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phantomrose96 · 14 days

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Sham Sacrifice

(Hi it's time for my favorite headcanon)

...

Vlad Masters sat firm and proper on the Fenton Family couch, legs crossed, teacup pinched in his fingertips, fighting subtly against the sinkhole that came with the mistake of taking Jack’s usual spot on the couch. He appeared with all the same charm and delightfulness of an ant swarm rearranging your picnic.

Danny stood at the doorway, just-still-in-the-kitchen, just not inviting himself to join the adults in the living room where Jack boomed and rambled and Vlad sat so stiff and polite and nice that his tea in his hands was going cold.

“Oh, Danny you’ll love this story—Danny, you should join us—Danny this was, what, summer of ’84? When was that heatwave, Vladdy? The one where you—”

“There’s no need to bore Daniel with the mad ravings of two old kooks, Jack. Kids would rather be off at the mall or—some store, surely. No need to stick around Daniel on my behalf. I assure you I won’t be offended if you leave.”

“No worries, V-man. I’m good right here. I love hearing Dad’s stories." Danny met Vlad's challenge, speaking with more poisonous courtesy than Vlad had proffered first. "In fact I think he should tell a few more, if he’s got more in mind.”

“In fact I do have more in mind—” Jack answered.

Neither Danny nor Vlad were listening to Jack. They held eye-contact, Danny with a stern unblinkingness of a sheepdog on duty. A lot was said without words. A lot was understood when Vlad decided to visit through the front door. Vlad only used the front door when he wanted something.

And it was never good when Vlad wanted something.

“—the core reactor project, yeah? That summer? That was in the lab with no A/C. Top floor. We were sweating like pigs, all of us. And I dared you to eat the really moldy pizza from our fridge the night before and you ralphed right into—”

“—Surely you remember this more fondly than I do. Daniel, really, you can go.”

Not a chance.

“Actually,” Danny answered, brightening some as his opportunity struck. “I am interested in this. For science class I need to write a report on the invention of an important piece of technology. I was gonna ask Mom and Dad about the Ghost Portal. And now that you’re here, I can get the whole history.”

Jack made a giddy little noise. He leaned forward, words primed, but Vlad was quicker to the draw.

“Sorry to say, your faith in me is unfounded. I wasn’t the portal guy back in college—that was always your mother and father’s passion project. I was their skeptic.”

“Bet that’s got you feeling pretty foolish right now, doesn’t it V-man?” Jack chided, a quick jab to Vlad’s ribs that nearly unseated the teacup from his suspended saucer. “Considering the fully-functioning portal right beneath our toes.”

“I hardly feel foolish, Jack. Your calculation for the portal in college was never going to work.”

“What do you mean? Of course it did.” Jack thumped the ground with his foot. “It’s running the old girl right now.”

At this, Vlad’s eyes narrowed. For the first time he’d been shaken off whatever skeezy machinations had brought him in. His pride was being challenged, and by Jack no less.

“Absolutely not. With that calculation? Absolutely not.”

“Well forget the tea biscuits Vlad, because you’re going to be eating your words in a second. Mads, hold my spot,” Jack said, as if anyone was planning to take his spot. He bounced from the couch, scooted from the living room, and vanished into the dark maw of the lab stairs, leaving only the waning beat of his footsteps behind.

His absence filled only a swallowing few seconds. The footsteps returned, bounding upward, creaking with his heavy cadence, and Jack bounced back into the room in much the manner he left. A pad of yellow lined paper was clutched in his hand. When he dropped it on the coffee table, it revealed row after row of tight scribble, churning math, carrying down the page and occupying two entire pages more that Jack flipped through.

“Same baby I came up with in college. It just needed heavier dampening and higher voltage than what we made back then. The portal downstairs has that in spades. Well, in like two-thirds of a spade.” Jack tapped something on the last line. “The projection was still only hitting 70% of the threshold we calculated to reach dimension penetration. But it’s an art, not just a science. We fired it up anyway, and it took!”

Vlad grabbed the paper pad, agitated. His eyes ran over it. Then again. Until he settled on one line, a firmness overcoming his face. He tossed the pad back onto the coffee table, and Vlad leaned back into the couch, arms crossed.

“The lambda, Jack.”

“The lambda?”

“Check it again.”

Jack did, lips pursed, pad of paper nearly swallowed in his big meaty hand.

“What about--?”

“It squares. The units don’t balance otherwise. It originates from an integration step of λ*∂λ/∂t. It squares.”

Jack’s brow remained furrowed, firm, until delight cracked into his eyes, and he let out a laugh.

“Gods, my handwriting is gonna be the death of us. Mads,” he tapped something unseen on the second page. “That’s the genius of Vladdy. Cracked this puppy wide open with just a glance. I never noticed that in all my checking. That explains the missing 30%, at least. That explains how the portal took. Lucky for you Danny that Vlad was here—”

“Jack,” Maddie said.

“—your report can have the correct formula. It’ll be—”

“—Jack—”

“—A+ worthy—”

“—Jack,” Maddie said, curt. “Lambda is the ambient ecto-energy. It’s a few ten-thousandths of a unit.”

“It—huh.”

Maddie had surfaced a pen from her pocket. She sheared a few blank pages out from the back of the pad and started the formula fresh. She made quick work of copying it over, quicker work of solving it through – lambda-squared intact.

She hit the final line and hatched a pen mark beneath the number. Jack stared, confused.

“That can’t… no.”

He repeated the same. New pages torn loose. Formula copied over, processed, line by line by line—lambda squared—by line by line by line.

Jack settled on his answer. Same as Maddie’s.

Confusion made his face tense.

“So it’s not 70% of the way to the threshold… It’s 0.013% of the way to the threshold.”

He held the pen hard, his whole body holding firm and taut as the gears turned in his head. Jack’s eyes flickered across the formula, again and again and again. He looked to Maddie, like a dog issued a command he did not understand.

“But it worked,” he said, small. “But it worked.”

Jack stood, robotic almost, eyes lost in something far away. He disappeared into the lab almost as quickly as he had a few minutes before, but now he exited with a smoothness and a quietness so very uncharacteristic of him. It bothered Danny, somewhere deep in his gut.

Maddie followed, a possession matching Jack’s.

Danny’s fingers curled and uncurled. He’d succeeded. He’s successfully interrupted Vlad’s… whatever this was. But the disquiet infected him. He didn’t like it.

“So what does that mean?” Danny asked, perhaps to Vlad. “What’s wrong with the calculation?”

Vlad sipped on tea ice cold.

“Who knows?” Vlad lied.

…

The math didn’t work.

Maddie and Jack burned through paper, burned through pencils, burned through hours.

The math didn’t work.

Clothes stuck to skin. Sweat lingered fetid and stale in the cold basement air. Exhaustion beat like a slurry through their veins.

The math didn’t work.

The portal supervised all, placidly green, the light for their table, the light for their work when the lightbulb overhead burnt clean out and neither Jack nor Maddie could be pulled away to replace it. It stood, it watched, a testament of contradiction to everything they could not solve on paper, and yet everything they built directly into the fabric of reality.

And it should never have worked.

They threw every radical what-if they’d ever conceived over 20 years of ghost research.

The ecto-ether layer.

