#(I’m not ignoring u I just need 2 DRAW)

[koolaidashley]

Are you still mad about the fries 🥺

Do these crisp fresh crunchy perfect beautiful golden fries scare you ???!! BOO BITCH 💀

[fishyartist]

Tryin 2 do portfolio shit…. I’m gonna find a way to make this fun if it kills me ok?

[catscidr]

˖ ࣪⊹ ౨ৎ 𝐤!𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝟏: 𝐠𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐤!𝐧𝐤 // — 𝐟𝐭. 𝐝𝐨𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫!𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐚𝐤𝐮/𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐳𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐢.

i. note — OFF TO A ROUGH START the kenny/geto fic ended up being a whopping 4,5k so i edited it down to be roughly 2k (the full ver is gonna be on ao3 though!) so if the writing seems funky That's Why + im still not completely used to writing smut yet. similar thing kinda happened w zhongli but i went fuck it we ball so im sry if the smut feels short bare with me. im stressed. ༎ຶ‿༎ຶ ) anyways pls enjoy and happy kinktober lads ii. includes — amab!kenjaku (geto's appearance), zhongli. afab!reader iii. cw — kinda mean dom!kenjaku, he's referred to as suguru for Reasons, dubcon bc power dynamics, manipulation, teasing, fingering, dirty talk, one singular cl!t slap, praise and degradation, he's a yapper. -> can very well be read as a mean!suguru/reader if u choose to ignore that one line about his forehead lol — soft dom!zhongli, hu tao cameo, praise, fingering, some whimpering, piv, implied multiple orgasms, a lil breathplay, he nuts dubiously fast, implied round 2 iv. wc — 4,3k -> ao3 link for the full kenjaku fic here!

— 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮 𝐆./𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐚𝐤𝐮.

“So, according to your medical records, you’ve never had a pap smear. Is that correct?” 

Your blood runs cold. Shit, I didn’t think he would bring THAT up during a normal, unassuming routine checkup. I’m so fucked. 

“Ah, um... no, I haven’t,” you respond sheepishly, clenching your teeth so hard you wonder if he can tell just how hard you’re trying not to bolt out of the door. 

If he wasn’t a medical professional, Suguru would have made a fine actor; and so, as all normal doctors do, he belts you with numerous questions you loathe answering, one of them being the infamous; 

“Are you sexually active?” 

Swallowing down the urge to flee the scene, away from those stupid fluorescent lights and that irritating cleaning solution smell, you answer as normally as you possibly can. “I have been, but-” 

“Have you been made aware that all female bodies that have been sexually active should get a pap smear as soon as they turn 21?” he adds, jotting something down in his notes—your personal file, you assume. 

You gulp, internally thinking of excuses to worm into the conversation. “I have, yes. But Doctor Ieiri told m-” 

“I’m sorry, but I am not Doctor Ieiri. I want the best for my patients, even if some procedures can be uncomfortable. That’s just the way life is; but I’ll do my best to accommodate your needs.” Suguru gives you a patient smile and a nod, though he was firm and, honestly, quite stubborn. 

Relenting, you murmur a quiet ‘okay’, already justifying this, telling yourself that it could be worse. You could be getting a pap smear from an old man that still believe women shouldn’t be allowed ibuprofen when getting an IUD inserted. 

“Great! Then please take off your pants and underwear. I’ll step out to give you some privacy.” Suguru flashes you an award-winning smile as he leaves the vicinity, drawing back the light curtain that separated his actual office to the examination room. 

All blood drains from your being as you listen to the sound of his footsteps fading, and instead you’re met with heavy, oppressive silence. 

... 

You knew getting a pap smear would be uncomfortable, that much was a given, but you didn’t think it would be near as humiliating as this. Doctors witness people both inside AND out, day and night; so pray tell, why were you sweating bullets at the prospect of your doctor doing his job? Was it because he was infuriatingly attractive and the thought of someone like him performing your pap smear was enough to get your blood rushing south? 

(Obviously.) 

“You’re doing great,” he coos encouragingly. “Do you need a moment?” 

You blink away the tears that glossed your eyes, and nod sheepishly. He flashes you a smile and gently pulls out the speculum. You wince, but the sting wears off quickly. As a silent apology, he slides the hand that rested on your stomach down until it reaches your pelvis and applies slight pressure. 

“Deep breaths.” 

You inhale slowly, eyes fluttering shut. Right when you started to feel calmer, you jolt; his thumb brushes against your clit, a movement that seemed too calculated to be an accident. Your eyes snap open and as you look down, you’re met with his eyes piercing into yours as he continuously rubs you, almost casually. 

“W-Wha-” 

He shushes you by pressing his thumb down firmly, earning himself a nice, breathy whimper. 

“You need to relax. Let me take care of you,” he murmurs, lips curling upwards. 

Your eyes zero in on the way his thumb smears your slick all over your clit— and his hand. You’re so wet that you can hear your pleasure, squelching noises violating your ears with the repetitive movements of his thumb, and you feel the coil inside of you tighten in tandem with his fingers. Tighter and tighter, aggressively shoving you towards your rapidly incoming climax. 

And God the latex of his glove rubs against your skin so deliciously. Your hips roll up to meet his hand for more stimulation you don’t even think you can handle. You’re so lost in the pleasure he’s giving you that you don’t even notice how desperate you look until he laughs, the noise sounding so incredibly sweet in your ears despite your humiliating predicament. 

Straightening his back, Suguru breaks eye contact to peer down at your slick cunt. “You’re dripping so much it’s getting on the table. Did you even notice you were this aroused, or were you too focused on drilling holes into me to realize it?” He scoffs, decidedly amused at the sight of your pussy clenching around nothing while he continues to stimulate your needy clit. 

You want to deny his (correct) assumptions, to pull away and leave this damn building until further notice, but God was he skilled with his hands. His fingers were dangerous, lethal even. 

“I’m n-” 

Your breath hitches when he smacks your clit, his sharp brows furrowing as he sneers at you and your blissful expression betraying what you wished to say. It shouldn’t, but the sight turns you on in a way you’d never say without squirming in shame. “Don’t lie to me now. How long have you been wet for?” 

Shaking your head, you purse your lips in a tight line, ashamed to admit that you had been ever since he first started the examination. 

Scoffing, he stands up, towering over you from between your legs. He leans over you, cupping your face as he forces his thumb past your lips, making you taste yourself and the polymer fabric of the glove on his thumb. 

“You didn’t think I’d notice? You started fidgeting quite a lot once I started the checkup. Was it the proximity? Do you find me so attractive you forget how to act normally?” he gloats, pushing his thumb down onto your tongue. Looking up at him through dewy eyelashes, you swallow the saliva that pools in your mouth.

He grins, lowering his face closer to yours; some strands of his hair come undone from the bun, and you feel drawn to his gaze. You can’t look away—neither figuratively or literally. You stare into his eyes, drinking in the sight of his picturesque features, and that painful-looking but intriguing scar running across his forehead. 

(You’re not sure you would look away even if you had a choice, anyways.) 

“Do you have a fetish for doctors or something? How filthy,” he croons. “Or is it my gloves? Do you like feeling my hands prodding at your cunt? And here I was, trying to be useful.” When you whimper around the thumb in your mouth, he knows he’s guessed correctly. 

(He’s so pretty. Vague images of him—his hands—appear in your mind. You want him to pin your wrists together while he fingerfucks you, you want him to wrap a hand around your throat while he scissors you open, you want—) 

He uses his free hand to glide it between your legs and slides his fingers up and down your slit to collect your juices. It drips down his fingers, past the polymer of his glove down to the porcelain skin beneath it. “I bet there isn’t going to be any resistance when I slide my fingers in,” he pulls out his thumb from your mouth and smears your saliva on your lips, then cups your cheeks with said hand. “Want to find out?” 

You gasp when he pushes his ring and middle fingers inside simultaneously as your walls flutter so nicely around them—with the dexterity of, well, a doctor, he quickly finds that spongy spot inside of you and abuses it until you’re a writhing, squirmy mess. 

Moans slip freely from your tender lips, a cacophony of wet slaps and ‘ah! ah!’’s echo in the room while Suguru drinks in the sight of your body submitting up to him. 

“There you go, wasn’t this worth putting your trust in me?” he uses the opportunity to slip two fingers inside of your mouth with the hand that held your face, muffling your slutty moans. “Aren’t you glad you let me do your pap smear? Aren’t you glad I could tell how badly you wanted this?” 

A choked whimper rips through you when he begins to use his thumb to rub your clit at the same time as he bullies his fingers in your wet pussy. His lips stretch into a sinister grin as he watches you struggle to catch your breath; you were so overwhelmed your head spun, oxygen failing you. 

You latch your hands around his forearm and wrist as you try to squirm away from the overwhelming pleasure; though your attempts are in vain. “P-Please! I can-can't take much... more...!” you manage to choke out. 

He laughs, his own breathing becoming shallower and shallower the more he pushes you near the edge of your orgasm. “I don’t care, I’ll make you take it if I have to. Come on, you can be good for me, can’t you?” 

You drool around the fingers he kept in your mouth as tears threaten to slide down your cheeks, overwhelmed with how much he kept rubbing you from the inside and out. Cracking your eyes open, you take a peek at the mess between your legs, and immediately clench around him when you catch but a glimpse of the mix of dried and wet slick on his blue glove. 

He notices and slows down the rhythm of his fingers thrusting inside you, letting you catch your breath for a moment. “So filthy,” he hums condescendingly. “Since you love my hands so much, you won’t mind cleaning them off, right?” 

Your poor, fucked-out brain doesn’t have the time to process what he meant before you whine at the loss of his thick fingers inside your cunt and then are immediately met with those same fingers thrust past your lips, making you gag around them. The tangy taste of your juices hits your tastebuds as you wrap your tongue around them, dutifully doing as he asked. 

His sharp eyes meet your own cloudy ones, seemingly satisfied. “Good girl,” he coos. “Who would have known that someone like you would get off to sucking off a glove.” You whine, holding onto his free hand to bring it between your legs, batting your eyelashes up at him needily.  

“Hm? Does my filthy little patient want to cum?” You shudder as he drags his fingers up and down your cunt, collecting your slick to flick your clit. You choke around the fingers in your mouth, whining, almost crying, and your eyelids flutter shut, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you finally surrender yourself to him. 

“Of course she does.” He plunges three fingers inside your cunt, bullying them in and out over and over and over until you can’t even lick and suck on his fingers anymore. You’re too busy letting out loud moans as he abuses your sweet spot endlessly; long forgotten are the worries that plagued your mind earlier. All you could think of was Suguru, Suguru, Suguru. 

A shudder runs down his spine as he watches you writhe in pleasure, and for a moment he imagines just how much worse you would look if he had teased your tits or kissed you until you couldn’t breathe. If the tip of his cock kissed your g-spot instead of his fingers. 

(Maybe he should bribe the secretary and make her schedule your next doctor’s visit with him instead of Ieiri.) 

“That’s it, come on. Cum on my fingers.” Your lips wrap around the fingers in your mouth, teeth grazing them just barely as you try to contain your moans.  

Unable to contain yourself any longer, you clench around his gloved fingers as he continuously rubs up into your sweet spot. The coil in your abdomen snaps; slick gushes out of you, forming a thin sheen on his fingers. 

“F-Fuck—!” With trembling thighs, you gush and moan; Suguru pulls his hand away from your face, cooing sweet nothing into your ears that your brain can’t even process while thrusting his digits into you at a slower pace to drag out your orgasm. After almost wringing his fingers dry with how hard you came, you lay numb on the examination bed, chest heaving while you try to catch your breath and come to your senses. 

Your eyelids flutter open just in time to watch your doctor lick his gloved fingers clean, humming as he tastes your juices. “Sweet,” he hums, never breaking eye contact with you. “Here, since you loved them so much.” With swift movements, he tosses his gloves on your chest, grinning at your astonished expression. 

“Well, nothing’s wrong with you,” he says as he stands tall, rolling his shoulders to lessen the strain from being hunched over you for a solid ten minutes. When you respond with nothing but a quiet, blissed-out ‘huh’ he scoffs, decidedly amused. 

He clarifies, voice light and casual. “The pap smear. Nothing abnormal in there.” 

Feeling your face heat up, you’re unsure if you should curse out or thank Doctor Ieiri for taking a vacation at the same time you needed to schedule your annual checkup.

— 𝐙𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐢.

You don’t know what you’ve done in your past life for Celestia to reward you with the most caring, loving boyfriend in the world but you’re not complaining—not one bit. 

Even something as banal as waking up next to him is a blessing in it of itself; watching his hair drape over bare shoulders, locks shimmering like a river of gold beneath the sun’s rays peeking through your curtains—you could die happy if it meant dying at his side. 

You get to admire him when he goes through his—your morning routine. Brushing your teeth together, cooking and then eating breakfast together, basking in the lively sounds of the city beneath your patio as you engage in easy, comfortable conversation with none other than Rex Lapis while you eat. 

The one thing you’re certain you would never tire of—not that you’d get tired of anything when it came to him either way—is watching him get dressed. 

There’s something so comforting and entirely domestic when it comes to helping your lover slip out of his pajamas and into his day clothes. Kisses are a common form of currency between you two, exchanged gingerly when you hand him an article of clothing. He never fails to make you feel loved, and you bask in the affection like a cat sprawled out beneath a window on a sunny afternoon. 

Though, one sure-fire way to obliterate the cozy atmosphere within your flat is, you’ve recently discovered, to stare at Zhongli just a liiittle bit too hard when he gets dressed. 

Specifically, his arms and hands. 

Strong, scarred biceps that used to reshape the mountains of Liyue leading to elegant, lithe fingers. Sleeves that hide intricate, delicate black and grey markings on his arms that fade into a rich golden yellow, adorned with veins of the same color that make him look even more expensive than he already does. 

But when he adds the finishing touch and slips on those pretty gloves with his rings? 

