#Another little doodle for this one I’m afraid

[dont-hug-me-its-yuri]

Day 13 of dhmis oddtober: Nighttime!

(@persy-r-bozo)

[ozzgin]

There needs to be some sorta part 2 to player reader! Imagine her life is just getting kidnapped by another suitor every other day or somethin. Or gettin forcibly married to one with a legion of other monsters interrupting the weddin. Girl is livin my dream of bein desired by monsters! 😩😢

See, that’s the trouble, I feel like everything else from now on should be up to imagination. Will Reader be serially kidnapped? Serially married? Will the mayor of Monstertown have to intervene and turn Reader into some sort of publicly owned existence that can be borrowed within a strict interval like a library book, in order to avoid the monsters killing each other?

“I’m here to return Reader”, the Eldritch creature says, pushing the little card onto the counter with its tentacle appendage.

“Uh huh. That’s one week past deadline, so I’m afraid you’ll have to pay a fine.” The worker responds, checking the files.

“Of course.”

“Is Reader alright?” The employee questions upon noticing the feverish state of the human. “It looks a little worn out.”

“Yeah, sorry about that. Might’ve gotten too enthusiastic.”

“Happens, happens. I’ll let you know when it’s available again.”

Also, as a little side note, this was the initial idea I had for a header picture but I can’t be bothered to do anything beyond this doodle. Found it funny so I thought I’d share. :)

[hischierhoney]

Dog Days

dog dad!Nico Hischier x dog mom!reader

masterlist

summary: a dog park meet cute with the potential to change your life. or: months ago, @theemporium & i went down a spiral ab that picture of Nico & the dog with the devil horns. this fic is what came out of it. 10.1k words

warnings: mentions of alcohol, doodle slander (adopt don’t shop)

There’s a guy in the dog park who’s staring at you. Really, you should be more nervous about it, because he’s a large man, and you don’t know him, and he keeps looking at you. But his dog- Bernie, you think he called her- is cute, and she’s getting along great with your dog, so you’re a bit inclined to let it slide. Besides, he’s not being creepy. He’s probably just checking to make sure you’re okay with your dogs playing together. He’s here often- you recognize him well, but it’s the first time the dogs have taken interest in each other.

You watch another dog join the fray, some sort of hypoallergenic doodle, if you had to guess. The type that costs thousands of dollars for no apparent reason. It’s wearing a Patagonia puffy jacket, which makes you laugh. You hide it behind your hand. You watch as the dog bows low between your dog and Staring Guy’s dog, and then the doodle rolls over in the mud, and-

“Excuse me!” Someone yells. “Excuse me- hey, you! Is that your dog?”

You turn and blink, realizing the woman is talking to you. She’s storming your way in her matching Patagonia coat, face red with anger. You stare, eyes wide. Staring Guy is looking, too, not even trying to hide it now.

“Um. Which one?” You ask.

She gestures wildly. “The- that black mutt,” she hisses. You frown. “The one who was in the mud with my Bessie.”

Staring Guy snorts from his spot twenty feet away. Your eyes flicker to his, and he’s holding back laughter. You chew on your lip to keep yourself from doing the same.

“Yeah, that’s Moose,” you say, turning to look over your shoulder. Moose and Bernie have abandoned Bessie in the mud, more interested in sticks. “Sorry, is something wrong?”

“Yes! My dog is covered in mud now!” The woman snaps, and you rear your head back. “I mean, honestly-“

“Oh, yeah, she really seemed to like that puddle,” you agree, nodding. “You know how dogs are.”

She shakes her head angrily. “Not my Bessie. She’d never do that. So.”

“So?”

“So are you going to pay for her grooming? And the dry cleaner for her coat, oh, that coat-“ the woman sighs. “She’d have never done this if she hadn’t been influenced-“

You turn to look over your shoulder, to where Bessie is still rolling in the mud. “I’m sorry. Are you trying to say my dog influenced yours to roll in the mud? And now you want me to pay for- you understand how ridiculous you sound, right?”

She huffs. “Bessie is a well behaved, purebred Bernedoodle. Yours is-“

She stammers, so you fill in the gap. “Moose is a rescue.”

“Right, so-“ she waves her hand. “You see what I mean.”

“No, I don’t.” You say, incredulously.

The woman is so angry, now, that her whole face has gone beet red. She lurches towards you, and you take a couple steps back. Her hands are in fists at her sides. You’re not exactly afraid of her, but you hadn’t been planning on getting into a fistfight in the dog park, and she’s making you feel a little uneasy.

“Hey,” a deep voice says. You turn and find Staring Guy, walking up with his hands in his pockets, brows furrowed. “Everything okay?”

You widen your eyes at him, praying he gets the message. He sends you a smile, turning up the corners of his mouth softly. He has a kind face, warm brown eyes, thick eyebrows that arch over them. The woman goes off on her tirade again, about her precious Bessie and your awful influence of a mutt, and how you hadn’t done anything to stop them from playing in the mud. Staring Guy’s dog comes trotting up as she goes on and on, and Moose isn’t far behind. He winds himself in front of your legs, and you reach down to fix one of his ears, the one that always gets flipped inside out. Bessie isn’t far behind. You chew on your cheek to stop yourself from laughing at the sight of her, soaked in mud.

“Oh, that’s probably Bernie’s fault, actually,” Staring Guy says, dark brows furrowed. “She really loves the mud. She’s the one who started it.”

The woman splutters. “Oh- but- well- I’m not sure-“

Staring Guy shakes his head. He takes a couple steps forward, effectively placing himself between you and her. Your heart melts just a little. Moose looks up at him, and his ear flips back inside out. You sigh at the sight of him- he is covered in mud, and it’s going to be a pain to get him cleaned up.

“I just think she should’ve tried to keep them out of the mud.” The woman says, though she’s calmed down a bit.

Staring Guy’s deep voice and large stature seem to have calmed her down a bit. If you’re being honest, he’s calmed you, too. He’d make a good mediator, you think. He’s soothing.

“It’s a dog park, not a doggy day care,” he says, voice a little bit more tense. “You’re responsible for your own dog. Says so on the sign.”

The woman huffs and looks between the two of you. She seems to realize she’s getting nowhere, and she marches off, leash in hand, headed for poor Bessie, who’s likely in for the bath of a lifetime. You and Staring Guy watch her go, staring as she stomps across the park, to the gate, and all the way out to her shiny car. She steps in a puddle on the way out and splatters mud up her jeans. You hunch over and start to giggle.

Staring Guy lets out a laugh, too. “That was fucking ridiculous,” he says.

You nod, unable to speak as the laughter takes over. Moose sits down on the grass and stares up at you. Bernie sits down next to him and does the same. They both look incredibly concerned. You wipe tears of laughter from your eyes and stand up.

“I mean, she’s probably right, Moose is definitely a bad influence,” you say, cooing down at your dog. “I mean, look at him.”

Staring Guy laughs and tilts his head. “His name’s Moose?”

“Basic, I know,” you shrug. “They were calling him that at the shelter. I felt bad changing it, so here we are.”

Staring Guy shakes his head. “No, I like it. It’s a good name. This is Bernie,” he says, nudging his dog with his knee. “And I’m Nico.”

He sticks out his hand to shake. You do so, and introduce yourself, too. He repeats your name back to you with a soft smile. Bernie seems to take this as a sign, and she walks up to you, sniffing the air, tail wagging wildly. You crouch down to pet her, running your hands through her thick, sandy fur. She pants happily.

“She’s adorable,” you say, looking up at Nico. “Golden retriever?”

He shrugs. “Mostly, I think. She’s a rescue. I thought about doing one of those dog DNA things, but…”

“It never feels important enough,” you fill in. He’s scratching Moose’s head, and he nods, grinning. “Moose is a rescue, too.”

“They’re the best kind of dogs,” he says, finding the spot behind Moose’s ear that makes his left leg thump against the ground. Nico laughs. “No Schnoodles or Whoodles for me.”

You laugh and stand up, wiping your hands on your jeans. Moose looks between you and Nico, tail wagging happily. Not for the first time, you wonder what he’s thinking. You wish you could read his mind.

“Well, we’ve got to go,” Nico says, toying with the dog leash. “But it was nice to meet you.”

“It was nice to meet you both,” you say, giving Bernie one last head pat. “Thanks for your help.”

He shrugs. “Not a problem.”

…..

Weeks slip by, and Nico stays a constant in them. Wednesdays and Fridays, you find him at the dog park in the mid afternoon, Bernie waiting eagerly for you to let moose off his leash. The two of you chat and watch your dogs play and then bid each other farewell to go back to your own lives. It’s nice. He’s nice.

“Are you busy?” Nico asks one afternoon, shoulder nearly touching yours.

Moose and Bernie are playing in a pile of leaves, a week post Bessie-mud incident. You watch as the wind picks one up, and Moose chases after it. Bernie chases after him. You turn to look at Nico, feeling slightly confused.

“Like, now?” You ask.

He nods. “Now, and for a little while? There’s this dog friendly coffee shop down the street. I was going to take Bernie there. Though maybe you’d want to come with me.”

Your heart jumps. He wants you to come with? He wants to see you outside of this dog park, outside of the primary meeting spot. He wants to see you.

You nod. “Yeah, sure, that sounds sweet. You’re not gonna murder me, right?”

He laughs and shakes his head. “No, I’m not. Has anyone ever said yes to that?”

“Nope,” you say. “And I’m still alive, so it’s working.”

The two of you gather up the dogs and head for the coffee shop. They walk together happily on their leashes- matching ones from the same brand. You and Nico chat about the leashes, and dog supplies in general, and your favorite pet stores. By the time you make it to the coffee shop, you’ve run out of dog topics and moved on to other ones. You talk about coffee and New Jersey and home- which is Switzerland, for Nico, which explains the accent. You order coffee and pastries and take a seat at one of the outdoor tables. The early afternoon sun is shining down. There’s an autumn chill in the air, but the sun takes the edge off.

Nico gets dodgy when you start talking about work. At first, you wonder if he’s some sort of politician- he has the face for it- or a business guy. He doesn’t seem like the type to work in the tall buildings in the city, crunching numbers and barking orders. You’re not sure what else would’ve brought him to the US from Switzerland, though.

“D’you watch hockey?” He asks, and you blink.

“Not really,” you shrug. “It was never my thing. A few of my friends are big fans, though.”

“Of the Devils?” He asks, nodding his head down the street, where, if you walked far enough, you’d find the Prudential Center, home of New Jersey hockey.

You nod and swallow a sip of your coffee. “Mhm. S’that what you do for work? You work for the Devils?”

He shrugs, then nods. “Basically.”

You let it go, then. Maybe he’s just trying to be careful- after all, he barely knows you. You’d done the same, been careful about not telling him where you work. He seems trustworthy enough, but you can never be too careful. The two of you move on to more important topics- which donuts are best, and what the best restaurants in town are. The afternoon slips away quickly and quietly, and you only realize you’re late when your friend calls you.

“Shit,” you mutter, standing up. “I know I said I wasn’t busy but- I have to meet my friends for drinks, and I’m probably going to be late-“

“It’s okay,” Nico says, softly. “I’ve gotta go too. But this was really nice.”

You smile softly. “It was. We should do it again sometime.”

You both wave goodbye and take off down the street in different directions- you, back towards your apartment to drop off Moose, and him towards his, you assume. You can’t wipe the smile off your face the whole way, and it’s still stuck there by the time you slip into the booth at the restaurant a half hour later.

“I’m so sorry,” you gush, as your friend Alyssa sends you a glare. “I was out at the dog park with Moose, and then I lost track of time, and-“

Your other friend Nora laughs. “Were you too busy staring at Dog Park Guy?”

Your face grows hot. “His name’s Nico.”

Both of them blink at you. “Did you actually talk to him?”

You let out a long sigh and launch into the story- Bessie and her bitchy owner, Nico’s rescue, the increased interactions, and the cafe today. Their eyes grow impossibly wider.

“Sounds like a meet cute,” Nora squeals.

“If he’s cute,” Alyssa adds.

You roll your eyes and ignore the looks they’re giving you. “We’re just friends. Because our dogs are friends.”

“Like I said,” Nora says. “Cute.”

Eventually they drop the subject. You have your drinks and catch up, and make plans to hang out again the next night. Alyssa wants to watch the hockey game. She’s the biggest Devils fan you know, could name every player and all of their stats. You and Nora agree to watch, as long as she provides the alcohol.

You show up just after the game starts the next afternoon, Moose in tow. You snag a plate and grab some snacks and join Alyssa on the couch.

“Can you grab me a beer?” You call out to Nora, who’s in the kitchen.

She returns with a bottle in hand, passing it off to you. You thank her and curl up further on the couch, turning to look at the TV. You wonder if Nico’s working, if he has to be at the games or if he does more of the behind the scenes stuff. Maybe he runs the charity branch. That would fit him. You take a sip of your beer, and then nearly spit it right back out.

You turn to Alyssa, who has the remote, and make a frantic gesture. “Rewind it.”

“What?” She asks, not looking away from the TV. “It’s a power play, I’m not gonna-“

“Rewind it,” you say again, reaching for the remote. “Lyss, just-“

“What’s wrong?” Nora asks, frowning at you. “You don’t care about hockey.”

“No, I know, I just- I thought I saw someone,” you say, staring at the screen.

“In the crowd?” Nora asks. You don’t answer, so she says your name. “Babe, what is going on?”

Before you can answer, Alyssa throws her hands up in the air and cheers. Goal. The puck is in the back of the net, and the camera zooms in on the player who scored- number 86, the name Hughes emblazoned on his back. One of his teammates comes skating towards him, nearly shoving him into the wall, and-

You gasp when the camera settles on his face. Number 13, Hischier. Nico Hischier, you would assume, unless Dog Park Nico has a doppleganger hanging around Newark. A doppleganger who also works for the Devils. You work for the Devils? Basically. Oh. Nora doesn’t seem to notice anything, but Alyssa turns to you slowly, eyes wide.

