#asks from the recently deceased

[xxghost-zombie-jesus]

genuinely i think if babs had enough time to learn (like longer than one musical number beej come ON) she could be scary. she grabs that severed head and she's the first one to learn the voice trick and during the dinner party she's having a good time. she's just too nice to do it maliciously but come halloween time? oh my god she's pulling so many tricks for lydia's haunted house

No, I think you're on to something.

Out of the two Maitlands, Barbara is always the first to change. The first to decide, "hey, what we're doing isn't working, we need to try something different." The first to do.

She's the one who starts with the Maitlands 2.0, as Barbara 2.0. She's the one who decides that they have to try to haunt the house because if not them, then who else? They're dead, fuck it! They can do what they want!

I think there's something holding her back. And, no, Adam, as reserved as he is, isn't it. It's her own reservations. She is, undeniably, kind of reserved, especially in the beginning. She has to act a certain way, do the right things in the correct steps, she has to be a model wife and woman and do everything the way it's supposed to be done. Get married to someone she loves? Check. Have a house, get hobbies, start a family? Check, check, and they're... uh they're working on it. Fall through their floor and die? Check--wait what?

She's tries to be your traditional housewife, you know? Calm, collected, demure, et cetera. She isn't, and we do see that throughout the musical, especially in the part where she picks up the head and immediately starts messing with it, or when she's the one who decides fuck it, we're doing this. She's strong, and independent, and is aware of her strengths and weaknesses and failings.

And yet, she doesn't want to accept this. She wants to fit the model mold of a housewife. She wants to be normal, and sweet and kind without a stubborn streak ten miles wide. But she is a little stubborn, and selfish at times, and a a tad narrow-minded occasionally. She isn't perfect, she can't fit into a mold.

Barbara is intuitive. Upon meeting Lydia she can tell something is UP. She knows that this teenager isn't okay, and yet, she agrees to help her not because she thinks that it'll actually help Lydia heal, but because she wants her house back. She wants her old life back. When it doesn't work and she realizes that this isn't what she wants, she changes, and wants to be there for Lydia. But at first? She's selfish.

I agree with you whole-heartedly, that out of her and Adam, she'd be the first one to get being scary down pat. She has a better grasp as to how things work, but as you said, she's too nice.

And I feel like some of that niceness has been learned. It's not fake, she is, genuinely, a really sweet ghost, but she had to work to get to that point. Because she does have a few moments where she isn't nice. She knows how to put her foot down, and she knows how to lie and manipulate, a lot better than Adam can, that's for sure. And that isn't something someone can just, suddenly be good at. Something tells me she used to be quite a little stinker when she was younger. Not mean, never malicious, but definitely mischievous.

It's like. You can be nice, but not kind. Or you can be kind, but not nice. And Barbara is nice. She is very nice. But she isn't always kind. She isn't above calling Beetlejuice names. ("That meaty pervert was right.") Adam tries to be rude but instead just says that Beetlejuice needs a therapist, he is both kind and nice to a fault. Barbara is downright kind of mean about him, but in a nice way. She is nice, but not kind.

She could easily use her occasional lack of kindness and be scary. But she... doesn't want to be unkind. Because that's not something people do. Everytime she's unkind she seems to regret it, even just a little, like she doesn't mean to be unkind it just happens. She tries not to curse, and to be a good person, but deep down she isn't always and she is aware of this.

It's why she has an easier time (not an EASY time, mind you, but easier than Adam) doing what Beetlejuice shows them. Like letting her death bother her, or using ghostly abilities. But also why she seems almost hesitant, at first, to do so.

And if she just accepted that sometimes its okay to be a little unkind, if its for the right reasons, then maybe she'd be right there with Beej scaring people for fun.

I don't know if any of that made sense. I won't apologize for it but uh... yeah. Hope this is what you were looking for.

One hundred percent, though, Adam decides he doesn't want to be scary but Barbara wants to try. And so when you have your inevitable 'Beetlejuice comes back', she wants him to teach her how to be a proper ghost, how to be really scary. And he does, and now that her entire heart is in it, she can do much better.

She's still too nice, though, and can't put her all into it, but it's much better than ripping some sheets and ghostly wailing.

#veej's rambles #beetlejuice #beetlejuice broadway #beetlejuice the musical #barbara maitland #character analysis #asks from the recently deceased #again i have. no idea if ANY of this made sense #but thank you for the ask! really made me think about barbara!! #i love her and she deserves to be scary #her and beej and lydia make the BEST haunted house come halloween you can't tell me otherwise

[thevoidstaredback]

It's always graveyards. Why is it always graveyards? They're creepy as hell and, well... that's it. On the bright side, the Protection Spirits watching the gates recognize him and realize the danger he's in. Well, maybe he wasn't in real danger because the Bats and Birds don't really do the whole purposefully harming civilians things, but they are scary as hell! Chasing him down like a bat straight outta hell- obviously he was gonna run! They cornered him! Maybe he'll invest in getting them lessons in how to interact with people in and out of costume?

Honestly, Nightwing, Danny expected better of you. At least Red Hood and Signal know how to treat innocents.

Here's the thing about Protection and Guardian Spirits, though. They don't like intruders. If you're running from something and you don't have time to ask permission to enter, you best say "thank you" and bring them shiny things on your next visit. If you do have time to ask permission, you ask permission. If they think you're a threat or rude, they won't let you enter whatever they're guarding.

"Thank you," Danny said as he slowed to a walk further into the graveyard, the sound of the gates slamming closed behind him confirmation that the Bat and his gaggle wouldn't be following him in.

Wasting no time, Danny pulled a piece of chalk from his pocket. It was a handy little thing he'd picked up during his stay in the House of Mysteries. Draw and door, tell it where you wanna go, open it, and go through! Beetlejuice style. Though, unlike what the Handbook for the Recently Deceased says, these doors won't actually open a door to the afterlife. He fixed that tiny glitch a while ago.

Anyway, a quick few chalk lines on the side of a mausoleum later, and Danny was opening a door to Fawcett, Philadelphia. Probably not the best choice, considering that he was trying to stay away from the Justice League, but it's better than Metropolis.

"Whoa." Damn it! He should've stayed home. "What was that, mister?"

Danny made sure the door closed behind him, praying for strength. Why did he feel like several deities were laughing at him? "Hey, kid. Can you, um, maybe not say anything about that?"

The kid, short brown hair and a red jacket stood out the most to Danny for some reason, seemed very amused. "You're gonna have to buy my silence."

Again, Danny let out a quiet, long suffering sigh. "Coffee is so not worth it." Looking at the kid, he said, "Alright, fine. I was getting coffee anyway, I'll buy ya lunch. Know any good places?"

Grinning, the kid cheered, "Hell yeah! Follow me!"

Resigned, Danny followed after the kid, easily keeping pace. About a block later, he figured he should probably get the kid's name. "I'm Danny."

"Billy."

"No last name?"

"Fae rules, dude. What's your excuse?"

He had to give it to him. "Touché."

Another three blocks of walking, Billy finally stopped at a cafe. It was a quaint place with stained white brick and a dark grey roof. There were metal chairs and tables outside the building surrounded by a wrought iron fence. The table umbrellas and the awning over the black door were light blue, matching the curtains in the inside.

The inside walls were painted baby blue with a white ceiling and a pinewood floor. The tables and chairs were all stained black with light pink cushions and table cloths. The curtains, as observed before, were all baby blue, tied back with baby pink ribbons. The lights were barely yellow, giving the room a warm feel. The counters were white with black paneling on the outside and white granite as the tops.

"Welcome in," the young man at the register greeted with a smile, "What can I get you two started with today?"

Danny envied the man. He'd obviously not been doing this long enough to gain the veteran's shine to his eye. He turned to look at the menu after telling Billy to get whatever he wanted. A mistake he'll probably pay for. "I'd like a large Red Eye, equal parts coffee and espresso, with cinnamon, honey, chocolate syrup, mint, and vodka, please."

The 'newbie' light in the man's eyes dimmed a little bit. "Um, we don't carry vodka." Glad that's the only thing he's worried about. Priorities.

Danny clicked his tongue. "Oh, well, it was worth a shot. I'd like everything else, though, please. Mix it at your own discretion."

"Alright," he was very valiant to go back to grinning, "Anything else?"

Danny motioned for Billy and the kid stepped up. "Can I get a large mocha, three chocolate chip cookies, and two sandwiches?"

The blond entered the order. "Of course! That'll be $25.37." A quick card swipe from Danny. "Thank you very much, we'll have your order out to you soon!"

The two didn't say a word as they chose a table in the corner. Danny let Billy take the seat that was open to the rest of the cafe so he wouldn't feel cornered. He had a good view of the door, though, so he wasn't complaining.

"So, how'd you do that?" Billy asked after they'd gotten their orders.

"How'd I do what?" Danny sipped his drink.

"How'd you walk outta that wall? It's solid!"

"Magic."

"I guessed that much."

"Then why'd you ask?"

"Will you teach me?"

"No."

"You didn't even think about it!"

"Okay," He paused. "No."

"Not fair." he pouted.

Putting his drink on the table, Danny summed as much fake-it-till-you-make-it energy as he could. "Magic isn't a toy and takes years of practice to get a handle on, not to mention you have to actually have an aptitude for it before you can even try. Besides, I don't know you nearly well enough to trust you with anything else."

Billy finished the cookie he was eating. "I can do it! You just gotta teach me!"

Another sigh that Danny had stopped counting. "Look, you seem like a good kid, but I'm not gonna teach you magic."

"Why not!"

"However," he continued, ignoring the demand, "I'm not gonna leave ya fully defenselessness."

"What do you mean?" Billy backed away slightly, his eyes narrowing as he moved to be able to run quickly.

Another sip. "Based off of the dirt you're covered in, the grease in your hair, and the overall poor condition of your clothes, I'm gonna bet that you're a street kid. So," he pulled a small card from his pocket, very aware that Billy was watching his hand aptly, "I'm going to leave you with this."

Slowly, the brunet took it and turned it over. "What it is?"

The white card had the initials DP in the middle, circled by an Ouroboros. The initials were completely solid, but the snake of the Ouroboros was made up of tiny runes of protection and health and healing and good fortune.

"My calling card. If you're ever in danger, hold that to your chest and ask for help. I'll be there."

Still obviously suspicious, Billy took a moment to scrutinize the card. It was cute to watch the kid act like he knew what he was looking at or for. When he seemed satisfied, he shoved the card into the inner pocket sewn into his jacket. "Thanks."

"No problem, kid," Pulling out his phone, Danny saw the time and stood, "I've gotta go now. I assume I've sufficiently bought your silence on the whole magic thing?"

Billy grinned, "I guess, but you gotta come visit me, okay?"

He chuckled, "Sure thing. See ya."

Part 2 Part 4

(I don't drink coffee, so Idk how that shit works)

Tag list: @zaiothe4th

#dp dc crossover #dc x dp #dc x dp crossover #dp x dc #danny phantom #dc comics #dcu #dc #billy batson #shazam #ghost king danny #magic #coffee #cafe #I don't drink coffee #I don't even go to cafes #Idk if that's how it works #it is now #in this economy? #Hopefully #protection sigil #I made that up on the spot with very little research #If anyone draws it please tag me #Do we like where this is going? #part 3 #Enough Caffeine to Kill an Elephant

[ew-selfish-art]

Dp x Dc AU: Dani has a too many break-ups for Danny’s heart to handle as an older brother- So he gives her a criteria that her next boyfriend needs to fit for Danny to approve of their relationship. 

Dani was really excited about her new boyfriend. He was witty, and charming, knew how to sword fight and was absolutely stunning. He loved his family, was passionate about animals and social justice causes, and he was an artist! She had a thing for green eyes, and hey, he was actually super chill about them having flexible schedules to see each other (she had vigilante shit to do that she couldn’t explain)! It’s been going on for a few months and she’s honestly ready for him to meet Danny & Jazz but... 

The last time she was home it was for a broken heart and Danny was beside himself with worry over her. He made the guys recently deceased ancestors come forward to speak on his behalf and it was Mortifying- Danny was ready to throw down. And Dani had to admit, it was super sweet that her big brother cared so much. He’d happily given a shovel talk to each of her partners when she brought them home and he’d happily tried to bond with them and integrate into their lives. Danny always allowed her to make mistakes but respected her choices to only ever ask two questions when a new partner came into the picture: Do they make you happy? Do they treat you well? 

This last time he made a simple request, just could they please fit this one criteria? 

The thought comes to her unfortunately when she’s making out with her perfect match, her soul mate, this beautifully stabby man Damian Wayne, that she should bring up the deal breaker. Her brother gave her literally one request for her next partner, and by the ancients she didn’t want to disappoint Danny. 

Pulling away from her boyfriends kiss for just a moment, Dani quickly asks “Sorry, Sorry, it’s just...Have you ever died before?” 

Damian’s look of confusion and then concern grew on his normally collected face, which told her more than enough. 