It’s like you just defy all normal bodily functions and start ovulating even if you’re nowhere near that part of your cycle. 

“Dearest? You’ve been zoning out a lot lately, is everything alright?” 

...Though, of course, Zhongli hasn’t been up to date with your newly raging hormones because how are you supposed to tell him you can’t help popping a metaphorical boner every time he puts his gloves on.

“You’re fi—I mean, I’m fine! Yes. Everything’s okay!” 

He is the concept of temptation itself. You’re certain that if you had a dick, you would have passed out cold on the floor from your blood rushing down to your hard-on every time you merely lay eyes on his beautiful self.

And it’s gotten even worse these last couple of days; all because he cupped your cheek one morning before he left for the funeral parlor, and left a salacious kiss on your lips that left more than just your usual desire brewing in your abdomen. The material of his gloves left your skin feeling pleasantly tingly for a reason you couldn’t explain.

….Those stupid gloves.

“I can tell something’s bothering you.” Long legs stride over the bed as he closes the distance between you two. “What’s wrong?” 

He’s half-dressed, with his tie slung around his nape and both his vest and tailored coat lying flat on your shared bed, next to where you sat. You sheepishly avoid eye-contact; with how perceptive he is, you wouldn’t be surprised if he hit you with a nonchalant ‘hey babe are you turned on because of my hands and gloves?’ 

No.

Yes.

“It’s nothing,” you hum. “You should finish getting dressed, don’t you have a meeting in half an hour? Director Hu won’t be happy if you-” 

Zhongli places his thumb and forefinger on and beneath your chin, gently tilting your head up to meet his gaze. “That’s not what I asked, darling.” You suppress a gasp; but focusing on anything but the scrumptious man in front of you is a task more daunting than Sisyphus having to carry that stupid boulder up that stupid mountain. 

“Promise you won’t laugh.” Your voice comes out so meek you fear he might make you repeat yourself, but ever the gentleman, Zhongli merely hums, coaxing you to continue. “I won’t,” he says softly. 

You swallow, clearing out your throat before speaking. “It’s, uh,” you murmur. “Your gloves are... nice...”

Unable to hold his gaze, you look away. The warmth of the morning sun beating on your back isn’t entirely helping your situation, as beads of sweat form at your hairline from the sheer pressure he kept over you. Curse his Archon blood.

But Zhongli merely stares, lids relaxed as he tries to dissect you with his eyes. “They are, thank you,” he chuckles quietly, lips curling up into a soft smile. “Are you sure that’s everything, though? You know you can tell me anything, right my dear?” 

“Um,” you deflate, partly wishing for that to be the end of it. “...Are you sure you won’t laugh?” 

“I promise,” he confirms. 

Huffing, you internally think of how much mora you would have to take out of your savings to get a name change and disappear off the face of Teyvat if he ends up going back on his promise. 

“Your gloves,” you reiterate slowly. “I like them. A lot.” 

He blinks, expression entirely unchanging as he keeps staring. He tilts his head, wordlessly expressing complete and utter confusion.

“They’re, uh... I’m just.” You clench and unclench your hands at your sides, too aware of his calm breathing compared to your erratic heartbeat. “...Youmakemehorny.” 

With your fists clenching the sheets and your gaze firmly planted on the wall, you fail to notice the amused quirk of his lips and his shoulders bobbing up and down from holding in his laugh. “What was that?” 

You exhale sharply as your lips press into a tight line, but his patience greatly outweighs your own and you fold. “Your gloves turn me on! It’s hot! When you wear them!” 

True to his word, Zhongli doesn’t laugh—not a peep. You do think you hear a chuckle leave his lips though, but when you finally glance at him again, you’re met with a look that might have made you implode on the spot if this were your first time together. “Zhongli—” 

“Thank you for being open with me, my dear,” he cuts you off smoothly, leaning down to press a chaste kiss on your lips. Pulling away slowly, he looks at you with such intensity that you fear for your legs in the future. “Shall I reward you?” 

... 

“Ngh—Zhongli...!” 

You two had been at it for... what, twenty? Thirty minutes straight? You don’t remember what happened after you admitted what had been on your mind for almost a week; he wasted no time and immediately got to work. 

Talk about dedication. 

Chin covered in your slick, Zhongli laps up the juices spilling out of your puffy pussy, dragging out your last orgasm—the third of the session. He groans as the sweet taste hits his tastebuds, the Archon’s hips unconsciously rutting against the bed; the tent in his slacks was borderline painful, but being the gentleman he is, it was his duty to get you off before the main course.

“Ride it out darling,” he hums, pumping two gloved fingers in and out of you at a leisurely pace. The obscene noise of your juices echo in your mind, making you clench around his digits with carnal need for something more—something bigger. 

“I-I can’t, I want...” you trail off, weakly tugging at his disheveled hair. The hair tie he used slipped uselessly off of his locks, having fallen victim to your vicious pulling of his hair. “Please, baby,” you beg weakly, still choked up from your climax(es).

With one last, long lick, he pulls away from your cunt. The sight of his cum covered face makes you whine with desire, but as your eyes trail down, your mind immediately forgets about needing his tongue back on your clit. He shuffles up the bed and straddles your hips, bucking up against your wetness.

Slick covers his crotch, and you can’t help but stare at his bulging cock pressing against the fabric of his pants. “See something you like?” he taunts, bringing his fingers up to his mouth to lick them clean from your juices.

You stare at his lips, then back down to his very obvious hard-on, and back to his lips again.

His figure shadows yours as he cages you in with his forearms, golden eyes piercing into your own. “Zhongli...” you reach down to tug at his belt, looking up at your beloved with big, glossy eyes. “Please don’t make me beg.” 

A hand comes up to your face, stroking your cheek gently. He brings it down to tug on your bottom lip, smearing his saliva on your skin as a gentle smile spreads across his face. “Of course not, darling,” he hums. “I know what you need anyways, so there’s no need to tell me.”

He swiftly unbuckles his belt and unzips his pants, exposing the prominent wet patch on his briefs. “See what you do to me?” Zhongli purrs, watching your fingers impatiently pull down his underwear, shuddering when his heavy cock smacks against your cunt. “You’re not the only one here that gets riled up in such a way.” 

You whine, dragging your hand up and down his throbbing length, pushing it down at the same time as you slide up the bed just enough for his flushed tip to snag onto your entrance. 

“Z-Zhonglii...!” you huff again, impatiently grinding down onto him, desperately needing him to fill you already. A chuckle slips past his lips, and he pulls himself out of his short-lived trance that consisted of staring at his beautiful partner to cup your face. 

“I’m sorry darling,” he murmurs, leaning down to kiss your nose so gently it feels like a butterfly brushed your flushed skin. “You just looked too beautiful not to admire.” 

The compliment makes heat bloom onto your face, but as quickly as your expression melted into a love-stricken one, it morphs into pleasure as you gasp, feeling him push his fat cock into your needy hole.

“Fuck—so tight,” he mumbles, slowly bottoming out. “Are you alright, darling? Do you need a minute?” Zhongli huffs, brows pinched together as he exerts his self-control to not just ram himself into you immediately. You shake your head quickly, jaw slack, desperately trying to create more friction against your g-spot. 

“Please just—” you choke on your words, feeling him pull back and thrust into you again in one swift movement, the slap of skin against skin making your skin burn with both arousal and embarrassment. 

Zhongli’s right hand slides down to pull your shirt up over your chest, and almost immediately he gropes your breast, groaning at the feeling of the fat of your tit spilling out from between his fingers. 

“So good to me,” he praises, amber gaze burning into you, studying your expression to burn it within his mind. “I can feel you clenching around me.”

He swallows, trying so hard not to bust right then and there. “D’you want to cum, darling? Are you close?” 

Whimpering, you grab his left wrist and tug, looking up at him with a gasp. “Mhm,” you hum quietly, while biting your lip. Shlick sounds invade your eardrums, forcing soft little gasps to leave your lips in tandem with his thrusts. 

“My sweetheart.” The Archon slides his left hand down your face to your throat, pushing down just enough to make your head feel lighter. The cold metal of his rings makes a shiver run up your spine, and as you choke out a gasp, Zhongli brings his other hand down between your bodies to rub your clit. 

“Go on, cum for me darling.” He grunts, shutting his eyes to hold his impending orgasm back. “P-Please, need to feel that gorgeous pussy milking me before I do,” he breathes out, focusing on the pressure he kept on your throat. 

Your eyelids flutter; and as your eyes roll up to the back of your head, you buck your hips up to meet his thrusts, clenching dangerously around his shaft. He thrusts once, twice, and you feel the dam snap as you gush around him, your back arching clean off the bed. You claw at his arms, writhing against the bed as moans leave your throat in waves in rhythm with your orgasm.

Zhongli’s brows furrow and his thrusts slow as you cum, but right as he blinks the bleariness away and meets your glossy, fucked-out gaze, he feels his heart clench. 

“Haah, m-my love—” 

Unable to speak a warning into existence, he shoots his load into you, painting your walls white with thick, warm cum. Pretty moans leave him as his head droops down to the junction of your neck, and his hips stutter while instinctively pushing his cum deeper into you, overstimulating both you and himself. 

“Z-Zhongli, ‘s too much,” you whimper, pressing your palms onto his clothed chest—a poor attempt of pushing him away. “Too full...!” 

Reluctantly, he gives you some breathing room and sits on his haunches to catch his breath. Watching your cunt flutter around nothing, he hums, pressing his hand on your lower stomach to watch the cum pool down the sheets with a hungry gaze. “Mm, I beg to differ,” he coos, flashing you a smirk. “There’s plenty of space left still.”

Your limbs rest numbly as you lay there on your shared bed, completely breathless. Your gaze flickers to the hand he kept on top of your stomach, and your pussy instantly clenches at the sight. 

“Then... how about round two?” 

v. taglist — @leiselotte, @sukunadckrider, @moraxnomora, @skylar896, @callinz, @animecinnamonroll99 , @pe4rl-diver, @kimisukimimi, @casuallynotthirsty, @coffee-ground-bones

[taintedcigs]

eddie w tattoo artist reader..... trying SO hard to seem like he's not dying from pain while she tattoos his chest, bc he's trying to impress her. she's the coolest girl he's ever seen and the fact that her art is on him forever makes him so giddy and happy, almost as happy as getting her number

call me if you need a groupie — e.m.

yes yes yes yes yes. a thousand times yes to this. thank u for this request omg i looooove lovesick cutie eddie soooooo much. this was meant to be a blurb but now its a 2.8k+ fic oops. idk if there were exclusive shirts ok i tried to do my research but this is the best i could get and idk how tattoo processes are so take everything i wrote w a grain of salt !! not proofread as always so ignore any mistakes and also idk why but i looved writing for this dynamic and if anyone would be interested i could write a pt.2 for some smut !! (maybe sub!eddie or switch!eddie? 👀)

pairing: eddie munson x fem!tattoo artist!reader (wc: 2.8k+)

warnings: MINORS DNI w any of my works!!. just pure fluff!! maybe the teeniest tiniest angst, eddie is kinda insecure <3, eddie is a lovesick cutie honey pie !! and swearing? oh also tattooing ofc (needles n stuff)

He doesn't mean to flinch, he doesn't mean to show you how stressed he is, but you can sense it.

Each time the needle presses against his skin, he hisses, mouth biting onto his lips, harsh enough to draw blood.

But Eddie doesn’t care, you—the hottest and coolest girl—that has ever graced the hellhole that was Hawkins was tattooing him, and Eddie couldn’t afford to look like a coward.

So with everything in him, he shut his lips, biting on them, becoming accustomed to the metallic taste because it didn’t matter, not when you looked so fucking pretty when cooing him and your free hand squeezed his biceps for reassurance.

He didn’t know what to admire first, the way your lips quirked sweetly when you answered his dumb questions, the way you looked so focused with your lip between your teeth, trying to tattoo him, or the fact that you were wearing an Anthrax shirt, and not just any regular Anthrax shirt that you could find at those regular shops, it was an exclusive shirt that was only sold at the concerts, and he had to gulp physically at that.

You were a tattoo artist… and a metal fan? How perfect could you get?

Before his questions were answered, the needle pricked at his skin again, he cursed out, and instead of screaming in his mind, he whimpered out loud this time.

Your head perked up quickly and Eddie was now cursing himself, for being a fucking idiot, for looking like a coward in front of you.

“I can slow down if you want to,” You said with a smile, a sweet smile that adorned your perfectly red lips, they looked so fucking kissable.

“N–no!” He stuttered, but you gave him a huff. “C’mon Eds, you’re doing good… better than anyone I’ve ever tattooed has, we can slow down a bit.” You reassured.

His eyes lit up like a child, Eds? His new acquired nickname rolled off your tongue so sweetly, your words dripped in honey. And Eddie decided he would do anything to hear you call him that again.

Not only did you call him Eds, but you also said he was better than the others, and the childish grin on Eddie’s lips was quick to grow again, his entire body relaxing as he almost melted into you.

“You think so?” He asked, tone giddy and all sweet, causing a pretty giggle to escape your lips.

“I know so!” You hummed. “Tattooed a guy yesterday. He was tall. Like really fucking tall, and he had this long beard and tattoos everywhere!” You exaggerated, watching Eddie’s eyes widen. “He cried like a baby the second that needle prickled his skin!”

“And look at you, taking everything I’m giving you like a champ,” You winked.

If only you knew the affect you had on him, Eddie’s entire face grew red at that, he would, without hesitation take anything you gave him.

He tried, so fucking hard not to think about it, but now his mind was filled with the images of you, sitting on his faze, your pretty cunt glistening as he lapped away at your juices.

He imagined those pretty manicured fingers discarding his hair, ruffling while those pretty little lips were hung open, chanting his name. Your whines and whimpers would fill the room as he begged for you to cum in his mouth. He wouldn’t stop until you smothered him.

Until all he could taste was you.