“Wait,” she says. “You wanted me to rewind it, to where?”

“It’s fine,” you mutter.

She’s staring at you, while you stare at the TV screen. “You said Dog Park Guy’s name was Nico,” she says, brows furrowed. “What’s his last name?”

You shrug. “Haven’t asked him yet.”

She blinks once, then twice, and when you see Nico on the screen again, you must react, because she leans over and grabs your face. She pulls you to look at her, then at the screen. She grabs the remote and pauses it, and Nico’s face fills up the whole picture. He’s grinning wide.

“What’s happening right now?” Nora asks. “Somebody fill me in.”

Alyssa points at the screen. “That man, right there, is the team captain. Hischier,” she says, pausing for dramatic effect. “Nico Hischier.”

Nora gasps. You shrink down into yourself. You can’t exactly tear your eyes from the screen. It’s definitely him. You’d know that face anywhere. You can see the smile, can picture it in the dog park as he pets your dog.

“Is that Dog Park Guy?” Nora asks. You nod, figuring there’s no point in lying now. “Oh my god, you didn’t mention he was hot.”

Alyssa groans. “I’ve never been more jealous of you in my life.”

“You’re engaged,” Nora reminds her.

“I know,” Alyssa sighs. “But god, he’s dreamy.”

Nora nods. You curl further in on yourself and reach for the remote to hit play. The game starts back up again, and you try to pretend you’re not watching for his number. Nora and Alyssa don’t let it go for the rest of the night. You have a feeling they won’t be letting it go for a while.

When you see him next Wednesday at the dog park, you greet him with, “Hiya, Cap.”

You’ve walked up to stand shoulder to shoulder with him. Bernie and Moose are rolling around in fallen leaves. Nico smiles at you at first, and then, as if he’s realized what you said, he jolts. His brows furrow, and you grin.

“You work for the Devils, huh?” You tease, grinning widely.

His cheeks go red, and he laughs. “You said you didn’t care about hockey.”

“I don’t,” you admit. “But my friend Alyssa does, and she had the game on when I was at her place the other day, and imagine my surprise when I looked up at the screen and saw you on the ice.”

He smiles sheepishly and shakes his head. “Honestly, I didn’t tell you because I thought it’d come off as bragging.”

Moose barks, and you both turn to look, but he’s just playing with Bernie. The two of them have found a stick in the leaves, and they’re pulling back and forth. Bernie has a leaf stuck to her nose, and it makes you smile even more.

“It’s pretty cool, though, isn’t it?” You ask. “Lyss said you’re like. A rockstar. Team captain, first round draft pick-“

“Oh, she went way back,” he teases.

“She’s a Jersey girl,” you say with a shrug. “You’re lucky she’s already engaged or she’d be here, too.”

He laughs louder at that, and his shoulder bumps against yours. Across the grass, your dogs roll around on the ground, happy as can be. It makes you smile wider, makes your heart warm.

…..

Early fall turns into late fall, a change that brings with it colder weather, something you’re already regretting not noticing. Nico frowns when he sees you in the park. He makes his way over as Bernie runs to greet Moose, and he has his brows furrowed. He’s wearing a beanie and a thick hoodie, and you envy him.

“Almost didn’t recognize you,” he says, tugging at the hood of your thin sweatshirt, which you have pulled tightly over your head. “Where’s your coat? And a beanie, maybe?”

You shrug and bury your hands deeper in your pockets- you don’t want him to see you’re not wearing gloves either. “I live on the third floor. It looked warm out, and by the time I got outside, there was no way I was dragging him back upstairs.”

You shrink slightly under the disapproving look he gives you. He sighs heavily, and you smile at him, like that’ll make it better. You want nothing more than to bury your face in his chest, press yourself into his body and soak up some of the heat. You’re sure he’s warm. He just looks like he runs warm.

You don’t stay long at the park, because your hands are freezing and so is your face. Nico bids you farewell with a little wave, and you rush home to your warm apartment.

Two days later, when you show up to the dog park, Nico’s already there. Bernie’s running circles around him, barking happily. She skids to a stop when she spots Moose, and you let him off the leash to join her. Nico waves, a big grin on his face as the two dogs take off together.

“Still no beanie?” He teases, shaking his head.

“I thought the cold day was a fluke,” you mutter grumpily, hands shoved in your pockets. “I worked from home today. I didn’t know it was this cold.”

Nico continues to shake his head. His next move is so unexpected you don’t quite realize what he’s doing until it’s over- he pulls a beanie from his pocket and pulls it onto your head for you, adjusting it carefully with narrowed eyes. You can’t help the laugh that slips past your lips. Then he slips his jacket off his shoulders.

“Nico-“ you protest as he wraps it around you.

“I wore layers, and I’m warm,” he says, holding the jacket around your shoulders and waiting until you slip your arms through the sleeves reluctantly. “Better?”

His jacket is warm and cozy, and you smile and nod. “Much better.”

He grins back, eyes crinkling at the edges. His cheeks are flushed, and it makes your face feel warm, too. You shove your hands in your pockets- his pockets- and turn back to watch the dogs, standing almost shoulder to shoulder with him. The very first flakes of snow of the year begin to fall. Moose and Bernie don’t seem to notice. If Nico notices the way you lean close to him, trying to shelter yourself from the cold, he doesn’t say anything.

…..

The next time you see Nico, he’s stressed. He’s got his beanie off, running a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands. Bernie, as if she senses his distress, is sitting at his feet patiently, even though her leash is off. You let Moose run over. He sniffs at Bernie, then at Nico’s knee, and whines.

“You’re really bringing down the mood,” you call out.

Nico’s head whips up, bottom lip still tugged between his teeth. Something twists in your chest. You don’t like to see him upset like this, you realize. You’re growing far too attached. And yet. Here you are.

You cock your head questioningly. “You okay?”

He sighs. “Sorry. Yeah. Just- my usual dog sitter apparently moved and didn’t tell me until this morning, and I have to be out of town starting tomorrow, and so now I’m trying to find someone to watch her or somewhere to board her and-“

“I can take her,” you blurt out.

His rambling comes to a screeching halt, and he blinks at you. “I don’t want to inconvenience you, or…”

“Don’t be silly,” you say, shaking your head and smiling. “Her and Moose get along great, and I already know half of her routine. And I think she likes me alright, too. It wouldn’t be a hassle.”

Nico puffs out his cheeks, glancing up at the sky. “That would be… are you sure? Because. I mean-“

“Nico,” you say, softly. His gaze flickers back to yours. “I’d love to watch her. How long are you gonna be gone?”

He bites his lip again. “Friday through Sunday.”

You nod. “Easy peasy.”

You should probably be expecting it, just because it seems like something he would do, but you yelp a little when he hauls you against his chest. You hug him back, though, and laugh into his shoulder, and the dogs both bark at your feet. Then Bernie takes off running, as if she knows everything is fine now. Moose follows happily.

“Thank you,” he says, chest rumbling against you, and your breath catches.

“Anytime,” you respond. You mean it.

He drops Bernie off the next morning before you start work for the day. He texts you from the lobby of your apartment building to let you know they’re headed up, which is sweet. You hear Bernie before he knocks on the door, and when you open it, Moose perks up from his dog bed. He’s up within seconds, tail wagging, searching through his pile of toys for one to bring Bernie.

“Look at them,” you coo, watching the two dogs greet each other happily. “We’re gonna have such a fun weekend, aren’t we, Bernie?”

Nico’s smiling, too, when you look up and meet his gaze. He has a dog bed tucked under one arm, and a bag of other supplies in the other. You let the dogs play while he unpacks the stuff on your kitchen counter and tells you what little you don’t know about Bernie’s routine. When she eats, what toys are her favorites, and so on.

“Normally I tell people about the dog park,” he says, smiling sheepishly. “But you already know that.”

You nod eagerly. In the living room, Bernie is sniffing Moose’s dog bed.

“Oh, um. Sometimes for the first bit she won’t want to eat,” he says. “I got her when she was young, and it was during the lockdown, so. She wasn’t used to being away from me. She’s gotten better about it, but… if she goes too long, you can put a little cheese on her food and that usually helps.”

You nod in understanding. “Moose was the same the first time I left him. Don’t worry, we’ll take good care of her.”

Nico laughs. “I think this is actually the least worried I’ve been about leaving her, ever.”

You set up Bernie’s dog bed in the living room, a little ways away from Moose’s to give them each their space. Nico lays out her favorite toys for her, and a threadbare red hoodie that you’d bet used to be his. He wavers in the doorway between the living room and kitchen, watching as Bernie inspects her stuff. It makes your chest ache a little bit. He seems reluctant to leave.

“D’you have time to sit for a little bit?” You ask. “I have plenty of coffee.”

He turns over his shoulder and grins. “Coffee would be great.”

It should probably feel strange, to have Dog Park Guy sitting at your kitchen table, sipping coffee out of a big mug that looks small in his hands, but it doesn’t. It feels almost natural. Like this was always how this was going to go. He tells you about the away game he’s going to play, about their odds and the other team and how he’s stuck sharing a hotel room with Jack, who he loves but who also talks in his sleep loudly and denies it. You laugh and commiserate & complain to him about your work day, which is full of meetings. By the time the coffee is gone, he doesn’t really seem to want to leave, but he tells you he has to finish packing and get to the rink, and you’ve got a meeting anyways, so. You walk him to the door. He crouches down to pet Bernie one more time, and lets out a big sigh.

“I’ll see you all soon,” he says, smiling. “Have a good weekend.”

Bernie sits down and stares at him. You see his smile waver, so you step forward and pat the top of her head gently, then scratch behind her ears the way you’ve seen Nico do so often.

“Be safe,” you tell him. “We’ll be here waiting.”

Bernie does get a little sad just after he leaves. You feel for her, because you’re strangely sad about him being gone, too. You take most of your work meetings from the couch so she can curl up with her head on your lap. Moose keeps bringing over his favorite toys and dropping them off for her, but she doesn’t take much interest. Nico texts around lunchtime, just before he’s getting on a plane, and asks how it’s going. You send back a picture of her head in your lap, your work meeting in the background.

she seems very interested in Carol’s progress report.

Nico sends back a little laughing emoji, and then She looks cozy. Thank you again!

After work, you leash up both dogs and walk down to the dog park. You want to keep Bernie’s routine as consistent as possible. The two of them do so well together, walking happily, never tugging on the leashes. You snap a pic of them, and send that to Nico, too. He probably won’t see it for a while.

Once you’re at the dog park, you let them off leash to run around. They take off together, barking happily, kicking up piles of dead leaves like the always do. You sit on a bench and fight the urge to text Nico.

It’s just that in the couple of months since you finally spoke to him, you’ve found yourself really looking forward to your dog park chats. Venting about your days or catching up or telling fun stories about your dogs. It’s not the first time he’s been gone, but it’s the first time it’s hit you like this. It’s odd.

You take them both home eventually, calling them over and clipping on the leashes. Back in your apartment, it’s dinnertime- you heat up leftovers for yourself and give the dogs their food. You try not to watch Bernie like a hawk. Nico had said she might not want to eat at first. But when you do sneak a peek, they’re both eating happily. You breathe a sigh of relief- she must feel comfortable enough.

They wander off into the living room before you do, and what you find makes you stop in your tracks. Bernie’s got her dog bed in her mouth, dragging it over next to Moose’s. He sits on his bed happily, wagging his tail at you. Bernie drops the bed and immediately curls up on it, letting out one of her signature big sighs, the ones that Nico always copies. You let out a matching sigh, and she wags her tail.

You snap a picture of the two of them curled up next to each other and send it off to Nico.

He replies just before you roll over to go to sleep. Did she move her bed??

Yup, you answer. Ate all her dinner, too

He takes a while to type his response.

Adorable. Thank you. Again.

…..

You’re not a hockey fan. You know this about yourself. You’ve watched games enough times to know this. But when Saturday rolls around, you turn on the game anyway. Bernie should watch the game, after all. She should watch her dad play.

You cuddle up on the couch with both dogs, who are definitely paying less attention to the screen than you are. They both fall asleep halfway through the first period, and you roll your eyes. You could turn it off, but you find that you don’t want to. It’s suddenly different when you have a reason to be invested. Nico’s on the ice, at least for some of the time.

When he scores, you cheer so loudly you startle both dogs awake. They look around, bewildered. You snap a pic of the two of them with the tv in the background and send it to him.

Bernie & Moose say good job!!

He doesn’t answer until you’re in bed for the night, again. Time differences and media responsibilities and all that. He heart reacts to the photo, and then you watch him type for a couple moments, the little dots bouncing at the bottom of the screen.

How’d you like the game? He asks.

You waffle a bit on what to say back. You wonder if he’s paying enough attention to notice you’re taking a while to answer, or if he’s moved on.

You settle for sending back, it’s a lot more fun to watch when i’m cheering for you

He’s typing back nearly immediately. My good luck charm!

You laugh and lock the phone, setting it down on the nightstand. Bernie and Moose are curled up in bed with you, snoring away. You’re not sure why you feel so happy, but you hope it brings you good dreams.

Nico gets back into town late Sunday afternoon.

There’s a knock on your apartment door. From the couch, you call out “Come in!”

You hear him kick off his shoes in the entryway as he calls out a greeting. He pads towards the living room, and you lean up slightly to see him as he walks in.

“You should really lock your door, you know,” he says. “I could’ve been anyone.”

“But you’re you,” you lilt as he rounds the corner of the couch. “Besides, I’ve got my guard dogs.”

He eyes you skeptically. The dogs are in their same spots as the picture you sent him yesterday. Moose is curled against your chest, while Bernie is laid out over your legs. You’re tucked under a blanket, smiling up at him. Neither of the dogs have moved a muscle, from the knock on the door until now.