“Okay great!” And she leaned back in, only to realize that he’s pulled back. 

“Would... Would you care to explain why you just asked me that?” Damian was doing his best to not jump to conclusions.

“Sorry, I just got in my head a bit about how you’re like, the light of my life and I want you to meet my family and then my brain wandered, before you did that thing with your teeth, to the fact that my brother kind of requested... um, well, he just asked that my next partner be, uh, don’t freak out if this sounds weird, but uh, be dead.” 

“He...He wants your partner to be dead.” 

“Well, Dead adjacent is perfectly normal in my family! It’s not like a whole thing! You’ve died before, so he’ll absolutely love you! And he’ll love you even more because you love me!” She smiles as brilliantly as the stars.

Damian isn’t sure for a second, but eventually asks: “Your family is ‘dead adjacent’ and you want me to meet them?” to which she happily confirms. 

“Do you... Wish to know how I-” Damian begins but she cuts him off “No! Never, I would never ask that of you. He won’t ask either! He actually has a better vision for these things so it probably won’t even come up! How does next Tuesday work?” 

“That should be fine, however, well...On the subject of family expectations ... Is it even possible that you might be a vigilante?” Damian’s worries melt away when his girlfriend smiles and lunges forward to kiss him. 

Families could have such weird expectations, you know? 

#Dcxdp #dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #danny phantom #dani phantom #damian wayne #serious chaos #lmao dannys actual words were 'could you please just date someone i can relate to for once?' #dani interpreted that as meaning dead/undead #she's honestly not wrong for thinking that tho cause he's only ever tried to set her up on blind dates with other ghosts #Danny is a good big brother to her and i believe this to my dying breath #damian is so sure that shes a vigilante but has never dared to cross that line and ask #damian is like 'she can knock me on my ass she is clearly the perfect woman'

[neckromantics]

Astarion loves to take baths with you.

It's one of his favorite ways to spend his downtime in general, honestly. Not only is the bath such a soothing place to be (you know once this man has the option, he's going to splurge on a vast collection of luxury soaps, oils, hair masks, and body scrubs- the list goes on.), but there's just something about it that makes him feel so normal? Mortal, almost.

If he lets himself soak just long enough, the heat from the water begins to nullify the vampiric chill that he's grown ever so used to. It's a pleasant warmth that works its way past pale skin- past tired muscles and aching sinew- and settles down deep into his very bones. For a few precious moments, he can convince himself that the eternal discomfort of undeath has made off for good this time.

And his hair always looks spectacular after wash day. It's a win-win scenario for him. So for his favorite person to be involved as well? Well, that just makes it all the more better.

-

This time, you're lounging on the floor nearby as he soaks- having stuck around after washing his hair for him as he oh-so-kindly requested of you. He's still a bit new at asking for small acts of kindness, so of course, you jumped at the chance to put your hands to good use. You were so careful not to catch your fingers on any snags as you worked a sweet-smelling soap through his wet curls, nails scrubbing away at his scalp even after it's all rinsed away just to hear him purr for you.

You're leaning against the bath, cheek cushioned against your forearm as it rests along the edge. The other swirls idly in the water- kept heated by clever use of prestidigitation (you'd recently picked up this cantrip for purposes such as this) and softened by the finest oils stolen gold could purchase. The curtains in your room are carefully drawn, and although your source of light comes from the multitude of candles scattered about, it's still enough to see the nice flush the heat brings to his skin. It's a little odd to see him so pinkened, and obviously, you can't help but stare no matter how hard you try not to.

It's the blood- your blood- that's pooling beneath the surface of his skin and giving him this radiance that many a man would covet.

Rose blooms a pretty bouquet on the smooth skin of his chest, up the length of his bared throat as he rests his head, and even reaches the tips of the pointy ears you so adore. Gods, even his knuckles are pinker when he reaches a hand out of the water to push his hair away from his forehead, and your gaze immediately follows the trail of soapy water as it glides down his wrist- drip-drops from his elbow and back into the bath.

Astarion looks so... peaceful like this.

Pale lashes rest upon warm cheeks as he reclines, face fallen soft, similar to how it does when he's deep in trance. A part of you wonders if this is how he might have looked back some two hundred years ago, before the affliction that was bestowed upon him by his old (now deceased, you celebrate mentally) master.

Eyes of ruby open just a crack, and you know that smug smile is coming before his lips so much as twitch.

"You know, my dear, most people consider staring to be rather rude." He purrs.

You're proud to say you don't miss a beat.

"Good thing you're nothing like most people then, hm?" Quick wit- a developing side effect from the many days spent traveling with the cheekiest rogue in all of Faerûn.

Quick as you may be– he is quicker. 

"Ah, right you are. Most people aren't nearly as beautiful as I am– one can hardly blame you for all of your slack-jawed gawping."

A half-huffed laugh is pulled out of you. Astarion loves to pretend he isn't just as delighted by your glossy-eyed admiring as he is amused.

And here you are again, suddenly distracted by the slightest bounce of silver curls when he tilts his head to watch your smile hit your eyes. His hair looks a bit longer when it's weighed down by bathwater and conditioning oils, almost to the point where some bits just barely brush his shoulders. You're so mesmerized that you have to touch him. The hand that's been playing in the water comes up to brush a few nearly translucent hairs away from where they've stuck to the curve of his neck, lingering afterward to carefully trace a finger down to his collarbone as you continue your oggle-fest.

Only just a moment longer, you tell yourself, and then you'll leave him be.

Yet, he doesn't let you pull away too far when you've finished. A deft hand comes up from the depths to capture yours the second you think about leaving him to his privacy, and you nearly jump at the unfamiliar temperature of its grasp.

He's warm.

Almost warmer than you, and it's honestly kind of jarring.

Astarion's still sporting that smile, although a bit kinder than before. If you weren't watching so closely, you'd miss how his eyes flash, uncharacteristically shy for just a moment before that heavy-lidded stare is set back in place. He brings your joined hands up to his mouth, petal-soft lips resting against the damp heel of your palm in a not-so-kiss.

They press for a long moment, and you can feel the appreciative hum he gives more than you can hear it. It occurs to you that he's probably just as dazed at your matching temperatures as you are.

"Get in here, darling." The command comes out as more of a question, really. You know in your heart that you have every right to refuse him if you really want to and that he wouldn't even consider holding it against you if you did.

But why in the hells would you ever do a thing as silly as that?

#bg3 #astarion ancunin #baldurs gate 3 #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion headcanons #astarion #astarion fic #astarion fluff

[i-drop-level-one-loot]

You know, it would be interesting for me to read the gloomy Disney characters. By the type that the Reader accidentally enters the Disney world. Or is already in this world. For example, a man! The Evil Queen× reader. Just imagine that the mirror says that the most beautiful is the reader and the man!The evil Queen was interested.. Well, or dark! A man!A Disney princess who believes in love and believes that the reader is his true love and that the reader should belong only to him.

Sorry for the bad English

Don't apologize

You're perf, babes

Yandere!Genderbent!Evil King x GN!Reader x Yandere!Genderbent!Snow White

CW: Death, obsessive behavior

"Magic mirror on the wall, who's the fairest of them all?" The vain king asked his enchanted mirror as he often did whenever his pride was wounded. King Hadewig was the envy of men and women. Cold and beautiful, his features were cut like an ethereal ice sculpture. Intelligent, talented, and ruthless, most everyone either wanted to bed him or be him. However, his power was not guaranteed for long.

Hadewig was King only by responsibility, and not by actual title. His title was, legally, Prince Consort. He married his, now deceased, wife when he was a young bachelor, and she was the only eligible bachelorette of suitable status as a widow. Being so much older than him, it was an "unfortunate", but not "unsurprising" passing of the crown when the Queen died and left her son in Hadewig's care.

The only reason the child wasn't immediately crowned king was because of Hadewig's charm and influence, convincing the court that the young Prince Snow was too irresponsible to rule the country. But it was difficult to continue that lie going, even with Hadewig purposely keeping Snow ignorant of his future kingly duties by treating him as a servant, for now the boy was twenty years of age, and truly should have not only been coronated years ago, but also wed off to the available princess of the neighboring kingdom, a woman as old as Hadewig.

But his potential loss of power wasn't the reason for his low self esteem that day.

"You are, my king. There is one who approaches, but does not yet share with you what makes you fair."

The king slumped in his seat in an uncouth like manner. "Then why does my hunter not look at me like a man?"

King Hadewig's personal hunter, an immensely talented killer that didn't just slaughter animals for the king. And the only person who simply looked at the king. Nothing Hadewig did could change the professional look on (Reader's) face during their meetings. No matter how charismatic he was with his words, how stylish his clothing was, nor the love potions he attempted to spike (Reader's) drinks with, they were seemingly immune to every one of his attempts. In their most recent meeting, the one that left Hadewig depressed, he had offered his hunter a glass of wine, which they turned down, stating that the last drink they had received from the king did not agree with them.

"I can not tell you that, my lord. I only can report what I see, so unless your hunter speaks their secrets out loud while I spy, I am blind to their feelings for you."

Hadewig groaned, upset and broken hearted.

"Show me my hunter, again."

The face in the mirror melted, dissolving into an image of (Reader) leaving the castle. Their strong frame sent shivers down the icy man's spine. His first and only marriage was one of political importance, with no love or warmth between the husband and wife. But in the presence of his Mx. Hunter, the king was set ablaze. The intense feeling of heat was dowsed when he witnessed the bastard he hated most in the world approach his hunter.

At the steps of the castle, Snow had been timidly watching the triumphant hunter from afar, gathering the courage to approach them. He had never known shame, never feeling any sort of embarrassment about the state of his dress, but in the presence of the person who always smelled faintly of iron, he was reduced to two inches tall.

Stepping lightly like a mouse, the short adult snuck up behind (Reader), still debating whether or not he was actually going to announce his presence.

His decision was made for him, however, being noticed by (Reader) almost immediately.

"Good afternoon, your highness." They said, turning sharply on their heel to face him.

The hunter was the only person to address the prince by his royal status.

"Ah- how did you know it was me?" He asked incredulously. A pink blush warmed his entire head, wrapping around the back of his neck and up to the tips of his ears.

"Because I could hear you." (Reader) offered a kind smile to the shy, younger man. They felt sympathy towards him, with the way his cold step father treated him. With what they had done to him.

Snow was impressed by how cool (Reader) was. And a small part of him wished to impress them as well. He tried to straighten out his worn out rags. "What brings you to the castle today?"

"To gift the king a wolf pelt. And also," (Reader) reached into their pouch, pulling out a pressed flower, "to gift you this."

The prince sucked in his gasp, wide eyed and lips pressed tight.

"I apologize for not finding something better for your highness."

"No!" He panicked, grabbing the flower with both hands. "It's beautiful!"

He hadn't received a gift since the passing of his mother.

"Happy Birthday, your highness." (Reader) bowed, then turned swiftly, leaving the young man hyperventilating and sweating.

Only the king and his mirror heard Snow whisper long after (Reader) left: "I love you."

Three days later, and the king was losing his mind over the interaction. Snow was visibly taller, standing straighter as he worked, singing as he cleaned the castle grounds, and it was bothering him.

Hadewig kicked over his chair in frustration. "Magic mirror on the wall, who's the fairest of them all?"

"The one you fear is getting stronger, the confidence has warmed his winter, and people shall notice his spring awakening. The prince now glows more brightly than you, whose anger has etched lines of hatred into his ice like face."

King Hadewig released a scream, losing his control before quickly sharpening back up, running his hands through his messed hair.

He left his study, storming over towards a frightened servant.

"Send for my hunter."

Before (Reader), the king was disheveled, worrying (Reader) something awful.

"I can not stand for this disrespect any longer." His gaze read cold and cruel as it pierced the hunter's. "You understand that you are mine, correct?"

(Reader) thought about the flower and felt a wave of anxiety. "Yes, your highness."

"You understand that you belong to me?"

"Yes, your highness."

He sighed ever so slightly, before retrieving a wooden box from his desk. "I have another assignment for you.

Kill my son."

Nausea threatened to erupt from the seasoned murderer. "My lord?"

"Take him deep into the woods, and bring me back his heart." He held out the box. It was a test, as though (Reader) hadn't proved their loyalty to the mad man enough.

The empty box was heavy in (Reader's) hands.

"As you wish, your highness."

Prince Snow spun in the field of flowers as he searched for the most beautiful flowers for the hunter. It was the best day of his life! His father had given him a colorful outfit that fit him and the hunter had asked him out on a date! Well, they didn't call it a date, but what else could it have been?

He wove a crown for (Reader) while imaging their wedding day, becoming King and Royal Consort and having a real crown placed on their head.

(Reader), however, was weighing their options, not truly paying attention to the prince, and trying to ignore his childlike excitement.

What would the king do, if he was made a fool?

"Oh, hunter!" Snow ran over, holding out the delicate crown. "I made this for you! May I?"