The latent activation stitches in space fabric.

The anti-ectomatter collision proposal.

The positive-feedback crystallization theory.

And still nothing worked.

All together, every crackpot theory in their favor taken for granted, racked them up to an activation energy 200x more potent than the calculation, and still just 2% of what would be needed to rip open, and hold open, a stable fissure between their reality and the ghost zone.

Maybe by pure luck, unfathomable luck, Fentonworks basement was directly situated atop a natural portal.

Maybe that would explain ripping it open. It did nothing to explain the stability. Natural portals were unstable by definition. There and gone in a few seconds. Not hours, days, weeks, months, a year, that the Fenton Portal had been open. Never so much as faltering.

It was late. 3am ticked away to 4am, and 4:30am. The discarded paper stacked higher than Jack and Maddie both. Calluses oozed from their hands at another attempt, and another, and another.

Maddie flipped through a folder’s worth of yellowed papers, aggressively thumbed over and over after two decades left untouched. And she settled on the one she’d passed over a few dozen times already, always seeking something else, something better.

This time she unsheathed it, and she placed it on the lab table.

“…If a mouse died. In the machine. If a mouse ran through the machine and accidentally bridged two live wires, and died of violent electrocution. 500 milliamps. Instantly melted into the circuitry.”

Maddie’s mouth was cotton-dry while she wrote. Ambient ecto-energy was low. Always very, very low.

Unless something very, very bad happened to something with the capacity to become a ghost.

The numbers wove. Maddie started the formula fresh, and it was pure muscle memory. A mouse. A big mouse, even. A 99th percentile beast of a mouse. And a wire that had been wired incorrectly. Something grounded that never actually grounded. An absolutely horrific amount of electricity.

0.37%, by pure numbers. If she included every permissive crackpot idea they had thrown on top, it topped out at 6% of the needed activation threshold.

Not a mouse.

“A cat,” Jack said, words gummy, tongue dry, face tired. “If we’ve got mice down here, maybe… a stray cat wandered in. Chased the mouse.”

Maddie nodded. It didn’t matter if it made sense.

She penned it in. A large cat. A devastating electrical short. Cats carried more ecto-potential than mice did. Ecto-potential did not necessarily go up with size. It went up with complexity. The things with the most ecto-potential were the things that most became ghosts.

1.45%, by pure numbers. 18% at absolute, absolute crackpot best.

“A dog,” Jack proposed with a shaky laugh. He swallowed. “A mouse… chased by a cat… chased by a dog… all electrocuted at once”

Maddie didn’t say the thing they both knew, which was that both of them would have noticed the evidence left behind by the electrically exploded pieces of a dog.

Maddie did it anyway. A mouse and a cat and a medium-sized dog, maybe just small enough to notice no evidence of, all together. All at once. All violently ripped apart, sacrificed to a machine still asleep in its wall.

Mice did not often make ghosts. Cats did not either. Dogs, occasionally. But infrequently. Very infrequently.

37%. At best.

“Jack.”

“Maddie, I know just—maybe something really smart—”

“—Jack—”

“—like an octopus—”

“Jack.”

“I hear, maybe, pigs are smart. If it was—”

Maddie was writing, already. Not for a pig. Not an octopus. Jack watched, and he knew what the numbers meant. The ecto-potential she penned gave her away. An ecto-potential that high.

65kg, an estimate

10,000 milliamps, a catastrophic accident, a death certificate.

A human’s amount of ecto-potential.

Maddie wrote.

And she wrote.

And she did not apply a single crackpot theory, not a single discredited proposal, not an ounce of exaggeration.

138%.

Threshold, and then some.

Comfortable, easily, then some.

For the first time, after all the hundreds of times she and Jack had penned this equation over the course of 2 decades, the number met her and Jack’s threshold.

A breakthrough.

A revelation.

A pure eureka moment.

Jack and Maddie were silent.

Alone in a humming basement. Alone with only the soft swirls of the portal for company, happy, stable, purring its contentment, singing to the cold air.

“It has to be something else,” Maddie said. And she said it weakly. And she said it childishly.

“You’re right. It can’t be this,” Jack echoed. “If someone died down here, we’d know. Dead bodies don’t walk away. We’d have seen it. O-or even if, if the body got stuck in the portal, we’d have heard of someone going missing.”

Maddie sat, quiet. A thought held her mind hostage.

“Unless they didn’t go missing,” Maddie said, and she said it barely audibly. “Unless the portal spit them right back out.”

“Then—that’s what I said—a dead body, on the floor, we’d have seen.”

“Not a dead body.”

“It had to be lethal, Mads—”

“I know Jack. But if they died, here, in the portal Jack, then their ghost did not get ripped away from the body and sent to the Ghost Zone. …They ripped the Ghost Zone here.” Palms slick with sweat smoothed over her notes. She pointed to one specific line and found her pen tip trembled no matter how badly she stabilized it. “The ecto-potential of a creature is how strong of a pull their ghost creates on the Ghost Zone. A strong enough pull means the ghost can reach the Ghost Zone and stabilize, like a fish reeling itself up, yeah? We agree on this Jack, yes?”

“Yes,” Jack answered.

“It’s what makes the math even work, Jack. Someone dying in the portal didn’t reel themselves to the boat. They reeled the boat in. Jack, they brought the Ghost Zone here…” Maddie wasn’t breathing right. She pulled sweat-soaked bangs away from her face. “Their ghost never left their body Jack. They died, Jack. And they walked back out.”

“…No. No,” Jack said. “No, they didn’t.”

“Then what?” Maddie asked.

Jack stared. He looked away. He didn’t like the expression on Maddie’s face.

“It—what about the ecto-ether theory?” Jack said, of the theory they’d tested and retested and tested all over, all night. He grabbed his pencil back up and pointed it aimlessly at Maddie’s piece of paper, pointed end out in self-defense. “If the ecto-ether is maybe… if it’s only 250-times stronger than we calculated. Then it could…”

Jack’s voice died. His pencil hung idle. Maddie’s paper remained unblemished.

“If it… was a pig,” Jack offered. “If it was a pig that died in the portal.”

“How, Jack? How would a pig get in? We lock all the doors at night, Jack. No one else can get in, Jack. It’s just us, Jack.”

Jack and Maddie were not there when the portal turned on.

Maddie’s statement carried two possibilities. Only two. Both felt like claws digging all the flesh right out of Jack’s heart.

“I want… I want to try the ecto-ether theory again,” Jack choked. “I think it’s the ecto-ether. I think it’ll work.”

Jack slid a piece of paper over, already covered in scribbles. In its single untouched corner, he started the equation for the several-thousandth time that night.

Above their head, birds were singing.

Sunrise hailed unseen from the windowless laboratory.

…

At 6am, Vlad answered his cell phone. The reception crackled, struggling through the layers of sheetrock above his head.

“Vlad?” Maddie’s voice crackled. “Sorry, did I wake you up?”

“Not at all my dear.” Vlad leaned his weight against the wall, playing with the singsong melody in his voice. “But you sound exhausted. Is anything the matter?”

“Yes. Well… Yes. Jack and I have—all night—trying to fix the equation.”

“Naturally.”

“We found something that maybe works.”