“Great guard dogs,” Nico teases.

“Well, they know you. Bernie, look who’s here,” you say. His dog lifts her head, wagging her tail slightly. You shrug. “Guess she likes me more.”

“Can’t blame her,” Nico says, stretching his arms above his head. “You guys look cozy.”

“And you look tired.”

You’re not trying to be mean, but he does. There are purple shadows beneath his eyes, his hair is a mess. The scrubs along his jaw looks to be at least a day old, by your guess.

He snorts. “Thanks. I am.”

You pout. “You could join us, if you want.”

You shift your feet slightly to open up a space for him on the other end of the couch. He eyes the spot with a tired gaze, scrubbing his hand against his jaw. You’re trying to ask casually, to pretend like it won’t make a difference to you one way or the other if he stays or not, but you really do hope he sits down. You’ve missed him- it’s almost embarrassing how much you’ve missed him.

“If I do that I’m definitely gonna pass out,” he warns, voice quieter. “Probably for an extended period of time.”

You nod. “I’d expect nothing less.”

He huffs and drops his car keys on the coffee table. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

You laugh when he climbs his way onto the couch. He sits down at the opposite end, his legs side by side with yours. The dogs move to accommodate him, though not without their own grumbling about it. Bernie finally gives in and gets excited to see him, fumbling her way onto his lap. He wraps his arms around his dog and snuggles in, all while you watch, unable to pull your gaze away, heart pounding in your chest. He’s here, in your apartment, on your couch. He looks so soft.

When he falls asleep in no more than ten minutes, it makes you feel even warmer. He trusts you enough to fall asleep here. Bernie is curled against his chest, also falling asleep, reunited at last. You find yourself dozing off, too, brought on by how comfortable it all feels.

You wake up to Bernie pacing back and forth on the living room floor, and Moose standing on the couch, his nose in Nico’s face. You scramble to push the dog away with muffled words and limited success. Nico sniffles and raises his head, scrunching his eyes shut in the face of the sun coming in through your window.

“Sorry,” you whisper, fighting the urge to brush strands of his hair from his eyes. “They're getting antsy.”

He’s adorable when he’s just woken up, eyes barely open, cheeks flushed. He rubs at his eyes with the heel of his hand and pets Moose with the other. You get up and start to gather the dogs’ things while he continues to wake up. By the time you’ve got them both leashed up, he’s sitting up on the couch, brighter eyes than before.

“Best nap of my life,” he says.

You think of how much you wanted to cuddle up on his chest, and you wonder if that would take the winning spot.

Nico puts on his jacket at the door, taps his foot impatiently until you roll your eyes and pull on a jacket of your own, and then the two of you head out, dogs in tow. You keep your hands shoved in your pockets, but when you get to the dog park he hands you a pair of gloves, glaring playfully at you. You put them on, feeling warm and fuzzy, and not just from the fabric around your hands. You let the dogs off the leashes in the fenced in area, and you watch them run off through the light snow.

You bump your elbow against his. “You okay? You’re quiet.”

He nods, leans towards you until you’re shoulder to shoulder. “Yeah. M’good. Just tired.”

You nod in understanding. “C’mon, let’s sit.”

You head over to a nearby bench and sink down. He follows suit. And. It’s cold, so really, that’s probably why he sits so close, his thigh against yours, his side pressed to your side. But then he shifts slightly, and his arm falls to the top of the bench behind you. You try not to hold your breath. Across the park, Bernie and Moose bark happily. You lean your head against Nico’s shoulder, and he sighs happily, resting his head against yours.

He sighs. “Wake me up when they’ve worn themselves out.”

He’s joking- he doesn’t fall asleep, you’d be able to tell. You can feel his breaths, can feel him shift every so often, and he laughs when the dogs tackle each other in the snow. But he stays right there, curled against you, warmer than any jacket or pair of gloves could ever be.

…..

When people say it takes a village, you’re pretty sure it could be said about having dogs, too. You’re amazed at how much easier things are when you have Nico to help out. He’s insistent that he owes you one for watching Bernie, but it really turns into the two of you just trading dog duties.

You get held over at the office on one of the rare days you have to be in person, and he picks up Moose and takes him along to the park with Bernie. Nico gets stuck in traffic on the way home from a game in New York City, and you do the same, leaving a container of leftovers in the fridge for him, too. The dog park meetups and coffee shop hangouts keep happening, much to your benefit. You like spending time with him. Probably a bit more than is healthy, really, but you can’t exactly help it. He’s sweet, and funny, and handsome, too, to top it all off.

When you call him early on a Tuesday evening, you know he’ll pick up, because he’s done with practice for the day. He probably assumes you’re checking what time he’s going to be at the dog park, or letting him know you and Moose won’t be there. He gets nervous, now, if you don’t show up. Texts to make sure you’re alright. It’s endearing.

“Hello,” he says. “Don’t tell me you’re going to break Bernie’s heart and miss out on the dog park tonight.”

“Hi, no- my… my power’s out,” you say, sounding as frantic as you feel. “And like. It’s fine, I’ll survive, but it’s already cold in here, and Moose is giving me evil eyes. But I can’t find any dog friendly hotels, so I was wondering if maybe you could take him for the night-“

Nico laughs on the other end. “Come stay with us. Both of you.”

You pause your digging through the cupboards. “Oh, you don’t have to- that’s okay, Nico-“

“I mean it,” he says, firmly. “I’ve got a spare bedroom. And I just ordered way too much pizza, actually. Come over, bring Moose. Bernie’s bored, anyways.”

“I don’t want to be a burden,” you tell him.

“You could never,” he says. “If you’re not here within a half hour, I’m driving over there to pick you up.”

He hangs up before you can protest again, and you turn to Moose with a sigh. Then you start packing for both of you. 20 minutes later, you’re in the elevator up to Nico’s place, trying not to freak out about all of it.

He lets you in before you even have a chance to knock. Maybe it’s just the fact that your place was cold, but when he ushers you inside, it feels like he’s cranked the heat up a few degrees. Bernie comes racing to the entryway, whining excitedly at the sight of Moose, and you grin down at the two dogs. Then you look up at Nico and find him smiling, too.

“I’ll show you to the guest room,” he offers, nodding his head towards the rest of the apartment. “Pizza should be here any minute.”

It all feels oddly domestic, staying with him. You eat dinner together and watch the news- a habit he picked up from a roommate back in his days playing hockey in Canada, he tells you. Moose and Bernie cuddle up in the middle between the two of you, which you sort of hate. You want an excuse to lean into his side.

You get one when you get up to go to the bathroom. You come back, and both dogs have moved into your spot. Nico smiles up at you and shrugs, patting the spot right next to him. You take a seat without protesting, settling into the soft sofa. He moves the blanket he’s been using so it falls over your lap and rests his arm on the back of the couch behind your head. It probably means nothing, but being so close to him feels nice. Comforting.

When you start to doze off, he nudges you awake and towards the guest room. You fight the urge to lean up and kiss his cheek when he says goodnight. Moose follows you into the room, and you shut the door behind you.

You want to kiss Nico. This is becoming a problem.

It’s just. He’s nice. He’s sweet. He’s a good friend, he helps you take care of your dog, he’s letting you stay with him. But he’s an athlete, and they usually date other famous people, not their dog park friends. You’ve got no chance, probably.

You would roll over and scream into the pillow, but you’re afraid he’d hear it anyways.

…..

You’re standing in his kitchen early the next morning when the front door creaks open. You freeze in surprise- you’d assumed from the fan running in Nico’s bedroom, and the quiet of the apartment, that he’d still been asleep. Maybe he’d gone out for a run already, or had gone to take Bernie for a walk. Footsteps echo in the entryway, and you hear someone trip over a pair of shoes. The muttered swear word is definitely not said in Nico’s voice, and panic bites at your chest. You reach for one of the knives on the counter and hold it at your side. Moose, seeming to sense your anxiety, steps in front of your legs. Your phone sits too far away on the counter, and you swallow. You could yell for Nico, but then whoever is in his apartment would hear you, too.

The footsteps fall closer. The man appears in the doorway to the kitchen, and he jumps nearly a foot in the air at the sight of you, hand pressed to his chest. He looks familiar, with his almost shoulder length hair tucked behind his ears- one of Nico’s teammates. There’s a photo of the two of them hanging on the wall in the living room. You drop the knife on the counter discreetly when he isn’t looking.

“You’re not Nico,” he says, leaning on the counter.

“Neither are you,” you state, heart still racing.

He laughs at that and eyes the dog in front of you. “And that’s not Bernie, huh?”

He leans towards the dog, and Moose presses against your legs and growls. You gasp. Apparently, he hasn’t quite gotten the memo that whoever this guy is, he isn’t a threat. You reach for his collar.

“Moose,” you say in a scolding tone.

“Oh,” the man says, drawing out the noise, a look of understanding washing over his face. “Cool wolf. Is he gonna bite me? I have hockey practice later.”

There’s a flurry of noise before you can respond, and Bernie comes loping into the kitchen. She beelines for the guy, and at that, Moose lets his guard down, his tail wagging happily again. You roll your eyes. A great guard dog until his friend likes the guy, then all bets are off. Nico appears in the kitchen, scratching his head, and his eyes go wide when he spots his teammate.

“Jack,” he says, and the man turns to look at him. “What are you doing here?”

The man rubs his face sheepishly. Your dog scurries over to Nico, sniffing at his ankles excitedly. Your gaze bounces back and forth between the two men.

“You’re Jack,” you say, looking at the early morning intruder.

He nods.

You laugh. “I hear you talk in your sleep.”

Nico sighs while Jack tries desperately to deny it.

Ten minutes later, once Nico’s explained the whole situation, they head off on a run. They take Bernie and Moose with them, on Nico’s suggestion, because both dogs could use a bit of exercise, and, in his words, Jack could use a bit of motivation. While they’re out, you take a moment to tidy up your stuff, and you do the dishes from the night before. Nico had insisted you were welcome to any of the food in the house, so you whip up a light breakfast of cut fruit and yogurt, making sure to save some for him.

He returns a while later, both dogs in tow, minus Jack. He gives you a sheepish smile, sweaty locks of hair falling over his forehead. His t-shirt is clinging to his skin, damp with sweat despite the chill outside. You chew on a piece of strawberry and try not to stare at him.

“Sorry about him,” he says, waving a hand dismissively. “I forgot he was coming over. He called, but I had my phone turned down and I slept through it.”

You shrug. “Nico, it’s fine, it’s your apartment,” you say. “Though I did have a knife ready, so he’s lucky he didn’t get stabbed.”

Nico laughs and takes a couple steps into the kitchen, leaning on his hands on the counter. “The Devils hockey organization thanks you for your hesitation.”

You laugh and nod. “I have breakfast, if you want some.”

When he squeezes your shoulder as he walks by, you try not to let it show how nice it feels.

“Thanks, schatz,” he says.

You don’t know much German, but you’re pretty sure that doesn’t mean friend.

…..

Nico goes to practice a bit later and then comes back. The power at your place stays out for the rest of the day. You keep checking, trying to make sure. Realistically, now, you could call Alyssa or Nora and ask to stay with them, instead, but when you offer, Nico looks offended at the suggestion.

He’s laying on the floor with Bernie and Moose both sprawled over him. “I mean. If you want to go, you can, obviously.”

“I just don’t want to overstay my welcome,” you tell him.

He shakes his head and lets it drop back to the floor. Moose shoves his nose under Nico’s chin. “You’re not.”

That’s pretty much the end of the discussion. The two of you take the dogs out to a nearby cafe for a late lunch, a place Nico tells you is dog friendly. He makes sure you’re both bundled up adequately for the chilly walk there and back. In the afternoon, you get some work done on your laptop, Bernie’s head on your lap, while Nico scrolls aimlessly on his phone and plays tug of war with Moose. The routine feels scarily easy to settle into. You make dinner together, pasta and chicken and broccoli. You move around one another with ease, like moons in each other’s orbits. The dogs wait patiently in the living room while you cook. Nico gives them pieces of chicken for their good behavior, and then you dish out dog food while he refills their water bowls. It’s nice. It’s so nice. You’re trying desperately not to get attached to this, to him.

You wake up the next morning to Moose and Bernie in your bed, a text from Nico saying he took them on their morning walk before he left for morning skate, and an alert from your apartment complex that the power is back on. You sigh, kiss the top of Bernie’s head, and roll back over in bed.

He’s gone for most of the day, today, between practices and media requirements and meetings with the team that he’d complained about to you the night before. You could pack up and leave before he gets back, but then you’d be leaving Bernie alone, and it feels weird to not say goodbye to Nico after he let you stay here. So you spend the day how you were planning to, and gather up your things bit by bit.

Nico comes home in the afternoon when you’re halfway packed, and he stands in the doorway of the guest room, seemingly hesitant. He’s frowning. Your heart lurches.

“My power’s back on,” you say quietly.

“Oh,” he responds. “Right. That’s, uh, that’s good.”

You nod. “Just realized I’ll probably have to clean out my fridge, and get new groceries, but yeah. I’ll be out of your hair.”

He frowns, nose wrinkling. “You weren’t in my hair.”

You blink at him. “I just meant… you can have your own space back. You must be sick of us by now.”

Nico wavers, shifting back and forth on his feet. You’re holding one of your t-shirts, and you pull it close to your chest. There’s something hanging in the air.

“I don’t think I’d ever get sick of you,” he says. A spark runs down your spine. “I liked having you here.”

You blink, unsure what to do with yourself suddenly. “I, uh, liked being here. You’re a great host, you know.”

He shrugs, then nods. He opens his mouth, closes it, repeats the motion. Then he releases his grip on the doorframe and takes a couple steps into the room. You’re sitting on the edge of the bed, and you try to keep your breathing steady as he walks towards you.