He shook his head to clear his thoughts, because the blood was quick to rush to his cock, and he didn’t want to have his bulge hardening against his tight pants anymore than he needed to, you were inches away from him and he wanted to seem cool–so fucking badly.

“Really?” He asked, and you nodded swiftly. “So brave for me.” You coo, lips lightly brushing against his cheek, as you plant a little kiss.

And Eddie was sure this was heaven now, he blinked quickly to make sure he wasn't dreaming, the light kiss you left on his cheeks lingered, and he could feel it burn.

His cheeks were purely crimson red now, he couldn't fucking help it. He ached for you, ached to have you close to him, ached to feel your touch, and everything you did was enough to drive him crazy, make him feel out of his fucking mind.

He was putty in your hands and you had no fucking idea.

His mouth stood agape, a dumbfounded look overtaking his features for too fucking long until the soft buzz of the machine brought him back again, the needle quick to puncture the skin's surface again, causing Eddie to squeeze his eyes shut as he tried his best not to fucking scream.

Be cool, be cool, be fucking cool Edward Munson.

He repeated it like a mantra in his head, and he was glad you were focusing on tattooing the cute sketch you made for him, and not his actual face that probably looked straight out of a horror movie.

“So—uh... c—cool shirt,” Eddie muttered, voice so low that he was surprised when you hummed back at him.

“Oh, yeah,” You muttered.

“You listen to Anthrax?” You asked with a beaming smile, gaze still focused on Eddie's arm.

Eddie huffed painfully but realized quickly that the nervousness of talking to you was overpowering the pain of the tattoo gun drilling into his skin.

“Are you kidding? Anthrax, Judas Priest, Black Sabbath... Megadeth! You name it I probably listen to it,” He hummed, and your eyes glimmered, causing Eddie's breath to hitch and his wavering nervousness to appear again. “Metal is my jam, baby!” He exclaimed, not too loud to disturb your tattooing process but loud enough to cause a giggle out of you.

Metal is my jam? Baby? Who the fuck says that?

Eddie was afraid to look into your eyes now, afraid to see the gaze everyone gives him.

Like he's an outsider like he's a freak.

But when he hears that pretty giggle of yours again, comfort takes over him, nervousness dissipating quickly when he sees the gentle look you give him.

Almost as if to let him know that you also love those bands. Almost as if to let him know that he wasn't an outsider because you were just like him.

“Dio?” You asked with a curious gaze, face beaming up when Eddie nodded furiously.

“Fuckin' love Dio,” He muttered, barely realizing the needle on his skin now, all thanks to you.

“Uhh—how did you even get that shirt?” Eddie asked, almost shyly, admiring the way you were neatly tattooing him.

“I wanted to go to that concert so badly but the tickets were sold out so quickly.” He added.

“Oh! I was Belladonna's groupie,” You muttered mindlessly, the pain as you prickled the needle was an afterthought to Eddie now, almost forgetting how to breathe, he coughed, quite loudly, causing you to look up at him and see the bewildered look on his face.

You stopped the machine when you chuckled lightly, "Oh, Eds!"

There it was, that nickname again, god you were dizzying his mind.

“I was just joking,” You smiled at him, and he wanted to melt, right then and there. "Needed to go a little bit deeper so I thought I'd distract you," You shrugged, and Eddie returned the smile.

He liked the feeling of having someone care about him, he liked talking to you, and he sure as hell enjoyed being with someone so similar to him—someone so fucking cool.

“Though I did go to that concert in 1987.” You could feel Eddie’s curious gaze on you

“My friend knew their manager,” You murmured again.

"Really?!? How was it?" He asked, face beaming again.

“So fucking cool.” You gushed as you started talking about their set list, how the first punch you ever threw was at that concert, and you enthusiastically animated Donais' guitar riff, earning a hearty chuckle from Eddie. He loved every bit of your story, listening attentively as your exaggerations enticed him more and more.

The longer you tattooed him, the more comfortable Eddie got, pain was no longer his main concern when all he wanted to do was make you laugh, hear that sweet giggle escaping from your lips, admire the way your eyes crinkle when you smile at him so sugary.

Minutes stretched into hours as you focused on his tattoo, each pass of the needle causing a smile on your face as the sketch you made became more intricate and alluring on his bare skin.

“All done!” You exclaimed with a smile when you finally finished tattooing him, a sigh of relief escaping your lips when the buzz of the machine was finally replaced with silence.

You couldn't help but trace every part of his face now, you wanted to see if he liked it, anxiety bubbling up in your stomach as you couldn't read Eddie's expressions.

“Oh my god,” Was all that left Eddie's lips, and your lips almost started to tremble.

Jesus fucking Christ, how bad did you fuck up?

“Oh my fucking god,” He repeated again, this time his head tilted upward to your direction, almost snapping as you looked at him with scared eyes.

But your gaze eased the second you saw the admiration in Eddie's gaze. “This is a fucking masterpiece!” He beamed, causing a smile on your lips, so fucking big and pretty that he wished he could have that tattooed instead.

“It's fucking perfect,” He muttered again, shaking his head in disbelief when he looked at the tattoo on his forearm.

“I mean when I saw that sketch, I knew you were good to , but holy shit,” He praised again, causing heat to grow in your cheeks, he had no idea how much it meant to you, to have someone appreciating your art, to have people walk around in the sketches you did, indelible on their skin. It felt so fucking good.

“It's...perfect.”

“Really?”

“Of fucking course,” He gushed. “You're so fuckin' talented it's crazy,” He muttered, fingertips gentle as they avoided glazing through the tattoo, but around it.

You were so fucking perfect it was killing him, and he couldn't help the giddy feeling inside of him knowing that your art would be etched into his skin, forever.

You couldn't shake off the thoughts in your head, swirling when Eddie uttered those compliments to you.

Your cheeks grew hot so quickly that you felt the need to turn around, trying to think of something to say to him so that you wouldn't look like a fucking idiot.

Eddie turned around to face you, the smile that brought out his dimples apparent in his face as he watched you scrabble something on a business card.

“Thank you,” You muttered when you turned around, hands almost shaking as you extended your arm to give Eddie the card.

He scrambled it into his back pocket, not caring when you were this close to him, but you frowned at that. “No, thank you, for this masterpiece” He winked, pointing toward his forearm.

He didn't even know where he got the confidence to even be able to wink at you, and his coolness wore off the second he exited the shop, a silent shrieking scream exited his mouth as he freaked out.

Your sketch. On his arm.

You. Tattoo artist. Metal fan.

You, kissing him on the cheek, talking to him for hours, laughing at his idiotic jokes.

You.

Eddie was sure he lost his mind, hands shaking as he reached for the card in his back pocket.

The card was black and the title on it was dripping with blood. He whined.

How much cooler were you going to get?

He gulped when he looked back, seeing you toward the clear glass door, and he knew.

He knew that if he didn't do it now, he could never do it, this was his only fucking chance, and he couldn't be a coward, not now, not when you were this close to him.

Eddie entered back into the shop in a frenzy, causing your head to pop up swiftly as you looked at him dumbfounded.

God, you were so gorgeous he could feel his heart skip a beat.

“C—can I ask you something?” He cleared his throat to not appear nervous, and you nodded, furiously.

“Look, I know this is weird and all... but... uhm, I really feel like we connected,” He muttered, fingers tapping against the glass counter that you were standing behind in.

“And I thought maybe... uhhh... I could like—get your number or somethin'?” He uttered anxiously, tilting his head slightly to the side, and you couldn't help the giggle that escaped your lips.

And even though why you laughed was reasonable, it was the worst fucking thing you could have done to Eddie.

Especially when your laugh seemed so mocking, almost different than the ones you gave him earlier before. Jogging deep into this memory of the countless times when Eddie tried to pluck up the courage to ask girls in his class out, only to be laughed in his face, or to have them insult him.

But this was more than that, it pained him.

It pained him to think that you thought of him like the others did. Like you saw him as an outsider, too.

His bubble of confidence that was already wavering was even quicker to fizzle out, he could feel that familiar lump in his throat, shoulders slumping as his gaze was quick to show his emotions.

He was hurt. And he was sure this hurt much more than a thousand needles breaking the barriers of his skin, “Uhhh,” He gave you a bitter chuckle. “Just.... never mind” He added, defeatedly turning back around to exit the shop once again as he ignored you calling out for him.

“Wait!” You yelled out after him, but Eddie started walking faster.

“Shit shit shit!” You cursed yourself for your little joke.

“Eds, please!” You called out again, this time effective enough to make Eddie stop in his tracks.

Eds. Oh you knew how to get him hooked, how to get him right where you wanted him.

And he hated himself for being this weak for you, someone he met, just recently.

“What?” He answered coldly, glaring at you with bitterness that made you want to hide out, that gentle soul in him disappearing in mere seconds.

And you sighed, hating that he could ever see you as someone that would make fun of him.

“Flip the card,” Your gaze on him was intense, cheeks growing hot again knowing that you were going to see his reaction to your stupid note.

“I don't have time for your bullshit” He spat, almost on his feet to leave.

You sighed. “Eds, just... will you just please flip the card?” You asked, all prettily that Eddie couldn't help but oblige, but be gentle with you again because he couldn't resist it. He couldn't resist you.

He huffed as he plucked the card out of the back pocket of his jeans, turning it over in one swift motion.

'CALL ME IF U NEED A GROUPIE' and your digits were attached right below it.

His gaze softened immediately, head drooping further as he huffed at himself.

He felt stupid, so fucking stupid.

Why did he ever think you would treat him like the others?

His chest expanded with hope when he looked back up at you, a soft smile graced his lips.

“Oh,” He muttered, not able to help the childish grin that was now stuck to his lips.

“Shut up,” You giggled, nudging him slightly.

“You owe me,” You narrowed your eyes sarcastically, causing his brows to quip.

“Oh, yeah? Like what?” He asked, a newfound confidence washing him over when you were so easy to talk to.

“A date,” You beamed, scrunching your nose.

“Okay.” The words left his lips quickly, too quickly that it had you feeling giddy inside.

“How about tomorrow?” He didn't even know how he managed to get those words out without stuttering.

“Uhm—sure.” You were the one stuttering now, cheeks burning up as you could barely look at him. His grin was sickly inviting.

“I'll pick you up at 8?” You nodded so quickly that you were sure your head was about to fall off.

“See you tomorrow,” His voice was sultry as he winked again, making you almost melt, looking cool on the surface when all he wanted to do was go home, freak the fuck out, tell Wayne all about the cool girl who tattooed him, and not be able to sleep until your date tomorrow.

[klaus-littlestwolf]

Hiii! I was wondering if u could do a royalty au with the yandere Mikaelsons! It can either be human or vampire but like image THE AESTHETICS OF IT!! And can u somehow include rebekah as well!! I can leave the rest of the plot up to u or if u want I can also send ideas :)

I Don’t Want a Crown -Klaus M.

For something like this I could see going vampire but no, I’m going human on this. I’m excited to try it out!

Part 2

Your father thought it was an insult.

You were your fathers youngest daughter, the only one currently unmarried as he had married off your sisters already to make necessary alliances. The Mikaelson family was a very powerful ally, they were close with the king and queen but your father only wanted you to be married to the eldest, Elijah. Elijah however is already betrothed.

Elijah was happy to marry you to his younger brother, Niklaus, who you hadn’t met but you had heard some truly horrific stories of him beheading and gutting his enemies.

Your father dismissed you so that he could talk to Elijah alone and you happily exited the stuffy room, exploring the castle before making your way outside. You were enjoying the overcast sky before coming across a man leaning against a tree and seemingly sketching something in a book. You paused as you walked passed him to look and see him drawing an image of your horse that was by the stables.

‘That’s very good…are you an artist or something?’ You questioned and he paused to look down at you before smiling.

‘Or something, it’s a nice hobby. I’m glad you like it. I’m Nik, lovely to meet you.’ He took your hand, kissing your knuckle softly and bowing as he did which made you smile. Many men that greeted you didn’t think they had to bow to anyone but your parents, this man was a stranger and showing you more respect than your regular suitors.

‘I’m Y/n, it’s a pleasure. Well, I’m sorry to have bothered you Nik.’ You turned to walk away when he quickly fell into step beside you.

‘I can’t leave a beautiful girl to walk alone now can I? What kind of a man would I be?’ He held out his arm and you took it as you walked through the gardens. ‘So, why are you taking a stroll alone on such a dreary day?’

‘Oh I love days like these, and I love walking in the rain…much to my fathers dismay but that somehow makes it better.’ You teased and he seemed to like it. ‘Rainy days are the best kind. And I suppose I needed to get away. My father has been trying to marry me off to some rich family, though which one is anyone’s guess. It’s exhausting meeting potential husbands every day, and not one of them actually interested in meeting me. Just my father because it’s his choice and I will do what I’m told. Then I’ll get married to a man who is cold and cruel and just as happy to make me do what I’m told. I’m not ignorant enough to think I should be free to fall in love, the world isn’t that kind but shouldn’t we at least like each other? I don’t want to become my sister, married to a man who beats her with only the intention of filling her with a son…and now I’m ranting my problems to a stranger who only asked about the weather. I’m so sorry Nik-‘

‘I asked why you were walking, you answered. And I don’t think it’s an outrageous request to want to get along or a husband who will not beat you. A man should respect his wife, she is the one who will raise his children and give him a happy home to come back to every day, warm his bed yes but that should be more than one sided as well.’ You tried to hide your blush at the topic but he definitely noticed. ‘You’re a lovely women. You should be taken care of, and regardless of what a man is like with other men he should be a gentleman with his family. I’m sure your husband will prove to be a good man, at least to you.’ You smiled at that, his optimism being refreshing.

‘It’s a nice sentiment, though the man my father is meeting with now is trying to marry me off to an apparent madman. Of course those are just rumors, everyone deserves a fair chance.’ He looked stunned by your words as you sat yourself on the rock wall overlooking the ocean. It’s where you came to read often, it was peaceful and you loved watching the waves when it stormed.