“Oh?” Vlad asked. He straightened, pacing now, cracklingly attentive. “And what might that—”

“If someone died. Activating the portal. We have an on-switch inside the portal’s interior. The trigger we use to press it is external to the portal, of course. But if someone went inside the portal, and they pressed it directly, and if they died, and pulled the Ghost Zone here—”

Vlad’s red eyes reflected pools of iridescent green. He twirled his free hand in the fringes of his cape, tongue working over the fanged edges of his teeth. He stared, consumed, forward.

“—and just, you, I was thinking, you’re the only other expert I’d trust to… maybe weigh in.”

“What does Jack think?”

“He denies it. He’s still. He’s trying other theories.”

“Well who knows, surely? The answer may lie somewhere you haven’t looked.”

“…I’ve looked everywhere, Vlad. That's the thing. There is no more ‘somewhere else’. I’ve looked.”

“You sound like your mind is made up.”

“I just… if maybe you have some idea.”

“Am I meant to talk you out of this idea?”

“Vlad.”

“Do you think I have some secret information you don’t? Sorry to say, I’m just your skeptic.” Some noise came through muffled from the other side. Vlad flashed a smile. “But…as your skeptic I will offer you this—It all sounds a bit absurd, doesn’t it? To kill someone and have them come back intact and… for you to never notice? Who would they be? How would they be? Surely not human anymore, surely. How would you never notice?”

Vlad paced forward, booted feet clicking along his laboratory floor.

“It would be ridiculous,” he continued, with a building crescendo, “so unfathomably self-centered surely, to not notice something like that befall someone so close to you, who died at the hands of your own invention? …If I’m correctly inferring who, in your household, you suspect of having activated the portal?” Vlad’s tongue lingered along his teeth.

Maddie’s line held, quiet. And the seconds of static drew long.

“Ah, apologies. I’ve overstepped,” Vlad continued. “I meant this as a vote of confidence in you. You and Jack both. Two people as attentive, caring, compassionate as yourselves. You would notice. I promise.”

“You’re… Okay, thank you, Vlad. I appreciate it.”

“Is there anything else, my dear?”

“No. No. Thank you, Vlad. I’ll think about this.”

Maddie’s line clicked dead. A chuckle built to Vlad’s lips and he let his head tip back with mirth. It lasted only a moment. He stowed his phone. And as if the interruption had never happened, Vlad reaffixed his attention on his own portal swirling in front of him. It bathed him, swimming green, purring contentment.

And Vlad vanished into his portal.

(Chapter 2)

#danny phantom #dp #dp fanfiction #GIVES YOU THIS GIVES YOU THIS GIVES YOU THIS #its my favorite headcanon so here you get a fic of it

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artsy-hobbitses · 3 months

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Bitches are excited for X-Men '97 (It's me, I'm hella bitches).

X-Men holds the SOFTEST spot my heart, right next to Gargoyles, as the foundation for my art style growth when I was in college and was struggling to figure out how to draw humans. God Loves, Man Kills is one of my favorite comics from the series.

So yes. I am vibrating waiting for that March 20 release, so I had to give my favorite lads a personal go utilising a heavy ink comic-book style I haven't used in AGES.

Gambit was my very first fictional human childhood crush (my baby brother was given an X-Men manga comic of some sort, and it quickly became mine the moment I laid my eyes on this scoundrel), while I grew to love Nightcrawler's narrative of exploring religion, faith and humanity in college.

Personally, swashbuckler!Nightcrawler always felt like Nightcrawler at his most fun and truthful self.

(Also Gambit say Free Palestine)

I'm also enthralled because this style has come such a long, long way from when I first drew X-men fanart, so it's validating to see the improvement. (Old art under cut!)

#x men #nightcrawler #remy lebeau #kurt wagner #gambit #Art

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yumeka-sxf · 1 month

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Spy x Family workbook scans - part 1

The Spy x Family workbooks are a series of Japanese books for helping children learn. There are three total as of now: one for English, one for programming, and one for drawing. I wanted to get the books not just because they're good Japanese practice, but because they feature original illustrations of Anya and the other SxF characters in adorable chibi style ❤️ I'll be sharing some scans from each book, starting with the English one.

First off are the character bios. I find it hilarious that the book mentions Yor's job as an assassin...not a word I'd expect to find in a children's book 😅

The book goes through the different letters of the English alphabet along with sample words featuring the SxF characters, like "B" for "Bond" and "A" for "Anya." I didn't scan all 26 letters, but here are some of my favorites!

Both Loid and Damian are having such lavish meals, lol. Also Henderson gets "E" for "elegant" of course.

I love how Bond looks so worried about Yor's cooking 😂

My two favorites of these, "Father" and "Mother" of course~

And two of the weirdest ones, Yuri and a giant gorilla for "G" and Franky fishing an octopus for "O." Kinda random, lol.

Next are some activity pages, like a maze and common phrase practice.

I gotta say that despite this book being aimed at young children who probably aren't hardcore SxF fans, it tries to feature even obscure characters like the Forgers' neighbors, the lady from the tailor shop, and Martha. Kudos to the book authors for trying to be as faithful to the SxF universe as possible!

The book even adapts a couple of already established illustrations, like the below one that's similar to the Boss Coffee collab.

Also this one that's similar to the extra Endo illustration for chapter 36!

And here's a couple more to wrap up this post! Cute family dinner time...

...and domestic Twiyor ❤️ Loid is so determined to fix Penguinman!

Continue to Part 2 ->

#spy x family #sxf #spyxfamily #spy family #loid forger #yor forger #anya forger #bond forger #damian desmond #becky blackbell #franky franklin #henry henderson #yuri briar #sxf scans #sxf merch

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rthko · 2 years

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This was meant as a funny roast, but in order to write a good roast it has to be in good faith and you have to know what you’re talking about. I didn’t. I’ve barely listened to Taylor Swift beyond what’s on the radio, so shoutout to anyone giving me recommendations in the notes. Some of her music resonates with me after all. In my post I was playing up the “shallow hedonistic gay guy” thing in a tongue in cheek way, kind of like how in Blank Space Taylor pokes fun at the “crazy ex girlfriend” treatment she gets. I did not mean to play into misogynistic tropes, but once a post is out in the world the poster’s intentions no longer matter. I did not know key facts about Taylor’s personal and professional life that made the “victim” line inappropriate. I am genuinely sorry, and disturbed moreso by the negative comments AGREEING with me than the ones criticizing me.

I have received good faith criticism about this post, and I’m not going to tone police anyone who was offended by it. I draw the line, however, at comments insisting I and all other gay men are sex obsessed freaks or “don’t deserve rights.” Please for the love of god be normal. As I suppose Taylor would say, to me, to you, and to everyone involved in this shitshow, “you need to calm down.” Social media brings out the worst in us, and outrage drives engagement more than words of encouragement and support. If Taylor’s music doesn’t resonate with me, then it would be better for me to lift up my favorite artists than to try to tear her down. It’s not a competition. I want us all to win, and to keep finding joy in the music we like. So, stream Midnights. Or don’t. Or, better yet, we could all log off and try to be our best selves.

