anonymous-dentist

[anonymous-dentist]

pangi picking a hair away from lukeys face gets me every time that’s so fucking soft and gay i hate this

[anonymous-dentist]

In which a new store opens across the street from Pangi’s tattoo parlor.

“‘Psychic detective’,” Pangi reads, nose wrinkled slightly in confusion.

He watches as a police car pulls up in front of the storefront and a man in a long dark coat come out of it and storm inside. He pushes past a shorter man carrying enough boxes in his arms to cover his face, sending both the man and his boxes to the ground.

“Oooh, that’s fun!” says Bad.

He’s actually working for once, finishing up some detail work on a draft design for Aimsey. They want a dragon all across their back, so that’s what he’s drawing up for them: a dragon with its wings stretched out and fire racing down its spine from its mouth.

The store is otherwise empty, though. Pangi just got done doing a walk-in for a couple of college girls wanting matching butterflies on their wrists, and his actual appointments for the day aren’t for another couple of hours.

The cop comes out of the store and hops back into his car, stepping on the poor dude on the ground’s hand and not looking back. Ouch.

Frowning, Pangi takes a swig out of his water bottle.

“Don’t tell me you actually believe in psychics,” he scoffs.

The man on the ground gets up and shudders.

He looks across the street and waves as he sees Pangi watching from the parlor’s big front window.

Lazily, Pangi lifts a hand in response.

“Sure I do!” Bad cheerfully replies.

He hums, “What do you think, is the smoke too much?”

He pushes his notepad across the counter, and Pangi ditches the stalking to take a look.

Psychics, he thinks. Yeah, right!

[anonymous-dentist]

i saw ppl redrawing this pic so this is a pangkey version

(i really was straggling with this pose tho)

[anonymous-dentist]

You guys ready for this?

[anonymous-dentist]

PANGI WANTS TO JOIN THE MODCAST

[anonymous-dentist]

Werepangolin werepangolin werepangolin!!!

He Is Coming

[anonymous-dentist]

You guys ready for this?

[anonymous-dentist]

Meanwhile with the Kludde...

Wait we get pre-ball idea and werepangolin this chapter? That's a strike! Yippee!

They're the same!!!!!!!!!!

But also I'm trying to come up with a chapter title and I'm doing research and of course the Netherlands had goddamn werewolf trials. (Because, apparently, according to Dutch tradition, the weerwolf was given the ability to transform by making a deal with a witch/the devil)

[anonymous-dentist]

Wait we get pre-ball idea and werepangolin this chapter? That's a strike! Yippee!

They're the same!!!!!!!!!!

But also I'm trying to come up with a chapter title and I'm doing research and of course the Netherlands had goddamn werewolf trials. (Because, apparently, according to Dutch tradition, the weerwolf was given the ability to transform by making a deal with a witch/the devil)

[anonymous-dentist]

Omg weird science 12 has a moment in it I’ve been planning since pre-ball im soooo excited!!!

[anonymous-dentist]

Pangi pokes his head into Lukey’s store.

“You do exorcisms, right?” he asks.

Lukey, at the front desk reading an interior design magazine, looks up at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Do you need an exorcism?” he asks.

“Uhhhh, no, I was just wondering. Just curious. That’s all.”

Pangi’s chest is covered in scratches. There’s a bandage over his thumb because he cut it cooking dinner the night before. There’s still some pencil lead stuck in his hand from when he was stabbed with it. He has a wrist brace on because he overworked his hand working after he got home the night prior.

Lukey starts to put his magazine down, already probably about to launch back into business mode, but Pangi beats him by slamming the door and running back across the street to safety.

(Nailed it!!!)

In which a new store opens across the street from Pangi’s tattoo parlor.

“‘Psychic detective’,” Pangi reads, nose wrinkled slightly in confusion.

He watches as a police car pulls up in front of the storefront and a man in a long dark coat come out of it and storm inside. He pushes past a shorter man carrying enough boxes in his arms to cover his face, sending both the man and his boxes to the ground.

“Oooh, that’s fun!” says Bad.

