sweets believe me you will learn and learn FAST #i have been known to write about sadistic demon cannibal murder sex and i do not intend to stop #just yk. a few new faces have popped up recently and you are of course very welcome!! hello it is lovely to meet you!! #but yeah. just like....... know that this is an occupational hazard #and of course you do not have to read it #im not going to MAKE you lol #but this series (its called 'human nature' if ur looking for it on my masterlist) is some of my best writing imo #im really really proud of it #and i hope that you enjoy it too if its ur kind of thing :D #no idea when this next bit will be done but hopefully in the next few days or so before term starts again #its not going to be so long - maybe like 2 or 2.5k at MOST #which yeah ik i say that a lot but i mean it this time. promise

[hazbinhappy]

as much as I love rain and storms I freaking hate how it messes with my wifi 🥲

#hh thoughts #why’d i write more in the tags than the post 🤨 #also I’m so sorry for like being inactive #I’ve just been dealing with a ton #but geuss whatttttt #in less than a month I’m done with school for the time being until so 😜🤭 #hopefully the fandom is alive enough #but i think I’ll pump out matchups BECAUSE YALL DESERVE THAT SORRYYYYYYY #is it crazy that i have 2 more hazbin ocs that are literally just vox and Alastor great grandchildren (died in 2000s) and they’re together? #like I’ve literally drawn Alastors great granddaughter #i love her #idk what it’s with me and make characters that are related the same demon but make it a poetic meaning #I PROMISE MY OTHER OC AND SONA ARE DIFFERENT #like ugh #i wanna gush about Sunnie and these other ocs too #I’d desdass be a writer if i was actually really good at it

[mostremote]

me, a person who has never read the hunger games and doesn't particularly like the films, having not engaged in any fandoms for months, waking up in a cold sweat: but what if President Snow and Katniss had to get married

#i will probably not write any fanfic for these two bc i promised myself I would Finish My Novel #which is Nearly Finished #but the mischief demons that live behind my eyes compel me sometimes #like WHAT IF snow DOESN'T want to marry katniss but they HAVE TO for POLITICS??? #and they BOTH hate it and are BOTH miserable #contest of wills!!!! yess!! yessss!!

[betelgo0ze]

|They/Them|

I switch aesthetics every 0.02 milliseconds so just ignore that

I’m not one for advertising mental illnesses but I feel it’s important for people to address it when necessary. To keep as much personal as I can, please use tone tags around me and don’t be surprised if I forget anything or remember too much. Iykyk.

Absolutely OBSESSED w/ FNAF. Words cannot describe.

Other fandoms I’m in:

NBC Hannibal

Law and order SVU

Transformers(all media types)

The Godfather

The Walking Dead

Top gun

Suits

BoJack Horseman

FNAF

The Walten Files

Don’t hug me I’m scared/DHMIS

Hazbin Hotel(helluva can suck my they/them weener)

HBO OZ

Person of interest

LOST(2004)

Breaking bad

X-men/Marvel in general

|WARNING: THIS BLOG INCLUDES CONTENT INTENDED FOR AUDIENCES 13+ DNI IF YOU ARE UNDER 13|

I’ll most likely be posting personal blogs along with some fandom-related content, but I don’t intend for this acc to be taken too seriously as I see this app as an outlet. Nonetheless, I’d prefer my content not be viewed by anyone under 13 as I may post suggestive/mature content.

Time to skidaddle its ✨one in the morning✨

#Betelgo0ze #About me #divider by cafekitsune #check out their content #they slay #my writing is that of a Victorian child dying from maliaria #I promise I tried to not be shakespereish #I kinda let the demons win #whoops

[iliterallydecepticanteven]

Chapters: 1/2 Fandom: 鬼滅の刃 | Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba (Anime), 鬼滅の刃 | Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba (Manga) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Akaza | Hakuji/Rengoku Kyoujurou Characters: Rengoku Kyoujurou, Akaza | Hakuji (Kimetsu no Yaiba) Additional Tags: Kimetsu no Yaiba Manga Spoilers, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Crying, Rengoku Kyoujurou Needs a Hug, Rengoku Kyoujurou Lives, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Mentioned Rengoku Ruka, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Memories, Akaza | Hakuji is Bad at Feelings (Kimetsu no Yaiba), Rengoku Kyoujurou-centric, Bruises, Minor Injuries Series: Part 2 of called to the devil and the devil said hey Summary:

It's late when Akaza finds him.

He knew the demon had been following him and likely expected Kyojuro to make the first move. But he doesn't. His heart is too heavy for that.

...