‘You have a refreshing outlook on life. I like how sweet you are Y/n. Any man should be honored to have you, I know I would be.’ He sat beside you, kissing your hand once again, his blue eyes being the kind you want to get lost in for hours.

‘Well, I’m an optimist I guess. Besides, it’s not just him that’s a possibility. My father is meeting with someone else today, I suppose he feels slighted that I’ve been offered a second son, dumbest thing I’ve ever heard in my life but my father is nothing if not sensitive.’ You joked and while he laughed he looked…angry? He hid it quickly before standing and holding out his hand.

‘We should get you inside, it’s going to rain any second Princess.’ He walked you back to the castle in silence and while it wasn’t uncomfortable, you felt the need to ask as you got inside.

‘Have I offended you? If I have, you have my sincerest apologies my Lord, I don’t-‘

‘Nonsense! You have done nothing of the sort.’ He reached up, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and the way he looked at you was so…heavy. ‘Now, you go get yourself warmed up and dressed for dinner. I’m sure I will see you again in a bit.’ With that he bowed and was gone, leaving you to realize how late it really was and rush to get ready for dinner.

When you arrived you were greeted by your mother as your father spoke to a man who must be in his early 40s. Very close to his age at least. ‘Y/n, your father has invited both of your suitors, Lord Aslan and Lord Mikaelson to dinner tonight. He would like to speak with both of them freely and see which is the best match, please be on your best behavior?’ Your mother begged.

‘Please tell me that old man is my suitors father?’ Your mother looked at you with hard eyes and you knew to shut up as you all sat down to eat.

‘Should we wait for the Mikaelson’s?’ Your mother asked and father rolled his eyes.

‘Can’t even be on time for a potential alliance. How disgraceful.’ Lord Aslan spoke and now you rolled your eyes.

‘Apologies my Lord, my brother has had to leave, our sister is having a bit of trouble. I’m sorry for my tardiness.’ You know that voice.

‘We can understand that. Young women are a handful, I should know, my wife gave me 5.’ Everyone knows your father hates that your mother gave him so many girls before a boy but he still brings it up. You looked up to see Nik sitting in the chair across from you and smiled politely, but you’re sure he could see it didn’t reach your eyes. ‘Gentlemen, this is my daughter Y/n.’ You waved politely, Nik smiling while the man beside your father leered at you.

‘The pleasure is mine Princess.’ Lord Mikaelson greeted, the other man laughing suddenly and gaining everyone’s attention.

‘She’s not a Princess. A Lady, maybe, and a lovely one at that.’ You cringed, taking a drink from your cup and trying to ignore his eyes on you.

‘Every women should be treated as a Princess by her husband. Do you not agree my Lord? I’ve met many Princesses, they don’t hold a candle to you Darling.’ The blush is back and this time you can’t even pretend to hide it.

‘Thank you my Lord, you are sweet.’

The rest of dinner was your father speaking to Lord Aslan while he leered at you and you spoke to Nik back and forth, finding the rumors about him to be insane. He couldn’t hurt a fly. Or so you thought.

After they had left and you were getting ready for bed your father knocked on your door, letting himself in with a stern look on his face. ‘You behaved very rudely at dinner. You didn’t once try to speak to Lord Aslan.’

‘He was staring at my chest all night and he didn’t speak to me either, just you. He wants me to be his wife and doesn’t even want to know anything about me? No thank you. Besides, I loved speaking with Niklaus, he was sweet and he wanted to know me. I would much rather-‘ you were about to finish when your father cut you off with a hand around your throat, eyes angry and determined.

‘You think I care what you want? Your opinion means nothing to me child, it’s the men that matter and I will not be offended by being offered a second son for my youngest girl. I’m being given land and an army by Lord Aslan, plus a dowry that is worth much more than you. You’ll make yourself happy where ever I put you like a good daughter and a good wife! You are set to marry Lord Aslan in a fort night. That is all I will hear on the matter.’ When he stopped speaking he finally allowed you to breathe, pulling his hand away and watching you collapse to the floor, gasping for air. ‘Sleep daughter. You have lunch with your husband tomorrow and you must be presentable.’ With that he was gone and you were left alone to change into your night gown, holding a cold compress to the quickly forming bruises on your throat.

You were in too much pain to relax and sleep, every time you moved your neck or swallowed pain shot through your throat and didn’t leave you with the ability to get comfortable. You had finally given up trying and ended up on the loveseat with a book and an inability to stop the tears despite your pain. You were going to spend the rest of your life with a man who doesn’t care for you at all. Niklaus would move on and find a new wife, some lucky girl to have a good husband and a good life and you hate her. You were trying to calm yourself when you heard a knock on your French doors making you look up before it happened again. Quickly you wiped your face before moving to the doors to see a familiar face, waving casually.

‘What are you doing?’ You asked, opening the doors and allowing him to slip in and watching as he looked around your plain room.

‘I am to be your husband, I’m allowed to see my wife, aren’t I? I want to get to know you better before-we…why are you crying?’ You quickly wiped your face again and he stopped you, taking your hands in his and brushing the tears away.

‘Niklaus, you have to go. You can’t be here-‘

‘I will not have you cry, why are you upset, I can-‘

‘You can’t fix it! You are not going to be my husband! I told you, I’m not going to be married to a second son and what I want doesn’t matter! You need to leave, please? You’ll be killed if you’re found in here!’ You pushed at his chest but he didn’t budge, pulling you close and tilting your head up, inspecting the bruises on your neck gently. ‘My Lord-‘

‘Husband.’ He cut you off, clearly angry but not acting on it. ‘I’m sorry if you got confused Princess, it’s okay. It’s not your fault, your father seems to want to irritate me. There was no chance of any other man marrying you, I have already decided that you’re mine. You are not to worry about that, do you understand?’ He asked it so softly you felt like you were dreaming.

‘But my father-‘

‘Do. You. Understand?’ His eyes were a stormy blue, like a raging sea, impossible to tame but he never once made you feel like you were in danger with him.

‘I understand. But my father will never agree. He’s stubborn and cruel-‘

‘You haven’t seen cruel Princess…and you never will. I promise you that. And this-‘ he touched your neck softly, his eyes hardening when he looked at the bruises. ‘This will never happen to you again. Not in this lifetime, you are my wife, my Princess to protect and no one will ever harm you. No one will get close enough to try. Tomorrow you’ll go about your day like normal and not speak a word of this, then you will get the news that you are being married to me. Now come, Princess’ need sleep.’ He suddenly lifted you into his arms and carried you to your bed, tucking you into the blankets and holding your hand.

‘I can’t sleep. My neck hurts and I-‘

‘Shh.’ He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small bottle, reaching up to open your mouth and you didn’t fight him as he pored it onto your tongue, making you swallow. ‘Now relax, you’ll sleep just fine my darling. Don’t you worry about that.’ He pressed your hand to his face, kissing your palm and sighing, his stubble scratching your hand roughly. As he began standing your eyes fell, heavy with sleep and you felt a kiss on your cheek before you fell asleep.

You slept well into the next day and you were awoken by a maid just before lunch, helping you into a dress that covered the marks on your neck. You went to the gardens for your lunch but Lord Aslan never showed up.

Your father was furious for the rest of the day and you didn’t see him at dinner but your mother told you that he was in a meeting. Walking back to your bedroom that night you turned to see familiar blue eyes looking down at you, waiting outside your door. ‘Nik?’

‘Hello my darling wife.’ He pulled you close to his chest and into your room, the door shutting behind him. ‘Our wedding will be held in 2 days time, everything is being taken care of, you won’t have to lift one little finger. I want you to have the best wedding day ever.’

You pulled back, looking up at him confused. ‘I’m engaged already, he told me-‘

‘Your father is an idiot, and he knew not to cross me yet he did so anyway after finding out that I wanted you as my wife. That’s his problem. The other…I hesitate to call him a man, isn’t an issue anymore. He was found dead in his home this morning for looking at things that didn’t belong to him.’ You stared up at him in shock, not sure what to do. ‘I told you, I like how sweet you are and any man should feel honored to have you. I do, and I always will. I will protect my sweet girl until my dying day, and not once will your innocent eyes be forced to see anything even resembling violent. I know I’m not the best man, but I will take care of you love, and I will love you for the rest of eternity…do you want to be mine?’

You didn’t know what to say to that. ‘I’m already yours-‘

‘I will see to it that you live like a nun for the rest of your life if that’s what you choose, but I would much prefer you be mine. I love you Y/n, but it’s your choice.’ His honesty spoke volumes and I nodded my head without hesitation.

‘Yes. I want to be your wife…I love you too Nik.’

Klaus was the best husband she could have ever dreamed of and he was true to his word, she never saw any violence…even when she ordered it.

I Don’t Want a Crown Moodboard

[loveinhawkins]

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 ao3

Steve continues to trace letters onto Eddie’s palm—the only reason Eddie hasn’t called for a nurse, doctor, anyone is because Steve had fixed him with a stubbornly determined look when he went to do so, and Eddie didn’t need it spelled out to know what that meant.

Dude, let me finish.

“You’re fucking unreal,” Eddie had whispered. 

Now Steve prods insistently, right in the centre of Eddie’s palm. 

Eddie blinks; it takes him a moment to figure out that Steve isn’t writing a letter this time.

“…Me?” Eddie tries.

Steve’s finger drags down then up, stopping right underneath Eddie’s pinky. A checkmark. Eddie lets out a breathy laugh.

More letters. OK?

Eddie feels something within him crack. “I’m okay,” he says, tries to smile. 

A circle now, sweeping round and round. Different to how Steve draws an ‘O.’ He repeats it a few times, perhaps noticing Eddie’s confusion, then spells out ‘OK?’ again.

Then it clicks and, smiling again—Christ, he hopes it looks reassuring—Eddie squeezes Steve’s hand with a sudden wave of affection.

“Everyone’s okay,” he replies, and he says it again, softer, when he feels Steve’s fingers tremble slightly. “Promise. Everyone’s okay, Steve. It’s…” He takes a deep breath. “I think it’s fucking over, man.”

Silence. No movement, no words. Just the two of them breathing, and if Eddie is feeling overwhelmed by that statement after just a week of absolute insanity, he can’t begin to imagine how Steve is taking it.

Then Steve abruptly launches back into activity, now tapping rapidly on the back of Eddie’s hand; and Eddie can practically hear the eagerness, the fucking exclamation marks in it. Tap, tap, tap!

“I’m literally right here,” Eddie says. His cheeks ache with the sudden force of his grin, but it’s a welcome kind of pain. 

Steve’s finger returns to Eddie’s palm, lingers there.

?

Eddie laughs, reminded of the Lite-Brite and the impossible golden shimmers; thinking that he’d never feel such wonder again. 

Steve keeps drawing the question mark until Eddie snorts. “Okay, okay, I get it! That tickles, man.” 

Tap, tap, tap. 

Eddie takes a deep breath. “I—uh. Shit, I don’t really know where to start.” 

Steve smiles again beneath his mask. His eyes travel across the room pointedly, and Eddie can almost hear it. Start wherever. M’not exactly going anywhere. 

So Eddie does. It’s a very censored version; he can’t bring himself to really talk about what happened right after Steve had… He skirts around it, says, “After you—u-um, you—”, then leaps hurriedly forward into how he stumbled across Steve’s song and all the playthroughs of it; his meeting with El, the news of Henry’s death; how the carnage caused by The Upside Down truly bleeding into their world (by Steve dying) seems to be healing, bit by bit.

He gets through all of that, and for a few minutes Steve does nothing; his eyes go a little glassy, but Eddie pushes back his initial fear—Steve’s just in deep thought, nothing sinister. 

He sees Steve’s lips move ever so slightly, mouthing, “Wow.” 

Eddie sighs, suddenly exhausted. “Yeah. Wow.” 

Steve’s finger prods the back of his hand again. 

OK? 

Eddie frowns. “You already—I told you, I’m—”

But Steve doesn’t let up, his touch both gentle and insistent. 

?

“Steve. I’m fine.” 

?

Eddie scoffs. “I said I’m—” But there’s a familiar sharp tightness in his chest that cuts the words off, and Steve’s eyes look far too knowing, and suddenly more comes spilling out, no matter how much Eddie tries to stop himself. 

While he still can’t address how Steve was… gone, he talks around the fear, talks about how he was somehow not arrested; the mythical like reappearance of Chief Hopper. 

And then he talks about finding Wayne, and his throat closes up completely. 

“Jesus,” he gets out eventually. “Just ignore me, man, I’m—”

Go.

Eddie stares. “What? Steve, I can’t just—”

Steve’s touch grows firmer. Go. 

“No! I’m not fucking leaving you like—”

“Eddie.” It’s the weakest of whispers, Steve’s voice splintering with every syllable. “Go… see him.” 

Eddie shakes his head. Tears bite at his eyes but he pushes them back, angry at himself, because he wants to go, wants to see Wayne so badly that it hurts.

“You’re n-not…” Steve lifts up the mask, gasps through a shallow inhale, but he raises one hand, as if sensing Eddie’s unease. I’m okay. “Li…sten. Not running. Go.”

“But—”

“Go.” Steve gives a feeble flick of his hand, as if to say non-negotiable. “Will… be here when you’re… back.” He puts the mask back in place. “P-promise.”

I’ll hold you to that, Eddie thinks, but he can’t even speak when he leaves, watching numbly as a group of staff bustle over to Steve’s room, clipboards in hand. 

He’s alone. He’s alone in there, and I left him.

Perhaps Steve wanted it like this, but that thought is muted compared to the spiral of Eddie’s self-loathing as he walks away. No matter what Steve says, it still feels like running. Like a betrayal. 

-

When he enters the hotel room, the first thing he sees is the harsh red glare of the alarm clock. 1:17am. Then, there’s Wayne, sat in the desk chair, clearly kept up by his usual working hours. He’s doing the crossword; Eddie can see where he’s sketched out answers in pencil first before going over them in pen when he’s certain of the word.   