And that was all it took, for (Reader) to spare his life.

They bent down, feeling the weight of the crown on their scalp. It smelled nice. Before Snow could retreat, (Reader) wrapped their arms around his thin waist. They had killed so many people before, but this was only the second time they felt unbearable guilt.

The first was after they took the life of the Queen.

"(Reader)?" Snow stuttered out, feeling weak in their strong arms.

"You must run, your highness." (Reader) whispered into his ear.

"What?"

"The king has ordered me to kill you. So please, run. Far away, into the woods." They released the prince, and it was only then that he noticed the heavy bags under their tired eyes.

"Why? I don't understand-"

"Leave. It won't be long before that witch discovers my lie."

Snow fell to his knees, holding onto the edge of (Reader's) shirt for dear life, falling apart in front of them. "Please, no! Come with me! If he would kill me, what would he do to you for sparing me? Please, run away with me!"

(Reader) bent down to release his fingers from their hem, planting a kiss on his forehead as they did so. "I hope when I meet you again you will have found a name more worthy of such a warm and kind person. For as of this moment, Prince Snow is dead."

Excitement threatened to crack the King's cool demeanor as he observed the bloody heart in his hands. (Reader) was distant, but that didn't matter to Hadewig, for now there was no competition for his hunter's affection. They would soon be his, even if he had to use force to make it so.

"Excellent work, my faithful hunter." He offered a practiced smile, unnerving (Reader) who prayed that the pig heart made a convincing decoy. At least until they could escape and hide out in the mountains, far away from the King's eyes.

(Reader) gave a deep bow. Then they left, calmly getting on their horse, and leaving, not taking a single glance behind them as they sped off, emergency bag already packed on their steed.

Back in Hadewig's room, he caressed the box affectionately, thinking about his lovely hunter. The stress had certainly caused a frown line, just as the mirror said, but he was working at reversing the damage.

"Magic Mirror on the wall, who's the fairest of them all?" He dreamily asked, slightly nervous that the rage had permanently ruined his perfect face.

"Hiding deep within the woods, tending a wounded heart, the fairest in the land hides. Prince Snow still lives."

The king scoffed. "I have his heart right here, mirror."

"No, within that box lies the heart of a pig."

The box fell from Hadewig's hands. "A pig..?" His face scrunched up painfully. "(Reader) would never betray- they belong to me! ME! Guards! Where is my hunter?!"

"The hunter is flying towards the mountains, away from the woods they released the prince into."

Hadewig collapsed at his desk, screaming in agony while pawing at his chest. "No! It's all his fault! Find me that little bastard- I'll kill him myself!"

The seven dwarven women listened to the young man recall his tale of woe, his eyes full of tears but a smile still on his lips. "So, if you please, could I stay here? Just until my love returns for me."

Happy sighed dramatically, blushing and twirling her beard. "That (Reader) is so brave~"

Grumpy smacked the back of her head. "That double crosser may have saved the prince, but that doesn't mean they won't double double cross him!"

Bashful stomped a foot. "It's true love! They would never!"

"Well, they never confessed their feelings," Doc said while cleaning her glasses, "they could have saved Snow out of the goodness of their heart."

Snow smiled, trying to calm the fragments of his heart. "I have to believe, to hope, that (Reader) loves me as I love them. To risk death for me.. but, they said we would meet again. And I trust them."

It was painful, knowing that his father wanted him dead, but what was worse was hearing that (Reader) had put their life in danger for him. Despite all the pain and punishment Snow had endured, he never held it against his step father, but now..

A dark, bitter seed had been planted.

And throughout the night as the household slept, Prince Snow could feel it grow, threatening to burst forth from his chest. The dwarven women were so kind to him. So inviting, and trusting.

He wondered what else they would do for him.

The dark haired man knew that the apple was poison from the moment it was placed in his hands. What kind of elderly man would be this far out away from any sort of town, especially if they were traveling to sell produce? He didn't know who the old man was, but knew that he must have been in cahoots with the king.

"Oh, I don't have any money." Snow said quite sadly, placing his head in his hand.

"For such a lovely young man? Free of charge."

"Are you sure?"

The old man was certainly no real beggar. Nothing made sense. It was cruel, what Snow thought to do, especially if he was wrong, but in case he was right.. Snow whispered to a bird before smiling brightly at the stranger, taking the apple in both hands.

"Of course, please take it!"

Snow bit into the fruit, but did not swallow, hiding the chunk in his hand. After a few seconds of pretending to chew, he collapsed, holding his breath.

The king almost immediately dropped his disguise, snarling. His once similarly raven hair had a stripe of grey.

In a voice barely louder than a huff, he said "It serves you right, you filthy bastard. I would have let you live, if you had simply left my (Reader) alone."

He exhaled. There was no movement from the floor.

"Are you dead yet? Can you still hear me? I hope you can." The king smiled. "I hope you can hear me from beyond the grave as I finally get my happily ever after."

But as he celebrated the dwarves rushed home from work, and a small bird was rallying forces to find the hunter and lead them to Snow's body.

As he monologued to what Hadewig assumed was his son's corpse, the women returned from the mines, righteously horrified and armed with pickaxes.

Hadewig heard a woman shout "Grumpy, don't!" before a pick connected with his lower back, piercing his organs from behind.

The pain was excruciating, sending fire up his body as blood poured out of him. He imagined (Reader's) face, finally smiling for him as they cradled him in their arms, accepting his love. Hadewig wanted that to be the last thing he saw before he died.

Instead, he witnessed Snow, smiling up at him from the floor.

(Reader) arrived just a moment too late, having been closer than they had expected due to how deep into the woods Snow had traveled. They witnessed the sobbing dwarves sitting at the door, too upset to enter their own home where the young prince they tried to rescue lie dead.

The hunter pushed passed them, not wasting a second to grab the young man. He was still warm, but wasn't breathing.

Snow kept his eyes closed as he felt the worst pain he had ever known.

(Reader's) hands slammed into Prince Snow's chest. A rib cracked under their strength, but Snow refused to show it.

Then their lips pressed against his.

His nose was held shut as (Reader) forced air into his throat, trying to get him to wake up. They continued the repetitions a medicine man had taught them while blowing air into his lungs.

"God damnit, Snow, wake up!"

They leaned in, and felt him breath against their mouth. His large brown eyes fluttered open, and his face reddened.

His lips curled into a weak grin. "You came back for me.."

Guilt washed over (Reader), hugging him tightly to their chest. "I'm sorry I left, Prince Snow."

Warm hands ran through (Reader's) hair. "Please.. Call me Theros."

The regret and pain kept (Reader) still, allowing the recently "revived" prince to pull them in for a kiss.

After all that (Reader) put him through, a kiss was the least they could do.

But for the born again man, it was just the beginning.

#sorry it took so long #yandere #yandere x reader #gn reader #genderbent #yandere king #yandere prince #love triangle #strong reader #cw blo0d #cw death

[stealingyourbones]

Short DPXDC Prompts #963

Barry’s most recent case at work is a deceased 12 year old female who recently got promoted from murder victim to meta murder victim. The strangest part was her autopsy report. She had no abdominal cavities. “It’s all green goo” isn’t a very professional verdict but looking at the photos of the examination does indeed show that below her skin is just a glowing green sludge. It’s as if her skin was a shell to hold this substance inside. Forensics is stumped. There isn’t a case study that’s even close to the subject of a meta with no organs. He wishes he could ask the girl herself how this happened but well, she’s dead. 

#dpxdc #danny phantom #bones prompts #fav prompts

[spdrvyn]

i'll be lonely with you — MIGUEL O'HARA

SUMMARY: with the passage of time and whispers from your acquaintances at the spider society HQ, you've found out that your boss has a habit of sneaking out of his office during the dead hours of night to eat dinner. completely alone.

NOTES: new formatting for fics !!! do you guys like it? :3 i decided to include summaries that way it would be easier for people to understand the general jist of the plot without me spewing nonsense in the notes. anyways enjoy !!!!! thanks for the support on my recent works as well ^_^

You didn't consider yourself the most introverted person.

Even when it came to hundreds of Spider-people, you tried to get to know who you could and become acquainted with as many of them as possible. How could you not?

However, there were few that you knew on a more personal level. People that you'd keep close to your side whenever you visited headquarters. People that you'd enjoy having an exchange of gossip with during lunch in the bustling cafeteria.

Miguel O'Hara wasn't exactly one of those people.

It's not like you didn't want to develop something more than a boss-coworker relationship. Though, conversations with him were always difficult, to the say the least. Most of the time, he's talking about work and anything that goes past that boundary goes unspoken.

Quite literally. You've forgotten the amount of times that you've built up the courage to mention anything about your other (not deceased) relatives or your friends and the amount of times that the room was filled with a silence so awkward that crickets are on the same volume as missile launchers.

Though, you didn't want to lose hope. You sort of understood where he was coming from. People go through grief and mourning in different ways, Miguel's was probably just isolation and a complete avoidance of discussions of personal life.

He was a leader. A good one. A trait of a good leader is to connect with their subordinates, establish relationships. So it really made you think.

How messed up was he that he missed that one quality?

"Hey. Your food's getting cold." There it goes, the sound of your train of thought leaving the station. Sometimes, you were grateful for Jess being there for you. She could snap you back to reality you like nobody else could.

You mutter an apology before stabbing your salad with your fork and taking a bite, Jess rests her head on her palm. Raising a brow at you, "So, did you want to eat lunch with me for fun or are you just using me to get info about Miguel? Again?"

Nervously, you shake your head. "It's nothing like that!" She leans in a little more, waving her other free hand in the air in a circular motion.

"...But if you have anything that you'd like to share then I'm not going to refuse entirely—"

"Oh my god. Fine, fine. What do you want to know?"

With that question, it felt like your mind blanked. You fidgeted with your fork, twirling a leaf of your salad against the plate as you pondered on what question to ask.

Jess responds with a deep sigh, "If you're trying to find a way to talk to him more, he doesn't leave that office of his much unless it's for work. He's in there most of time. Although..."

"Although?"

"Although, I've seen him come here normally somewhere around midnight to get a very late dinner alone. The place is less crowded, most are just in their own universe or sleeping or working."

Your face falls a little upon hearing that. "So I can only catch a non-serious conversation with him... in the middle of the night?"

"Exactly. Besides, there's a good chance he's going to just— continue talking about work with you whether he's in his office or not. You know that, right?"

You drop your utensil in defeat, burying your face shamefully in your hands. "I know..."

You quickly wrap up your lunch with Jess, as she shares bits and pieces about him. You had really wondered how she was able to learn all of these things about him anyway but before you had the opportunity to ask her, she told you to not.

Respecting her wishes, you keep your mouth shut. Respecting her even further, you decide to pack up both of your plates and wave her a goodbye before picking up those thoughts that you were left a while ago.

Admittedly, you didn't know why you were so persistent for something like this, for someone like him.

Determination was a strength of yours but that didn't mean that you didn't know where your limits rested and you would back off when you needed to.

There was just something. A swirling feeling in your gut that was telling you to keep going.

That it would be worth it.

So, you follow everything that Jess told you. Around midnight, he'd be alone, in the cafeteria, and looking for an empanada to snack on before heading back into his office. A very small fraction of his time left for personal conversation if you tried hard enough!

This most likely wasn't a good idea. You didn't sleep at all through the day but the thrill kept you alive and thriving. You confidently stride up to the counters of the cafeteria, picking out a small bag of chips for yourself and the last empanada for your soon-to-be snack companion.

Now, you wait.

You surveyed your surroundings and as you were doing that, you realize why he particularly emerges during these kinds of hours to eat. There was a significantly less amount of people.

Whenever you came here during the day, it was a miracle to be able to find completely empty seats. At times, you were forced to sit with a group of people.

You weren't entirely ungrateful for that though, you've made a lot of friends that way. Sure, it was awkward at first but the more you were forced to interact with people that way, the more you adapted to making small talk.

Even then, there were a lot of tables that were taken here save for one completely empty one at the far end.

Then, you finally see that navy and red suit.

Deciding to observe him just a little bit more, you watch him curse under his breath seeing the display case for the empanadas empty. Before he walks away any further, you tap him on the shoulder.

His mask was on, his eyes widen a little bit before you hand him the small box. "I saved the last one for you."

With a soft huff, you see the muscles in his shoulders and back grow loose once more, he hestitantly takes the container from your hands. Looking at it then looking back at you, "Thanks."

You two share a few seconds of awkward silence, you felt a little exposed. You decided to unmask for this because you wanted him to feel more comfortable talking to you rather than who you were as a Spider-person yet there's still that same awkwardness in the air.

Clearly without nothing to do and no idea on how to makem something better out of this, Miguel's about to walk off before you stop him once more.

"W— wait," A little piece of yourself dies inside as you hear yourself stutter but nevertheless, you keep going. "Uh, there aren't any other spots so is it alright if I sit you? I don't know any of the people here."