“You sure you don’t want to stay for dinner?” He asks, looking hopeful.

You blink up at him, the corner of your lips tugging upwards. “Guess it depends on what we’re having.”

You’re trying to be brave about this. Trying to go with the flow, be casual. Maybe he’s just got a meal planned for two, maybe he needs your help to make it. You don’t want to read into it, even as he comes so close that you could reach out and touch him, that you can smell his shampoo and cologne. One of the dogs barks in the living room. You both ignore it, unable to tear your eyes away from each other. The air feels electric.

His hand comes up to touch your cheek, fingertips featherlight. You swallow. Your heart is pounding in your chest. He’s grinning, like he knows it. So sure of whatever he’s about to say.

“I thought maybe we could go out,” he says, casually. “Just me and you, somewhere nice. Let the dogs hang out here and keep each other company.”

You blink, take a breath, nod. “Okay. I can stay for dinner.”

“Cool,” he says, trying to be nonchalant about it. His wide grin gives him away. “Then it’s a date.”

Your breath catches in your chest, but you nod. “It’s a date.”

When he leans down and kisses your cheek, you swear the world stops spinning. When he pulls away it spins faster than it ever has before. You watch him walk away, dumbfounded, heart racing, skin burning.

All that worrying about it all, and it was that easy?

…..

At dinner, you both come to terms with the fact that you can’t really call this your first date. The two of you are too comfortable already, too at ease with each other. Nico claims the real first date was the coffee shop, months ago. You claim it was the day he came to pick up Bernie and took a nap on your couch.

“So I was asleep for half of our first date?” He says, nose wrinkled. “No thank you.”

“Well if it was the coffee shop, then I didn’t get your number for weeks after,” you retort. “So that would be weird.”

Eventually the two of you decide to agree to disagree. Maybe it happened somewhere in the middle without you even realizing. But now it feels official and real, over seafood and wine and warm bread. Nico’s face is lit by the candles on the table, and he holds your hand half the night.

Hours later, you stumble out of the restaurant, wine tipsy and giggling as you lean against his arm. He’s laughing, too, until he’s not, until he’s holding you by your hips on an empty sidewalk, waiting for a cab to roll by. You stare up at him, the dark night sky and city lights behind his head.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, quietly.

“Thought you’d never ask,” you reply.

Nico kisses exactly the way you’d imagined- soft and sweet, at first, in a way that makes you feel everything. And then his tongue slips past your lips and his grip on your hips tightens and you wrap your arms around his neck and hold on for dear life. It’s a bit all consuming, threatens to leave you breathless, sends shocks across your skin.

He gets you into a cab and gives his address, and then he leans against you, his lips against your temple, his hand intertwined with yours. He speaks quietly against your skin.

“I’ll follow your lead here,” he says, quietly. “If you wanna take Moose and head home, I completely understand.”

You smile and lean into his touch. “Okay,” you say, deciding to leave him hanging. He laughs against your skin like he knows what you’re doing.

When the car pulls up in front of Nico’s apartment building, you step outside while he pays the fare. He grabs your hand again to lead you inside, through the lobby, and towards the elevator. He’s watching your every move, you can feel it- he’s trying to read you. You think he probably sees right through your little game, but that’s okay.

When the elevator doors slide closed, you turn to him, threading your hand through his hair at the nape of his neck.

“You should ask me to stay over,” you whisper, leaning up to brush your lips against his ear.

He groans softly, his hand falling to rest on your hip. “Yeah?”

You nod.

He swallows. “You want to stay over?” He asks, voice breathy. His stubble scrapes against your cheek as he brushes a kiss there.

You lean in to kiss him again. You think that’s answer enough.

The two of you tumble into his apartment a few minutes later, hands wrapped tightly in each other’s. You muffle your giggles with your other hand, and Nico does the same with his own. The dogs are curled up on their dog beds in the living room, snoring away. You take off your shoes carefully, and the two of you tiptoe through the apartment. If you wake Moose, he’ll be needy, begging for attention. Bernie will be the same with Nico.

You make it to the bedroom, and within seconds, Nico’s on you, pressed up against the closed bedroom door. He latches his lips onto your neck, and you sigh happily. His hands are already roaming everywhere, and your whole body is on fire.

“You’re sure about this?” He asks, between kisses, and you melt.

“Positive,” you say, already gasping for air. “Please, Nico.”

He groans into your skin, and you both start to fall apart.

Later, you lay in bed, your cheek against his bare chest. His hand sweeps up and down your back smoothly. You can hear his heart beating, feel the soft rise and fall of his breaths. There’s a lot of things you want to say, but they all feel far too intimate for a first time on a maybe third date, so you keep your mouth shut. You settle for drawing shapes on his skin until he shivers and laughs.

Seconds later, there’s a dog scratching at the door. Moose whines. Then, so does Bernie. You groan into Nico’s chest.

“They’re so needy,” you grumble.

“Sounds like someone else I know,” he responds.

He pulls away before you can retaliate, reaching for his t-shirt and tossing it to you. You pull it on as he tugs on a pair of shorts. Then he opens the door. Two fur covered, heat seeking missiles come shooting onto the bed, barreling into you, making themselves comfortable atop the covers. Nico crawls back into bed before he loses his spot, nudging Bernie out of the way so he can pull you back into his arms.

Moose rests his head against your side. You rub behind his ears as Nico does the same with Bernie. Something about this moment just feels right. The way the four of you all curl up together, around each other, held tight and warm and safe.

Nico kisses your forehead. “Goodnight.”

You kiss his shoulder. “G’night, Nico.”

In the dark, Bernie whines.

“And goodnight to you too, Berns,” you laugh, reaching over to pat her head.

…..

Nico stops in the parking lot, his arm around the back of your seat. You continue staring out the windshield. In the backseat, Bernie and Moose wag their tails happily. You hope he can’t see where you’re holding onto the seat tightly with your right hand.

“Hey,” he says. His hand brushes against your shoulder. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“What if they all hate me?” You ask.

Nico scoffs. “Then they’re all stupid.”

“Nico…”

“Baby,” he murmurs, leaning over, pressing his lips to your temple. “You met Jack, scared the shit out of him, and he still asks about you all the time. And you’ll have the dogs. That’ll win them over immediately.”

You sigh and wipe your sweaty hands on your pants. “You’re their captain. What if I don’t live up to the… I don’t know, Nico-“

He cups your face in his hand and turns your head towards his. There’s a soft, kind smile on his face. You bite your lip.

“You don’t need to live up to anything,” he says, firmly. “I want you there, that’s enough. And if you want to leave, you just tell me. We’ve got the dogs as an excuse.”

You nod. He pinches your cheek lightly, and you laugh. When he climbs out of the car, you follow suit. Moose and Bernie are itching to get out of the backseat- you each unbuckle one dog and get them ready to go inside.

In the stadium, he stops and helps you get the dogs ready- winter coats for them to wear, little shoes to protect their feet that you’ve been getting them used to for months now. Moose still glares at you a bit when you first put them on, but he gets over it quickly.

Nico laces up his own skates and helps you, too, and then it’s out onto the rink, under the lights, staring up at the big empty stadium. The dogs stay close at first, getting used to the slippery surface.

Everyone is here- his teammates, their families, their friends. When he’d invited you, you’d nearly broken down into tears- you know how much it means to him, how much he loves this team and this sport. You’re honored he wants to share it with you. You were the one who suggested bringing the dogs, too. Now, out on the ice, you’re thrilled it all ended up like this.

“Cool wolf,” Jack says, as he skates by. “Hey, Luke- you know what his name is?”

Luke shakes his head.

“Moose,” Jack says, and Luke sighs. “Which one of you is the cuter one, huh?”

“Definitely the dog,” Nico says, squeezing your hand.

“You all suck,” Luke says. He turns to you and smiles sheepishly. “Sorry. Not you. You seem great.”

Nico hooks his elbow in yours and nudges you gently. “Wanna do a lap?”

You smile and nod, and he starts to pull you around on the ice. The dogs follow happily, having found their footing. Across the ice, some of the kids point at them excitedly. You think back to the dog park, so long ago, now, and the lady and her dog Bessie. If she’d never gotten angry with you, would you and Nico have ever spoken? Or would you have just stared at each other from across the park forever? You’re not sure you want to know. You’re just happy it ended up the way it did.

“I love you,” you tell him, leaning up to kiss his cheek.

He blushes and grins, dimple popping up on his face. “I love you too, schatz.”

He kisses you on the lips, then, a quick peck that still somehow makes your heart skip a beat. At your feet, Moose whines, and Bernie follows suit. You and Nico sigh.

“And we love you two, too,” you say, shaking your head at the dogs.

“So needy,” Nico says.

“Sounds like someone else I know,” you tease, elbowing him.

He grins impossibly wider. You feel warm enough to melt the ice beneath your feet. He tends to have that affect on you, and you don’t think it’ll ever grow old.

thanks for reading!!

[writa-anon]

"is that.. supposed to be me?"

francis mosses (the milkman) x artist!reader

a / n ~ boom! first fanfic :3 i was a little inspired by uh.. myself LOL when i started playing tnmn i realized i was horrible at memorizing faces so i started drawing the characters to help me remember and it works sooo much. but anyway, super cute oneshot where they first meet, hope u enjoy :D

content included ~ isaack mauss, francis mosses, reader is an artist and doorman, no pronouns mentioned for reader, use of (y/n), shy n wholesome first encounter

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 4.10.24 | 1.6k words

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Another slow day at work, huh?”

A enthusiatic-ridden voice boomed, instinctively making me look up to meet the gaze of a strong-jawlined man. I cleared my throat and placed my pencil on the scratchy sheet of paper, sitting up in my chair.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Gauss.” I greeted, grinning that customer-service smile.

“Good afternoon, (y/n). I assume work is treating you well?” He said before sliding both his ID and request form through the letter hole. “Only your third day and you’re occupying yourself with side hobbies!” He exclaimed, squinting a little to see my doodle through the glass screen. I chuckled a little as I examined his ID.

“Eh, yeah..” I sighed. “But this actually helps with my job, believe it or not!” I said proudly, pulling out the floor 2 folder to compare his ID number. “I’ve been drawing neighbors in order to remember their features better. It’s especially helpful because of my terrible memory.” I said, shaking my head. Isaack simply chuckled as I placed the folder to the side as I went through his request form.

“That’s pretty smart.” He commented. “Who have you drawn so far?” He asked, curiously tilting his head. As I went through the checklist as I idly thought to myself.

“Umm..” I hummed. “The Schmitts and the Mikaelys are definitely in here.” I finished up the last check before rolling back to my sketchbook, using my finger to thumb through the pages.

“Unfortunate. I haven’t been drawn yet.” He faked pouted. I rolled my eyes before flipping one or two pages before presenting the portrait to him.

“I’m not necessarily finish. Your face is pretty hard to encapture.” I sighed, looking at the smears of led blended together. Isaack was something of a character: a big prominent smile that is not hard to catch a glimpse of in a room full of people. His hair perfectly styled each morning that still manages to maintain its shape by the end of the day. His voice had depth to it, almost like he was born to be the daily news reporter for radios and TVs of all kind. He stared at the drawing in satisfied awe before leaning back.

“Wow, it surely is accurate!” He beamed. I smiled proudly before placing my sketchbook down.

“Thank you,” I politely nodded. I slid his ID back through the letter box. “Everything seems to be good to go. You’re allowed in, Mr. Gauss.” He nodded in his head in gratitude, but however, did not my window just yet. He took a minute to ponder, as if contemplating his next move, before beaming his teeth once again.

“Ah, before I go,” he quickly inputed. “is there by chance Francis Mosses is on today’s list? He’s the local milkman around here.”

I raised my eyebrow a little, not exactly sure as to why Isaack chose to bring up this person’s name. I shook my head gently before folding my arms in front of me. “I’m sorry, Mr. Gauss, but I’m afraid I cannot disclose that information for you.”

“—Ah, of course.” Isaack quickly fixed himself, putting his hands up a little in defense. “I understand. I was just curious is all. I’m sure you know him though, no?” Thinking for a minute, I’ve realized that this is a neighbor I have not encountered yet.

“No, actually..” I pondered out loud. “Huh, that’s interesting. I guess he works a morning or night shift because the name doesn’t really ring a bell.” I noted out loud.

“Interesting.” He muttered. “Well, keep the name in mind. He’s a rather interesting person, and I think you would find him just as interesting.” Before I could say anything else, he gestured a quick wink before walking through the unlocked door. I quickly snapped out my thoughts before locking the door back up again.

Isaack never really mentioned other names— it wasn’t necessarily out of character, but it felt a little outlandish. I looked down to see my pencil in hand again and blank surface of paper. My eyes trailed over to the paper taped on to the wall next to my window, realizing that Frances was in fact on today’s check-in list. Out of curiousity, I located his room number before surfing through the folders. After locating folder 3 and apartment 02, I was able to find more about him.

He was a slim, tall man with a crooked nose and ruffled brown hair. His eye bags were prominent from what I assume to be lack of sleep. As I stared at his picture, my hand moved by itself across my sketchbook, forming a circle to start defining out the headshape. I squinted slightly, trying to feel for each detail in his face. From the way his eyebrows were rotated a little outward, defining more of his tired expression, to the bump in his nose bridge, making it a bit more interesting to draw. It was mesmerizing, almost wishing I could sit here and draw his face in perso—

tap, tap!

I nearly jumped out of my seat. The pencil flung out of my hand, rolling off of the desk. My eyes flickered up—

and there he was.

My breath near caught in my throat as I stared up in shock. The man behind the glass was barely shocked to see my reaction. His white “milkman” hat rested perfectly on top of his brown hair with small curls slightly peaking out. I was swift to regain my composure in my head as I folded my hands in front of me with my legs crossed under the desk.