He’s actually working for once, finishing up some detail work on a draft design for Aimsey. They want a dragon all across their back, so that’s what he’s drawing up for them: a dragon with its wings stretched out and fire racing down its spine from its mouth.

The store is otherwise empty, though. Pangi just got done doing a walk-in for a couple of college girls wanting matching butterflies on their wrists, and his actual appointments for the day aren’t for another couple of hours.

The cop comes out of the store and hops back into his car, stepping on the poor dude on the ground’s hand and not looking back. Ouch.

Frowning, Pangi takes a swig out of his water bottle.

“Don’t tell me you actually believe in psychics,” he scoffs.

The man on the ground gets up and shudders.

He looks across the street and waves as he sees Pangi watching from the parlor’s big front window.

Lazily, Pangi lifts a hand in response.

“Sure I do!” Bad cheerfully replies.

He hums, “What do you think, is the smoke too much?”

He pushes his notepad across the counter, and Pangi ditches the stalking to take a look.

Psychics, he thinks. Yeah, right!

[anonymous-dentist]

In which a new store opens across the street from Pangi’s tattoo parlor.

“‘Psychic detective’,” Pangi reads, nose wrinkled slightly in confusion.

He watches as a police car pulls up in front of the storefront and a man in a long dark coat come out of it and storm inside. He pushes past a shorter man carrying enough boxes in his arms to cover his face, sending both the man and his boxes to the ground.

“Oooh, that’s fun!” says Bad.

He’s actually working for once, finishing up some detail work on a draft design for Aimsey. They want a dragon all across their back, so that’s what he’s drawing up for them: a dragon with its wings stretched out and fire racing down its spine from its mouth.

The store is otherwise empty, though. Pangi just got done doing a walk-in for a couple of college girls wanting matching butterflies on their wrists, and his actual appointments for the day aren’t for another couple of hours.

The cop comes out of the store and hops back into his car, stepping on the poor dude on the ground’s hand and not looking back. Ouch.

Frowning, Pangi takes a swig out of his water bottle.

“Don’t tell me you actually believe in psychics,” he scoffs.

The man on the ground gets up and shudders.

He looks across the street and waves as he sees Pangi watching from the parlor’s big front window.

Lazily, Pangi lifts a hand in response.

“Sure I do!” Bad cheerfully replies.

He hums, “What do you think, is the smoke too much?”

He pushes his notepad across the counter, and Pangi ditches the stalking to take a look.

Psychics, he thinks. Yeah, right!

[anonymous-dentist]

My sillies in silly colors,

[anonymous-dentist]

Now when I posted the first bit of the psychic au. Who thought it would turn out to be THIS

[anonymous-dentist]

He’s in the mirror when Pangi gets out of the shower.

He stands on his toes and loosely curls his arms over Pangi’s shoulders, grinning webby and red as Pangi stares at himself dead-eyed. His touch is cold, and his eyes are colder as they meet Pangi’s.

You took too long.

Black ooze connects his top and bottom lips in thick lines, crimson sludge pours onto Pangi’s shoulder.

Come on, Pangi, you have work to do.

Claws dig into Pangi’s bare skin.

His paw print tattoo itches; the matching one in the mirror has been carved off, leaving open flesh pulsating with every stuttering heartbeat.

Pangi nods, breath hitching as a set of fangs dance along the line of his throat; he tenses, chin raising and mouth thinning.

Start a new one. The current one sucks.

Stiffly, Pangi nods. His fists clench by his sides, and he does not think about the psychic.

(Just a means to an end…)

In which a new store opens across the street from Pangi’s tattoo parlor.

“‘Psychic detective’,” Pangi reads, nose wrinkled slightly in confusion.

He watches as a police car pulls up in front of the storefront and a man in a long dark coat come out of it and storm inside. He pushes past a shorter man carrying enough boxes in his arms to cover his face, sending both the man and his boxes to the ground.

“Oooh, that’s fun!” says Bad.

He’s actually working for once, finishing up some detail work on a draft design for Aimsey. They want a dragon all across their back, so that’s what he’s drawing up for them: a dragon with its wings stretched out and fire racing down its spine from its mouth.