The way that you see the eyes through his masks narrow ever so slightly once the question escapes your throat makes your heart quiver like crazy.

You wanted to get to know him but damn, if you said that he didn't scare you sometimes then you would be lying.

You cry on the inside with sweet victory as he says...

"Fine."

That was it. That was all you got but you gladly take it! You have to catch up to him though because once you're done mentally celebrating, he's already a little bit far from you.

You try your hardest to keep your head straight but you can't help but look up and spare him one glance, the fact that you even had to look up at him really only emphasized your height difference with him.

Another factor that made you just a little bit more intimidated by him, his physique. You considered yourself to be of average height, you weren't the tallest person in the room but you were never the shortest as well. Just average.

The way he practically towered over you, his hand nearly being the size of your head. It made you feel something.

The moment that both of you have a seat, you take your opportunity.

"So, is there anything that you plan on doing after this?"

You get a little distracted once his mask comes off, he raises an eyebrow at you, crimson eyes that feel like they're looking straight into your soul. Though, side-tracked as he bites into the dough and meaty goodness of his empanada, with a shrug— he replies,

"Not really. Unless there's an anomaly I haven't heard of yet then I have no plans. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, nothing. Was just curious is all." Why was this so hard?!

The conversation goes as what you expected. You'd ask a question every moment or so and he'd give you a short response before going back to his food. He wouldn't ask you anything back, wouldn't add any 'unnecessary' comments. Just bask in the silence.

You simply couldn't take it anymore, you didn't know how to express your interest in him without asking him more questions about himself which he seems to avoid trying to answer.

You couldn't ask him about his hobbies because he'll most likely say that he's too busy working to actually spend time gaining and branching out to different interests.

Dejectedly, you sigh. "I'm sorry for imposing— on your alone time, I mean." It was like everything that you wanted to say just kept spilling out of your mouth.

"I didn't want to eat with you at this hour because I pity you or— or I found you lonely or whatever. I just thought that whenever you weren't talking about work, we'd be able to get along."

You stand up from your seat, eyes mindlessly darting arounf the labels of the bag of 'Spider-O's' in your clutches.

"I'll, uhm, let you eat in peace now. Once again, I'm—"

"Wait."

Which ever brain cells died from that interaction certainly reignited now. "Sit back down," It comes off an order. An order you certainly obey.

"I wouldn't have actually said yes to you if I didn't want to talk." He starts. "I know a lot of people but it's not in the same way that you do. I know their names, their faces, their canon events. You know their feelings, their mindscapes, and their troubles—"

"—And those are the exact kinds of things that I can't comprehend most of the time. We understand people differently, is what I'm saying. I still have no idea why exactly you sought out me of all people but I will... try to gain this new perspective of things."

You want to tamp down the smile that creeps up on your lips as you hear those words but you can't. What he said, it all made sense now. You couldn't see the full picture still, but you were willing to find it—

"I understand. It's fine."

"So? Do you have plans after this?"

Together.

#miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara fluff #fluff #romance #kind of #across the spiderverse #spiderverse #atsv #jessica drew #jess drew #spiderwoman #made this one extra sappy for u guys #miguel can be #so hard to write sometimes #hope i did him justice here

[valdevia]

Howard Stanley Crewe (1871-1919) was one of the first spirit photographers. These Spiritualists claimed to capture images of the deceased using tricks like double exposure.

Though Crewe's images show the same signs of manipulation, his last portraits still puzzle researchers.

Howard, born in Chicago, was a struggling writer with a knack for photography. He made headlines in 1909 when he claimed to photograph the spirit of his recently-deceased wife, starting a thriving business.

In 1919, Crewe started seeing something unexpected in his pictures.

Crewe, alarmed, wrote a letter to his colleague William Hope, asking for advice:

"Something has contaminated my photographs. Whatever it is, it follows me wherever I go. I have tried changing locations, cameras… To no avail. It only seems to get clearer with every image."

Hope replied: "It may be a true message from beyond, friend. Have you tried a self-portrait? This might make it show itself clearly."

This image is Crewe's last photograph, taken the day of his death. The damaged plate was found still in his camera, with no signs of tampering.

#Unreality #Photoshop #Spirit Photography #Horror #Horror Art

[hyunjins-orange-slice-too]

skz when you say “i love you” for the first time.. and it’s in bed

pairing: ot8 x reader

genre: soft smut. mostly sweet and fluffy.

word count: ~2.9k

warnings: general soft smut, oral, fingering (on my jeongin hand kink bs again), pet names, seungmin is kinda rough, i think that’s all?

an: this is a repost from my recently deceased blog hyunjins-orange-slice. may she rest in peace.

masterlist

channie:

would be so so so soft about it. 🥺

he had known that he is in love with you for a while now but always was too scared to say it. he didn’t want you to feel like he was moving too fast. but it was constantly running through his mind. so when the moment comes where he is deep inside you, his strong arms wrapped around you, holding you tight to his chest, his broad shoulders shielding you from everything, his scent completely enveloping you, his dark curls tickling your cheek as he leans in and presses a kiss to your neck. when you’re shaking under him and whimpering his name and coming undone around his cock, and then he hears it. mid orgasm, a gentle ‘i love you’ slips past your lips.

he has to pull back a little to look you in the eye, searching your face for any signs of regret. but all he found were your big doe eyes, filled with love and brimming tears. “baby, what did you just say?” he would ask, quietly. a whisper of disbelief.

cheeks going red, thinking maybe it was too soon for you to have said such a thing, you look away from him and mumble “i said, i— i love you.”

“that’s what i thought you said.” he would lean in and kiss you, the softest sweetest kiss he’s ever given you, before whispering against your lips “i love you too.” then he would kiss you again before repeating, “i love you so much.”

he would relax his body into you, his forehead resting against yours, the occasional peck against your skin. before saying it one last time before you slip into sleep, “i love you.”

•

minho:

also a big softie about it but gets nervous

he’s got your knees up by your ears, you body bent in half under him, full mating press, his strong arms caging your head. his hair falls in his eyes, tickling your forehead, his hot breath fanning against your cheek as he pants. he’s hitting that perfect spot inside you, your walls clenching around him.

“fu-fuck baby, you’re clenching.” he grunts.

you admire his sharp, handsome features. you notice the sheen of sweat on his forehead. your heart swells in your chest. he’s making you feel so good, you can’t help but to cradle his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you.

“minho..” a moaned whisper. you let your thumb rub across his cheek. “minho, baby, i love you.” you confess.

his thrusts stutter and then stop. he doesn’t pull out, doesn’t even really move, he just looks away from your face, chuckling nervously. his thrusts slowly start up again. you turn your head to place a gentle kiss on his toned arm. his head drops and nuzzles into the crook of your neck. he’s grunting, thrusting in and out at a good pace. he kisses your neck gently before saying “you love me?”

you wrap your arms around his shoulders. “yes. i really do.”

“i love you too.” he says into your neck. and his voice is filled with such emotion that you believe him. and as his thrusts get faster and sloppier with the approach of his release, he moves his lips from your neck to your mouth, kissing you softly. and as he cums, his cock twitching inside you, he says it again. “i love you.”

•

binnie:

would immediately get so excited about it

you’re straddling him, sitting on the couch, his cock sliding in and out of you as you slowly bounce on him. his hands are at your hips, squeezing and helping you with your motions.

“there you go, bunny. you’re doing so good.” he says, brushing your hair out of your face and behind your ear.

you feel so good with him inside you, so full. and when you pull your eyes away from where you two are connected and you look at his face, your heart flutters. his natural hair was wavy and still air drying from his shower. his glasses slowly sliding down his nose, his bottom lip in between his teeth, his broad chest on full display for you to look at. you moved your hands from his shoulders where they were supporting you, down to his large biceps. you gave his muscles a light squeeze. he looked up at you and smiled.

you smiled back at him and leaned down to place a soft kiss on his lips. his hands slowly moved from your hips, up your back, his fingertips leaving goosebumps.

“i love you, binnie.” you whispered.

the slow thrusts stopped and he held you in place.

“what was that, bun?” he asked, looking into your eyes now.

“i said, i love you.” a smile started to spread across his face, his heart pounding.

“you love me?” he asked excitedly. “you’ve never said that before.” he was downright giddy. he pulled you close, wrapped his big arms around you, and kissed your hair. “i love you too, bunny.” he said, shaking your body with his excitement. his thrusts started up again, slightly faster this time, you were still on top of him but he was doing all the work.

“so sweet.” he grunted. “i love my little bunny. love her so much.” he kissed any part of you he could reach— your cheek, your shoulder, your lips, your neck, your chest— as he brought you both close to your high.

and when you both reached that peak, and everything went still, he lazily smiled and exhaled on a shaky breath, “i love you.”

•

hyunjin:

would say it before you did

it was early morning, the sheets a rumpled mess around you, the window open, the long curtains blowing in the breeze. he was on top of you, his soft kisses moving from your pussy, to your navel, to your sternum and making their way back up. he looked at you through his hair, his face covered in your arousal, his cock brushing against your entrance, and you thought you had never been happier. you’ve never felt this closely attached to someone. never felt this amount of pull toward another person. never felt like your heart may burst at any moment, being unable to hold the amount of feelings you have for him.

he kissed your neck, kissed your jaw, kissed your lips. “you’re a goddess.” he whispered against your skin, before slowly sliding inside you. you both groaned at the feeling of it. his head fell to rest in the crook of your neck, your arms wrapping around him. he lay still, letting you adjust to his size. he placed a kiss on your collar bone before whispering, “i love you.” his breath tickled against your skin. and though you were surprised at hearing these words for the first time, you didn’t hesitate to return his sentiment.

“i love you too, jinnie.” you say, your hands tangling in his hair. he pulls back, supporting himself on his hands either side of your head and looks deep into your eyes. he stares for a moment, but then must find what he was searching for, because he leans down and kisses your lips.

“i love you.” he says against your lips. “i love you.” kiss. “i love you.” kiss. he starts to move in and out slowly, your eyes falling closed in bliss. “i love you.”

•

jisung:

would get so adorably nervous

you had your mouth around him, your favorite thing. his length sliding in and out from between your lips, your spit dripping down his balls. his head was thrown back, little whimpers leaving his throat as he fights the urge to thrust up into your mouth. you were taking your time, savoring him, teasing him, but most of all, admiring him.

he was so soft and handsome above you, his cheeks flushed a light pink, his hair tousled. his eyes shut and his lips parted and slightly damp. his hands were in fists at his sides. you run your palms up his thighs, before grabbing his hands, intertwining his fingers with yours. you squeezed his hands and his head fell forward, his eyes opening to look at you, his pupils blown with lust.

you pulled off of his cock with a pop. you rose from your knees and straddled his lap, bringing your hands to cup his face as you kissed him. “you want to know something, sungie?” you ask him sweetly. he nods, thinking he would very much like to know something, but currently he knows nothing but the pleasure you’re bringing him.

you lined his cock up to your entrance and slowly sank down on him. his eyes rolled back, his hands on your hips, fingers digging into your skin.

“i love you.” you say to him.

his eyes went wide, his cheeks flushing a dark red color.

“i- you- i just- you-“ he stuttered.

you chuckled and leaned down to kiss him, slowly starting to rock your hips back and forth.

“i love you sungie. such a sweet boy.” you kissed him. “a perfect boy.”

you started to ride him harder, his breath coming in pants. “fu-fuck.” he said, his high approaching.

“you gonna cum, baby?” you asked him, squeezing around his cock. he nods vigorously and right as he cums, before the first twitch of his cock, before the first drop of cum enters your pussy, he says it. and he repeats it, over and over as he’s cumming. his voice shaky. “i love you. i love you”

•

felix

would be so sweet and might cry

he was slowly thrusting into you, his body weight on yours, tired after his first orgasm but not wanting to quit. he wants to give you as many as he physically can, or until you tell him to stop. your mind is hazy, full of nothing but him. nothing else exists, except him. you wondered what you did to deserve him. if you thought about it too hard, you might cry. he was panting into your ear, your pussy fluttering around him.

“fuck- angel-“ he moans, breathy. he pulls back to look at you, your eyes glassy, almost brimming with tears. he rubs his thumb across your cheek, his thrusts slowing due to his worry.

“no-no don’t slow down, please lixie.” you beg, so close to the edge.

“okay, baby. i won’t.” he cooed. “come on angel, you can do it. let go for me.”

and you did. your nails dug into his arms as your body shook. and then the tears spilled over onto your cheeks. a look of panic crossed his features.

“baby? what’s wrong?” he asks. “did i hurt you?” he pulls out, leaving you feeling empty. he cradles your face in his hands, wiping your tears away as they fall.

“talk to me, angel. please.”

how do you even begin to explain to him what you were currently feeling? you didn’t think you could.

“i- i love you.” you said quietly through your tears. he looked a little surprised. “i’m sorry-“

“what? don’t be sorry.” he kissed you gently. “i love you too.”

you looked up and your eyes met his, and they mirrored your own. “you do?” you asked.

a single tear fell down his sweet freckled face as he kissed you yet again. “of course i do. i have for a while. and i will, forever. i love you.”