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flx-res · 12 days

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Tom and Star in their early adulthood < Star and Tom in their 40's

After three chaotic and strange months (they felt like a fever dream) I'm so glad to know that there are some things that will never change in my life no matter what happens. Things like my faith in God, my love for my father and sisters and my love for my studies and for the drawings I do, especially my tomstar stuff 🥹💖 Since I made that post about the third tomstar kid, I wanted to make another drawing of Tom and Star in their 40's bc I think that's my favorite timeline in my alternate universe now. It used to be when Star and Tom are in their early adulthood and still doing gf/bf romantic sh*t before they become rulers of Mewni. But two decades later when all the villains (from my story) have been defeated, when their kingdoms are thriving again thanks to their children, and Star and Tom are finally in peace, with no more duties other than enjoying each other's company and living every day as a happy old-married couple, I think I love this timeline more now 🤍✨

#svtfoe #star vs the forces of evil #tom lucitor #star butterfly #tomstar #startom #svtfoe fan art #star vs las fuerzas del mal #disney #fanart #disney fanart #married couple #married life #fantasy characters #svtfoe au #lovers

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sunrise-clangen · 2 months

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Decided to draw some art of my favorite cats in other ppls clangen Clans. Look at them all, love them

Blisswhistle from @aphidclan-clangen, Swallowpaw from @mouseclangen, Mousegrove from @sporeclan, Silverswan from @fluffclan, and Silkglide from @chasing-faith-and-fate

#clangen #clan gen #foxtalks

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shapelytimber · 5 months

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A Taste of Faith

[PRINT] - [COMMISSIONS]

Ok so the concept for this piece was : historical gay nuns, and 70s lesbian vampire movies meets tes (don't ask me why- I just had a vision at 3 am)

Because I think Serana should have been meaner<3 I love women's wrongs and when vampires do the suck <3

Btw of you want to see more gay Serana art, go check out @gay-of-waterdeep, their art is wonderful, and I can't say this was not a bit inspired by what they do :))

Process (and me rambling about some of my favorite 70s lesbian vampire movies (because I have a problem)) below vvv

Additional details about this drawing ! 1) I used the same Mara design than the one from my tarot deck :)) and 2) the other woman is one of the priestess in the temple in Riften lglggigkglgl her name is *check wiki* Dinya Balu

And now......... Some movies I enjoy because my house my rules, you came this far so why not hear about niche european movies :))))))

Disclaimer for a majority of the films in this genre : the male gaze is very fucking obvious in these movies... they were made by men for men, and the message is often "lesbianism is a dangerous temptation for women". It's a glairing flaw nearly all of them share and that sucks (and frankly it's a flaw Serana's writting kinda has in my opinion, minus the lesbianism part, but let's not dwell on that)- so if you can't get past it, it's completly understandable, be on your way and have a nice day <3

- Daughters of Darkness ! A toxic man is returning to london with his newly wed wife, but they get stuck in Belgium and are forced to stay in a luxurious hotel. Don't worry about the 10/10 smokeshow countess seducing his wife :). Completely unrelated, this movie has, in my opinion, the most beautiful lesbian kiss I've ever seen- but I might not be very objective because Delphine Seyrig is there lglglflflllglm The best one in the list ! So if you want to whatch one, whatch this one <3

- The blood spattered bride ! This is more of... an aquired taste let's say- but I really like it ! A quite effective horror movie, with goofy ass scenes (shoutout to the vampire lady buried in the sand naked with only a diving mask that is not the screenshot because tits), and emasculation being a recuring theme <3 (but if you want to watch it, please check the content warnings beforehand, it has a lot of very shocking and frontal scenes, and it's the 70s so it's not done very tactfully. Also pretty intense flashing lights)

- The vampire lovers ! Ok so this one is a lot less fun compared to the other two because it's made by the Hammer BUT... 1) Ingrid Pitt hello and 2) it's such a intriging thing to see a very christian/conservative studio make a film like that. I know a lot of people don't like the Hammer movies from the 70s, because the studio had a lot less money, and were making wild decisions. But I love them, because they tend to be much more fun bloody and sexy ! I'm a simple woman mjllkklhkhlhlho case in point with the vampire lovers (although if you want a fun vampire hammer movie from the 70s, Dracula ad 1972 is way better). And Peter Cushing is there (i love this man so much-) !

And now I shall resume my quest to find Vampire Lesbos by Jésus Franco and have a probably mid experience watching it xoxo

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chgdraws121 · 1 month

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Some art for some of my favorite Cuphead artists

Minty inkwell

@mintythecup not to be rude but her hair is hard to draw😭

Wella ink♠

@4ce-of-2pades-inkwell Wella♠ is enjoyable to draw💜

Walter♣ and Faith♠

@ask-cupbros-parents Getting the hang of Walter♣ and proud of how Faith♠ looks✨

#cuphead #cuphead fanart #cuphead oc #not my oc #Faith teacup #walter watterson #Wella ink #minty inkwell

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aiuredsworld · 10 months

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Gladiolus Harry and Delphinium Draco

So I have this project in mind, uh let’s call it “HP character & their spiritual flowers” The style gonna be medieval era + greek statue-alike with some touch of golden magic glittering effects, and of course, my favorite dim grayish palette. There’ll be a story line behind each character.

Draco was a Heir of Malfoy family. He was raised over-protectively and all royal. Delphinium was his spiritual flower. It represented dignity, grace and magnanimous.

His lover, Harry, a curse breaker, had been away on a demon hunting mission. Harry’s spiritual flower was Gladiolus. It represented strength, faithfulness, morals, remembrance and heroism. Harry pinned the Malfoy crest Draco once gave him close to his heart. Legend said it was charmed to protect the holder.

Though in the deepest place of Draco's heart, he always knew that delphinium was also a symbol of remembering a loved one who has passed... He wished he would never be associated with it. Draco would looked outside the Manor palatial tearoom window. The flowers bloomed and wilted and died as the day passed. Draco would just simply re-plant it again and again. Count on the day when Harry would return home.

Now only Draco and Harry were done. I plan to do the others as well,

Asphodel Severus, he was Draco’s mentor

Jasmine/Daffodil Narcissa (can’t decide yet)

Dahlia Hermione, she was a political woman

Lenten Rose Ron, he was a royal soldier

Red Rose Pansy, she was a Parkinson heir

Etc. I don’t know when i gonna finish all of them, but it’ll be fun to draw.

#hpdm #drarry #harry potter

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blackcherryvelvet0909 · 8 months

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Prized Shrimp (Floyd x GN!Reader)

Note: Happy (early) Birthday to @floydleeches . I love you with all my heart <3 <3 <3 Thank you for making my life better than it's ever been before.

You honestly didn’t know what to expect. Volleyball wasn’t the most cutthroat sport - even so, you worried about the teams that made up the game. There were two in total, each student separated into one or the other via a sort of raffle. You supposed it was better to draw sticks than have everyone fight over who was on what team. Maybe Coach Vargas did have a good head on his shoulders…was that bad to say? It didn’t matter either way. It’s not like anyone could read your thoughts - well, you don’t think.