The store is otherwise empty, though. Pangi just got done doing a walk-in for a couple of college girls wanting matching butterflies on their wrists, and his actual appointments for the day aren’t for another couple of hours.

The cop comes out of the store and hops back into his car, stepping on the poor dude on the ground’s hand and not looking back. Ouch.

Frowning, Pangi takes a swig out of his water bottle.

“Don’t tell me you actually believe in psychics,” he scoffs.

The man on the ground gets up and shudders.

He looks across the street and waves as he sees Pangi watching from the parlor’s big front window.

Lazily, Pangi lifts a hand in response.

“Sure I do!” Bad cheerfully replies.

He hums, “What do you think, is the smoke too much?”

He pushes his notepad across the counter, and Pangi ditches the stalking to take a look.

Psychics, he thinks. Yeah, right!

[anonymous-dentist]

if only he knew, he was trending like what 3 times??? he is so loved here ☹️

[anonymous-dentist]

By the time Pangi makes it across the street, "Mr. Null" is in his lobby hanging a black-and-white photo of a polar bear above his desk.

"Hold on a second," he says, tongue stuck out in concentration.

"No, take your time," Pangi casually says.

He even sits down and watches, nearly having a heart attack over the sheer amount of times the guy almost falls and cracks his skull open because he's standing on a fucking rolling chair-

Eventually, "Mr. Null" hops to the ground and turns around with a smile. "Okay, Pangi. What's up?"

Pangi raises his hand and pretends to examine his fingernails.

"Oh, not much, I'm not gonna lie," he casually says. "Just wanted to tell you that Aimsey took your advice and confessed."

He holds his nails up to the light. "Good job, Lucas. It's a shame the spirits didn't tell you that Aimsey's crush is a straight woman."

Mr. Lucas Null is such a good actor that Pangi can barely hear the shake in his voice as he replies:

"The spirits aren't all-knowing, I fear."

Pangi looks up at him through his eyelashes (not that his eyelashes can actually be seen; he's still wearing his sunglasses.)

"You don't need to be so formal with me, though," Mr. Lucas Null continues, visibly relaxes as he leans forward with his hands against the desk. "You can just call me Lukey. All my friends do."

He smiles at that, a sharp little thing that cuts Pangi right between his lungs.

Friends, yeah, right. Just a means to an end.

"Alright, Lukey," Pangi says. "Whatever you say."

(He can hear Pili now: Wow, friends? Really? I thought you didn't do friends anymore. Or was that just reserved for me?

The answer, of course, is simple: Shut the fuck up, Pili. Mind your own business.

Oh, but this is my business. No distractions, gayboy. You have a design to finish.

...Right.)

(Just a means to an end.)

In which a new store opens across the street from Pangi’s tattoo parlor.

“‘Psychic detective’,” Pangi reads, nose wrinkled slightly in confusion.

He watches as a police car pulls up in front of the storefront and a man in a long dark coat come out of it and storm inside. He pushes past a shorter man carrying enough boxes in his arms to cover his face, sending both the man and his boxes to the ground.

“Oooh, that’s fun!” says Bad.

He’s actually working for once, finishing up some detail work on a draft design for Aimsey. They want a dragon all across their back, so that’s what he’s drawing up for them: a dragon with its wings stretched out and fire racing down its spine from its mouth.

The store is otherwise empty, though. Pangi just got done doing a walk-in for a couple of college girls wanting matching butterflies on their wrists, and his actual appointments for the day aren’t for another couple of hours.

The cop comes out of the store and hops back into his car, stepping on the poor dude on the ground’s hand and not looking back. Ouch.

Frowning, Pangi takes a swig out of his water bottle.

“Don’t tell me you actually believe in psychics,” he scoffs.

The man on the ground gets up and shudders.

He looks across the street and waves as he sees Pangi watching from the parlor’s big front window.

Lazily, Pangi lifts a hand in response.

“Sure I do!” Bad cheerfully replies.

He hums, “What do you think, is the smoke too much?”

He pushes his notepad across the counter, and Pangi ditches the stalking to take a look.

Psychics, he thinks. Yeah, right!