•

seungmin

would be a menace about it but loves you more

he was towering over you, his hands fisted in your hair, his cock as far down your throat as he could get it. tears were streaming down your face, but you loved it. pleasing him this way was your favorite and he knew that. but you could tell he still worried about you from time to time. he would get lost for a moment, thrusting in and out of your mouth, grunting, getting lost in his pleasure. but then he would pull out and briefly assess your face, checking on you. tonight he was being extra rough, which you welcomed. he had a long day at the company and just needed to get it out. so you begged him to.

"use me. please minnie.” you would say. and it would be his undoing. that’s how you found yourself on your knees in front of him. he had placed a pillow on the floor to help cushion your knees a bit, ever the gentleman. and he looked incredibly sexy above you, panting, his hair in disarray, some strands sticking to his forehead. and you knew that if tonight was like the other nights that he used you like this, when he was done he would dote on you and coo at you and massage you or draw you a bath. you loved to please him this way but you loved seungmin’s aftercare just as much. and you were reminded again in this moment, his cock all the way down your throat, your spit dripping down your chin, how much you loved him. truly loved him. and you had yet to tell him. you didn’t want to force anything on him, make him feel like he needed to say it back to you if he wasn’t ready. but you found it hard to hold your tongue in this moment when he pulled out and asked: “‘you doin okay, pup?”

and you answered with a simple, “i love you.”

the look on his face went blank for a moment before he smiled at you, his sweet loving smile he used in the aftercare. but that smile slowly turned devilish as he shoved his cock back in your throat. “you’re such a simp for me, huh? my cock make you feel that good?”

your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he used you, you attempting to nod in answer to his question. and soon after, he came, shooting his load down your throat which you greedily swallowed. he stood above you, panting, bringing his hand to cup your cheek. you nuzzled into his palm.

“you love me, huh?” he asked, smirking.

you just nodded, unable to form words just yet, but looked up at him with glassy eyes and messy cheeks.

“well, hate to break it to you, but i love you more.” he stated. “lets go get you a bath, pup.” he helped you off the floor and led you to the bathroom. as the tub filled, he pulled you against his chest, kissing the top of your head before whispering against your hair, “‘i love you.”

•

innie

would make you repeat it.

he had his fingers in your mouth. he had the fingers from the other hand in your pussy. they lazily thrust in and out as he leans close to whisper in your ear.

"you get all messy just thinking about my fingers, dont you?" he whispered, his breath tickling your neck. you nodded. "ah ah." he chided. "tell me, use words. let me hear your pretty voice, baby."

you werent sure if you could, with his fingers in your mouth. he notices the trepidation on your face. "you can do it, baby. ill understand you. tell me. "

"ye-yes. your fingers are so good, innie. you make me feel so good." you mumble around his fingers.

"there you go." he praised. he pulled his fingers out of your mouth and rose to his knees. he kept his fingers in your pussy, thrusting them in and out, but his other hand moved to your throat, squeezing slightly.

"fuck." you exhaled. he was a god. thats the thought that ran through your head at that moment. he was godly. but also, he was yours. he had proven that, time and time again, paying no attention to anyone but you. showering you with affection, feeding into your hand kink, making sure you knew just how cared for you were. but neither of you had ever said the L word. both a little too scared to shatter what was such a good thing. but in this moment, with his fingers deep inside you, looking down at you with lust filled heart eyes, you couldnt help yourself.

"i love you." you said, voice a little hoarse.

he removed his hand from your throat. "what was that, baby?" he asked, giving an extra hard thrust of his fingers.

"fuck- i- i love you." you repeated.

he started thrusting faster, your walls clenching around him, his other hand coming down to rub at your clit.

"im sorry, baby. one more time?" you knew that he heard you. you knew he was just teasing you at this point. the smirk on his face proved your theory.

"i love you!" you moaned out. about to tip over the edge into bliss. "oh my god, innie. dont stop." you begged. "i love you. i love you. i love you." and then you came. your pussy clamping down on his fingers, your arousal coating his hand.

"fuck, baby. there you go." he praised. once you had relaxed, and your body stopped shaking, once he had successfully helped you back down from your high, he leaned down to kiss your cheek before whispering in your ear, "i love you."

🚨reminder: this blog is 18+ only. i’ve been getting a lot of new followers (which i greatly appreciate) but if there’s no age identifier on your blog, i’m blocking you no questions asked. (for my own sanity and peace of mind.) ik some people don’t actually go to my page to read the warnings, so im going to start attaching a warning at the bottom of all my posts. thanks for understanding. 💕

#pls minhos is so sweet i could cry #but i think seungmins is my favorite #stray kids #bang chan #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagines #bang chan stray kids #bang chan x reader #stray kids bang chan #stray kids smut #hyunjin #stray kids minho #lee minho smut #stray kids changbin #changbin smut #hyunjin smut #hyunjins orange slice too #lee felix smut #seungmin smut #jeongin smut #stray kids fluff #han jisung smut

[mitigatedchaos]

Kontextmaschine is Dead

(~1,000 words, 5m)

Noted blogger @kontextmaschine is presumed dead, following the discovery that the sole resident at his most likely residence was found deceased during a wellness check initiated by concerned Redditors.

Prior to his last post on Aug 22, which indicated a serious health problem, he reported taking over twice the dose of creatine he had been taking at the beginning of his lengthy post-COVID health saga, in which he also reported becoming bisexual, having "zero" anxiety, gaining 3D vision after years of not having it, becoming incredibly convincing, and having to learn to walk and use his muscles properly again. At the time, he felt he was becoming trimmer and physically stronger, and reported engaging in a long project of yard work, although photos from the inside of his house generally looked somewhat messy.

A Tumblr user who met him briefly in person after the beginning of the health saga but before these most recent events reported that he was friendly, charismatic, hospitable, and clean, but "physically, a mess," with motor control issues on one side of his body.

Topics of discussion were similar to the content of kontextmaschine's blog, such as differences in east and west coast government in America, said to be "totally on brand," but it was said that the prolific poster seemed "less self-grandiose" in person.

Redditors theorize that the decline of kontextmaschine's health following his first self-report of COVID-19 infection may have been due to undiagnosed brain cancer, which could be more consistent with observed changes in behavior than the after-effects of a viral infection, given that most reports of "long covid" are about effects like fatigue, and not total loss of anxiety or alteration of sexual orientation.

Despite multiple suggestions, from both anonymous and pseudonymous users, kontextmaschine refused to seek professional medical care for his condition.

Regarding the mourning of public figures, in 2018, a period of increased Progressive sensitivity during the Trump Administration, kontextmaschine wrote,

through the years realized that through whatever blind groping the ‘90s-ass “edgelords” were desperately trying to save us from this, through proper gatekeeping and filtering at first I’d thought it was gratuitous and supported it being relaxed, maybe not shaming everyone who publicly mourned a suicide, mea culpa, mea culpa, I have debts to pay

In 2019, he added:

That was how we kept the internet culture from growing mawkish and cry-bullyish: basically, if you were so weak as to get weepy over corpsemeat you got cancelled, the shame would follow you forever and you’d never be allowed to forget it.

Given his writing, it is likely that kontextmaschine would not have supported excessive public mourning over his death, though in 2017, following the theft of his motorcycle, when the popular blogger @argumate jokingly criticized him by writing, "no references to pinball, no insight into historical Americana, this isn’t the kontext I signed up for," kontextmaschine wrote,

“when bad shit happens people mock me accurately” is the community I’ve been looking for my whole life so

Like argumate, perhaps the most famous of the rationalist-adjacent bloggers on Tumblr, screenshots of kontextmaschine's Tumblr posts would end up on outside websites.

Kontextmaschine was generally considered an interesting, if controversial writer. One Tumblr user characterized him as a member of the "obnoxious Tumblr right," though another user asked, "wait, how is kontextmaschine is right wing?" After another user claimed that the nuclear bombing of Oregon would be a net improvement in the world due to kontextmaschine's residence in Portland, tumblr user @random-thought-depository wrote a 2,400 word theory post arguing that kontextmaschine's philosophy was a means to coordinate to join a future political coalition favoring the formation of a more brutal and oppressive hierarchy in pursuit of his own advantage.

Though kontextmaschine's ideology advocates that humanity should adopt "r-selection," meaning more offspring with less investment in each (or youth, sex, and death), this blog dissented against the coalition theory, arguing that motorcycles, kung fu, women, Hollywood, and not having to report to HR are all traditionally cool, and the causality of the kontextmaschine ideology could easily run the other way.

Though he had a period of identifying as female in his youth, appropriately LGBTQ for a Tumblr user, his 2011 statement of principles, including "the lesser yields to the greater" and "suffering is the mark of a wrong person," and general body of work, could be described as a strain of right-wing thought, though not of the traditionalist Christian or rational technocratic varieties.

Prior to the post-covid health saga, kontextmaschine's health posting was primarily about his bipolar disorder, with both manic and depressive phases.

Kontextmaschine maintained generally friendly relations with other bloggers in his sphere of discourse, sometimes debating but rarely aggressive, except in response to anonymous hatemail. In response to one particular piece of hatemail, kontextmaschine stated that as a writer, of course his primary form of influence would be his posts.

In a post chain reblogged by dozens of Tumblr users, multiple Tumblr users wrote that they enjoyed his writing and are disappointed by his death, describing him as a unique thinker that will not be easily replaced. Several felt that there was not much they could have done, as after returning from his covid infection, he was not taking medical advice.

One Tumblr user wrote, "rip. Inspirational manic poster," while long-time and prolific poster argumate described him as, "one of the bloggers of all time."

Internet users speculate that Kontextmaschine is survived by his outdoor cat, Badger, about whom he posted frequently. He may also be survived by other members of his family, with whom he apparently did not live, and rarely spoke about.

It is recommended that enthusiasts of kontextmaschine's blog make backups of his writing for archival purposes.

#tumblr tumblr tumblr #mitigated news #kontextmaschine #longpost #flagpost #obituary

[luvsreiner]

We (in this case me) need a fic where Toji and the reader have a somewhat sad relationship, where she has to deal with being placed in the shadow of his deceased wife, but she becomes pregnant and arguments begin because , how dare you try to do this? He initially rejects the pregnancy, taking into account that he already had megumi and didn't want another baby, he didn't want his old family to be replaced or whatever, whatever the reason, but over time he starts to accept it.

The problem is that he doesn't show this, he just continues to refuse to get involved and this makes the reader understand that she would be a single mother even in marriage and that despite her doing everything she could, she didn't belong to that family as she would have liked, so she leaves after saying goodbye. of a Toji who would go to work and a Megumi who would go to school. She leaves and leaves the divorce papers on the coffee table with a letter talking about how she felt and how she needed to distance herself.

So when Toji comes home and notices everything in silence, he thinks it's weird because she normally wouldn't leave everything off and go to bed before ten. He notices the letter and reads it, feeling mixed feelings as he thinks about the words she wrote.

As time passed and missing her became increasingly difficult to ignore, he decided to tell Megumi the truth about how she had left, correcting the lie about her traveling to visit her parents as he said before. So Toji has to deal with a barrage of questions and a child crying about how he had lost another mother, which made him even more worried and distressed about the situation. He gets in touch with her and tries all the time to find out where she was now, with the intention of visiting her and asking her to come back, but when he does so, she responds by saying that she no longer trusts his words and cannot see the feeling that he said he felt was true. With that, the conversation ends talking about the baby and how they would do it from then on, she gave some ways of dealing with what he accepted and from that day on, life as separated parents began. He would go to the appointments even if he was silent for most of them, he would be there on the day of the birth and help her because she was scared and he knew he had to support his (ex) wife in such a difficult time. When the child was born, they were blessed with a beautiful girl with dark hair like Toji, but her mother's appearance and it was one of the happiest days of their lives.

As incredible as it may seem, he helped her postpartum, and always visited them both when he wasn't at work, taking Megumi with him since he couldn't be alone and needed to create a bond with his little sister. As life went on, Toji managed to spend more time with the girl, now receiving her every weekend at his house, he always picked her up on Friday and took her on Sunday, and it was always the moments when he most felt anxious, despite always calling to talk to her (or just using it as an excuse to talk to you) and visiting the girl almost every two dayshimself by surprise while making dinner, he cleaned the wound and asked the girl more about the subject.

Apparently a tall, blond man was there quite often, taking a pink-haired boy with him and drinking tea with them. Did Toji worry about knowing who that man was, a friend or a boyfriend? Did you trust him so much that you took him close to your daughter? He didn't even realize that he repeated these questions in front of him after once again leaving the child at home. Your answer? He's a long-time friend who you recently got back in touch with. Nothing more, he already had someone waiting for him at home.It was a relief for Toji to hear this, he knew you didn't owe him loyalty, but the idea of ​​seeing you moving on made him bitter and even jealous. He said goodbye to you and went home thinking about the matter, that possible threat in the form of a friend was a turning point for him to make the decision to try to get your marriage back together. He opened the bedside drawer and pulled out the divorce papers that he hadn't signed yet, let alone sent to you, wondering why you never questioned him about it. He looked at the letters without reading them and tore up the paper when he saw his signature, they wouldn't need it anymore as they would soon be back.