You brushed aside the troubling thought in favor of watching the game. As of now, the score was set at a tie. It was anyone’s game - it was so close a small audience had gathered to watch. Aside from a brief timeout due to a wayward strike thanks to Kalim - he almost hit a professor! - everything seemed to be going well. From behind you, you could hear several of your fellow classmates exchanging bets. You glanced to the side to see that even Lilia was getting in on the madol pool. Silver was too far into dreamland to stop his father, and Malleus was too preoccupied by his ice cream.

“Would you like to place a bet, [y/n]?” Jade startled you a bit, having appeared beside you from nowhere. In his hand he held a silver platter, stacked high with madol. Though his smile was courteous, you spied a glimmer of mischief in his eye.

“No thanks, I’m good,” you said with a shake of your head. “I’m just here to watch.”

“Very well.” You were surprised Jade relented so quickly; perhaps he knew your answer from the very beginning, but a certain octopus insisted he offer. As he stood, Jade turned his attention to the game. “Out of curiosity, who do you think will win?”

“Mmm…I don’t know,” you admitted. You watched as Ace, who was stuck on Rook’s team, knocked the ball over the net. “It’s a pretty close game. I never knew Rook could lead a team so well.”

“Like me, he is a vice housewarden,” Jade commented. “It is a staple for those in such a position, and higher, to have leadership skills. A level head is also required,” he chuckled as he glanced over to the left with a smirk, “though I’m afraid not everyone is perfect.”

You followed the man’s gaze over to someone you didn’t expect to see: Idia. He sat next to Ortho on a large blanket laid out across the sand, the hood of his jacket pulled tightly over his head. His little brother’s eyes sparkled as he cheered for his fellow students - knowing him, he held no team preference. You supposed Jade referred to Idia, not Ortho, when he made that statement. I mean, Idia’s dorm hadn’t spiraled into chaos yet, so he must be doing a good job. …But how much of that was Ortho’s doing? You felt kinda bad for how little faith you held in Idia’s capabilities in that brief moment.

“How many bets have we accumulated?” You looked over your shoulder to watch Azul approach the two of you. He wore a straw sunhat - it looked to be of high quality. So the head had gotten to him. Floyd wasn’t pulling your leg when he joked about it earlier.

“Thirty,” Jade replied to his housewarden. “I just stopped to have a brief chat with our favorite prefect before I went to fetch more.” Should you be worried about being their favorite? Possibly.

You witnessed the almost evil smirk that spread across Azul’s face. “Very good. Thank you, Jade.” Jade gave a small nod before he wandered off to collect more madol. He barely made it a few steps before he was stopped by a few first years, each adding some amount of madol to the silver platter. Well, you hoped it was worth it. Your attention was dragged back by Azul as he sighed.

“Hot, isn’t it?”

“Mhm,” you mumbled as you took a big sip from your water bottle. “I heard it’s supposed to be the hottest day of the week. I’m happy I bought that extra protective sunscreen the other day - I don’t want to end up like a lobster.”

“I agree.” The housewarden suppressed a laugh as he added, “Like Riddle the weekend before.”

You winced at the memory. You first heard it from Ace and Deuce, but their words did Riddle’s state no justice. The poor guy…you were glad he recovered the other day. You couldn’t imagine how painful that was. “Leave him alone,” you lightly scolded. “You’d be worse off if you were sunburned. Floyd told me about the time when you got sunburned when you were-”

“And I’ll demand you stop there,” Azul hissed. He now glared daggers into Floyd, who paid him no mind as Leona served the ball and slapped it over to his side of the sand. “May I remind you we’re in public?”

“Yeah, I know,” you retorted. “So just as Riddle wouldn’t want you laughing about him getting burned, you wouldn’t want me or Floyd telling everyone about that little incident from your childhood.”

To blackmail the blackmailer was a tricky game - one you had mastered through trial and error. Thankfully you garnered a few pointers from a certain eel in the past to make the process easier. Azul nearly pouted as he crossed his arms and avoided your gaze. “Fine.”

Before you could say another word, whether mock or further reprimand, you heard Rook yell out, “Floyd!” It was so odd to hear Rook refer to the second year by his name; it certainly caught not just yours, but everyone else’s attention. You focused back on the game just in time to watch the volleyball hurtle straight for Floyd. The eel grinned as he jumped up and spiked the ball, saving his team from a sure loss if the volleyball had hit the ground. The hit was so powerful it shot back over the neck with lightning speed. Though Leona, Deuce, Jack, and their other teammates tried to hit it back, it was no use. You watched in awe as the ball slammed into the sand over the drawn line of Leona’s side of the court.

Vargas blew his whistle the moment the ball made contact. “That’s the game!” he announced.

Before Vargas could even declare the obvious winner, Rook, Ace, Floyd, and their comrades erupted in victorious hollars. Though each teammate congratulated the other, it was clear who was the star of the celebration. Floyd received pats on the back, punches to the bicep and shoulder, and even a few side hugs. When Ace came up to give him a high-five, Floyd instead hoisted him up in his arms and spun him around like a ragdoll. Instant regret on the redhead’s part. You watched as he almost melted down to the sand once Floyd released him, lying face up on the ground as he tried to get his bearings again. No harm in going to help the poor guy out.

“You okay,” you asked through a laugh as you stared down at Ace.

“‘M fine,” he practically garbled. He blinked a few times - when he could see straight, he noticed the hand you offered out to him. He took it and you helped him up. He shook his head as he got back on his feet, mumbling, “Seven, I hate when he does that.”

“He does that a lot?”

“Whenever we win a game in basketball, yeah.” Ace’s gaze flicked over to the left; as you followed it, you saw Deuce headed in your direction. That shit-eating grin that was so, well, Ace Trappola was back as he teased, “How’s it feel to be on the losing team?”

“Not that bad,” Deuce shrugged with a smile. Ace seemed a little disappointed by the answer. Aww, poor thing couldn’t rub it in Deuce’s face. What a shame. “You guys played really well!”

Rook heard Deuce’s praise, he couldn’t help but turn in his direction and give a little bow. “Merci, Monsieur Spade! Your team played most beautifully as well. The way you dove to bounce back the ball at the beginning, how Roi des Lions lead your flock with such grace - and how mighty Fler-a-bras’s form throughout! Ah!” Rook swooned, one hand on his heart and the back of the other pressed to his sweaty forehead. “Ravissant!~

Ace leaned over to you to whisper, “I’m gonna vomit if he keeps going.”

“Soooo, what’s our prize?” Your mind spun with how much your focus was being tossed to and fro. It was dizzying how many people were talking to you and around you all at once. Even so, you managed to direct your attention to Floyd, whose question was directed to Vargas. “We gotta get a prize, right?” A few of his other teammates perked up their ears - human, beastman, merman, and fae alike - at the mention of a reward for their hard work. They, including Ace, made a little huddle around Floyd, all eyes now on Vargas.

“Of course!” the coach affirmed. “You all get a prize for your hard work.” Now even the losing team was paying attention. Leona stopped his stride away from the net (not everyone could be a good loser) to listen; Jack stalled in wiping the sweat from his nape. Vargas wasn’t really one to give out consolation prizes to the losers, so this was a rare treat indeed! “The prize is…” Vargas paused for effect - every head, from audience to teams, craned forward in anticipation.

“The valuable bond you established with your teammates!”

Fucking really?!