“Good afternoon, sir.” I smiled. “I haven’t seen you before. ID and entry request?”

He let out a small hum, barricaded by his pink lips, as he took out his paper and ID. He politely slid them through the letter slot before I took the items to examine.

“Mr. Francis Mosses.. Lives on floor 03.. Room 02.. Coming from work as a milkman.” I glanced up to look at him, comparing the photo ID to his face. His expression was exactly alike: tired eyes, slight frown on the lips, crooked nose, and a clean shaven face. I double checked with his file already on my desk, making sure that the ID numbers and the description aligned with his ID. “Everything looks good.” I confirmed as I slid his ID back to him.

“Mmm.. Thank you.” He hummed. I turned around to place his request form in a folder, but once I sat back up, I realized he was still standing at the window, curiously staring through the glass. I raised my eyebrow a little, confused as to why he was still lingering.

“I’m sorry, did I forget something?” I asked. Francis shook his head before pointing down at my desk.

“Is that.. Supposed to be me?” He asked. A tiny bit of emotion seeped into his voice, dripping in interest and curiousity.

“I— oh—” I looked down to see the rough drawing of Francis sitting at my desk, drawn with sketch lines still lightly defining his features, while the harder drawn areas sculpted his prominent details. “Yeah..” I mumbled. “I-I’m sorry if it makes you uncomfortable!” I exclaimed. “It’s just a way to help me remember faces and I was going through the files and I realized I haven’t met you before so I—”

“You make me look so pretty.” He mumbled, almost breathlessly. A faint pink color brushed his cheeks as he was unable to take his gaze away from the paper.

“W-Well.. I do aim for accuracy.” I chuckled, complimenting the man right back. My nerves had calmed down after noticing his calm demeanor. “You could keep it, if you’d like that is.” I offered. It would be awkward if I kept the drawing rather than give it to him— I mean— this is his first time ever seeing me and it was an awkward first interaction right off the bat. It was the least I could do for him. Francis nodded his head and in response, I tore the piece of paper out of the scrapbook before sliding it through the letter slot.

“There you go.” I smiled.

“Thank you..” He replied, graciously taking the piece of paper and admiring it once again. “Oh— um,” He quickly looked up to me. “What is your name? I’m sorry, I’m not really good with.. Introductions.” He trailed off, but something about his shyness and reluctant voice made me grin even harder.

“My name is (y/n). I’m the doorman in training for this building.” I greeted.

“Ah, of course. I’m Francis— Mmm..Though you already know that.” He said, shaking his head a little by the end of his sentence.

“Well, it was nice meeting you, Francis. I’ll be seeing you around, I assume?” I said, sitting at the edge of my chair as I looked up at him.

“More often than before.” He smiled. It was the widest he’d grin throughout our whole conversation. Something inside me told me that he doesn’t pass around smiles like that easily. It made me feel accomplished in some sort of way. But with that, he departed from my window. I made sure to unlock the door and listen for the door closing behind him before locking it again.

Francis Mosses.

I think I have someone to look forward to on tomorrow’s entry list.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

really hoped you enjoyed! replies, reblogs, and even likes are super appreciated! thank you so much for reading :]

[pandorascripts]

Maybe Y/N scared of telling Wednesday that they like her but she finds out from small little journal entries in your diary that fell from your backpack when you passed her. She liked them back. Then maybe a cute lil' scene of the two laying in bed and talking? Cute kiss maybe :O

Secret Love Notes

summary: Wednesday suspected you to be the Hyde, it seems she missed the mark by a landslide. Thank God for Wednesdays snooping antics.

warnings: nothing, just cute fluff :)

note: this entire idea is adorable. SEND IN MORE REQUESTS! Also, don’t be afraid to requests others too!!! I’m working on some Enid fics. Sorry for slow posts broksis, I have no excuse, just been having writers block a bit. ————————

Ever since the murders started at Nevermore, you’d been… weird. Not just any kind of weird, awkward weird. You’d been avoiding Wednesday at any cost, and because of that, her suspicion on you had been at a high percentage. 

It sucked. That was the only thing Wednesday could say about you being the Hyde. Unfortunately, Wednesday had taken a liking to you, although, she wouldn’t admit it. 

Desperate to confront you after class, Wednesday packed up her things a little before it ended, and simply walked out the door. Ignoring Professor Rinesteen’s arguments and protests, she continued to the west end of Nevermore, where you were currently in Professor Binn’s class of A History to Outcasts. 

Professor Binn’s monotonous voice echoed across the dungeon-like room, lulling ninety percent of his students to sleep. Wednesday flipped open her pocket watch, glaring at the white line that ticked across every second. Two minutes until class went out… one minute… thirty seconds…

The bell rung and Wednesday closed her pocket watch, putting the chain back around her neck, and stared at the flood of students leaving. Most of them had their eyes half-open, others practically tripping over themselves in fatigue. 

Then, her eyes caught a hold of yours. You hair was in a braid, one of which Wednesday would like to congratulate the maker of because it truly was beautiful, and you had a way too large cardigan covering, what Wednesday assumed, were shorts. 

“Y/N,” she called out. 

You took out an earbud, looking around in confusion. 

“Over here.” Wednesday sighed, walking over to you instead, and poked your sleeve. 

You whipped around, panicked. She expected the panic to vanish, but you instead dropped your bag and sprinted Eastbound. 

Wednesday frowned. She knew most people were afraid of her, but they usually just stuck to avoiding her, not dashing away with panic. She reached down, putting books and folders back into your backpack. Wednesdays’s hand reached out for a brown leather notebook, which was perfectly propped open. Knowing she probably shouldn’t have, curiosity killed the cat, and she sat on the floor, flipping through. 

There were dates and doodles surrounding paragraphs of words. It was a journal, she realized. This only increased her curiosity, and so, Wednesday brought it back to her dorm. She decided to use her free hour to snoop, hoping to find something of a confession. 

Shoving the leather journal into her hoodie and under her arm, she dragged the backpack up the her dorm room. Wednesday began to fill with something akin to glee. She was going to get you, get your confession and expose you for the monster you were. Her thoughts were gruesome and happy, multiple ways you’d be locked up and behind bars, while she moved into another mystery swirled around her head. Then, the glee died down and a new feeling filled her. Wednesday seldom felt this emotion, it was grief. 

She frowned, utterly confused. Why was she sad? Wednesday dragged her feet along the prolonged hallways of Ophelia Hall, her thoughts taunting her and dreading her. What if you really were the Hyde? Well it shouldn’t matter, Wednesday didn’t do attachments and certainly not to murderers. Wednesday shook it off, straightening her posture for no one to see, and swung open her door. 

Sitting on her bed, she flipped the the first page, reading the date of the first day of school. Wednesday read with rapt attention, her lips flickering upwards. Reading your journal was better than talking to you, because she could read your thoughts rather than see your anxiety. At least in this journal you could say a sentence, the most Wednesday ever got from you was a timid greeting. Her stomach always churned terribly when it happened. The corners of her mouth flickered up again, reading your views of Plato’s Republic. Wednesday never knew you were into philosophy, but she found herself wanting to ask you about your views on Machiavelli, and Aristotle. Wednesday laid on her back, propping one foot over the other. She flipped another page, this entry a week later. 

‘Schools going good, Enid and I’s friendship is growing and I really think she’s cool! She’s introduced me to Yoko, who I’ve also taking a liking to. Everyone’s so nice at Nevermore, except Bianca, but I’ve no bad run-ins with her. Everything’s good. I’m just waiting for the other shoe to drop.’

Wednesday got lost in time and pages, soon now approaching her next hour, but she didn’t care, seeing as she was now two days away from her own arrival. Wednesday got so lost in your worded thoughts, she completely forgot what she was looking for. She found herself relating with you on some level, except for you views on philosophy. That was something she’d never agree with you on. 

Wednesday reached another page, the entry showing that she’d been at the school for a week. 

‘Enid’s got a new roommate. She seems cool, scary, but cool, yknow? I think I’d like to be friends with her, but I know I’d end up falling for her’ — Wednesday quirked an eyebrow — ‘because she’s just my type. Brooding and mysterious. I think she hates me. She stares at me like she sees right through me, it’s kind of attractive. I literally just run away from her and I won’t even sit at the quad to eat anymore. This sucks.’

So you weren’t the Hyde, you were just… gay… and suffering from a crush to Wednesday. She frowned, deep in thought. She opened the journal back up, getting to another section. 

‘I hate crushes. I’m so close to just screaming and never showing up to class again. I hate the way my heart races when I’m around her. I literally only pass by her in the hallway, or in class and my hearts having a freaking spasm. She’s like a shark, I think she knows I like her. I always catch her staring at me. I don’t think she’s homophobic, she might just not like me at all, so me liking her is awkward or weird. I think I’m gonna avoid her. The crush has gotta die out, right?’

Wednesday flipped another page. 

‘FUCK! This won’t go away. I’m literally gonna leave Nevermore, run away and go to some stupid normie school. Wednesday keeps staring at me and every time I just blush hard and look away, I try not to bother her. I wonder if there’s some rumor about me and she caught wind of it. Maybe people think I do drugs or something.’

Another flip. This one was today. 

‘Enid thinks I should just go for it, tell Wednesday I like her. I cant though, cause I know she doesn’t like me. If she did, oh fuck I’d be the talk of the school. Everyone assumes Wednesday hates everybody, which is probably true, but then, why does she stare at me??? Does she hate me?? Does she like me?? Am I mysterious or something??? I hate school. I cant wait until this stupid massive crush washes away and Wednesday is gone from Nevermore. Enid said she already tried running away, but is only staying cause she wants to catch the Hyde. I couldn’t care less what that monster is, as long as it’s not killing me or my friends. I hope Wednesday doesn’t get herself in any trouble. The thought of her leaving this school actually makes me sad. Which is stupid, I know, cause I want her to leave, but the hearts fucking dumb.’

Wednesday sighed, closing the journal. She’d had enough of this. Every symptom you’d said you had Wednesday reciprocated, she’d just thought it was anxiety because she believed you to be the Hyde. But then again, she should’ve known better, she’s never been anxious in her life. Wednesday’s lack of emotions had left her… emotionally stupid. She didn’t understand emotions, much less feel a vast majority of them. 

Wednesday slid the notebook into your bag, hoisted it over her shoulder, and walked to your dorm. It was now six o’clock, your classes were over and so were everybody else’s. It was a good thing that in Wednesday’s investigation, she’d figured out that you didn’t have a roommate. If only she could have that same experience, Wednesday would live for it. 

Her fist hesitated as she knocked, dropping it down twice before she finally struck it. 

“Come in!” a muffled voice shouted. 

Wednesday opened the door, closing it shut with her foot, as she continued to walk. 

You turned to face her, not sure who she was. When your eyes locked with hers, your jaw dropped. 

“I have your bag, thought I’d return it,” stated Wednesday, setting it on the floor. Her eyes swiftly assessed the room, matching every little thing to your personality. The room was so… you. 

It seemed for every musical genre you had a poster. Wednesday could make out some big ones; Taylor Swift, Twenty One Pilots, and Green Day to name a few. Wednesday could’ve sworn she saw Eminem along there. 

“Thanks,” you whispered, grabbing it off the the floor and hanging it on a rack. 

Wednesday walked around your room, looking to your bookshelf with great interest. There, hundreds of books were stacked within it, the top reaching your ceiling and the bottom touching your carpet. 

“How do you even reach these?” she asked, pointing to the top ones. 

You smiled, anxieties gone now, and grabbed a footstool. Setting it down, you hummed to yourself as you stepped up. Then, you got on your tiptoes, tongue in between your teeth from concentration. 

“That way, or I just get Yoko. She’s tall.”

You stepped down from it, folding then, then nestled it back under your desk. 

Wednesday’s hands glided across the books, stopping when she saw her favorite philosopher. 

“Machiavelli. Color me impressed.”

“There’s Sun Tzu there, too. I’ve got a lot of philosophers.”

Wednesday stifled the corners of her mouth, pressing hard down to prevent a smile. She took the top of a book, tipping it down and sliding it out. The book was in pristine condition, no folded corners, or bookmarks far too big for it were there. 

Art of War, she thought. 

“Do you agree with Machiavelli and Sun Tzu’s views?”

You chuckled. “Not at all. Human kind is beautiful. Rulers should be kind and generous. Not cruel and vindictive.”

“I disagree. Homo sapiens are no better than animals, they should be ruled and put in control. They will always lash out and try to rise above, which is why rulers must be cruel. It’s the best way.”

You nodded your head, biting your lip. “You know your philosophy.”

“And so do you,” she stated, turning around to face you. Wednesday slid the book back into its place, walking over to you afterwards. 

“It’s nice to have a mind that’s willing to challenge mine.”

“I wouldn’t put me on the same pedestal as you, Wednesday. I’d probably disappoint.” You chuckled nervously, wrapping a hand around the back of your neck. 

“I somehow doubt that.”

You lightly smiled at her, walking over to sit on your bed. “Thanks for dropping off my stuff.”

Wednesday followed you, setting  on the bed as well. “I admit, I did snoop.”

Wednesday looked over to you, your face filled with stifled panic. 

“Nothing much. Just homework.”

She shook her head. “No, it was interesting, just not the type I wanted.”

You gulped, playing with your fingers anxiously. You hadn’t written anything badin there, at least not to you. The only thing you were worried about was your raging crush that you’d stored in there. 

“What were you looking for?” you asked timidly, afraid of the answer. 

“I wanted a confession. I believed you to be the Hyde.”

You gave Wednesday a condescending look. “Really? Me? I’m, like, probably the least threatening person at Nevermore.”

“You had all the signs. You’ve always been antsy around me.”

You swallowed harshly, looking away from Wednesday and to your desk. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“But then I read your journal.”

“Fuck,” you whispered, still not meeting her eye. “Hope you enjoyed it.”