*I don't know what he could try to do, but I think that could be left to someone with more ability to develop a story than me, hahaha. Sorry, I got a little carried away explaining the plot and ended up almost writing a one shot. Thank you if you read this far and sorry for any mistakes, I'm writing sleepily*

#jujutsu kaisen #toji fushigro x reader #toji x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen angst #toji angst

[xxghost-zombie-jesus]

HEY I HEARD SOMEONE SAY "ASK ME ABOUT BEETLELANDS" OVER HERE, DO YOU HAVE ANY HEADCANONS ABOUT THEM TO SHARE??

DO I HAVE ANY HEADCANONS? DO I HAVE ANY HEADCANONS ?! YOU BET YOUR ASS I DO!

And I'll do you one better! I'm currently slowly working on a Beetlelands fic based off the song "Your Stupid Face" by Kaden MacKay. Eventually I'll finish and post it, but I think you deserve an excerpt.

Barbara and Adam shared a look, having one of their silent conversations, and Beetlejuice was left wondering once again how the hell they did that. They came to some conclusion or understanding or something because both gave a decisive nod. "Maitlands 2.0?" Barbara asked. "Maitlands 2.0," Adam echoed, giving her an encouraging smile. "Wh-" Beetlejuice went to ask again, but Barbara leaned up and pressed her lips to him, stunning him so thoroughly that he froze. Completely. His eyes were wide, breath withering in his chest, and his hands shook just the slightest amount at how tense he was. Barbara pressed slightly harder against his lips, which were firmly closed in his confusion-fueled panic. This was is, this was them fucking him over with kindness and the false pretense of love before they stabbed him in the back, and threw him out on his ass. Like Lydia, and his Ma, and everyone before, every single person before in his long undead-dead not-life. No, no. He was being so stupid, this meant something. This meant something. Something good? No, no, something great. Barbara went to pull away and he moved without thinking, chasing her lips and he slowly, hesitantly, brought his hand up to cup the back of her neck, hyper-aware of his claws resting against her delicate skin. He gently played with the hair at the nape of her neck, noting that, yes, it was as soft as he had always thought. Barbara laughed against his mouth and deepened the kiss oh-so-slightly, thumb still brushing over his cheekbones. She nipped his lip and he opened obediently, allowing her to take the lead, but she simply continued to nibble his lip. She pulled away and he made an involuntary noise in his throat, opening his eyes which he hadn't realized he closed. Barbara stepped away and Adam took her spot. Slower than she had, he leaned in and wrapped his arms around Beetlejuice's shoulders, and he, too, kissed Beetlejuice. Once again all his thoughts flatlined as Beetlejuice took a moment to respond, though much quicker than with Barbara. He melted against Adam's chest, hands hovering awkwardly over his sides, fingers curled slightly. Adam ran a hand though Beetlejuice's hair and he purred into the kiss, and oh, he had never made that noise before. Finally he let his hands wrap around Adam's waist, and grip at the fabric of his shirt as he pushed closer, torn between continuing the kiss or pressing back into Adam's hand in his hair, but Adam made the decision for him, pulling his head forward ever-so-slightly and opening his mouth. Beetlejuice responded in kind, and totally didn't shiver slightly when Adam pushed his tongue inside of his mouth. Finally Adam, too, pulled back, though he stayed close enough to keep a hand in Beetlejuice's hair. Despite being probably the tamest kisses he had ever had the pleasure of having–lacking the desperate push of two people who simply let drug-borne lust take over in a desperate bid to get both of their rocks off as quickly as possible, and absolutely no blood left in its wake–it left him flushed and breathless, shoulders heaving as he stared at the couple in front of him. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to get his thoughts to form into words, but all he could utter was, "woah." Barbara giggled and covered her mouth. "Is that a good 'woah'?" Beetlejuice could only nod, a lopsided, lovestruck grin on his face.

Ehehe.

As for headcanons, I feel like it's gonna be reaaaal slowburn. I'm talking like. Months before the Maitlands are even comfortable enough to call Beej a friend, let alone start having a crush on him.

When he first comes back it's...awkward. They can tell he's genuinely remorseful for what he did, but that doesn't make it okay. That doesn't excuse his behavior. Not even just the threatening to murder and fake exorcism stuff, either. The groping and kissing and inappropriate comments were all way too far.

He doesn't get that, so what's a little kissing and ass slapping between friends? Or a dirty comment here and there? They have to have a conversation with him about how, no, people don't act like that. They don't know about demons, or their etiquette, but humans shouldn't act like that. and it takes a while, but it finally clicks for him and he realizes Oh. He was the asshole. They genuinely didn't like it. He stops pretty quickly after that, with some slip ups that he has to be warned about.

He goes back to teaching them how to be ghosts. That isn't something that he needs to convince the Maitlands on, in fact, it's their idea, pretty quickly. Like, sure, they still aren't comfortable around him but he does know his shit. And before everything went to hell in a handbasket before, the scaring lesson was fun! And there's so much they don't know.

Like how to eat, or teleport, or conjure stuff. And do all ghosts have a pocket dimensions or is that a demon thing? And what about the clones? There's a lot they don't know and want to understand, and, for a long time, these lessons are the only time they're alone together. And they aren't professional, not by a long shot, you have three goofballs, one of which couldn't be serious if his not-life depended on it, but its far from how things were before.

and its during lessons like this, and conversations they have with beej at dinner or during family night, or even when he comes to them of his own accord needing their help or with something for them that they start to learn about beej. and he about them.

and they start to grow closer, you know? they go from acquaintances to family members to friends, and soon they find that yes. he actually did change, for the better. or maybe this is how he always is and something was just Up when they first met him. either way, they much prefer this beetlejuice to the maniac, angry, desperate one before.

they spend more time together alone, usually when lydia isn't around or beetlejuice gets in trouble annoying delia or charles, and after months and months of living together and becoming friends the maitlands realize that. oh. they like him. both of them. and they don't know how to breech the subject because they don't want to make things awkward, or scare him off, so they just. don't say anything.

at this point they have a FWB arrangement going on, because, well, they have to admit, all of beej's primping and preening about his sex life had gotten them curious, and they wanted to know if he could put his money where his mouth was. and it turned out he could.

and then beej is the one to come to them because he realized that his silly little infatuation with the two ghosts had bloomed into a full blown crush. and he had to tell them or he'd explode or have to run away. what was the worst that could happen? oh yeah that was bad, but unlikely.

so he tells them, and they reciprocate, and start dating. things aren't smooth, its awkward and they have their fair share of problems that include beej getting scared and fucking off for a little bit until he's dragged back and forced to talk about his feelings, but in the end it works out great.

as for general headcanons:

Beetlejuice calls Barbara and Adam all manner of nicknames, but tends to stick with Sexy and Babs most often.

Adam calls beej Bug, Buggy, and Bugsy. Barbara calls him Beet, Beebles, and Juicy. They both call him Love-bug, Ladybug, and Junebug.

They keep their separate rooms, Beej likes to have his own space after all, but he sleeps with them more often than not, and tends to be in the middle. It works out because he's usually very warm and the Maitlands can actually feel it.

Also he's a huge cuddler and likes to drape himself across their laps, even when they're busy.

Adam likes to play with Beetlejuice's hair, it's surprisingly soft despite it sticking up every-which-way, and it always makes the demon purr which Adam thinks is The cutest thing.

Barbara loves Beej's wyrm form, especially when he's small, and its only in this form that puppydog eyes work on her. She's immune at any other point.

Beetlejuice thinks Adam's the better cuddler, but Barbara is better to lay on. He will never say this out loud. He does constantly complain about Barbara's cold ass feet though.

His love languages are gift-giving, acts of service, and quality time. Oh and touch.

On the other hand he is bad at words of affirmation. Like, he could not give someone a compliment in a not back-handed, rude, or plain incomprehensible way if his not-life depended on it.

In the same vein his accepted ones are words of affirmation, quality time, and touch. He hates when people do things for him because he can't understand the concept of people just wanting to do something to be nice vs them expecting something in return.

Adam helps Beetlejuice deal with some of the more negative quirks of his autism (aka gives him Healthy coping methods). This one is bc I hc Beej, Adam, and Lyds are all autistic ;3c

Beetlejuice helps Adam be more unapologetically autistic and not mask it so much. No one here is gonna judge, after all.

Barbara helps Beetlejuice when he has nightmares, and in return he'll stay awake with her when she's too upset to sleep. He thinks he's very bad at being comforting but he can be a good listener, surprisingly, and actually can have some good advice! also he's a great cuddler. he gives a mean hug. real bear hug, picks her up and swings her around a bit kind of hug that always makes her laugh.

Beetlejuice helps Adam and Babs withs the model. Babs is the one who carves all the model buildings and Adam paints them. Beetlejuice since he can leave the house makes sure its 100% accurate and keeps them up to date.

He also likes to get Barbara new plants for her attic garden. So many so that it ends up bleeding out onto the roof.

#veej's rambles #beetlelands #beetlejuice #beetlejuice the musical #beetlejuice broadway #barbara maitland #adam maitland #asks from the recently deceased #wee i hope you like my inane rambling and headcanons #i have more but this is all i can think of off the top of my head right now #i hope to eventually get one or all of my stupid fics finished UvU. one day

[gallusrostromegalus]

Speaking of public health. What was the soul society reaction to the eradication of small pox like?

"You notice there's a lot less dead babies these days?" Iba asked in the middle of one morning's office work.

"Fewer dead babies." Komamura corrected without thinking. "Less is for things you measure by volume, fewer for things you count. We do not measure dead babies by volume."

"Oh. right." Iba nodded. "Yeah, that wouldn't be right."

After a moment, what his lieutenant actually said caught up with him. "Sorry- force of habit from living with a Librarian." Komamura shook his head and looked up from the monthly intake statistics analysis report, peering at Tetsuzaemon Iba through the narrow gap of his helmet. "What do you mean, fewer dead babies?"

"I dunno, it just occurred to me. When I started the academy in the 40's- right after the catastrophe- we did a student tour of the 7th division's recently deceased souls intake queue, remember?" Iba waved his hand leaning back in his chair, apparently uncertain of where he was going with this either, but articulating his thoughts.

"I believe so. I had just taken over from Captain Kotsubaki." Komamura nodded, patient. Chikane Iba was an excellent shinigami and had done a magnificent job running the third division, but she had a tendency to talk over and bulldoze her son, so Komamura had learned to be patient when the young man when he felt like he should share a thought.

"Yeah, yeah- Not gonna lie Boss, you scared the crap out of me back then." Tetsuzaemon laughed. "-But the thing that stuck out to me that day was just. The sheer number of Infants and little kids in the line. the guy giving us the tour- I think it was Old Ito, actually- He said that one in five babies in the living world didn't live to see their fifth birthday."

"An improvement even back then- it was one in three children when back when I started in the 1840s." Komamura nodded. "It's funny that I frightened you- Captain Aikawa apparently headhunted me for the 7th because Kaname told him about how the children at the library used to use me as playground equipment."

"Good grief." Iba blanched. "So, what, he threw you in the deep end with all the dead kids?"

"In Captain Aikawa's defense, I did volunteer to handle children's cases. As sad as a frightened infant is, it's infinitely preferable than dealing with the deceased who are angry."

Iba frowned, opened his mouth like he was about to object, reconsidered, closed it, considered further, rocking his head from side to side, and then nodded. "I- yeah, Yeah, that tracks."

"You were saying though?" Komamura laced his fingers in front of him, leaning forward to listen.

"Oh! Well- not as much these days but back then, every family had like seven and eight kids, you know? And I realized that, well- almost everyone I know has a dead sibling or two? Almost every mother lost a child- Gods know my mother's a basket case but even getting a cold could send her into fits. If something had happened to me when I was a tyke- I don't think she would have pulled through."

Komamura nodded enough for Iba to see his helmet tilt to indicate he as still listening.

"I- I don't actually know where I was going with this, but I was reading that report earlier and there's a note from Shita-san at the end that this is the first month we haven't had a kid under the age of five in the intake queue. Ever."

Komamura flipped though the pages of the report to read the hand-written note at the end. "That is excellent news!"

"Oh! Yeah! It's great!" Iba nodded enthusiastically. "It just- I don't know, I guess it just snuck up on me and I'm so used to hearing something went wrong I guess I don't quite know what to do with good news?" he shrugged.

Komamura pondered this for a moment. "Hm. Well. Take heart, to start. But I see what you mean- it's a tremendous achievement, but not one we contributed to, and a "No Dead Babies This Month" office party feels in poor taste at best."