That was the thought you shared with almost everyone in attendance. Even the staff who watched on the sidelines (minus Crowley - one could only guess where he was) gave Vargas a collective bombastic side eye. The coach seemed to not fathom why everyone was so disappointed.

“That’s some bullshit, dude,” one student complained from within the large group of - now former - volleyball players.

“Language!” At least half of those students, some even from the audience, collectively shrunk back at the sound of Trein’s commanding voice.

“This was a team exercise,” Vargas said in his defense, hands on his hips. “I will be sure to give you all extra credit for your efforts once we return to campus.”

“Laaaame,” Floyd groaned. “I want something better! You don’t have food or some cool sh-stuff or something?” Nice save, you thought.

“If you mean give you junk food or some other thing to rot your muscles, that’s a no, Mr. Leech.” You were sure the term was ‘rot your brain’, but okay. Sure.

Though Floyd seemed to relent, although reluctantly, other students continued to argue. Ace was among that throng; Rook and Jack seemed okay with the outcome, while Sebek busied himself with seeing if Lilia and Malleus needed anything. Leona was long gone to some other part of the beach, Deuce himself now collapsed on his own towel. You turned to see Jade passing out madol to those who won their bet, while Azul smiled gleefully as he explained again and again the terms of the bet to ruffled losers. Of course, you supposed Azul had betted on Floyd and was very happy to reap the spoils. If it were the other way around, he’d have turned the rules in his favor. You were honestly surprised Divus and Trein had nothing to say about the gambling.

All this distraction around you caused you to miss the grin that creeped up Floyd’s lips. Sharp teeth glinted in the sun as his heterochromic eyes focused on one thing - one person. He glanced back at Vargas and asked, “Coach, if I find a prize I want, can I get it?”

Ignoring the several students that still tried to plead their case, Vargas shrugged his shoulders. “I suppose so.” He jutted his finger in Floyd’s direction. “But if I catch you eating junk, you’re doing laps around the campus for a week!”

“No problem~” Floyd crooned, no longer looking at the P.E teacher. He’d set his sights back on his chosen prize - his prey. “I’ve got juuuuust the thing I want.”

You were about to go and check on Deuce, who was currently pouring water over his head, when you were suddenly hoisted into the air. A shrill yelp ripped from your throat as your stomach flopped at the quick rise of your body. Two large hands held you up, gripped under your arms as you were held up like a dog - or a little beast you messed with sometimes. “My prize is Shrimpy!~” Floyd declared from behind you with glee. He paid no mind to the way you flailed once you realized just who had you in their grasp. “They’re not junk - not for me, anyway.”

“Floyd, put me down!” you begged.

“Nnnnope!” Floyd giggled as he turned you around to face him. “Look at you wigglin’ around. So cute! We’re gonna have lots of fun, Shrimpy~” Floyd peeked over your shoulder to make eye contact with Vargas. “Right, coach?”

You strained your neck to look back at Vargas. Your eyes silently pleaded with him to tell Floyd to put you down. That was not what you got. “Mhn,” he shrugged again, “I’ll allow it.”

No mercy for you, it seemed. Next thing you knew, you were tossed over Floyd’s shoulder, his arm wrapped around your waist as he began to carry you away. You looked about to try and find someone to help you. Rook wouldn’t - he’d be more likely to join in on the fun than anything. Ace was too preoccupied with trying to convince Vargas, more likely digging himself into his own set of laps. Deuce seemed to now be fast asleep, and Jack was nowhere to be seen. Jade and Azul would certainly be of no help, and the other teachers were too focused on keeping the rowdy losers - betters and players alike - under control.

As you and Floyd began to pass a dark green towel, shielded by a humongous umbrella, you thought of your last hope of escape. Malleus! There was no other man willing to protect you. Your gaze soon beheld the tall fae, so already sat on his knees on the towel, looking ready to bolt up and take off after you. Your eyes met, chartreuse to [eye color], and you thanked the Seven that there was clear determination within those slitted orbs. But then you spied Lilia grab Malleus by the wrist, hold gentle yet firm. The older fae whispered something into the prince’s pointed ear - to your horror, he sat back on the towel.

“Malleus??” you whisper-yelled. The only answer you received was the most pitiful apologetic look that ever graced his elegant features. Lilia, on the other hand, smiled gaily and wiggled his fingers in a goodbye. His expression was almost mischievous, in a way - like he knew something you didn’t. Silver just roused from sleep from behind him, and Sebek paid you no mind as he lectured the young man for his sleepiness. You realized it then: There was no help coming for you. You weren’t necessarily scared…nervous was a term, however.

“What should we do first, huh, Shrimpy?” Floyd asked. Was he actually giving you options? “We could go eat, make sandcastles, do some diving, wrestle around,” he paused, and you could practically hear the smirk upon his face, “ooooorr we could go swimming~”

“I-I’m actually kinda hungry.” As if to help your cause, your stomach growled just as the word ‘hungry’ left your lips.

“Awww, is your tummy rumblin’?~” Floyd cooed. “Okay, we’ll go get something to eat!” Floyd abruptly turned in the direction of a food and drink stand at the edge of the beach. You were flung almost violently, becoming a little dizzy as you settled against his upper back again. “After that, we’ll go swimming!”

“Sandcastles sounded nice though…” You were honestly just trying to stall the inevitable.

“Yeah, but swimming’s more fun! We can even play hide and seek.” You glimpsed the razor teeth that made up Floyd cheerful, yet menacing smile. “I’ll be the seeker~”

Of course he would be. Well, at least you’d get a last meal out of it. Better make it a good one. Hopefully it won’t be so bad…to have that time with your weird, longtime crush was nice.

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ooctlt · 1 month

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I really like this blog most of the time, but sometimes you take reasonable earnest asks that are trying to be thoughtful, and are such a dick about it.

Like if it's the characters being dicks, fine. But you could say something in the tags or post to indicate you're not just viciously mocking someone for trying to engage.

I still haven't submitted an ask since seeing your response that led to comments along the lines of "anon should go die in a hole" for asking, pretty reasonably, why harrow would want to stay with people she didn't seem to like or want to be around or interact with.

(i know, because she does like them and does want them around but doesn't know how to show it) but it's an ASK blog. How do we hear that from her unless someone ASKS

i understand it might be surprising and a bit hurtful to see an ask answered with the characters being mean/flippant, and for that i do apologize that it wasnt made clear that it would be a common thing in this blog. id like to issue the disclaimer: there is always the possibility that the characters here will not take your question well. they might answer rudely, and instigating behavior is not only encouraged but expected on both ends. this does not reflect my personal opinions as the artist; there are over 250 asks even after i constantly compile duplicates, and i will answer the asks that i personally like.

i will assume you are referencing the two most recent posts where gideon acts rudely and i repost an old panel: for the former i thought anon was really sweet for being so heartfelt and encouraging, but gideon isnt the kind of person who needs to be told shes brave for doing that by a stranger. it was a simple act of survival. and harrow is still very much in the passive deprogramming phase. the latter response was meant to kickstart (spoilers) what i will call the "dicks last resort" arc, where i clean out the inbox and share more simple, low effort, but potentially rude responses*. this is because i have roughly drawn almost daily for 87 days straight, and would like to recuperate without being burnt out because i love this blog and i love art.

this leads me to my next point: some of these answers will be curt and short and rude, because they are easy to draw. if i only prioritized the "good" asks or to make certain ask responses kinder, or longer, it wouldnt be a daily blog. it would be a monthly blog where 5 asks get answered among 100s. i didnt anticipate people asking about harrows piercings, and i considered shutting it down by just having harrow say she likes them etc. but i did want to give more insight into harrows character even if she wouldnt say so herself, and that took roughly 3 full unemployed nights. if i treated every ask in good faith the same way i wouldnt have time for anything else, because they take more effort and have to be seriously considered for the future. i can retcon their favorite ice cream or play off griddlehark fighting - it takes more to keep track of a narrative about people talking Around their issues

* by rude responses i mean "this will affect the 679ers negatively, much like making your sim 🧑‍🤝‍🧑➖➖ someone" there are a few asks planned to hurt in the same way one drafts a bad end in a visual novel, and this type of interaction is encouraged. of course if you dont want them to get worse dont send asks telling gideon she should flirt with MILFs (you cant send this ask now i already said it), but i encourage the banter.