“I realized you weren’t anxious because you’re the Hyde, but because of a schoo—“

“Don’t finish that sentence.”

You stood up, walking to the door. You pointed to the empty hallway. “I think you should go.”

“Too bad, I think not.”

You stomped your foot slightly, huffing a breath of hot air out. “Well, I’m glad your enjoying yourself, Wednesday, but I don’t like to be played with.”

“I’m no—“

“You are. You have a stupid smirk on your face, I see it clear as day.”

Wednesday cleared her throat, not even realizing she was smiling. “You’re imagining things.”

“See you later, Wednesday,” you said, even though Wednesday was still sitting on your bed. 

“Close the door.”

“No.”

Wednesday got up with a sigh, took your hand off the door, and slammed it shut. She ignored your many protest and sputters, simply dragging you back to your bed and sitting you on it. 

“I do not mean to play games, nor do I wish to make you upset.”

You looked away from her again, eyes darting from trinket to trinket. A cold hand in yours made your eyes snap downwards, Wednesday had fully wrapped her hand around yours. You gulped, the log in your throat refusing to budge. Wednesday used her other hand to lightly place it under your chin, drawing it upwards. 

“Much better,” she husked out. 

With her eyes so fierce and strong, your body begged you to look away, but you couldn’t. Her gaze was magnetic, pulling and sucking you inwards. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t enjoy the helpless feeling. 

“As I was reading your journals, I discovered that the reason for my own racing pulse… and other less-than adequate feelings wasn’t because I was anxious. I believed you to be the Hyde, but I was obviously mistaken. Those feelings were caused for the same reason as yours,” Wednesday paused her low tone, drawing in a breath and leaning impossibly closer, “desire.”

You tried to breath out, hoping to expel some of your anxiousness, but it came out shaky and uncertain. Your nerves were on fire; every crevice of your body feeling everything there was to feel. The subtle wind of Wednesday’s breath against your lips, her cold hand raising goosebumps as it traveled to your jaw, the small gaps in your cardigan exposing your skin to the warm air — everything was driving your crazy. You’d never felt anything like it. 

Then, when you made no move to back away, Wednesday moved barely an inch forward. Her soft lips landed lightly on yours; eyes automatically fluttering closed as if it was routine. Wednesday kept the kiss soft, her lips applied a light and calming pressure. 

She pulled back, not bothering to put too much distance between you two. Then, you saw something that could only be described as magical. Wednesday smiled. 

Her eyes crinkled slightly, dimples of either side of her face blossoming, and a light gaze in her eyes. It was a side of Wednesday you could only dream of seeing, and here you were, awake and sober, witnessing it. A part of you wanted to desperately kiss her; but the sight in front of you kept you stupefied. 

Wednesday lightly tapped your cheek. “Did I break you already?”

You shook your head, a smile of your own forming. “You’re gonna have to try a lot harder to break me.”

“I look forward to it.

[silverag09]

5am rambling about Sky cause my sleep schedule is severely wack - includes personal headcannons about lore lmao- everything below the cut so you don’t get blasted with a billion words ✨

Heads up: this is not a fun silly Headcannon. It is

s a d.

You’ve been warned. There is a cute little doodle at the very bottom of this to make it up to anybody who reads this tho

This mainly pertains to moth players and Eden, I came up with this after watching a few folk’s own lore videos on their sky kid’s backstories and whatnot- imagine

Yknow all the moths you’ve adopted, guided through the world and befriended in the process? Once they enter Eden, that has the potential to determine their entire fate.

The moth’s who enter Eden, with or without your help, have to make it through. One way or another. Or, they don’t. They quit halfway through because they’re too afraid, or they don’t understand what they’re meant to do. Some manage to make it through Eden, but then think that’s the end of the game. No more, no seasons, no travelling spirits, no upcoming events, nothing.

I imagine the moths who never fully make it through Eden simply just.. die, in a sense. Their light, their soul, whatever you may call it, was not strong enough to withstand the storm and they simply perish and become one of the many statues trapped there, until you eventually come for your next run and free them.

Alternatively, the ones who make it out but quit shortly after - they were corrupted in some form by Eden - namely, the same power that may or may not have corrupted Resh - the Eden elder and/or king. I have my own theories about Resh too- but that’s for another time. They don’t continue, so their light/wings don’t grow stronger. Almost like an infection, they don’t have the strength to fight off the ‘virus’ (the corruption) as time passes, they remain stagnant and the corruption chips away at them until they ‘die’.

The sky kids who’ve fallen to corruption eventually return to either the wasteland or eden. Those who find themselves in the wasteland deteriorate slowly over time, transforming into crabs or simply dying, their bodies becoming seeds for dark plants to take root. Those who end up back in Eden aren’t so fortunate to have such a peaceful end. And I’m using the term peaceful very, very lightly.

Those who returned to Eden are back in the direct line of contamination from, as stated previously, the same power that corrupted Resh - their bodies rapidly deteriorate and give out on them, their remaining light unable to stay strong enough to stave off death. They don’t remain ‘dead’ for long though, the remains mutating into dark dragons or other beings of pure darkness. They wander aimlessly, trying to find any source of light in the hopes that they can relight the fire they lost, have the hope that - as minuscule as it may be - they can return to the lands of Sky and return to their normal life. The consciousness of the child who’s been mutated remains partially intact, that’s the only reason they’re still hunting down anything that gives off warmth - but they’re not aware of what they’ve become. All they know is that they’re cold, and that other sky kids run away from them no matter what they do.

In other words, the sky kids who don’t make it through are eternally trapped, until you provide them brief respite through freeing them during your weekly/monthly/etc runs. That’s why you see them in orbit sometimes. Those who can’t or refuse to continue perish, to put it very bluntly. I imagine after a certain length of time, their remaining consciousness fades entirely and all that’s left is a monster of darkness, wandering with nothing but subjecting others to the same fate as it fell to on its mind, taking out the envy, anger, and spite that got left behind on the poor souls it finds - those that have wandered where they should never have gone.

———————————————————

Ngl the only reason I came up was this is cause I wanted all the players who’ve quit at Eden, before/in/after, to have a purpose. It sounds bad when I put it like that but idk how else to put it— my old account, I started just before season of dreams started and I quit the same week cause I didn’t want to go through Eden, and I was unaware there was more to the game aside from “fly through pretty world, talk to old spirit looking things, die.” I returned to the game midway through season of remembrance, and I’m very glad I did. I don’t have a lot of headcannons for lore or anything like that, but this is one of them, and as sad as it is- I like it. I love the krill, I love the dark creatures and I love the light creatures too. I feel like the dark creatures don’t get enough love sometimes and I wanted to make something dedicated to them - and, again, it’s sad, but this makes me love them even more- even if I fell asleep by accident while playing that one time and got attacked by the krill and crabs so many times that I got sent to the pity room. Meh.

Anyways, here’s a doodle of my skykid and his buddies to make you less sad 👌

[thechekhov]

Dungeon Meshi - Quick Reacts (CHAPTER 14: Kelpie)

You know, I understand why people are annoyed by her attitude towards Senshi’s food and Laios’ tastes, but you gotta admit she’s trying her best. 

this is another one of these things that don’t really come up in games but... thank fuck they have flowing water. That would be a real deal breaker if you want to survive. And they can shave and brush their teeth? It’s a miracle.

To be fair, I think Senshi’s beard is probably its own ecosystem by now. He probably uses it as a scrub brush. 

At least if she does that, you’ll be picking way less dwarf hair out of your food. Come on guys, we know that stuff gets in there when he cooks. 

someone get this woman to design a whole ass game. 

Water walk! Good wizard. 

is Senshi afraid of water?! Dwarves I swear.....

Aww, their first party fight! I’m shocked at how coordinated Laios and Chilchuck are. 

HE’S STILL SINKING, JUST SLOWLY.

HIS BEARD? It repels magic... 😂

Laios, you don’t look as sure as you sound. 

Oh. OH yEAH. There will be NO repercussions for THAT. 

Marcille’s little “Anne.” isn’t even a question. She’s just disappointed. 

Meanwhile, that Kelpie straight up wants the blood and guts soaked into his beard.

Didn’t that thing... walk.... out from UNDER the water though? 

That seems extreme as well, but I’m on this hill with Laios and his distrust of horses. 

I see someone speaks from experience. 

Yeah, I could have maybe seen that coming. 

Though I AM legitimately disappointed by this turn of events.

Horses are horrifying when they’re given dog mouths - confirmed. 

...actually hold on

Horses are horrifying when they’re given dog mouths - confirmed.

Marcille’s been on the protein I see. 

Laios, you are right but also your little pet monster will eat you one day. For no though, the fact that you almost drowned it is adorable. 

Don’t you though? I imagine if anyone understands how monsters think, it would be you, Laios. 

It’s true that he loved her. It’s also true that letting her rot without using her would be a waste. In a way, she will carry them further this way. 

oooh, is she making soap? 

There’s something about the idea of using things you have at your disposal that makes this really cool. The fact that everything they’re making, aside from very special ingredients like olive oil, are all scavenged and created with their own hand is... I don’t know... heartwarming? 

THEY’RE!!!! BONDING!!!!

Weirdly heartwarming.

Maybe just let it air dry--

whEEZE---- I CAN’T--

There he goes............the magnificent beast............

GROUP HUG! aww

.......................... coding, man. No matter what century, that one typo will get ya.

The real BBEG was the lack of unions all along...............

YOU ASKED FIRST, YOU DINGUS. 😂

All that said, Laios doesn’t strike me as someone interested in romance. 

this is just a magical hermit crab.

NOOO HE JUST WANTED TO VIBE

You guys could probably make a fortune as dungeon delvers if you weren’t after Falin.

Who knows if souls exist? Haven’t you all died multiple times?

............Well, they do have skin and a squishy inside, and they grow..... checks out.

........you know what? I’ll take it. Wine? Necromancy. Cheese? Necromancy. Natto? DEFINITELY necromancy. 

Marcille doesn’t drink?

...........is this doodle-bob all over again? 

Senshi, who nearby died by Kelpie: WHY DON’T THEY WANT MY LIVER? IT’S GOOD FOR THEM!

.....................like respects like. These two are on the same frequency. 

If we’re being nitpicky about it, Anne never actually bit Senshi. She went after the Mimic. Maybe she just got tired because he was fucking heavy........ 

Horses, man. 

[tomriddleslove]

OKAY I SAW THAT U WERE DOONG THE PAIRINGS AND I HAD TO JUMP ON IT, HOPEFULLY THIS ISNT TOO LONG

I have hip length brown hair w a little wave at the bottom, brown eyes, 5’2, my style is like a mix between like flowy sundresses, yoga pants and hoodies, natural makeup but w subtle pink eyeshadow and sparkles!

Personality wise I’m super shy, I LIVE for music (top 3 r $B Lana and Chase Atlantic), empathetic, a little lazy (😖), bookworm, introvert, I’m an INTJ-T if that helps, OH and I’m into astronomy + astrology, on that note I’m a Pisces!

I LOVE THESE BECAUSE I CAN TELL WHO YOUD MATCH BY THE WAY YOU SENT THIS MESSAGE.

Pairing: Theodore Nott.

The second you said sundresses and long hair, I knew you would be Theodore’s girl without a doubt.

A super shy, bookworm music lover is basically Theodore when he’s not putting on the whole loud guy act with his friends.

He 100% fell in love with you at first sight, and he’s not afraid to be terrifyingly cheesy when he’s with you.

You’re his all to him, and he’d drop anything for you at any moment. He follows you around like a lovesick puppy, heart eyes and all. Carrying your bag for you, picking you up from lessons.

He brings you flowers every weekend and happily funds all your shopping trips. He loves buying you clothes and seeing you look all pretty, knowing he’s the only one who gets to have you.

He loves listening to you talk about astronomy. It’s how the two of you met, sitting next to one another during your lessons.

Despite having been in a relationship with his for a while, he’s still embarassed to admit how much of a love he has for topics like astronomy. He was educated on them as a child, and never gave up reading and researching. He doesn’t tell you that he knows all the facts you tell them, because he loves the way your eyes light up when you babble onto him about whatever odd new thing you’ve learnt.

On your birthday, you both sneak out of the castle, and into hogsmeade. He takes you up a steep trail, and he assures you it’s all worth it whilst you complain about being dragged up a hill in the freezing cold. However, the second the view comes into sight you take it all back.

Without any pollution from the light, the stars are clear as day. It’s almost surreal, the way they seem to fill the abandon of the night sky. The two of you lay there for what seems like hours. exchanging little faces and snacking on some sweets Theodore had stolen from Lorenzo earlier on that day.

He gifts you a small silver locket, with your constellation engraved on the back. When you open the locket, there’s a small drawing. It was a little doodle you did on the note you passed Theodore the first time you both started talking. He pulls your hair to the side, gently clasping the locket around your neck before tenderly pressing a kiss to your temple.

“Happy birthday, My love.”

[seasonalmoss]

The Mandela Catalogue: Catifed, Thatcher Davis and Adam Murray

So I decided to show some of my TMC catifed designs! Mostly because I can!

I’m actually a bit scared to post this, since I don’t interact much with the TMC fandom (or the EPIC fandom but it’s different for that) and I’m sorta afraid of what they’re like, but out of what I’ve seen they don’t seem to mind turning characters into animals and stuff, or AUs (and I have a lot of TMC AUs) so I’m sorta just shooting my shot and seeing where it lands!

anyways, Thatcher and Adam actually don’t have full refs yet, the only TMC character that does is Sarah, these little chibi sprites came from a batch of TMC characters I made on a whim, the other characters I designed alongside them was Mark and Sarah but they got redesigns. These little sprites are meant to just get their pelt patterns and basic fur stuff down, they don’t even have their accessories. I have drawn them more since then, and I actually do have drawings of Adam with his BPS sweater but they’re all just doodle. the one of him laying down was actually a clothing test I made for him (I basically just put him in fancy clothing) and I made another version of him without it just because I was proud of his anatomy and shit. Thatcher I draw less then Adam(for some reason?), but I have been drawing the dude a lot more. Anyways I am planning to give him more accessories and for some reason I barley draw his piercings? Idk why? I actually really like when characters have earrings and stuff I just always forget to draw him with it.