"Oof, yeah- especially if next month there's an accident or something and there's a whole bunch in the queue." Iba nodded. He considered things for a moment.

"-What happened that there are le- fewer dead babies, actually?" Iba frowned. "-Whoever it is, it would be appropriate to toast them and make an offering in their name to the Gods of Good Fortune, I think. Also do more of whatever they did."

"That IS a good idea!" Komamura smiled under his helmet. Perhaps it was his training as a priest, but he did enjoy an offering of goodwill ceremony. Also, nobody would ask him to drink- just pour any alcohol he was offered on the statue of the relevant deity. "I think- It's probably in our statistics, if the tenth division doesn't have an idea already. Can you collect the cause of death data for young children for the last-"

He was interrupted by the thunderous footsteps of someone sprinting towards the office, immediately followed by a tall young woman with short white hair throwing the door open, red-faced and winded.

"THEY DID IT! THE MAD BASTARDS THEY DID IT!" She shouted with wild excitement.

"Isane-? Uh, Miss Kotetsu?" Iba flustered.

"Please keep your voice down-" Komamura said through gritted teeth, trying not to growl at being suddenly shouted at. "Who has-?"

He was interrupted by Miss Kotetsu bolting right up to his desk and shoving a newspaper into his face hard enough to actually wrap around his helmet in excitement.

"SMALLPOX! IT'S GONE!!" She shrieked with joy.

"-gone?" Iba asked, bewildered as Komamura gently took the newspaper from her and pulled it back to actually read it. It was a newspaper from the living world, dated that morning- someone had gone through some pains to get it back to the Seireitei at speed, but the news was worth it:

SMALLPOX IS DEAD!

"TOTALLY ERADICATED! EXTINCT! KAPUT! IT HAS CEASED TO BE!" She bounced excitedly. "IT IS AN EX-PANDEMIC!"

"So like. Nobody has it this year?" Iba tried.

"Nobody has it this year, or will ever have it again, if I'm reading this right." Komamura muttered in awe. "Thanks to an aggressive worldwide vaccination and disease protocol program, there have been no human cases of the disease for several years. Since there are no people infected, there is no way for the disease to come back..."

Both men stared into space, the news almost unbelievable.

"Well. That does explain the Less Dead Babies thing." Iba nodded.

"Fewer Dead Babies." Komamura and Isane corrected in unison.

"I mean yeah that sure is part of it because Smallpox was the number one killer of infants in the living world for a long time there, but there's a whole bunch of stuff that's really cut down on infant mortality in the last few decades in particular." Isane nodded.

"We were JUST Talking about that!" Iba said, excitedly. "-Good to know you guys in the fourth are keeping track of that, It was gonna take forever to pull out that data..."

"Oh, could you pull it out anyway Tetsu-kun?" She asked. "-That's most of why I came over- I mean, to share the good news first, but Unohana-Taicho is planning on using this to really push a widespread vaccination program in the Rukongai and having the numbers to back us up would be really helpful!"

"Oh! Uh, sure!" Iba blushed.

"...You know this young lady, Tetsu-Kun?" Komamura lightly teased.

Both of the young people twitched and bowed to him, pointing at each other and speaking at once.

"Oh! I'm sorry Sir, I'm fourth division third seat Isane Kotetsu, i just know Iba because we were in the same class at the academy-" She babbled.

"-this is Isane Kotetsu, she's the smartest person I know and she saved my life from a lizard one time!" He waved excitedly.

"...That lizard was not going to kill you." She sighed, covering her face in embarrassment. "-I mean, if you developed a sepsis infection from the contaminated wound it might have made you very ill but that would take weeks and we have antibiotics for that, the lizard itself wasn't all that dangerous."

"It was INSIDE my LEG!" Iba gestured to his right thigh.

Komamura slowly tilted his whole torso sideways at Iba, hoping that sentence might make more sense at a forty-five degree angle. "...How?"

"I. Uh." Iba stopped, realizing his story was maybe not one he should be telling his boss. "I was. um. Out camping with the lads back when I was in the 11th, and a lizard climbed into my cot and I was. not totally awake and thought someone was trying to cop a feel and well you know, that's behavior you respond to with force so I rolled over and tried to stab the intruder's hand and. Uh. Missed."

Komamura continued to stare at him blankly.

"There was. screaming. lotta flailing, blood, general mayhem sort of thing. And in the confusion the Lizard.... climbed. inside the hole. In my leg. Sir." Iba explained, slowly crumpling behind his desk.

Komamura sighed deeply.

"-but Miss Isane was right there and actually kicked Ikkaku halfway across the camp because he was trying to lure it out with a Banana and generally being useless and she just grabbed that sucker and ripped him right outta there and had the wound packed and sealed in less than a minute and I even got to finish doing boot camp!" He rallied, cheerfully waving at Isane in hopes of distracting his captain with how cool she was.

"...What happened to the lizard?" Komamura asked, warily eyeing her through the gap in his helmet.

"Oh! He was really, really human acclimated and sneaked into my medkit rather than go back into the wild, so Harry lives a very spoiled lizard life in a terrarium in my room at home! Though it's actually my sister's room now but he still gets all the mango and smashed beetles he can eat!" Isane nodded cheerfully.

"You named a lizard. Harry?" Komamura asked slowly.

"...Iba-san named him, actually." She blushed.

"Ironically!" Iba protested. "I'm only mostly stupid, sir."

Komamura sighed deeply and once again regretted that his disguise would not let him rub his face as needed. "Alright. Thank you for the announcement, Miss Kotetsu. We will get that data to you in a timely manner- was there anything else you needed"

"Oh gosh, there was something else, what was it-?" She tapped her chin, trying to remember.

There was the distant sound of explosives, and all three of them turned to see what looked like midday fireworks going off at the 4th.

"Oh Right! Unohana-taicho requests your presence at the 4th as. Um. 'Designated Non-Drinker and Unarmed Combat Specialist' because the party was getting kind of wild when I left actually-"

Komamura sighed, and picked up Tenken from his stand and started tying the zanpaktou to his belt anyway.

---

The following morning, a small party arrived at the local shrines to The Gods Of Good Fortune, bearing offerings on behalf of the living world's World Health Organization and the handful of names they'd been able to glean from the living world newspapers, and nursing varying degrees of of hangover.

Komamura lead the party, having gotten them up at a slightly malicious 5AM to be there first thing in the morning. Tetsuzaemon and his friends from the 11th he insisted come along and 'suffer with me, as my sworn brothers' were quite pained but doing their best to hold it together.

Shunsui was a veteran of this nonsense and was hiding the pain very well behind his longtime party companions, Ukitake and Unohana, who seemed so extraordinarily cheerful that Komamura had to conclude that they were both still significantly chemically altered. He couldn't fault Unohana- they were faint and only visible on the rare occasions she let her hair down, but just below her left ear there was still the faint divot scars from surviving her own infection.

Isane had celebrated just as hard as the 11th Division lads, but had also had the good sense to alternate beer and water and take both aspirin and some sort of horrible pink goop that apparently relieved nausea before passing out under a table and had woken up only slightly groggy.

Komamura's new friend Harry the Lizard- a remarkably loquacious and quick-witted reptile -had taken up residence inside his helmet, lightly intoxicated on the cocktail fruits people had kept feeding him, and was politely nestled in the thick fur of his neck to ward off the morning cold.

The rituals of gratitude for this miracle, and asking the Gods to bless those who had worked so hard went smoothly, and Komamura couldn't help but notice when he turned around that Miss Kotetsu had opted to lean on the shoulder of 'Tetsu-kun'.

It was not often Komamura started the day with the feeling that everything would turn out alright, but as he watched Tetsuzaemon cautiously but gracelessly take Isane's hand and her squeeze it back on the way back down from the shrine, he felt like the feeling might stay this time.

#AEIWAM #an elephant is warm and mushy #bleach fanfiction #bleach #sajin komamura #tetsuzaemon iba #isane kotetsu #long post #infant death mention #disease mention #injury mention #it's funny I promise

[silvermarley]

Muzan with demon milf! reader? they turned after they had their child and protect them from other demons. once her village finds out, they try to take the child but end up all being dead & eaten. This would cause Muzan's attention to go to her, no?

Absolutely! Let’s see shall we?

Encounter

Muzan x Demon Milf!Reader

Warnings: death mentions, ur a demon and the kid is a human, nothing really smutty but part 2 is!!

A/N: the kid has they/them pronouns so u can determine the gender if u wanna :) also C/N means child’s name

Being a mother is hard. But being a demon and having to hide it while also being that was so much more difficult.

You weren’t turned into a demon by Muzan, but rather a random demon that tried to attack you and your child.

Your kid wasn’t a demon, and they didn’t know you were one at all.

You were happy about that, as you didn’t want it to ruin your relationship with the child.

The people of your village knew (C/N) was a human, and they thought you were too by default.

The world is a cruel place. Demons off all kinds roam around and commit atrocities against those who happen to stand in their way.

You weren’t like most of them, you had no interest in attacking the civilians of your village.

Instead of hunting humans for blood, you settle for animal blood. You go out late at night, where you hope no one will notice.

It was fine, since people would rarely come out at night.

But, all good things can come to an end. This includes the one grim night when a man noticed you sucking the blood out of a deceased deer.

He didn’t say a word. He just stood there, frightened. You noticed him and tried to run further in the woods.

It was too late, he saw you. He knew who you were.

By the time it was morning again, you were in your house trying to think of a plan of action. The day had finally come for someone to find out.

Not much happened during the early hours of the day, to your surprise.

Although, you wondered why it was so quiet outside. Usually, it was bustling with people.

You soon found out why.

All of a sudden, at around noon, you heard a large crowd of people outside your home, shouting incoherently.

They soon got louder as they bombarded your home with tools and other weapons they had at their disposal.

Most of the people of your village were there. Minus their children.

They found the room you two were in and spot your kid. Some tried to attack you while others attempted to take (C/N).

They tried picking (C/N) up and bring them to “safety”.

Your vision went red. How dare they try to take the only thing you have, you thought.

“C/N, go!” You shout at your kid, asking them to run away before it gets ugly. They sprint the other direction.

This was the first time you attacked humans since you were turned.

You didn’t care about their life, their own children, nothing. You were beyond enraged.

You slashed and bit anyone in your way. Tearing through their flesh and consuming it.

You slaughtered them until the very last one was dead and gone. The horde of people were no more. It was just you.

After, you looked for your kid, and tried to calm them.

That violent rampage caused you to peek a certain someone’s interest. The demon king himself, Muzan.

Muzan has a connection between demons. So when he was alerted of your recent act, he was quite interested in you.

He sent out Akaza that night to search for you. He wanted to know more about you.

And he would, after you reluctantly agreed to have your child turned into a demon and to have you brought to the Infinity Castle.

He wasn’t disappointed, having such a beautiful woman in his grasp now. Someone he was intent on keeping around for a bit.



#levys friends #kny smut #demon slayer smut #demon slayer x reader #kny x reader #muzan x reader

[krahk]

Blood for Ruin

(Or, Alastor and That One Time He Got Drunk and Forgot He Tried To Make a Black Magic Agreement With a Radio Only For It to Come Back to Him in the Worst Way)

Masterlist

Pairings: Alastor x Reader (She/Her/OFC) as reluctant semi-soulmates via non-consensual deal (on both ends). No use of Y/N.

I understand he is aroace, but I couldn’t stop thinking about this idea so here it is.

Eventual smutty smut happening, but be kind dear god am I rusty.

_________________________________________

Exhausted was simply not what you were - you were so past that, your brain so fried out that you didn’t even know what word you were.

Because if you were seeing smiling figure-like shadows on the walls with long dark tendrils wrapping around your surroundings, and radio static from nowhere, then yea. You were fried.

But hey, it had been a crazy long weekend. You’d just spent the last 4 days cleaning up your hoarder of a great aunts shack in the Bon Temps bayou with the other scattered remainder of her family, rooting through about 4 unidentifiable rooms with confirmed animal carcasses and straight up trash-garbage piled to the ceilings. But since your mother died, any family connection at this point was appreciated, right?

‘Couldn’t be more wrong, but it’s too late now’, you think. It was way too late to back out now, you had something to prove. Your Great Aunt’s remaining son had called you ‘slicker’ because you lived in a town with more than one lighted intersection for Christ's sake. And because you used ‘whom’ in a sentence, that opened up an entirely new thrush of nicknames from your distant cousins. You wouldn’t be beaten down, you guys were almost all done with the cleanup anyway, the only remaining items being that of actual use or salvageable material. A couple family members had taken a few items home already, and since you weren’t particularly close with these relatives you weren’t about to ask for anything until-

Well until the little radio was brought out.