Maybe it’s the normality of the scene that does it. All Eddie knows is that he’s suddenly shaking, and he just lets his guitar fall to the ground when he’d normally cradle it, so Wayne is bound to notice something’s up, but Eddie can’t keep it together, and he doesn’t get it; he’s fine, so why—

“Eddie,” Wayne says. The chair is shoved back as he stands hurriedly, and he keeps Eddie upright with both hands around his forearms. “Sit down.”

Eddie sits on the bed heavily. There’s a distant roaring in his ears; he’s breathing too quickly. 

“It worked,” he says, but he can barely hear his own voice. “I-it—”

“All right,” Wayne cuts him off not unkindly. “That’s enough. Just breathe, Ed.”

Eventually each breath doesn’t seem to burn, and Eddie can hear other quieter sounds filtering through—Wayne carefully moving the guitar, the slow creak of the bed as he sits down next to him.

When Eddie raises his head, he sees that Wayne is looking down at his hands; it’s only then that he notices the red marks on his fingertips, inflamed from pressing against the guitar strings. 

“You gonna tell me?” Wayne asks. 

Eddie closes his eyes. “I...” He grapples for words. “You… you can’t un-know it.”

Wayne sighs. For a moment, Eddie thinks he’ll drop it, and they’ll move on, and that’ll be it: this big, unsayable thing between them forever.

Then Wayne rests a gentle hand on Eddie’s head, rocks once. “Try me.”

-

Wayne doesn’t interrupt; he listens to everything in silence. There’s no disbelief in his face—the only change in his expression is that his brow becomes more and more furrowed. Eddie can’t guess what he’s thinking, but perhaps, after everything that’s happened, this horrific explanation is easy to accept. Or maybe it’s because they have promised, years ago, that they would never lie to each other.

Weary, Eddie finds that he tells the story disjointedly, keeps having to double back on himself and clumsily repeat things—and even when he says things twice, he knows it’s still vague: how Steve’s fate went from a friend died to we’ve got a plan to bring him back.

And because exhaustion is weighing him down, he realises with a sinking feeling that he’s told everything in the wrong order. He hasn’t mentioned Chrissy.

At first, he doesn’t think he can. But then Wayne must sense a change, something wrong in his breathing again, because he puts his hand on Eddie’s knee, and his meaning is clear. You can tell me anything.

Stopping and starting over and over, Eddie finally tells his uncle how Chrissy Cunningham died. How it was an awful death, a painful one.

A lonely one.

“I left her there,” he says, and it feels like that’s never going to leave him, the shame and guilt crushing his chest. “Wayne, I—I left her all alone, and then y-you had to see her like—”

“Stop,” Wayne says. His eyes are wide with dismay, as if realising that this isn’t something he can solve by just taking Eddie away from it all; like when he pulled him away from the doorway when Eddie was a child, urging him not to look.

“I sh-should’ve fucking done something, Wayne. God, I should’ve h-helped her—”

“Eddie,” Wayne says, far more gently than Eddie deserves, “son, she was already dead.”

The words land, rock Eddie’s foundations.

“C’mere.” Wayne puts his arms around him, pulls him close. “It wasn’t your fault. You gotta know that, you hear me?”

“I…” Eddie grits his teeth. “Wayne, I—”

“After I called the police,” Wayne says gently, “I talked to her. Just… just in case she… you know?”

Eddie inhales raggedly. “Oh.”

“She did cheerleading, right?”

Eddie nods.

“Yeah, I can picture her. She was always real polite… Remember that show you had in middle school? And you made me carry half the damn band’s equipment when I came to pick you up?”

Eddie chokes through a surprised laugh. “Yeah.” “She came runnin’ across the parking lot while I was waiting on you. She’d found your guitar pick left on the stage and she didn’t know where you were. Said, ‘Mr. Munson, I wanted to make sure he got it back, he said it was his good luck charm.’”

Eddie doesn’t recall this, but he knows the exact guitar pick Wayne is referring to: the one he now wears around his neck to stop him from ever losing it. And instead of thinking about how she looked on that terrible night, an image forms in his head of what Wayne must have seen, of Chrissy running over, ponytail bouncing. Her happiness.

Death cannot take everything.

He sniffs. “I-I didn’t know that.”

Wayne sighs. “Oh, kid. Don’t let it break your heart.” He presses a kiss to Eddie’s temple, repeats softly, “It wasn’t your fault.”

And Eddie weeps.

-

He sleeps right through until noon. There’s a note left for him on the bedside cabinet when he wakes: Wayne saying that he’s helping with the Red Cross at the high school. He’s added a post-script, as if he received more information just as he was about to head out the door.

Hospital called. Steve Harrington awake & asking after you, said if you were sleeping to leave you be. Said he’s sitting up more & can talk without mask.

Eddie flips the paper over. He writes on autopilot for most of it, says that he’s packing another overnight bag for the hospital—he’s using the last of his salvaged shirts at this rate—and notes down Steve’s floor and room number. He goes to write a thank you to end the message, but that seems too small for last night; he doesn’t know how to put it all into words. Instead he puts Wayne’s crossword underneath the piece of paper, solves the ones Wayne had missed. 

It’s only when he’s walking through the hospital entrance that he realises that he’s  instinctively brought his guitar along, too. 

“Eddie?” 

He turns. It’s Robin, apprehensiveness rolling off her in waves as she searches Eddie’s face. “They—they called and said…?” She trails off, like she’s hardly daring to believe it, like if she says it out loud, everything will be taken back.

“Yeah,” Eddie says quickly. He holds her gaze and nods firmly. “He woke up.” 

She gasps, surges forward and practically jumps on top of him. He has to move just so she doesn’t end up with the body of the guitar knocking against her stomach, shifts his stance so he’s half holding her up by the waist. 

“Holy freaking shit, Eddie, oh my God, oh my God,” she’s babbling. Her hair is tickling Eddie’s cheek, and then she’s planting a sudden, sweet kiss there, a little wet from her crying. 

Eddie hugs her back, and he can’t help himself, jokingly complaining, “Gross, are you wearing lipstick, Buckley?”

Robin pulls back and laughs. “‘Fraid so,” she says in the tone of someone delivering grave news. “The glittery kind, too.” 

As they let go of each other, a passing-by nurse catches Eddie’s eye, appears to give a knowing smile. 

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” Eddie says once she’s gone, and he starts giggling. “Hate to break it to you, but she definitely thinks we’re together.” 

Robin shakes her head with a wide grin. Then, barely missing a beat, she drops into an uncanny impression of Humphrey Bogart: “We’ll always have Paris.” 

Eddie keeps laughing, as they climb the stairs two at a time to Steve’s room. “We’re so weird.” 

Robin clutches his hand. “Yeah,” she says, her smile a tiny, secret thing, just for them. “I’m glad we’re weird.”

And it sounds like she’s saying much more. 

-

Steve is awake when they rush in, sitting up with his pillows supporting his upper back rather than his head. There’s a reassuring colour to his cheeks. 

When he sees Robin, his whole face lights up with the biggest smile. His lips are cracked slightly, marks of painful looking indentations around his mouth from the mask that have Eddie inwardly wincing. 

“Oh, God, who let you in?” Steve asks Robin with a cheeky drawl; and his voice is strong, barely a rasp within it. 

“Shut up, you moron,” Robin sobs.

She hugs him, mindful of the bandages around his stomach, just peeking out from underneath the sheets. 

Steve holds her tight. Over the top of her head, he catches Eddie’s eye. “Is that glitter on your cheek?” He raises an eyebrow and smirks, and for some reason it suddenly feels like all three of them are sharing some private joke, especially when Steve adds, almost sing-song, “Should I be jealous?” and Robin promptly flicks his forehead. 

It’s all so normal, and for a while, Eddie feels a physical lightness, as if there’s a bubble in the room filled with utter, complete happiness.

But when Robin pulls back, Eddie notices that there’s a subtle fixed look to Steve’s smile, there one minute and gone the next—like if the hug had gone on for a moment longer, his composure might have crumbled.

“You’re looking good, Harrington,” Eddie says quietly, and though it’s said sincerely, he offers it more as an out for Steve, even though he doesn’t quite get what Steve is trying to escape.

Steve’s face flickers with something like relief before he grins again. “Thanks, man. They’ve got me on the good stuff.”

Eddie nods absently. It’s not like that’s a lie; whatever miracle-working drugs Steve’s been given have clearly strengthened his lungs, allowed him to go from practically voiceless to talkative literally overnight. But there’s more to it than that, in the way Steve is sitting up as straight as he can, like he’s proving a point. It makes Eddie suspect that, as soon as he’d left, Steve had tried to speedrun recovery while no-one was looking.

“Had to sweet talk a nurse to get them to call you,” Steve says. “They said phone lines are crazy right now, keep going dead or engaged or…” 

“I can try and get through.” Eddie stands. When he’d gone past reception, he’d seen that the lines for the limited phones available were already snaking round the corridors; it’ll be one hell of a waiting game. “Do you wanna call someone else?”

Steve nods slightly; his eyes flit to the side, and his expression turns sombre. He’s looking at Dustin’s walkie. “I’d better give this back to him, huh?” 

“I’ll go,” Eddie insists. 

Robin smiles at him with clear gratitude, moves her chair closer to Steve’s bed. 

It takes just under two hours for Eddie to get through to Dustin; thankfully he’s the one who picks up. Eddie had half expected some kind of celebration on the other end, like how Dustin had been when Steve’s song was discovered, but instead the conversation is much more subdued and short-lived, as if Dustin wants to finish it as quickly as possible so he can head to the hospital. 

“Henderson’s coming,” Eddie says as he walks back into Steve’s room. “Said he’ll be there as soon as…”

His voice fades away at the sight of Steve’s eyes being closed. 

But just as he falls silent, Steve starts to speak, voice clear and alert. 

“Not sleeping,” Steve says. “Just resting my eyes.” 

And that really does seem to be true, because Steve’s face never once slackens into sleep.

Eddie looks at Robin, trying to voice a silent question in his eyes, but she just shrugs helplessly.

-

Eddie finds Dustin at the end of the corridor on Steve’s floor. 

“There you are!” Eddie says. “Wait, dude, where’s your crutches?” 

“I forgot them,” Dustin says, a bit shortly. “It’s not really a fracture, I’ll be fine.” He seems unaware that that’s not exactly reassuring. 

“O…kay,” Eddie says. “C’mon, he can’t wait to see you.” 

But Dustin doesn’t move. Eddie suddenly worries that he’s been standing right there for a while. 

“Hey,” Eddie says. He sticks out a hand. “He’s really okay, Dustin.” 

Silently, Dustin takes Eddie’s hand. 

As they get closer to Steve’s room, they cross paths with Robin.

“Vending machine is calling my name,” she says breezily. She pretends to dive for Dustin like a football tackle, then ruffles his hair before he can dodge her. “Hi, genius child.” 

“Get off,” Dustin says with an eye roll, a cocky grin, but his nerves are still obvious. When Robin leaves, when they face the doorway, he drops Eddie’s hand and walks through alone; and Eddie thinks that this, beyond anything, is one of the bravest things he’s seen.

He tentatively enters the room when he can’t hear any conversation going on. When he does, he’s just in time to see Steve startle at Dustin’s appearance, blinking like he’s been wrenched from a deep train of thought. 

“Hey!” he calls. He shifts in bed, straightens up even more. 

But Dustin doesn’t move. Eddie holds his breath, tiptoes over to stand beside him, not touching.

Steve is frowning, eyes on Dustin. “Oh, bud, what happened to your leg?” he says with dismay; and it says so much, that he can tell with one glance, without any crutches in sight. 

Dustin’s hands are shaking, clenched into fists. Eddie can hear his uneven breathing. 

“Dustin,” Steve says. One of his hands is braced against the mattress, like he’d be on his feet and running over if only he could. “Dustin, I’m so sorry.”

Dustin shakes his head. “No,” he whispers. “No, fuck you, you don’t get to—to say that.”

Steve’s face falls. “I… I get it, dude,” he says. “It’s—”

“No!” Dustin says, and he stalks forward despite his limp, and one of his fists comes up to beat against Steve’s chest, and Steve just lets it happen. “No, you—it’s not okay, it’s—”

“Hey,” Steve murmurs. He catches Dustin’s hand in his own, a gentle and protective hold. “Dustin, hey, it’s—”

“Shut up!” Dustin wails. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m—”

And as he’s speaking, he falls against Steve, and Steve’s arms wrap around him. 

“I…” Dustin hiccups, gasps—cries without restraint, like a child. Because he is one. “I don’t hate you.”

“Shh,” Steve says. “I know, I know.” He presses a kiss to the top of Dustin’s head, then hugs him tight; and Eddie watches as Steve’s face briefly crumples, before he visibly pulls himself together. “Everything’s okay. Hey, shh, shh. We’re okay, we’re okay.” 

Eddie steps out and silently closes the door behind him.

-

Robin pats a spot on the floor next to her, hands him a couple of candy bars. 

“Has he… talked to you?” Eddie asks. 

Robin sighs. “Nope.” She nudges him until Eddie takes a bite out of the candy, then adds, “You?” 

Eddie shakes his head. He thinks back to the blur of last night. “He… just kinda got me talking without really...”

Robin nods sadly. “Yeah. He’s good at that.” 

-

It’s late evening, and Robin and Dustin have long since left, when Steve’s determined resolve begins to fail him. His eyes drift shut in increasingly lengthy blinks, lulled by the dim light.

Eddie quietly draws the curtains. Then he exhales a little laugh when he turns back round to find Steve trying to keep his head up.

“For Christ’s sake, Harrington.” 

“M’not sleeping,” Steve says, though he sounds halfway to dreaming as he speaks. 

“Take the hint, man.” Eddie reaches over, gently guides Steve until he’s lying down properly. “You need rest.” 