TL;DR this is the "characters think you are weird for personal questions" blog. i am sorry i didnt warn of the ask-response banter, because i also enjoy drawing these characters being dicks. i do like when aggravation and conflict leads to character development. "how do we get earnest answers unless someone asks" sometimes you will never explicitly get that from them, and thats what the dead ends are for: to let you know to try something else and read between the lines

#the reason why i did not say anything sooner is because i do not like making ooc posts on here often. i want a little intrigue and mystery #i dream of when people will actively discuss in tags and notes how best to confront these characters #actual ooc #and i will say. i will not remember to indicate in the tags that i am not mocking the ask every time #i cannot be responsible for managing everyones feelings if they are hurt that harrowhark or gideon reacted badly #which i have seen people do! in the notes saying that gideons behavior makes them hate her a little! good!#if you dont like the direction this blog turns then i would encourage you to interact selectively

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muneca-lemon-steppa · 7 months

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I LOOOOVE Ur Alfie fics. Could u do just general headcannons about being married and starting a family with him? ❤️

Hi bb!!! Im so glad you like them! I hope you enjoy these HCs, I know I kind of went overboard! Maybe I’ll do a continuation?? Maybe I’ll focus on different aspect of life with him? Idk we’ll workshop it. As always, sending all my love 💕💕💕

Married Life with Alfie Solomons - HCs

In planning the wedding, you initially were planning on a small wedding. Nothing too extravagant, just close family and a party at the house.

That’s what you planned anyway. It grew and grew with every family member that “HAD to come treacle!” Both of your families are rather large and extended. Mixed with business associates that had to be invited for sake of peace… it exploded into a 200 person affair.

Despite the fact that Alfie prefers to not be disturbed, it ended up being a grand affair. Drinks flowed. Laughter was raucous. The dancing never stopped! And there were only 3 fights, which Alfie involved himself in only 2 of them. Needless to say, it went rather well!

But your favorite part of the night above all was when you got home. Still giggling and warm from the party, you’re pulled into the parlor by your darling Alfie. Shirt half done, and hair a disaster, he looks so so handsome. His eyes so soft, he puts on the radio, bringing you in close to him, “Mrs. Solomons… would you give an old man a dance?”

And you do. Song after song, twirling around the parlor, enjoying the life that had a new layer of meaning.

Despite Alfie’s insistence that you shouldn’t keep working because, “No love of mine should be lifting a finger.” You kept your job at the distillery as his secretary and head of the jewelry shop. You insisted to Alfie that keeping your job that still made you feel like your own person, not just Alfie’s spouse.

There was something so intimate and special in waking up every morning with him, walking to the office with him, going through the work day, and coming home with him. If Alfie was clingy before, it had only grown worse since your nuptials. He loved having you near. He never wanted you away from his side.

Though the mornings were sweet, the evenings were by far your favorite with Alfie. Coming home, drawing the curtains closed to hide away in your own little oasis of solitude and quiet.

Instead of leaving you to do all the cooking and cleaning for the evening meal like other men of the time, Alfie stays wrapped close to your apron strings. As you craft a soul warming meal, he stays chopping and cutting, washing up the dishes as you go to ensure that the evening is free of any impediments.

Alfie takes Shabbat incredibly seriously. He is on a strict schedule on those days, and actually forbids you from working on Fridays, to let you prepare anything needed for the Sabbath. Many times your family joins you in your home, and Alfie takes the lead in prayers. Though you didn't think it was possible, your heart grows with adoration each time you watch him quietly go through the ritual. Watching his devotion and care to the faith and your people's history reminds you of the type of man he his.

Marriage with Alfie does not come without some arguments. It is Alfie Solomons. Both of you stubborn and passionate, it’s what makes you a formidable force together, but it also brings some… loud outbursts.

It usually is about whether or not he’s being wise in his decisions. But it also comes out when he thinks you’re not being careful. When a jealous flare rises up in him. Or just when he gets a little snippy.

But it doesn’t take much to make up. Once you and Alfie have let it all out, either one of you will go to the other and bridge the gap. When he’s particularly cross, all it takes is for you to find him in his favorite chair. Lean over the back of it, draping your arms across his neck. “I’m so sorry Alfie,” you whisper in his ear, a particular weakness, “I know you’re just looking out for me. Forgive me?” A few kisses in his neck and he’ll be dragging you into his lap, grumbling about how much of a vicious siren you are.

When you’re cross… Alfie pulls out all the theatrics. He comes to your room where you’ve holed up, seething. He gets on his knees, taking your hand in his, “Awe treacle… have pity on an old man. I’m sorry my love, I am. Don’t punish me too harshly now! Please give you husband a kiss yeah? This life is so short! Let’s not go to bed angry my love!”

And of course you forgive him. How can you not when he kisses you so sweetly, and begs so beautifully.

It will be a few years before you and Alfie have children. Alfie was worried that he wouldn’t be a good father due to his age, but in his heart of hearts he wanted little ones. He yearned to play with the kids on the floor with the dogs. To swing them around in the garden. Watch you be an incredible mother. Though he was afraid, you knew he would be the perfect father.

Once you both confessed your mutual desire for kids, it happened shockingly quickly. But is anyone really shocked? Alfie is determined and disciplined above all else.

Once you do get pregnant, Alfie does put his foot down. You are not coming into the office. It is far too dangerous for you to be coming in around all 'that business'. And Alfie heard from someone (he made it up) that working isn't good for birthing or babies.

He benches you for the entire pregnancy, and brings his former housekeeper Sarah out of retirement to help tend to you.

Every night Alfie would come home with something new for you. Brilliant and fragrant flowers. A sweet from the bakery. A new necklace or bracelet that you just had to have. "Growing a baby is hard work love! Especially with my kids! Big ol brutes growing in there eh?"

Whenever you became shy or uncomfortable about your changing body, Alfie would just croon in your ear, "Oh my love, you are absolutely radiant. An angel from God yeah? No no, a goddess. You're an absolute goddess yeah?" He'll rub your swollen feet as you cry, kissing your ankles as you release your stress and worries about the day.

As you can imagine... naming the baby (or babies as he liked to remind you of the possibility) was an incredible ordeal. No name was suitable.