For some reason, the craftsmanship of this radio caught your eye. It was a beautiful dark wood, with intricate swirls carved around the speakers - the entire thing was shaped like a miniature church cathedral window. It was clearly vintage, basically a historical piece, you thought - and you did ask quietly if you could keep it. Your uncle fiddled with it to make it work but it needed some attention. It looked virtually untouched otherwise. It was a gorgeous piece, and it looked like it was a new acquisition to the deceased woman’s collection - there wasn’t a spec of dust visible on it. Your uncle figured it wouldn’t be able to pick up football (and also “why would I listen to football when I can WATCH it?”) he let you take it with you.

So you brought it back to your temporary home, the little motel at the outskirts of town (the only motel even close to the town) and set it on the little desk. And there it sat for 2 days before you finally dove in, trying to figure out what was going on with it. You had deduced it was likely the wiring, and after watching 5 or 6 videos on wiring repair on YouTube (good old YouTube) you were fairly confident a simple repair would take no time at all.

But things made in the 20s were a lot sharper, and more metal based, compared to the newer plastic models of recent years. So when you undid the back panel and attempted to unscrew a fastener around the side of the main component, you had successfully sliced your palm open on an errant piece of metal. And holy crow did it hurt AND gush blood immediately. Even though you had whipped your hand close to your chest almost as soon as you realised what had happened it was too late, there was a fair amount of blood that got on the inside of the machine.

Uttering curses, you’d rushed to the bathroom to grab a couple threadbare cloths and sop up some of the larger drops on the desk. Moving around the radio to the light, you had a clearer idea of where your blood landed. Palming one cloth in your wounded hand, your other one attempted to clean up the mess within the radio. Which is where you noticed the funny little symbols written on the inside of the back panel of the radio, which had lain facedown on the desk as soon as you had removed it. These little symbols looked like runes of some sort, unidentifiable to you. They almost looked like they were written out of blood themselves. It was clearly dried now, but the jagged nature of the strokes and brownish un-ink like material that was used to leave the symbols certainly looked like dried blood might look like on old wood.

You wiped your blood off the radio, and ran the cloth right over one of the runes, making it glow briefly with a green light. Maybe.

Well, that was what you thought you saw. But it was so brief you would have missed it with a well timed blink. The sun was setting, light streaming through the window in hazy little streaks, maybe you saw some prismatic effect? Or maybe, maybe you needed a shower and bed. Clearly if you sliced your hand open on a little radio you were tired. Sloppy coordination indeed. You reattached the back panel to the radio and decided to ignore it until you were in a better headspace.

Radio abandoned, you went and started to clean yourself up and get ready for sleep. But when the lights in the bathroom started to flicker, only to stay on slightly duller than before, paired with a strange static that scratched the inside of your eardrums, you decided to end your shower quicker than ever. Exiting the bathroom, you were chilled to realise that the main room had the same ambient experience waiting for you. And if you focused on the moving shadows from what you hoped were passing cars (electric, judging by the lack of engine noise) there was a solid larger mass lingering on the wall with the dresser and broken TV. One that looked like it had a smile, and glowing red eyes (from a car's tail lights, duh!). Yes, yes. Tired. SO tired.

Calling the front did not help, since the static was so loud when you lifted up the receiver you slammed it back down. Your own cell phone was still charging on the side table, flashing the little dead battery symbol to let you know you needed to be more responsible with your charging habits in the future. It could be another 15 minutes before it was ready to turn on.

So, obviously tired, it was time to attempt to sleep. Hopefully. If you were lucky. It wasn’t enough that the bayou was creepy all on its own, the evening took a sharp turn into scary-town after you started messing with the little radio.

Pyjama-clad and ready to sleep you decided that the hallucinations were exactly what you thought they were - hallucinations and nothing more. Nothing spooky, or supernatural, or dangerous.

But you had been wrong before.

It was the initial crashing sound of the motel room door hitting the wall that woke you up first, screaming male voices really kicking your brain into high alert as you scrambled out of bed. Ending up in the corner facing the opposite corner where the door was, you took in what was happening. 2 men, yelling at you for whatever you had - but you were screaming louder than they were, scrambling for anything in your grasp - just that stupid, fucking radio - but judging by the hot impact of a projectile hitting your chest they were not thrilled you weren’t immediately cooperating. Hand clenching around the radio’s cord you hit the corner and slumped down to the floor, lungs burning and immense pain taking over your consciousness. As your mind faded, you could hear the two men bickering, freaking out over the turn their burglary took. Oh, you being shot was an accident? Stellar. Your vision became hazy, it even looked like shadows were overtaking the men as their arguing turned into painful screaming. Whoever came to your aid was simply too late, though you could appreciate the gesture as you died.

You always thought that you would end up looking down at your dying body when the time came, but from the forceful pull downwards your soul felt, it was clear the afterlife had different plans for you.

Now you weren’t really sure what the hell, like actual, literal, hell, was going on. The impact you felt from your sharp tug into the afterlife, landing on a very detailed rug at what looked like the lobby of a hotel was one thing. The tiny radio following your fall shortly after, merely denting a corner of the wood with a loud thunk was another, cord still clenched in your hand. Oh good!

Dazed, you were immediately hoisted up and hugged - yes hugged - by probably the tallest women you had ever met, and the fastest talking one as well. Rambling about “welcome”, “hell rehab”, something or other about redemption - honestly the look of relief you gave the shorter woman who approached and reined in the other made her smirk as she introduced them in a much clearer manner.

Vaggie and Charlie. Vaggie was a resident of the hotel with her girlfriend, the owner and operator of this ‘Hazbin Hotel’, Charlie, both working at redeeming the souls of sinners and getting them into heaven. There were 2 residents, Angel & Sir Pentious, who were not present, a Janitor Nifty (currently wiping your landing spot with a cloth) the bartender, an angry bird-cat man Husk, and the host (also missing) Alastor. Your open mouthed confusion clearly made Charlie snap into attention (finally) because she finally morphed into a being that was capable of conversation.

“So, new to hell?” She inquired.

Well. Duh. “Um yes. I think I was just shot? Am I actually dead?” You asked, hopeful this was a very vivid nightmare.

“As a doornail!” She exclaimed, chipper with positive energy, “Not that doornails are dead, they don’t have souls like you or Angel but really-”

“Yes. You’re dead. And a sinner, which is why you’re here.” Vaggie cut in, patting Charlie on the back. Charlie smiled brightly and nodded at you.

“Yes, and here you can redeem yourself and hopefully make it to heaven! I have faith in our program.”

Oh god this was too much. The sound of a door opening and closing was faintly heard in the background, but that didn’t stop you from being a speedy spiral into mania.

“So. One, I’m dead. Two, why am I in hell I am pretty sure I was a decent human? I didn’t go to church, sure, but I had very little control over my working schedule. Three, is it supposed to be so freaking loud down here? I’m-“

Intense breathing interrupted - yes, breathing. It was the janitor, her one eye staring at you while she lifted the little radio. ”This is diiiirty” she semi-sang. A horrific giggle was lingering under her breath. You grimaced at her behaviour and dropped the cord immediately, avoiding any contact by proxy with this creature. What a creepy little -

“Did that come with you?” Charlie asked, looking confused as you answered with a nod. “Strange, usually possessions don’t follow a soul into the afterlife…” She trailed off, finger tapping her chin with a frown. Everyone turned to look at the manic janitor essentially vibrating with the radio in her hands.

“Interesting! What has inspired us all to gather this fine evening?”

”Alastor!” Charlie greeted an individual behind you. ”This might be our newest resident…she’s just arrived!” Her hands wildly gestured from you to whoever was behind you. You could see the shadow of the person on the floor, stretching into a long figure that looked vaguely familiar. You were certain your eyes were burning a hole into the carpet beneath the shadow. If the shadow was this frightening what exactly was behind you? The shadow appeared to smile wider as you stared at it.

“Hmm!” Alastor, you supposed, responded. “What an exciting new development why - Oh!” Something had caught his attention. He walked towards the janitor, and you glanced at the back of his figure as he walked past you towards the tiny creature. He was tall, very tall, and slender. There was an ominous presence around him, even the nature of his clothing was fashioned in a way that seemed off. It was unnerving. Broad shoulders tapered into a very slim waistline, his jacket flared out behind him in a style reminiscent of a different time. Head to toe red and black, which was also just…something else. But the other patrons also had an interesting approach to their wardrobes as well, save the 2 women. Maybe that was just…how it was here.

“Now where did you find this delightful little item, Nifty?” He said, his profile coming slightly into your view. Dear god, terrifying. You couldn’t even begin to describe his appearance. Chills ran down your back, and suddenly you remembered you were still in very thin pajamas.

“Eh-hehe a dirty radio sir!” She answered, thrilled with herself. “it came with our new guessst” her eye switching from the tallest, creepiest creature you had ever set your eyes upon to your gaze. You swear you could hear the bones crack in the man's neck as he fired his gaze to yours. You were trapped.

“Is that so?” He began to slowly walk towards you, the room filling with a static hum similar to what you felt in the motel room, your skin tingling as he got closer. It was getting harder to hear the others try and talk to the approaching figure, the hum was getting louder.

“And what,” he started, “are you doing with my Radio, my dear?” His eyes were radio dials at this point, sharp jagged teeth glowing alongside them as his head tilted in an inhuman manner, the cracking from before louder than before.

What? Oh for fucks sake. Fuck your backwater, bayou-residing, rude, nasty, hoarder family-

As your eyes rolled back into your head, your body went limp and you hit the foyer carpet. Hard. For the second time that night

**

Part One : Part Two : Part Three : Part Four

#Hazbin hotel #Alastor x reader #Alastor smut #Hazbin #alastorxreader #Alastor x off #Alastor x you #angel dust is the best supporting character #eventual smut #Alastor

[notbecauseofvictories]

My best friend and I had a call recently---she’s back with her family for a bit helping out with some hometown stuff. As part of the stuff, she’s been going through a (deceased) relative’s scrapbook, compiled in the American Midwest circa 1870-1900 and featuring mostly cut-out figures from the ads of the day.

She talked about how painstaking this relative’s work was. (Apparently the relative was careful to cut out every finger, every cowlick; this was by no means carelessly or hastily assembled.) But she also she talked about how---the baby on the baking soda ad is ugly, it is so ugly, why anyone would clip this heinously ugly illustrated baby and paste it into a scrapbook? Why would you save the (terribly told, boring) ghost story that came with your box of soap?

(Why include these things in the first place? we asked each other. ”There’s a kind of anti-capitalism to it,” she mused.)

And we discussed that for a bit---how most of the images, stories, artists, and ads were local, not national; they’re pulled from [Midwestern state] companies’ advertisements in [Midwestern state] papers, magazines, and products. As a consequence, you’re not looking at Leyendecker or Norman Rockwell illustrations, but Johann Spatz-Smith from down the road, who took a drawing class at college.

(College is the state college, and he came home on weekends and in the summer to help with the farm or earn some money at the plant.)

But it also inspired a really interesting conversation about how---we have access to so much more art, better and more professional art, than any time in history. As my bff said, all you have to do to find a great, technically proficient and lovely representational image of a baby, is to google the right keywords. But for a girl living in rural [Midwestern state] of the late 1800s, it was the baking soda ad, or literal actual babies. There was no in-between, no heading out to the nearby art museum to study oil paintings of mother and child, no studying photographs and film---such new technologies hadn’t diffused to local newspapers and circulars yet, and were far beyond the average person’s means. But cheap, semi-amateur artists? Those were definitely around, scattered between towns and nearby smallish cities.

It was a good conversation, and made me think about a couple things---the weird entitlement that “professional” and expensive art instills in viewers, how it artificially depresses the appetite for messy unprofessional art, including your own; the way that this makes your tastes narrower, less interesting, less open.

By that I mean---maybe the baby isn’t ugly! Maybe you’ve just seen too many photorealistic babies. Maybe you haven’t really stopped to contemplate that your drawing of a baby (however crude, ugly, or limited) is the best drawing of a baby you can make, and the act of drawing that lumpen, ugly baby is more sacred and profoundly human than even looking at a Mary Cassatt painting.

And even if that isn’t the case....there was this girl in [American Midwestern state] for whom it was very, very important that she capture every finger, curl, and bit of shading for that ugly soap ad baby. And some one hundred years later, her great-something-or-other took pains to preserve her work---because how terribly human it is, to seek out all the art we can find that resonates with us, preserve it, adore it.

It might be the most human impulse we have.

#I of course went on a tangent about henry darger because I love darger and he was also pulling/tracing/finding inspiration in local ads #I was also thinking of the scenes in banshees of inisherin where gleeson plays the fiddle in the bar and the woman sings #clearly not professional! nowhere near mozart. #but you know what? those people are making art. they are engaged in the most human thing you can possibly do #my mother once talked about how when she was growing up in the chicago area the irish immigrants would sing and play at parties #and her mother (one generation removed from immigration) would scoff #because who did they think they were! they weren't professionals. they were making a spectacle of themselves. #''and then it died out. no one sings and plays at parties anymore'' she said quietly #celestial emporium of benevolent knowledge