As he moves the pillows, he feels a warm puff of air against his hands, Steve’s breathing already slow and deep. “Don’ need to… stay if you don’…” Steve sighs, turns to the side, one cheek pressing into the pillow. “M’kinda boring.” 

“Shut up,” Eddie says gently. And he stops himself from saying something stupid like You, boring? Think that’s impossible, because Steve has already fallen asleep.

-

Eddie doesn’t know what rouses him initially, just knows that he’s lifting his head up from the little couch he’s settled on. 

He hears an indecipherable murmur in the darkness. Blinking blearily, he whispers, “Steve?”

“Dustin…? Dustin…”

Eddie sits up. “He went home, remember?” he says, tries to ensure his voice isn’t harsh, but is still loud enough to break through whatever Steve is dreaming about.

“Dustin…” A quiet, low moan.

Eddie rises, stumbles over. “Steve? Steve, wake up.” 

Steve moans again. “Oh, God, no, no—”

Eddie clumsily switches on a lamp, revealing Steve’s face turning side to side, muscles in his neck strained, eyebrows drawn in distress. 

“Steve, it’s just a dream, you’ve gotta—”

“He’s dead,” Steve says brokenly. “They’re dead, they’re all—oh, God—”

“Wake up,” Eddie says. He grabs Steve’s shoulders and shakes, uncaring if it’s abrupt; he just needs it all to stop now. “No-one’s dead, Steve, come on, you’re—”

Steve wakes with a start, breathing heavily. Eddie instinctively lifts his hands off his shoulders, but Steve looks even more panicked at that, so he immediately returns them, keeps his touch light but there.

“Hey, you with me? Just a dream,” Eddie repeats.

“Oh,” Steve says, like he’s been winded. “Oh.”

“Here, you want a drink? There’s some water on…” Eddie reaches for a glass, but Steve just says, “No,” and covers his face with his hands.

“I’m sorry, I’m—”

“Steve, you don’t have to—”

“Just go back to sleep, I’ll be—”

“Yeah, that’s not happening. You sure you don’t want a—?”

Steve’s hands fall away, and he bows his head. “Eddie,” he says. His voice breaks. “I can’t.”

Eddie perches on the bed. “Hey, all right, that’s—”

And everything he was going to say dies in his throat as Steve’s head comes to rest on his shoulder. A growing wet patch forms.

And he stays very still as Steve shakes with silent sobs.

Almost silent.

“S-sorry. I’m sorry, I-I’m sorry…”

Steve takes shallow, desperate breaths. Eddie can feel his lips trembling against his skin.

And then Steve holds onto Eddie’s forearm with a harsh grip, knuckles turning white.

Eddie suddenly remembers that awful moment, right before the end of everything. I can’t feel you.

“Hey. Hey, hey, I’ve got you,” Eddie murmurs. Gently, gently, he puts a hand on Steve’s nape, cradles the back of his head. Feel that? God, please let him feel it… “I’m here. I’m right here.”

[radiant-reid]

hii could u write a blurb about spencer - he doesn’t REALLY need his glasses, he’s gone without them for months but reader has to start wearing prescription glasses and hates it. so to make her feel better, spence starts to wear his glasses too (THIS IS BASC HIM IN HIS SEASON 2 ERA GLASSES) thanks cate! always appreciate ur writings <3

Thank you <3

Although you didn’t hate them as much as you hated every other pair in store, you still hated the glasses you were being forced to wear. Stupid FBI policy dictates that you have to get your eyes checked every year, and after avoiding last year’s by joining the BAU team after, this year you failed. Which means you’re stuck wearing glasses until your contacts arrive.

And of course, Spencer, your work crush, notices on the elevator ride up to the sixth floor. “I like your glasses.” He compliments.

You don’t even consider that he could truly mean it. Past experience tells you that boys don’t like girls that wear glasses. They don’t make you look cool like Penelope’s make her look, you just think they make you look nerdy.

“Thanks.” You say, trying to shut the conversation down.

Spencer notices that, too, and he begins to notice you talking less to avoid drawing attention to yourself and ducking your head when you’re introduced to people. Even Morgan won’t tease you about it.

So he starts wearing his. The first day you see them on him when he walks in for a briefing, you think it’s a joke. “Really, Reid?” You ask, glaring at him.

It only confuses everyone. It’s hard to look at him and be upset when he looks so adorable in his glasses, so you ignore him the whole case briefing.

He catches up with you near your desk once Hotch calls wheels up. “You know I need my glasses too.” He tells you. It’s half-true. He needs something to help him see properly, but that’s usually contacts, and he’s not going to tell you that.

“Do you actually?” You ask flatly. “Or is this a joke.”

“I’m not really a joking type of person.” He replies, not giving you an answer. “But I’m not wearing them to make fun of you. You don’t seem to like how yours look so I thought that if I wore mine, you wouldn’t feel… alone. I don’t know, it was stupid.” He quickly backtracks.

You shake your head, reaching out to grab his arm before he can step away. “Thank you.” You say. “I appreciate it. I just don’t think they suit me.”

“For what it’s worth, I think they make you look really pretty.” It’s worth a lot, but he doesn’t need to know just how much yet.

[magolandandfriends]

Hello Magolor and friends, I have been watching your tale play out for a while and its interesting to me. I also brought a gift *place four bags of popeye's chicken in front of them* Its four chicken tender family meals making it 64 pieces of chicken twenty biscuits 20 sauces and 8 sides. I didn't know what you may want so I got 4 sides of fries, 2 sides of mashed potatoes and 2 sides of mac and cheese. Oh right and before I forget I had two questions. First, Magolor are you feeling any side effects from your little heatstroke incident. Second, I saw that Zan Partizanne and Susie are a couple so I was wondering if anyone else among the four of you (sans susie given my earlier point) or other people you know are in relationships. - The Wanderer, Guardian of Omndell

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆ ⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆ ⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

[ They’re all happy. Very happy. Certified :D moment. ]

Magolor: No I haven’t been feeling any kind of side effects! It’s been a month since I fainted I’m doing perfectly fine! No need to worry!

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆ ⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆ ⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

[QUESTION 2 ANSWERED VV]

Susie: That’s oddly specific-

Taranza: Trust me if I knew why I would tell you but- also don’t tell Marx I told you this I’ll never hear the end of it

Susie: oh don’t worry I won’t. I’ll just use this information to mess with him

Wanderer belongs to: @the-omndell-chronicles !!

(…. It’s been. Almost a month. Since I answered an ask. And it’s been. Almost 3 months. Since I’ve gotten this ask. Um. So how y’all doing)

(Anyways HOLY FUCJING SHIT ITS BEEN ALMOST A MONTH SINCE I FED YOU GUYS WITH MY ASKS IM SO DAMN SORRY- like I said before- college started, i had to wait for my new iPad to arrive, I have to do actual assignments now and I’ve been B U S Y, and this ask wAS SUPER LONG- I had to restart it twice because I wasn’t happy with how it was turning out)

(BUT WOWWWWWIE THIS ONE WAS A FUN ONE. EVEN THOUGH I RESTARTED THE SCRIPT DURING THE WORKINF PROGRESSES THIS ONE WAS A FUN ONE AND I ENJOYED IT. I NEED TO PROPERLY PREPARE MYSELF FOR THESW LONG ASKS-)

(AND DAILY REMINDER ESPECIALLY WITH LIFE STARTINF TO GET MORE BUSY FOR ME. YOURE ASKS ARENT BEING IGNORED. NOT ONLY AM I LETTING A WHEEL PICK FOR ME BUT IM SUPER BUSY NOW. This time I’m going to focus on the asks from July before I go back to the wheel BUT hopefully now that this big one is finished they’ll come out quickly- I’ll try to get 1-2 out by the weekends but if not then please forgive me)

(And to those that read my tags on posts that were marx and Magolor focused- where I get extra silly. Yes this is technically a part where it starts to pick up but it’s more of a prologue if anything so do with that what you will)

(Ok anything else I wanna say- oh yes- Magolor isn’t lying he hasn’t been experiencing any side effects that were linked to the fainting incident. But his friends are keeping and extra close eye on him when the weather is hotter than usual. Man I hope something like that doesn’t happen again that would be cra-)

(OKOK ONE LAST BIT IF IMPORTANT INFO- I normally draw characters from the magoverse for silly and fun but this time I tried to draw this askers OC wanderer for fun- I tried goikg based off the text post that was on their profile but if I messed anything up then I DEEPLY apologize- I’ll try to make fixes if I don’t forget-)

[ryuichirou]

Replies

Lots of love for the Tweels today (possibly related to our latest drawing of them and Idia)! And some other asks :3

Anonymous asked:

why is wallace old there? < never watched scott pilgrim

We get to see his older version in one episode of the anime, and I just couldn’t ignore it. I had to draw him 😭

Anonymous asked:

have u every watched bungo stray dogs... i think u might like it

We watched like 2 seasons I think? It was ages ago, so I don’t remember anything. But we did like Akutagawa; we even have some old and ugly Akutagawa sketches somewhere in this blog…

Anonymous asked:

rip idia 😔

Yeah, that poor thing…

Anonymous asked:

jade and floyd give me extreme cuteness aggression 😭😭😭

I’m glad to hear that hehehe <3 Jade and Floyd themselves are such massive cuteness aggressors so they would relate lol

Anonymous asked:

NEED to inject mafioso fish into my bloodstream

Who doesn’t… a lot of people, probably, that sounds dangerous!

Anonymous asked:

you characterize (the tweels) a lot more sadistic than other people do (i like it!!!!)... im curious how you think they'd react to being petted on :)

Thank you so much! Yeah, we always loved giving characters a bit of a darker twist to their personalities, but honestly with the Tweels it’s way too natural and pretty much canon in a lot of ways lol We really really love this about them. When it comes to cruel, unfair, messed up and freaky scenarios, they’re the perfect fit. I’m glad you like it!

To answer your question, well these two are unpredictable, but in general I feel like they don’t like being touched. Or rather, they would prefer to be the ones who’s petting, because they’re annoying like that lol But who knows, sometimes they might even demand petting.

(did I understand your question right? If not, I apologise)

kitsunegdx asked:

Hi hello hi this may sound like a dumb question but what is the story behind the Friday the 13th image of Azul n Idia :3? I am obsessed with the composition and was curious if there was a story

Hi! <3 It’s not dumb at all.

I explained it in this reply! Long story short, there isn’t much of a story, but…

furubatsu asked:

In between sending that ask about the Trey Vignette and you answering, I managed to go back and find it. I play the US version of the game so IDK if it's different in the Japanese version. It's the R School Unifrom Vignette "Open your mouths".

It starts with Ace and Deuce (I can't believe Ace was part of this and I didn't remember. RIP I him guess) brushing their teeth before lights out, Ace is done but Deuce reminds him of some insane rule like "You gotta brush twice on tuesdays" or something and Ace laughs it off, not like Riddle will know except Trey is there and tells them he won't tell Riddle if they do it right and does the mouth inspection. Deuce just gives a confued "Um??" while Ace calls him out like "That is NOT in the rulebook", it causes Trey to realise he's letting his Weirdness(tm) show and he explains that his siblings are young enough that playfully making sure they brushed properly is normal and he just kinda did it on instinct. Though Trey does offer to "help" the boys brush their teeth after that, it then ends with Trey "accidentally" doing another oral inspection on the boys and this time the noises/reactions they have doe imply he did something to their mouths ("Awough?!" reads more like the noise of something being put in your moth than a simple "Um" at least) so....

Thanks for the recap and for bringing this whole thing up! We watched the vignette, and oh god…

The more I look at Trey, the more “a psycho pervert who learned how to pretend to be a normal human being” sounds like something that could describe him lol Some people (like Ace or Vil) keep sensing that there is something sus about him, some people (like Rook or Idia) know for the fact that there is something wrong about him, and some people just think that he is a swell fellow that’s always very supportive and caring and wouldn’t do anything weird (like Deuce and Riddle) and I absolutely love it lol

The fact that Trey just kept going “oops sorry it’s a habit”, like is this that much of an automatic thing to you??

Mister Clover, don’t put your fingers in their mouths… alright, you can keep it in Deuce’s.

[writerpey]

Little!Wednesday - Woe is Me

I’ve been wanting to write more little wednesday recently, so here’s a ficlet I wrote about her first time regressing away from home. I headcanon that she actually regresses at home quite often but isn’t always aware of it, so when it happens at nevermore it’s quite different, and a little scary for her. (and not in the way she likes!) characters include enid, thing, thornhill and xavier. enjoy! <3 pls let me know if u would enjoy a part 2!

Wednesday wasn’t quite prepared for how miserable she would feel today. Not that she would complain, as a day of misery was a necessary accomplishment for the Addams girl, but it was surprising nonetheless.

It had started off the same as any other day. The sound of pop music flooded out from Enid’s phone, jolting Wednesday awake when she had been up until dawn just a couple hours prior, clacking away at her typewriter.

“Good morning! I would say I’m sorry, Weds, but this is justice for the constant clicky-clacky.” Enid’s chipper statement clipped Wednesday’s ears and was met with a cat-like growl from the dark-haired girl in response.

Wednesday pulled herself out of bed ruefully and casted an especially dark gaze at Enid. Looking out of the large window of their shared room, she was pleased to see that the sky was perfectly overcast and gloomy. Going through the motions of changing and fixing her braids was automatic, but the day began to shift when Wednesday sat down for breakfast at the dining hall with Enid.

The bustle of gorgon boys and the chattering of the siren girls in the hall had changed this morning. Rather than being just the right amount of annoyance to Wednesday’s ears, the noise grated at her head instead. The girl shook her head faintly, willing the feeling to disappear. But it didn’t.

“Enid.” Wednesday said, getting the werewolf’s attention away from the magazine she had spread out in front of her. Enid hummed, glancing at Wednesday, then double-taking at the look on the brooding girl’s face.