Also I just realized I missed some markings on Thatcher for the one of him sitting down- damn I need to remember to add things to my guy thatcher it’s not like I don’t care about him, I LOVE the guy a lot actually.

@thequasarwinds

[femme-from-hell]

𓆩♡𓆪 More Lupin III HCs 𓆩♡𓆪

More Thoughts On Lupin & Co. (This one is a little long)

lupin is super picky about his coffee and WILL get pissy if he doesn't get it how he likes it.

Fujiko made Lupin coffee for the first time along time ago after their first night together when they started their little situation-ship and Lupin has drank his coffee like that ever since.

Fujiko drinks energy drinks and Lupin is repulsed by them. Lupin caught her drinking one but she’ll deny it until the day she dies.

Jigen drinks his black because he can't handle too much caffeine. (for context, black coffee has a pretty low caffeine content for those who don't know.)

Lupin was a track and field kid. As seen in the events in Lupin Zero -sorta spoiler warning for those who haven't seen it-, his dad wanted him to live a normal life, so he convinced his son to do something normal kids do to get his energy out rather than stirring up shit. Lupin was reluctant but fell in love with the sport.

Jigen has really pretty hand writing but Lupin’s is shit, so Jigen writes all of Lupin’s cursive calling cards, but Lupin signs them. Sometimes Lupin just makes Jigen write things for him when he doesn't need it because he just really likes his hand writing.

Lupin likes drawing doodles on all of his notes, letters, etc. Without fail, Lupin's papers are littered w drawings of him, his friends, sometimes Zenigata, or whatever treasure they're after.

Zenigata doesn’t cook often, nor is he the best at it, but he really enjoys doing in nonetheless.

If Lupin doesn’t get his ‘beauty sleep’ he just turns into a full blown bumbling idiot, like I’m talking walking straight into door frames, tripping over his own feet, all of it

On top of that, if someone interrupts his sleep, he gets incredibly pissy and short tempered.

^^Jigen kept blasting opera over the radio once in the hideout, resulting in Lupin being woken from his nap. Without even a second thought, Lupin rolled over on the couch, shot the radio, and rolled back over.

Lupin has A LOT of scars, it comes with the territory of nearly dropping dead with every job he takes on, and he uses his skills as a disguise artist to cover them up because he feels self conscious about them.

I feel like he's a perfectionist so he would see these scars as reminders of how he could have done better or could have done more.

Fujiko is a big spoon and you can pry this thought from my cold dead hands.

Lupin has a little collection of those 3d puzzles, even rubix cubes, and he fiddles with them to keep his mind working during stretches of travel or when he can’t think

Both Goemon and Jigen have tried to use said puzzles out of curiosity but got frustrated when they couldn’t figure them out

Because Fujiko rides motorcycles a lot, I like to think she has a lot of automotive knowledge and has tinkered with the Fiat once or twice.

Lupin doesn’t let her near it often because she isn’t afraid to sabotage the car if she plans on double crossing them.

Lupin is great with kids, but is incredibly irresponsible. He isn’t a big fan of dealing with them but once he’s got attached to them, all hell breaks loose. He is the kind of person that if they asked for ice cream for dinner he would absolutely respond with “WHY DIDN’T I THINK OF THAT”

Goemon rarely sleeps on missions, in part because he always wants to be alert but also in part because he sleeps like a rock. Like, if a shoot out fight started right over him he would be snoring on cloud 9.

Goemon tried smoking like Lupin and Jigen once but he coughed everything up for a solid minute and hasn’t touched another cigarette since.

Lupin will borrow Jigen’s suits once in a while when he needs to tone down the color a bit but Jigen refuses to touch Lupin’s stuff with a ten foot pole no matter how much Lupin insists he would look good with a pop of color.

Jigen has perfect pitch, which is one of the main things that plays into his taste in music.

Lupin has trash taste in music, like absolutely horrid and he is banned from touching the radio in the car or the portable one on look outs.

The gang will regularly play cards together, and of course Lupin, Jigen, and Fujiko are cheating but Fujiko will actively sabotage Jigen and Lupin if Goemon starts losing really bad. Goemon knows how to cheat, he just refuses to.

Based off that one McDonalds commercial with Goemon ordering ahead on his phone, I like to think that when he discovered he could order food over his phone he went a little nuts ordering his favorite food from the local Japanese joint down the street. Like, I'm talking several hundred dollars worth in a day.

Lupin and Fujiko aren’t the best at apologizing when they get into a fight with someone, but I like to think that when they try and apologize, it's sorta just a thoughtful gift they’ll slide to the person they were arguing with.

Lupin has never once forgotten Pop’s birthday and leaves him a little something every year. It's never anything stolen because he knows Zenigata wouldn't accept it if it was.

Lupin’s fur coat from his green jacket days (the one he was wearing in TWCFM) was one of the first extravagant things he bought with money he stole.

Lupin writes everything down, he’s the kind of person when presented with a riddle or a puzzle, he needs to do a hand full of scribbles that only make sense to him and then he’s got it solved. More specifically, he writes in his grandfather’s journal he found in the movie Blood Seal of The Eternal Mermaid.

Lupin has a pretty high pain tolerance but when he so much as gets a small cold, he’ll moan and groan about it.

Yikes, this got long! But I still have so much more, what is a little guy like me to do! Guess ill just have to actually post more rather than just rebloging stuff at 2 am...

[ozzgin]

I can't get your yakuza headcanons out of my mind, Daitou's got me in a chokehold and I'm not complaining, like--

in regards to that doodle you made to show height difference between reader and the boys [I love your art btw (●♡∀♡)] - I can't picture myself in reader's style, I'm currently going through my goth phase in my 20s lmao; picture a big bitch with tattoos and messy hair who's listening to nothing but 2000s hits and screamo bands - so I'd like to request a headcanon of how Daitou would react to a gender-neutral reader like this :D I also like to incorporate the idea of them once being in a famous band that he's a fan of! (sorry if this seems like a lot, I have a huge imagination hehe)

but if he's more into the cute and helpless type, I'll just walk my ass out the door and yeehaw my way into another yandere's arms ✌😔

That's on me for not drawing the reader inserts as cartoonish cinder blocks :') In truth I'm a little bit embarrassed seeing how many likes that doodle has gotten, it was something I put together in a hurry and the clothing was meant to be baggy, shapeless, with not too many folds for the sake of simplicity. I myself am more of a pilgrim goth, just to emphasize the randomness of the choice.

Drawing reader inserts always leaves me a little anxious. If I use a light shade of gray, will people think I'm excluding poc? Will plus sized readers feel like they've been disregarded? What about masculine readers? As someone who's demiromantic I always struggle taking appearance or gender into consideration, because to me it has no influence whatsoever. Which is hard to express when you want to offer blank slate visuals as an extra to the story.

What I'm trying to say is that all of my characters would like you for who you are. Sure, they find your looks cute, but it's not the defining reason. Maybe you have similar traits to them, maybe you're the complete opposite and they find it intriguing. You could be a buff man and Daitou would be just as grateful to have someone who isn't afraid of him. I usually stick to a female reader for bigger stories to avoid messing it up long term, but in the grand scheme of things it makes no difference. I always imagine reader to be a shapeless blob that provides the dialogue I need for the story mood. There's no concrete preference or type for any of my OCs. I mean, ideally you'd like them back and not hang them upside down above a BBQ pit but I feel these are sensible requirements (?).

And now for the actual headcanons since my ramble is over.

First encounter is comically awkward but for reasons you’re unaware of yet. You’re obviously used to people staring at you (more so in a country like Japan), so you were expecting the curious glance every now and then. On the other hand, being under scrutiny, from a man even more unusual looking than you at that, is odd. Mildly uncomfortable. You’re shifting yourself from one leg to another, hoping to be done with the introductions soon.

On his end, Daitou is anxiously fidgeting and trying his best to focus. He’s seen this face before and he can’t shake off the familiar feeling. Where the hell…He obviously can’t downright gawk at you, and he isn’t sure how to politely formulate a question. After several sheepish peeks, it finally dawns on him: weren’t you part of that band he really likes? No, what would the chances be? Then again, how many people out there would look exactly like you? Is it rude to ask? He has no idea. He resumes his mumbled description of the apartment and hands you the papers to be signed.

Back at his place, he finally digs through his merch and sprawls out the available clues. “I didn’t know you were into this kind of music”, Kazuya comments as he looks over the man’s shoulder. He’d come over to ask about the new tenant. “I’m pretty sure it’s them.” He concludes, confidently placing his index over a CD cover. “Huh? Who? The tenant?” Kazuya holds back his chuckle. “Why would a celebrity show up for a shady apartment offer? You’re tripping, man.”

“I’m sorry, this is getting ridiculous.” You finally exclaim, annoyed by the persistent stares of the now two men facing you. You’re standing in front of the apartment building, arms crossed, huffing at the tall scarred man and his blonde friend. “No, I’m sure of it. Even the tattoo is the same.” Daitou turns to whisper to Kazuya, oblivious to your complaints. In turn, Kazuya lightly elbows him, mouthing something about being rude. “Just ask them, man.” He adds, this time louder. “Ask me what??” You groan. “W-were you…um…in this band by any chance?” Daitou manages to blurt out, searching his pocket for the CD case and ceremoniously laying it under your eyes.

Ah. It finally clicks and you exhale, relieved. You confirm their suspicions and show them some backstage photos to solidify your claim. You ask Daitou if he wants an autograph or something, then swiftly scribble your signature on a piece of paper and hand it out to him. He holds it with a wide, childish grin. “You’re a weird one, you know? You could’ve just asked. I guess I didn’t expect to find a fan in the wild, especially here.” Daitou carefully folds the souvenir, eyes lidded with nostalgia. “Oh yes, it’s great. Drowns out the screams.”

[ask-nyc-boroughs]

I’m realizing I never shared these doodles from April lol. Just Alfred/ USA and some of the undeniably Appalachian states being Jonah/ West Virginia, Maisie/ North Carolina, Betsy/ Tennessee, & Roy/ Kentucky mostly circa early 1800s. Early frontier and wars with indigenous nations, Alfred spent a lot of time with these states. I’ll try to keep everything brief cause lol I do have a lot of Maisie-specific lore that can be better expanded upon another time, but I wanna share them cause why not

Alfred went from being this grumpy New Englander to being a bit more lighthearted and more like the funny charming Alfred of today, and a lot for that happened cause he spent so much time with these states especially Maisie/ North Carolina who’s quite friendly, very confident in herself and isn’t afraid to speak her mind or share a couple of jokes. Alfred doesn’t like Maisie at first cause he thinks she’s uncouth and insane. Maisie thinks Alfred is an uptight little bitch. But Alfred and Maisie eventually develop feelings for one another and Maisie becomes his first love. However, Alfred and also Maisie are extremely stubborn and neither are afraid of confrontation- this eventually leads to the breakdown of the relationship.

Alfred also from spending time with all of them learns a lot of new musical styles and actually it brings him closer with many southern states that aren’t in Appalachia and western ones as he expands. This is where he begins becoming less of a New Englander and slowly learns to accept new ways of let’s say being American so he begins to grow into the national rep.

Hm ok so some of this I’ll explain more when I work on my revolution arc- but the short version is many of the east coast states are slightly older than Alfred. And they barely agreed to put Alfred in charge especially cause he’s very aggressively a New Englander. So southern states especially aren’t his biggest fan and are rather hesitant.

Jonah/ West Virginia not being a state for much of the early 1800s yet existing as a representative of then his older brother Rich/ Virginia’s back country led to him develop a bit of a chip on his shoulder. And he sees Alfred as an outsider so he doesn’t particularly like him.

States like Betsy/ Tennessee & Roy/ Kentucky are super young during the early 1800s so not much to say about them. Actually TBH I don’t have much information for either Betsy or Roy other than Betsy is a Melungeon & plays the mandolin and is very musically gifted. Roy plays the banjo. I think Jonah plays the fiddle and Maisie plays the guitar.

[septnanis]

“That’s funny,” Sora says. It’s the first time they’ve been alone since Destiny Islands, before the Mark, before all this.

Riku looks at him. “What’s funny?”

“Your eyes,” Sora says, moving closer to him.

It aches a little, because Riku knows for sure now after what happened on the beach. When Riku saw Kairi try to hide the fruit behind her back, he knew it was over. He excused himself and Kairi let him.

“They’re a different color,” Sora says and points at Riku’s eye. “They used to be blue right?”

Like the water on a clear day, his mother had always said. Blue with a hint of green. Sora has given him pretty stones when they were little the exact same color. They still sit under his bed.

“Huh, that’s weird,” Riku says. “What color are they? Red? Purple?” He almost jokingly says yellow but it catches in his throat.

“Green!” Sora says. “They’re darker than they used to be. That’s kinda weird.”

“You’re kinda weird,” Riku replies with a smirk.

His fingers twitch. He’ll look later.

—-

Later feels like a different life.

The dust has barely settled after Sora disappeared off the Paopu tree. Riku keeps up the smiles until everyone has left. Kairi won’t even look at him.

Shame and failure. He doesn’t blame her.

Later feels like a different life so when Mickey insists he go with him to Castle Disney, it doesn’t occur to him to say no.

Minnie is kindness itself, steering him to a room that she leaves him to without urging him to speak.

He takes his clothes off and folds them neatly, showers and finds clothes that fit him perfectly in their place. The blatant show of the castle’s magic makes him smile.