Me? Obsessed with a Demon Slayer ship and writing a bunch for it? It’s more likely than you think 

#kny #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #akaren #renkaza #rengoku kyojuro #akaza #my writing #i promise transformers stuff is coming #but i need to let this brain rot run its course #so just bare with me for a little bit

[trashpanda66]

OHHH SP THIS JS HOW YOU MAKE TUMBLR POSTS OK I GRT IT NOW

#benadryl got me fucked up rn #I promise I'll write something #Just not now #Call me Baki cuz I'm out here shadowboxing my sleep paralysis demons and they got fucking hands

[charbunnies]

i want an excuse to write a whole analytical essay-type rant about solomon but it would be such a ramble-y mess and it would be so stupid long but also. i want to talk about him. no one but me and my husband know or remember anything about him and it's so sad because he's my favorite </3

#everyone.............. i love my oc #someone give me an excuse. someone ask me about my stupid demon guy. come closer i promise i won't hurt you (write 3k words again) #grim.txt

[quicksllver]

i literally go rabid when i think about stephanie like this was the girl who grew up with an abusive, criminal father and a depressed, addicted mother. she used to sit for hours on their rooftop just to catch a glimpse of batman! she desperately wanted batman to save her, and when he didn't she decided to become a hero and save herself, only to be constantly dismissed and belittled. batman was her hero but he treated her like disposable, training her one moment and completely locking her out from any support the next. she was tortured for days but refused to give up any information, and when she had the chance to kill black mask she didn't do it, because that wasn't what batman would do. she died asking if she was a real robin but there was never a memorial for her in the cave. yet even after everything that happened to her she decided to keep fighting for other people, keep having hope towards a better future. she literally makes me insane, but the way she is treated by both canon and fanon is abysmal i can't stand to see it anymore.

#stephanie brown #batfam #batgirl #batman #dc #batgirls writer come meet me i promise we will just talk #also the way some tim fans demonize her to woobify him... maybe violence is the answer #also sorry this post is unnecessarily long and rambling i literally cried while writing it #acknowledge her #*mine

[windfighter]

Drowning in fear

Prompt: Choke

-------

Black tendrils wrapped around him. Duskmon’s hand against his throat. Air. He needed air. Kouji grabbed Duskmon’s hand, tried to pull it away. It squeezed harder.

”’niisan…” Kouji got out.

The dark tendrils forced their way into his mouth, his nose, his eyes. He would have screamed if he could.

-------

Kouji woke up. He couldn’t move. A shadow leaned over him, eyes red as blood and teeth sharp. His heart beat loudly in his ears. Fast. The shadow reached for him, his throat. This was it. He would die. Duskmon finally getting his kill.

The door opened. Light flooded the room, chased the shadow away. Kouji took a shaky breath. And another. His breathing picked up and he sat up.

”Sorry, did I wake you?” Kouichi asked.

Kouji blinked, lifted a hand to his throat. His hand shook.

”No”, he forced out. ”No, nightmare.”

”That explains why it looks like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Kouji’s hand fell down. Kouichi sat down on the bed, looked at Kouji.

”Want to talk about it?”

Could he? Kouji hesitated. Kouichi already felt guilty about Duskmon. Kouji wrapped his arms around himself, shivered. Kouichi grabbed a blanket, wrapped it around Kouji and Kouji pulled it closer.

”It was…”

He bit his lip.

”Promise to not feel guilty.”

”Are you having nightmares about me?”

Kouji shook his head.

”Not you. Duskmon.”

Kouichi looked at his knees and Kouji kicked him.

”Told you… to not feel guilty.”

Breathing was hard again. He didn’t know why.

”We fought. He…”

Kouji lifted a hand to his throat again.

”Couldn’t breathe”, Kouji said and the air in the room was suddenly too thick to breathe. ”Darkness…”

He didn’t want to remember the details. The tendrils. The pain.

”I woke up, and he…”

Kouji glanced towards the end of the bed, past Kouichi. Kouichi turned to see what he was looking at, but there was nothing there.

”He stood there. I thought…”

He took a shaky breath. Kouichi looked at him again.

”He reached for me. I would have…” he hesitated, then kept going. ”I would have died if you hadn’t chased him away.”

”...Are you okay?” Kouichi asked and moved closer. ”Have you hallucinated before?”

Kouji wanted to protest. It wasn’t a hallucination. It was real, it had been so real, it had… He pulled the blanket over his head, buried himself in it. Didn’t answer. Kouichi’s question hung over his head. Had he?

”Anything stressing you out?” Kouichi asked.

”Your questions.”

Kouichi laughed and Kouji peeked at him through an opening in the blanket.

”School, I guess”, he admitted. ”And dad’s been…”

He swallowed the words 'angrier than usual'. Kouichi didn’t need to know that. Kouichi looked at him.

”School”, Kouji concluded. ”Lots of homework. They’ve ramped it up so we’ll get even more ahead compared to other schools.”

”Maybe that’s why then”, Kouichi said. ”You feel like you’re drowning in work and your brain answered by making you hallucinate Duskmon.”

He looked like such a know-it-all. Kouji sighed.

”Yeah, probably.”

He didn’t have any other suggestions. Ignored the way thoughts of Kousei made his throat close, made him unable to get air into his lungs. He had no other suggestion he could say out loud.

#windy writes #mediwhumpmay #digimon frontier #kouji minamoto #kouichi kimura #minamoto kousei's A+ parenting #As usual I didn't really know where I was going when I started this #but I think it's even more clear in this than in my normal stories x3 #anyway Kouji is doing Great #all the chosen kids are #they have No Trauma from the digiworld At All #promise #kouji can have little a sleep paralysis demon as a treat :3 #(to me)