“Are you okay? You look… Disturbed. More than usual, I mean.” She said, frowning at Wednesday. It was off-putting that she was able to read her usually unreadable friend.

“I don’t know.” Wednesday replied honestly, shaking her head again. “It’s too loud in here. I have to leave.”

With that, Wednesday stood from her seat in a flash and made an escape.

“Wednesday, wait—!” Enid’s voice faded as Wednesday ignored her and got as far away from the hall as possible.

As she found her way to the quad, in the fresh air and under the cloudy sky, Wednesday took a deep breath in the morning chill. She raised a hand and pressed it against her chest, feeling the pounding of her heart and willing it to slow to its normal state of near death. After taking a moment to check if her surroundings were clear, Wednesday sat on the edge of the quad’s fountain in a huff. Her school uniform was pinching her shoulders uncomfortably, her braids didn’t feel even on both sides, and most of all, her head felt fuzzy. The girl rubbed her cheek against her shoulder in itchiness. All she wanted to do was go back to her room and change into one of her sweaters and read a book with Thing. But the Nevermore bell rang out, and she picked herself up and dragged her feet to class.

The dangerous display of venus flytraps offered just enough horror to lift Wednesday’s attention in class as the lesson for the day began. Yet unexpected misery came crashing in the form of Xavier Thorpe into his seat and his constant need to talk to Wednesday.

“Wednesday, Wednesday, watch this!” He whispered for the sixth time in twenty minutes. His drawings of creepy and crawly bugs lifted from the page and made their way toward the shared venus flytrap that sat on their lab bench.

Wednesday couldn’t help that her attention turned from Thornhill to Xavier’s bugs. There were so many of them! And she just had to watch and see if the plant would really eat them. Finally, Xavier had done something fascinating enough to capture Wednesday’s attention.

The loud slam of a textbook over the bugs caused them to dissipate into the air in a black puff, and it also made Wednesday flinch harshly. In an instant, Thornhill had snatched the flytrap away from their desk and launched into a loud rant about respect that grated against Wednesday and made her stomach roll.

Usually she wouldn’t care, but usual didn’t seem to be a word she would describe today as. She silently listened to Thornhill, mouth uncharacteristically closed from any witty response or defense. With their plant taken away and replaced with a textbook, Xavier and Wednesday were given an alternative assignment to complete rather than the task of joyfully feeding live bugs to the flytraps.

Wednesday was glad at least to see the look of guilt on Xavier’s face, but she was much less enthused when he expected her to talk when she felt like doing the opposite.

“Wednesday, I said I was sorry.” Xavier huffed loudly, waving a hand in front of Wednesday’s face as she focused on the book in front of them. “Can’t you say something? Or anything?” He continued complaining, groaning and pushing the textbook away from her.

Wednesday’s hands reached up to tug softly at her braids, an action that she used to ground herself. She did it at home when Father was too late returning to the house, when Mother told her she couldn’t sleep with Nero in her bed, and when Pugsley was being sickeningly kind. It was as if— Oh. Suddenly, Wednesday understood, and she shrunk into herself. No one else was meant to see her when she felt so outside of herself, so small. Her hand shot up, and Xavier groaned again.

“Yes, Wednesday?” Thornhill came up to the desk, her nails drumming against its surface.

“I feel unwell. I need to leave.” The girl said, voice quiet but still monotonous.

Thornhill raised an eyebrow at her in doubt. “So suddenly? There’s no need to get out of the assignment, dear. You and Xavier are more than capable.”

“I know you don’t believe me, but this is a life or death matter.” Wednesday responded quickly, eyes flitting to Xavier to see if he’d help her because he was always keen to. Instead, he stayed quiet, smiling and seeming to enjoy Wednesday’s debacle. She cursed him internally.

“And why might that be?” The teacher further pressed, putting her hands on her hips indignantly.

Wednesday tugged on one of her braids even harsher than before. She could feel her words starting to jumble in her brain, even before they could get to her mouth. “I… I…”

Wednesday’s inability to form a response wiped the cheeky grin off Xavier’s face. “I think she’s about to throw up.” He lied on the spot, getting up from his seat and backing up dramatically.

Luckily enough, someone piped up from across the classroom honestly. “Is she sick? I heard something’s going around!”

Thornhill took a half step back from the desk. “Okay, no need to convince me further. Wednesday, honey, I’m going to get Xavier to take you up to see the nurse, alright?”

Wednesday nodded, her head full of clouds and stomach full of butterflies. She wasn’t even aware Xavier was talking to her until they were halfway to the nurse. The girl stopped in her tracks in the hallway and spun around, on her way to Ophelia Hall.

“Just stop for a second, will you?” The boy put a firm hand on Wednesday’s shoulder to stop her.

“Don’ touch me!” She exclaimed loudly, stopping in her tracks and snatching herself away from his touch. Wednesday knew the outburst would require an uncomfortable explanation, but she felt much too young to do anything about it now.

“Woah, woah, I’m sorry. I won’t.” Xavier held his hands up, backing away from her to give her some space. “Can you just tell me what’s going on? You don’t seem… Right.” He awkwardly asked, assessing her with an intensity he usually saved for when she wasn’t aware of his presence.

Wednesday tipped her chin down to the floor, looking at her shoes. His words were almost a carbon copy of Enid’s earlier in the morning. She shook her head, saying, “Can’t.”

“You can’t?” The boy echoed, brow furrowing in confusion. “Okay, well, at least let me take you wherever you’re going.”

Wednesday looked up at him with wide eyes, her own brow pinched into a scowl. But she nodded anyways, and continued in the direction of her dorm. Xavier trailed next to her quietly, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. He couldn’t walk with her once they made it to the doors to Ophelia Hall, as boys were restricted.

“Wednesday, hey, before you go…” Xavier started, bending down to look Wednesday in the eye as she wouldn’t look up. “Listen, I don’t know what’s going on with you, but if you need someone… A friend, you know where to find me.” He stumbled on his words, especially when Wednesday started pulling at the collar of her shirt and shifted her weight on her feet. “Okay, okay, I won’t keep you any longer.”

With that, Wednesday disappeared through the door, finally making it up the stairs to her dorm room. The haze in her mind had completely settled, and it even began to become comfortable once she changed out of her uniform and into one of her big striped sweaters.

Thing noticed her early arrival, and pattered his way from her desk to her bed, where she had plopped down cross legged and was attempting to redo her braids.

“Hello, Thing.” She said, her soft, monotonous but less abrasive than her usual.

You’re back. Thing signed. Are you little? He pinched his thumb and index finger and left a small space in between them to ask.

Wednesday nodded, her tongue coming out as she focused on her braids, brow furrowing. Thing walked up her arm and softly batted her hands away, taking it upon himself to fix her hair. The girl felt a weight leave her shoulders, the mere action of Thing helping her with something so simple allowing her to rest in her headspace.

When he finished she ran her hands down her braids, pleased with the symmetry and smoothness. Thing then scuttled away, digging underneath Wednesday’s bed for something. The girl laid on her stomach on the bed and leaned over to look, her braids dangling and bangs reacting in the same fashion as she watched Thing upside down. Finally, he pulled out what he was looking for: a copy of the Grimm Brother’s Fairy Tales. The corners of Wednesday’s mouth curled into a cruel smile, as she grew excited to flip through the horrific book.

“Thank you, Thing.” She said gratefully, taking the book and opening it on the bed in front of herself. He crawled up and sat next to the book, offering to turn the pages for her. As gleefully as possible, Wednesday read the book of fairy tales and smiled at the woe that befell the characters.

For now, she was little and safe for the first time at Nevermore. And Wednesday didn’t know what she would say when Enid would come back to their room later the day, but with Thing, she would figure it out.

[satorisoup]

yaayayyay hai again lene!!

what are a few songs that are/would be on koene's playlist :3

do u like carnivals/amusement parks? if yes,, what are ur favourite rides :0

TMNT. didn't plan any q's. Um. any headcanons that are 100% canon to u. what are some of ur fav things about/moments for donnie !!! Feel Free 2 Explain and Ramble as much as u'd like. 🙂‍↕️🫵 if u think it'll make this post long I will also accept a separate post of just tmnt. i do want rhe tmnt thoguh.👍👍

UWAHHH NIA MY PRECIOUS PETUNIA !! ⸜(*ˊᗜˋ*)⸝ omigoodness… i fear i could not stop the ramble with this one !! you are spoiling me with such lovely questions !! ^_^ YEOW !!

koene playlist ?

oki so, i don’t have like a list of songs for a playlist because i for some reason am not good with that but !! i do have atleast one specific special song that i associate with each selfship so i will give you koene’s mwuehehe !! :3 if i ever do have a list of songs though… you will be the first to know nia 🙂‍↕️

so, the number one song on there is definitely somethin’ stupid by frank sinatra !! in all of my previous themes, that was the song i incorporated because it just reminds me of koene soso much SOB !! </3

i also have a song a associate with keilene’s first dance at their wedding !! :0

also, this is just something silly for you but have you heard bokuto’s dub ( ian sinclair ) singing before ?? if you haven’t i’m about to change your life nia… PLEASE IGNORE what’s going on in the video HELP ?? but he sounds so delicious and EXACTLY like bokuto YAHOO yummy :3 i’ve been obsessed with it since i first heard it in 2021 >//< here’s the linkiedink 🍓 !!

carnivals / amusement parks ?

YES !! i love amusement parks as long as it’s not scorching hot and super duper busy </3 waiting in those lines is a treacherous task for me i fear…

my favorite rides !! i love big super fast rollar coasters, those are my favorite !! also those rides that specifically make your stomach drop & make you tingly ?? like the big ones that drop you from super high up ?? those are supa fun !!

idk if you know what knotts berry farm is but they have a ride called “ supreme scream ” which drops you from 252 feet up almost all the way down before it bounces you ?? its like a big version of those bouncy kiddy rides ^_^

and then the most famous rides they have there are ghost rider & silver bullet THEY ARE SOSOSO MUCH FUN !! T^T if you ride ghost rider at night, it goes faster which is super fun and its VERY fast and long which is always a blast 🙂‍↕️ silver bullet is also extremely fast and your feet dangle when you ride it, very very fun i love it YAHOO !!

tmnt ?

oh goodness nia… you have awoken a beast in me… that beast being the never ending tmnt rambling lene AWOOO !! 🐺 please bare with me im sure this is a lot to read… ouh… very sorry </3

headcanons first YEOW YEAGHH !! 🫨

donnie :

— this guy… this handsome nerd… this man. it is canon in the 2012 verse, but in all verses for me i like to believe he has a tooth gap <3 tooth gaps are so attractive to me :>

— he collects mugs 👍 he probably has multiple different mugs with random sayings on them that he uses to drink his coffee !!

— sleeper build YEOWWW !!!! he’s supposed to be the lanky one ( which is why i love him ) but you can see it in his arms that he’s incredibly strong… he has nice biceps that aren’t necessarily prominent to the eye but they’re definitely there… see images below… yummy :3

— he needs glasses 100% 🙂‍↕️ but the reason why he needs glasses is because he started wearing random ones he found that were definitely not his prescription, so now he actually needs them sigh T^T canon glasses wearer in the mutant mayhem & bayverse but i definitely doubt those were his prescription…

— probably has a couple of burn scars from his experiments going wrong… mayhaps even a scar on his face from it…

— speaking of scars i think he busted his lip once when training so, lip scar… yes… hold i must draw it for you methinks 🫵

yeah… yeagh toji ? no. donatello hamato hes so beautiful i want him to be my boyfriend do you think he’d say yes be honest hahah… !!

— i feel like he’s very sarcastic which is pretty canon i think ( ?? ) considering the amount of jokes he made in the 2012 ver teehee :> that one sound on tiktok that went viral… nobody else knew where it came from BUT I DID !! IT WAS DONNIE !! I KNEW !! YES !! linkiedink 🍓 for what im talking about YEOW !!

— absolutely love the ideas of the little freckles/marks ( ? ) on him too in every universe !!

— flexible, i feel like he could do the splits ?? but also flexible in a way where its considered creepy, like bending his fingers all the way back and being able to curl in on himself ^_^

— obsessed with olive green donnie, i absolutely adore it !! the olive skin tone definitely brings out the mask color :> also has amber eyes in every universe, very deep and very pretty !!

— has a very nice voice, will read for you to sleep, very soothing and very caring for his partner !! YIPEPEE !!

raph :

i can’t even explain how much i love him and how much i want to smooch him and have him be my boyfriend but trust me the feelings are there 👍👍👍 i love him <3

— FANGS !!!!! fangs fangs fangs YEOWOWW !! absolutely obsessed with the idea that he has one poking out at all times :> sharp teeth for a sharp guy mhm mhm 🙂‍↕️

hold on… must draw this for you too… yes 🫵

yeah !! the fangs AWOO they are there… they are sharp

— is it impractical for a mutant turtle to have piercings ? maybe… do i think he has an eyebrow ( ? ) piercings ? yes !! ^_^ i think this guy likes piercings, probably has a lip one too mhm :3

— his mask is torn up… canon in 2012 because it just fits him so much !! i also feel like the bottom of his mask is a bit more pointy especially by the eyes <3

— definitely has a lot of scars !! the lips and on his eye, he’s a fighter so he’s definitely gotten some battle scars to show :3

— CRACKED !! SHELL !! ALL OVER !! i know im naming a lot of canon things but i want more </3 more cracks, more scars… more more more !!

— i get the feeling he can cook… idk what he’s cooking in the sewers but he has some serious talent that i sense ??

— strongest in terms of physical strength, he has leo beat >_< raw, defined, big muscles, maybe even beefy moobs… turtle moobs… toobs ?? he has man shell pecs… yeah !!

— secretly likes plushies, has a couple on his bed but always leaves his door locked from the inside, keeps a key on him… they’re soft and make good pillows what can he say ??

— this was inevitable but very protective over his partner, does NOT allow anyone to yell or disrespect them whatsoever !!