"No no, he'll get hit. If I knew a little boy with that name in school, I would decimate him." "Now treacle that doesn't even sound good with Solomons!" "Mmm no. I don't like the meaning of the name. Not a good omen." "Can't do that name. I killed a man with that name."

After six days!! You both are able to come to an agreement. Joseph for a boy. Chava, after his mother. In the evenings, Alfie takes to reading to the baby, referring to them by both names. "Alfie dearest, there's only one in there!" "No no treacle. I know they're both in there. You may only feel one, but that's because Joseph is just a little shy ain't you my boy? Chava is going to be a little spitfire, just like her mum. They're in there, I know they are."

At night, Alfie pulls you to his side as he always does, with a protective hand splayed over your swollen belly. It's getting harder for you to sleep at night, so many times you lie awake, staring at your husband, running your own hand over your stomach, feeling the kicks and turns.

The prospect of twins is near impossible. But Alfie... he is so certain. And sometimes... sometimes you feel an extra flutter. An extra bit of energy that is almost missed.

The labor is hard. Long. Your mother comes to help along with Sarah and the midwife, and you had never felt pains like that before. Despite Sarah's admonishment, Alfie pushes himself into the room, wanting to be right next to you the entire time. He never leaves your side, brushing the sweat off your brow, kissing your head, reminding you how strong you are.

After 12 hours of labor, Joseph finally makes his appearance in the world. A large baby, with fat cheeks and long limbs. After a few announcing cries, Joseph settles into the arms of his father, fast asleep after his long journey. Alfie rejoices with you, holding up his son with joy, "Joseph! My boy! Welcome my son!"

You smile, a final sense of relief washing over you, until you feel another push coming.

7 minutes later, Chava comes careening into Earth, as loud as the choirs of heaven. Alfie catches Chava, marveling at how such a little body can produce such a sound. As Alfie cleans her face he just whispers, "This one... she will be an opera star."

Alfie joins you in bed once everything is settled. You spend the rest of the evening in and out of sleep. When awake you and Alfie just take turns holding the babies, marveling in how precious they are. How absolutely beautiful they are. While you sleep, Alfie walks around the house with both in his arms, just talking to them.

“Now you might not know this yet my angels… but you have the absolute best mother in the world. No I know, I don’t know how I got to marry her. But she is perfect. The best. We gotta protect her yeah?”

Alfie is the one who gets up in the night. Doesn’t want you to do more than you have to. And you’re already doing so much. Plus, he feels like he missed so much already, waiting till he was older to have a family and all. He doesn’t want to miss a single moment.

Alfie becomes even more soft and tender with you. Each morning he starts his day worshipping you almost. Telling you how much he loves you, how much he loves your children, how much he would give to protect you.

But he does become more paranoid about the dangers surrounding him. There’s two men posted at the door of the house at all times now, and you aren’t to go anywhere without either him or another trusted member of the gang. Though you fought him on it at first, you relented when you saw the palpable fear in his eyes.

He loves to show off the kids. He’s just so proud. He loves how much they look like you. “Better for them eh treacle? Glad they got the more beautiful out of the two.”

And while they did favor your features, they both carried Alfie’s eyes. Both gentle Joseph and powerful Chava carry that roaring ocean behind those dark lashes that brought you to Alfie all those years ago.

As the years go by, you only grow to love each other more and more. And every risk and every trial is worth the beautiful dream you get to have with Alfie.

#alfie solomons #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons x you #alfie solomons fanfic #alfie solomons x y/n #peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic

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jamneuromain · 1 month

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ohhoehoe! Dark!priest!Ari goes really well with innocent/naive!reader. Just imagine that his hands//

ALL OF THAT YOU TYPED OMG WE NEED A FIC WITH EXACTLY THAT PLOT (if you're willing) Dark!priest!Ari or Andy or Steve or Lloyd or whichever Chris' character you see more fitting 🥵🥵🥵🔥

oohhhhhh okiee so this is *temporarily* what I have in mind in headcanon (for now) but feel free to chip in

- Not specified which church so you can blend your imagination there -

(honestly I have next to little memory of this reblog lmao)

Favorite

Summary: You confess to Ari about some sinful thoughts you have in the Church.

Warning: Dark!Ari Levinson, Priest!Ari Levinson, innocent!reader, I'M PORTRAYING ARI as a predator priest don't read if YOU ARE HIGHLY RELIGIOUS. (and also the facts about church and priests could be a bit mixed up)

Kids at the church joked that he might be Jesus, for the beard and the long hair looked similar to the ancient painting hanging on the wall.

Indeed, Ari Levinson is kindness and sympathy in a human form, saying that he started truly believing and having faith after a terrible incident that nearly took his life. He isn't from this neighborhood, but that doesn't stop him from being a part of it.

Barbeques at Winston's backyard, the annual fair in Rhinestone Park, the New Year's celebration of the local schools ... you name it, he's in. Whether to chip in from his own thin wallet or to help out pushing and moving things around.

He's a true saint. Everyone says so.

You confessed to him, after a regular Sunday morning, when the sun was blazing outside and this little church he stayed in remained a bit chilly as ever. You told him about the crush you have on one of the handsome boys in the sports team, and you fidget nervously because your parents told you it would be unholy if you had these thoughts of boys at such a young age before actually marrying someone.

He listened through your stupid little confession without any annoyance you'd seen on Father Richmond's (the older priest who actually runs the place) face, telling you in a soft silky voice that everyone sins, and they shall ask for forgiveness.

But, he winked, and whispered to you a little secret: since you are his favorite, he could pray to God later that night, and personally ask for forgiveness.

He led you to the altar and knelt with you, murmuring a string of prayers that you could only shut your eyes tightly and listen to.

You fear that God would be mad and abandon you and your family as a result - which you had told Ari prior, in detail.

"God spoke to me. He asked me to pass forward a blessing." He helped you up from the ground. The sunlight fell onto his velvety robes, creating a warm glow around him, making him look like a true saint, some might even say a miracle.

"Really?" You gasped in excitement. No one, and you mean no one has performed such wonder before, claiming that they could directly talk to God.

"Would I lie to you, darling?" He caressed your jaw fondly, his calloused thumb ran over the patch of delicate skin below your earlobe and you squirmed under his heated gaze.

"No." You whimpered, "What was the blessing, Father Levinson?"

He cradled your head and took your lips into a deep, soul-striking kiss.

"God told me he's fond of you. He has sent me to pass his future blessings on." Ari responded, softly smiling as your doe-y eyes widened in utter shock.

So shocked, in fact, that you forgot about your parents' words. They had told you before that kissing was also on the list of No-No.

"Me...?"

"Yes, darling, you." He mused, dipping his hand into the shallow bronze plate that carried holy water, drawing a mark with the dampened fingers on your forehead, "Now you should be rid of those sinister thoughts. If you have any more trouble, my office is always open for you, darling."

"Thank you, Father Levinson," You squealed, so happy to finally erase the heavy feelings off your mind.

"Anytime, darling." He clamped his hands together, kindly smiling at your happiness, "But keep this between us, will you?" He gestured to the confession and the altar, "It would be quite the fuss if the town knows about the all-loving Lord has a favorite."

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