— JERSEY ACCENT OMIGOODNESS. absolutely has that lil jersey tang to his voice ouhhhh :3 also the toothpick thats always in his mouth in bayverse… yeah…all universes…CANON FOR ME !! YES !!

the headcanons ramble ends here because i fear i am YAPPING i feel very bad… very sorry … ouh </3 i could come up with more about them personally/in relationships maybe if you ever want to hear please send an askie i will do it for you nia nya👍👍👍

fav donnie moments ?

— 2007 donnie and his job… poor guy… it’s not that kind of phone line !! >:3 linkiedink 🍓

— SMOOOOTH donatello HELP he is so silly T^T linkiedink 🍓

— him vs tigerclaw was so good, just absolutely loved season 3 and his whole vision quest outfit !! linkiedink 🍓

— angry donnie vs visioso, such a good scene !! the whole voice drop, mhm mhm yummy <3 linkiedink 🍓

— the underwater “ not that kind of sub ” scene will always be famous to me it was so funny to me at the time PLS </3 linkiedink 🍓

oki, now here are some edits for you because i can’t help myself :3 they’re not the most amazing ever but the idea is there… i had to share…ouh… ^_^

2012 raph here & here & HERE

— he is so… <3333333333 !!!! :3

2012 donnie here & here

— THE SCENE OF HIM WALKING BACKWARDS OUHHHH YEAGH !!!! WOOO YEAH !!

bayverse raph here

— bayverse raph… gosh… i want him to carry me on his shoulders he is so huge and beefy and boyfriend… yummy T^T

2007 raph (& leo ??) here & here

— i absolutely LOVED raphs 2007 design so much, his costume was soso cool PHEWWW YEOWWWZA !! ^_^ :3 >_< :p >//<

bayverse edit here

— this entire edit is just so cool… i had to share it… i love love love… yes !! <3

and that ends my seemingly endless tmnt ramble again i am so sorry i got carried away… hides behind hands while i sob… forgive me nia </3

also i am so glad you understand me because it seems as though many do not !! my best friend absolutely hates when i talk about anything to do with it and calls me a weirdo so… heh… i will take my chances here on tumblr.com 🙂‍↕️🫵

THANK YOU FOR ALL OF THESE QUESTIONS NIA !! & thank you for letting me ramble SOB </3 i absolutely cherish you and appreciate you teehee !! :3 wishing you the bestest day and giving you many hugs ma love !! MWUUUAH !! <3 🍓

[hinamie]

Hi Hina! How are you? I just want to start off by saying I love your art 💞 it reminds me of cookies... or bread (does that make sense??) and i just wanna eat it up (please take it as a compliment 🙈)

I have a question... it might be a bit silly but I hope you don't mind. I've been trying to get back into art myself, used to love it as a kid but somewhere along the way I just stopped... I'm not sure what happened but it's something I still love doing and want to do. One problem I had tho (and still have) is that I don't have my own style? When I was little I would usually browse through art and if I see something I like I tried to recreat it, but in the end it looks exactly like the original art (the amount of times i had to convince ppl that I didn't trace it.... I really didn't)

I think it might be that I don't have an initial start process 🤔 when I start drawing I'd look at my reference and just put those shapes right in as I see it... there is no sketch or lineart just a final product. And now I don't even know where to start? Am i over thinking it and should I just go for it... or do you have any tips for a beginner?

I'm sorry this is kinda long and feels like a ramble. Please feel free to ignore ♥️

no need to apologize!! i’ve talked a lot about my thoughts on the art style fixation that a lot of people get trapped in, but the tl;dr of it is draw first and style will come naturally later so don't paralyze yourself into a slump by believing that you Can't draw without solidifying your art style

also smth i feel like i've mentioned before sdfsgfj but i was very much in the same boat of just copying art i liked 1:1 when I was younger so i definitely empathize with your struggle of not knowing how to start branching out into your own stuff . copying was good practice but i was definitely treating it like a crutch . but u know that’s where doing fanart really helped for me because since the characters Exist already i can treat them like little dolls fr me to dress move around, n it overall feel less like i’m stuck floundering completely trying to conjure up a 100% original piece. 

that being said, if fanart is something you’re into, maybe u can use that as a way 2 push yourself also! u can still look at references (in fact you Should look at references) but rather than copying what you see exactly, maybe u can try drawing character in a different pose, or from a different angle ! it doesn’t have to be anything super complex or elaborate, just get into the habit of not drawing exactly what you see so u slowly build confidence in your ability to compose your own piece. eliminates the “did you trace that” aspect also!

as for u saying u have a lack of start process, i rly do recommend sketching .  not only is it practice and a good warmup, it’s a visual brainstorm !! sketching is how u get ur ideas down on paper its like working with yourself to chip away the scraps n hone in on the idea u want to convey. plus with sketching there’s no pressure to make smth that looks “good”, the whole point is that it’s unpolished ! n i find what happens a lot of the time is i dont realize i even Have an idea until ive been sketching fr a bit and i realize Oh i can make smth out of this :) 

i hope smth here was helpful!! i'm very happy u like my art and i wish u the best of luck creating your own <3

[yumiiyummech]

ive noticed that u never watermark ur work???

Yeah! It’s not for forever. I’m still ‘designing’ a watermark since prior to this, I’ve just been drawing art for myself and not really posting it publicly! Moreover, it would be kinda fun to have a WENDY specific watermark since all I post IS her or in relation. maybe I should have 2 that are similar so it’s still obvious it’s from me?

tbh I’ve tried watermarking my art before a looooong time ago. Way before this blog. I don’t really like watermarks because I personally think it gets in the way of the art but ofc this is not for all people. Everyone has somewhat of a different watermark that suits the art and their style. Whenever I tried it, it’s always been ugly and out of place T^T

not to mention… I don’t really care if my art is stolen? Is that crazy? If anyone were planning to steal my art, I would just ignore it because it’s not like I’m making art for profit. All I need is that I know I made my own work and that’s enough to keep me going! Would be odd if someone stole WENDY when I’m literally the only person who knows everything about her like story and design and headcannons—I could go on!

so yeah, it’s still in the works :)

[dokidokitsuna]

Working on Magical Friends: Doki’s animation “pipeline”

…Since this is still an incredibly basic 1.5-man operation, it’s not much of a pipeline. ^^; But I wanted to put together a little thing to show the public how I do what I do, and if this sounds doable or interesting to you, I’m always on the lookout for more volunteers! dokianimara@gmail.com is my official ‘art business’ email, just FYI~

So let’s start by taking a look at this GIF preview of a finished scene:

I chose this sequence because it’s probably the longest and most complex one I’ve done so far. The character rotates, the scene pans up, I got some spinny light effects in there, lots of weird stuff I’ve never done before. (●u●;;) But it came out alright in the end, so let’s examine it.

So before I start thinking about animating, I refer to the work of my storyboard volunteer, Greytan. They actually gave me just one simple shot:

Which I extrapolated into…what I did. ^^; I don’t mean to ‘ignore’ their boards, and I hope they don’t feel slighted when I do things like this, it’s just that they are genuinely a much more skilled and more professional animator than I am, and our brains just don’t work the same way so sometimes I have to diverge a bit. :P Or, y’know, sometimes I come up with a great idea of my own that I really wanna try, which is probably what happened here.

Anyway, my first step after looking at boards is to grab a pencil and paper and draw the shot: a picture that lays out what the scene will look like, with either the starting frame or a key frame, and the background included. As you can see, I doodled some of my ideas for how the sequence would progress, which is good, because after drawing this I wouldn’t return to this shot for like 6 weeks. ^^;

When I finally did get back to it, I grabbed a second piece of paper for Step 2, which is the actual ‘animation’: using the shot as a base to draw the rest of the frames that will go into the sequence. This is where my lightbox comes in handy, although usually I can see through the paper well enough to just draw wherever. ^^ [Fun fact: in my early days, I would just scan the original shot, erase it, and replace it with the next frame, drawing each new frame on the exact same piece of paper. I am…very glad I don’t do this anymore]

Now, animation is mostly guesswork for me. ^^ I mean, my guesses are pretty good, but they’re still guesses, which is why I call myself an amateur. It’s not me downplaying my skills, it’s just me admitting that they aren’t based on solid expertise or experience (yet).

When I animate a shot, I try to make sure each frame looks like it has movement in it all by itself. Gesture drawing, dynamic posing; those are things I’m already good at, so when I animate I make ‘em work hard for me. >:3c

The end result comes out looking kind of like a sprite sheet:

And I do use these drawings kind of like assets; Step 3 is to scan them (along with the initial shot) and use them to ‘construct’ the frames that go into the video editor. This is the step that takes the longest, where I clean up the sketches and color them and paint the backgrounds (separately, if necessary). It’s not as difficult as Steps 1 and 2, but it’s a lot more tedious.

So naturally, sometimes I like to make sure my sprites actually work before I start all that…work. ^^ So I throw together a test animation based on what I have:

And this did help-- it assured me that the first half with Mago would probably look fine, although the second half with the magic light-thing probably needed to have a cleaner sense of direction and more frantic movement as it ascended. When you’re working with a low frame-rate, you generally want things to move a LOT or hardly at all; you don’t want any of that in-between stuff. So I took that into account when preparing the “finished” product. I put “finished” in quotes because I’ll probably adjust the timing of the frames a little when I move to the video editor (Step 4, which I’m not going to talk about here). But yeah, that’s pretty much it. ^^

Generally when I think about adding artists to the team, I’m thinking about them doing Step 1, Step 2, Steps 1 and 2, or Steps 1-3 (so basically, completing a full sequence of frames that I can just add in). For me to hand sketches to someone and expect them to do Step 3 alone would require a level of trust that I’ve never had in any fellow artist before…but idk, anything can happen in the future. ^^;

[rollercoasterwords]

I love how sirius is viewed differently from each pov.

Like, from his perspective his relationship with reg has a lot of resentment and guilt, he puts himself in this martyr position that he has to protect his innocent little brother, but from regs perspective he doesn’t see any of that, there is this almost childish sibling jealousy and competition. I think because I’m also the younger sister I could really understand regs feelings; siblings get jealous of each other all the time especially as a kid, and reg suffered a lot of neglect by his parents and this really shows even in his adulthood. Sirius in his pov seems very distant and even cruel at some parts (not as a child), like he didn’t make any effort for their relationship, regulus even wants to spend time with his brother despite all their unspoken problems. Then we read sirius pov and we can see how he feels and what his intentions were.

Sirius in remus pov is very funny to me, because he is expressive and so stubborn. I like to compare remus pov with sirius pov just to see the difference like

In sirius pov

“I thought you might be.”

Sirius looks up. Their eyes meet. Remus smiles, a little scrap of a thing.

And in remus pov of the same scene

“I thought you might be.”

Sirius looks up. There’s something canine about him, imploring. Remus smile a little, because really, it is funny.

I just find him hilarious without even trying, it’s nice to see the contrast of each perspective. I love how complex you made this characters, they feel alive to me.

i hope u have a nice day 💜 thank you such a great story

yeah it's been!! a lot of fun playing around with different povs in the fic. originally i was intending to just write the whole thing from sirius's pov, but after finishing the first part there was a lot that i felt just wouldn't really come through if the story was limited to his pov only--unless i like wrote really forced conversations or ooc realizations/thoughts etc, so that's why i ended up feeling like we needed to get remus's side of the story too--and writing the different ways they each view each other and themselves was so much fun and really helped me flesh out the story more! nobody in this story is a 100% reliable narrator, and writing from different povs helped me emphasize that each character has limits to their perspective. my goal is to give readers puzzle pieces more than statements of fact, so that it's up to each reader to weigh the biased povs they're getting and then fit them together and draw their own conclusions about the characters from the image that they get.

and i didn't really decide to include a reg pov until i was writing sirius's backstory, and then it felt, again, like i needed to add another perspective in there for the sake of developing both characters--they see each other and their relationship differently, but neither of them is wrong about their characterization of events; it's all just a matter of perspective. sirius was cruel to reg in some ways, and that's very clear from regulus's pov where you're getting the emotional aspect of having your big brother who used to be your closest friend suddenly rebuff you and ignore you in a way that mimics the treatment he's received growing up from their parents. but it's not just as simple as "sirius is being cruel," because we understand from sirius's pov that he was dealing with a lot of pain and simply did not have the emotional bandwidth to be a good brother--and it's not like regulus was a perfect brother either! but even where they're in conflict, it's not as simple as right/wrong good/bad.

anyway ty 4 the kind words so happy 2 hear ur enjoying the fic! <3

[kisses-4-loki]

I just had a sad/potentially funny Lokius thought that I need to inflict on someone

They get together while they’re working together at the TVA (timeline’s a little wonky), until someone says something to Mobius and he realizes “wait. Oh shit. Should I be doing this I’m technically his boss”

And Loki thinks he lost interest and goes to extremes to get it back. This could be taken as funny because this man is extra. DB Cooper part 2

loki (in a somewhat desperate attempt to get mobius' attention): I am going to go and invade rome

mobius, distracted by his moral dilemma: that's great hun 👍

in a serious/sad way tho, mobius is very worried that he's taking advantage of loki, or that his power just makes him a Loki Target for Power Aquisition ™️ (which is of course untrue)

but because of it, he pulls away, worried and overworking himself as some sort of "punishment" for his morally wobbly relationship. only this is not at ALL kind to loki, who finds himself in a rapid descent into madness because mobius is IGNORING him, ignoring LOKI, and it's so incredibly rude and definitely not at all making him stressed and anxious at all times

so obviously, mobius is just bored and loki needs to win his attention back. only what would usually be a fun pranks (stealing all the salads, getting casey to have mobius "banned" from josta) are quickly devolving into manic repetitions of risky stunts and problematic actions.

u can pick between these being in the field (and loki getting hurt over and over in an attempt to get attention) or these being silly little in timeline events that draw mobius' attention