Finally, he turns to the mirror.

And there they are. No longer blue like the water on a clear day. They don’t look like the stones underneath Riku’s bed.

His eyes are green. A dusty green, like the roots of grass. Like the leaves on a tree at nighttime.

Darkness takes physiological shape first by yellow eyes. He knows that better than anyone. He’d spent his year alone terrified he’d look in the mirror and see them turned.

But green?

Riku puts his hands over his eyes.

“I’m not afraid of the darkness,” he whispers and lifts his hands.

The color of his eyes remains the same.

—-

“It’s been awhile,” Naminé says. She’s up to her elbows in paint.

“Yeah…” Riku says. No one really knows what went on during that year of unfortunate cooperation, except for Lea. “How have you been?”

Her smile is pretty and enigmatic, and Riku doesn’t really smile back. The walls are lined with paintings, from abstract to the same childish doodles she made with her magic.

The little portrait that hangs seperatelty that should be him but isn’t looks at him with bright turquoise eyes.

“Fine,” Naminé says. “I’m sorry we haven’t been able to help you with finding Sora.”

Riku shakes his head. “I’m grateful for anything you do,” he says and means it. “It’s because of Sora isn’t it? Your magic?”

Naminé smiles a little wider. “How long have you been wondering that?”

He thinks about lying and changes his mind. “Took me awhile but it just made sense,” Riku says. “Sora smells like magic. Powerful magic.”

She dips her fingers into a jar of blue paint and brushes her fingers over the canvas in front of her. “It’s true,” Naminé says. “More than he knows.”

“Knows?” Riku asks, trying not to sound too hopeful.

“That’s right,” she says and beckons him over. “But that’s not why you’re here.” Riku joins her with a crease in his brow and watches her dip her fingers into another jar of paint - yellow.

“I may not be able to sense it the way you can,” Naminé says. Her tone is genuine kindness but there’s an underlying feeling of danger. “But I sense things. Light…” she points at the blue on the canvas.

“And darkness,” she rubs the yellow paint over the blue. Gently moving back and forth until the color start to change. “On and on we go, until one day we’re something else. Something new, made up of everything we’ve ever been.”

And there it is. Dusty green, grass on a misty day, not blue like he had as a child, not yellow as he should have had when he fell from grace.

Riku reaches out and touches the canvas. The color stains his fingertips.

—-

“I never know if this is considered really late,” Sora says, ambling into their bathroom at four in the morning. “Or really early. Can’t sleep?”

Riku nods. It was a nightmare but he’s old hat at those, so he decided to splash some water on his face to shake himself out of it.

“Had a bad dream,” Riku explains as he watches Sora hoist himself onto their bathroom counter. “The Graveyard.”

“The storm?” Sora asks.

Riku knows what he means by that even if he has no actual recollection of what happened. “You leaving. By yourself.”

Sora looks immediately apologetic and puts his hand on Riku’s jaw. “Sorry…”

“You’re not apologising for something that happened almost twenty years ago,” Riku says, moving to stand between Sora’s legs, wrapping his arms around his waist.

“If it makes you sad, I will,” Sora says.

He puts his other hand on Riku’s face, runs his fingers over his cheeks and his jaw, his calluses catching minutely on the barely there stubble on Riku’s face.

Riku leans down and kisses him, soft and slow. Deepens it when Sora moves his hands from Riku’s face to cup his neck and jaw. When he pulls away, Sora doesn’t let go.

“Ahh,” Sora sighs. “So pretty.”

“What’s that?”

“Your eyes,” Sora says. “They’re so pretty and green. Green and pretty.” He chuckles because he’s clearly sleepy.

Riku smirks and lays his forehead on Sora’s. “You’re an enormous sap,” he says. “They used to be blue.”

Sora opens his own eyes wide and stares into Riku’s. The angle is odd but Riku can see how blue Sora’s eyes are.

Sora leans back as if to admire him.

“I like them better this way,” Sora says.

Riku blinks. He catches his eyes, blue and yellow equals green, in the mirror.

He looks at Sora.

“So do I,” he says.

[venluming]

☆ The Accursed Introduction ☆

Hey there, this is my info blog… post thing. Right here is where you’ll find everything you need to know! Check it out!

❪ 💼 ❫ ❝ Someone got hit in the boingloings… ❞ ／ “so what’s going on?”

✦ Many know me as Alex . . .

. . . but I also go by Star or Betty!

I’m a young multi-fandom and oc artist that also loves to write (although those are rarities, on tumblr at least). I mostly post art on here as writing, for me, takes a bit more brain power… and I’m not too confident in my writing sometimes. ^^"

I’m African American and Indian! 🇺🇸🇮🇳 (No special flag for us yet, so I’m using the American flag). I only speak English, but I do know bits of Spanish and Japanese!

Audhder, here! I have like… three special interests, possibly a fourth…? Who knows!

✿ Fandom Brainrot Centre ✿

My fandoms list… not much to say here.

➷ Sonic the Hedgehog !!

➷ Super Mario Bros !!

➷ Fairly Odd Parents !!

➷ Adventure Time !!

Here’s some… lesser active fandoms I’m in!

→ The Disastrous Life of Saiki K

→ Splatoon

→ Pucca

→ Lego Monkie Kid

→ Lackadaisy

✩ “What Else Should ✩

We Know?”

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I do not allow reposts without credit. Please credit me for my artwork if you’re going to repost to another platform.

My haven will not stay squeaky clean for long. There may be suggestive content sometimes, as well as the occasional nsfw content (with a huge ass warning ofc), so there’s a disclaimer for you if you’re not into that. I’m generally a sfw account though!

Little fun thing about my pronouns: they will change from time to time, but you can always default to they/them if you’re unsure. I use neo/xenopronouns as well.

My ask box is open! Don’t be afraid to shoot me a message. I don’t bite, I promise!

This may be edited at any time. I will alert of any changes.

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?? Who should interact

and who shouldn’t ??

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Everyone has a list of whom should and shouldn’t interact. It’s good to have boundaries.

╳ Do not interact if . . .

 ⋉ You fit the basic DNI criteria… (racist, pedo, homophobe, transphobe, TERF, proship, etc.)

⋉ You believe AI art is real art. It will never be real.

⋉ You disrespect neo/xenopronouns/genders.

⋉ You believe ‘blackwashing’ exists. There is no logical reason and historical meaning as to why it would.

I have an extensive DNI list. You can view the full list here.

√ Do interact if . . .

❥ Multi-shipper! Need to see more of you guys!

❥ You have similar interests to me (i.e. Adventure Time, Sonic, and/or Splatoon).

❥ A little fandom specific, but platonic Winterkov enjoyers! I love these little dudes as buddies!! The selfcest stuff doesn’t do it for me, but I don’t mind y’all hanging around here!

- 🍂 -

▷ “Where Else

Can We Find You?”

You can find me on these platforms!

Instagram

TikTok

Twitter

YouTube

AO3

Toyhouse

CharacterHub

Bluesky

> And only these platforms!

- 🍂 -

✿ Masterlist of Posts!

Shortcuts to all of my art and writing posts! I’m sure no one wants to go digging for them, and I reblog a lot of stuff . . . some stuff is very old.

Adventure Time:

> Blacktober 2023; Day 2

> Simon… on his hands and knees…

> Sad Fionna Posting…

> Winter King & Simon Hugs…

> WK & Simon Mini Doodle Dump…

> WK & Simon Doodle Sheet… Part 1

> WK is a kitty (feat. Simon)

> Petrigrof Doodles bc yeah

> Petrigrof as Mario & Peach

> WK & Simon’s Party Name

> Winter Betty

> Race HCs (ft. Simon)

> Winter King as Elsa

> Warmth (Winter King & Simon)

> Instagram Story Doodles

> Petrigrof as Bendy & Alice (Halloween Art)

> Meltdown (Petrigrof One-shot)

> Betty Proteccing Simon from WK

> Simon getting Booba

> Petrigrof Doodle Page

> Adventure Time Characters as Pinterest Memes

> Petrigrof Childhood Friends AU

> Kitty!Wintrigrof Cuddles

> Wintergrof Animatic (Weird Al)

> Affirmations (Simon and Marcy)

> Merry Christmas / Holly Jolly Secrets

> Trans Guy Things [Simon Petrikov]

> Pregnant Meme

> Petrigrof Valentine’s Kiss

> Comic Simon Art

> Happy Birthday Finn (2024)!!!

> Winter King Trans + Easter Day!

> Winter King Smoking a Blunt (4/20)

> Wintergrof Making Out!

> Magic!Betty & Marceline…

> Pride Month 2024 with Yaoi Sandwich(Winter King/Simon/Betty)!

[RECENT]

Encanto:

> Blacktober 2022; Day 1

> Blacktober 2022; Day 6

> Triplets Birthday (Cuphead AU)

> Pride Month!!

Lego Monkie Kid:

> Macaque Doodles. . .

Spiderverse:

> Spidersona Doodles + Aracnids!

> Crackship with Pavitr…

PPG:

> The Weebs are At It Again

> Butch Wants A Hug

> The PPG & RRB Go Shopping

OCs:

> Adult!Venti With ‘Fro

> Goddess Reyna Corazon

Other:

> Sailor Moon for Mother’s Day!

> Happy Juneteenth!

> Five Nights At Freddy’s: Foxy and Bonnie!

> Farcille (Dungeon Meshi)

> Amity Blight !

> Marcy Wu !

> Raine Whispers !

> Naoreko (YTTD)

> The Ultimate Lesbirama

> Juneteenth 2024!!

> Peri/Poof…

> Perilette doodle

> Autistic Peri

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And that’s it! Thank you for reading ‘til the end!! Have fun in my little personal creative corner.

[thevulturesquadron]

Hi! I just want to say that WOW you are an amazing artist. Your anatomy and colouring are just breathtaking. How long have you been drawing?

I am a thirty year old baby at art and trying to improve and push through being bad at art, but i'll be honest, it's frustrating having hands that just cant make what i am seeing in my head! Basically... how long do you think it took you to make art that is kind of good? And do you have any tips?

What??!! Thank you so much!!!!! 💜💜💜

I have no words, really. I always feel like I am such a fake when it comes to art because I draw once every 5 years under the impulse of a hyperfixation or another, and I feel like I never take the time to improve. You are too sweet, I don’t deserve it!

I’ve been doodling here and there since I was in highschool, but only seriously picked it up in my 20s. And trust me when I say ‘here and there’. I used to try my hand for a couple of months and then it would take years to go back into the mindset of wanting to do more and better. It’s been like this ever since. I just do things when I have too much love for something and I need to let it out somehow. But in all honesty I feel like I started to be confident with myself and my range only when I hit my 30s so what I am saying is - it’s never too late, as long as you return to it no matter how rusty you feel. But that feeling of never being good enough compared to what you envision - be it art or writing - that’s never going to go away, you just need to conquer it and accept that every piece you make is another step towards getting better. And I know it sounds like a cliché but try not to put any pressure on yourself because of that either -  even if you end up drawing once in a blue moon like me, it counts. It really does! And sometimes you get a bit proud of what you do, sometimes you’ll feel like you learnt nothing. Knowing and understanding that - that it’s not just a way up, that it has highs and lows - has been the one thought that has always kept me going. Gosh, when it comes to tips I feel like there are so many other artists here that are better equipped to help than I am, but I’m happy to share a couple of ‘quick/dirty first stops' that have saved me from giving up:

References!!! Don’t EVER be afraid of using references especially when learning anatomy. Look for poses that inspire you, gather angles for hands, feet, eyes. You are not cheating, you are learning. If you are like me also, and drawing/sketching is a hobby and not a career, using references for poses comes with no strings attached. I can’t stress enough how important it is to use references. 

Colours: I. suck. at. picking. colours. Trust me. Most of the things I draw I leave as sketches because my brain can’t comprehend colour theory so when I do end up adding colours it feels like a miracle each time it looks ok. So I use palettes. There are sites online but also most tools for digital art offer ways to create colour pallets. Sample & drop is your friend! 

Also depending on what tools you are using, don’t shy away from playing with colour balance, brightness, curves or from experimenting with colour overlay layers to unify the look. 

In general, based on what program you use to draw - look for simple tutorials to get familiarised with it. I use Procreate and to this day I am amazed about how many ‘cheats & tricks’ it has. 

Probably a beginner move but one thing I rely on is Pinterest - I create boards for poses, references, colour pallets. So that when I get an impulse to draw and I am not sure where to start or what colours to use I have a library of things I saved in time! 

Hope this helps! Again, I don’t consider myself a real artist, I don’t sell any of my work and I just post what I create here out of love for a fandom or another. BUT I am always happy to share the little I know or learned along the way so don’t hesitate to ask! <3 

[akioukun]

Ok so I wanted to dm you but I’m not confident enough to dm you yet (autism) so I’m just gonna yell into here and hope you see it.

Thank you so so much for your post about me yesterday. It came at such a needed time considering what was happening in my personal life and everything you said about me was so lovely I genuinely had to reread it a couple times for it to sink in (that and it was an illegally early time for me to be awake when I first saw it)

I’m not exaggerating when I say that looking at your art is one of the main things that kept me in the fandom earlier this year when I was really going through it and I admire you so much, seeing you say those things about me really means a lot, like genuinely. I’m not great with words at the best of times but I hope this comes off at the very least as sincere.

So yeah, I might dm you at some point to say a proper thank you but like, it really meant a lot to read that yk. Ty for being so nice to me.

Hey dude!

I’m so glad the post made it to you!!

Tbh I was just the conducting rod in all this, I would give all the appreciation to the community that dogpiled it with adoration and kind words. You gotta now how loved and appreciated you are Max seriously. You do a whole lot for this fandom with those positivity posts and your writing, and just looking at that post definitely is proof. I’m glad it was able to reach you at such a rough point in time rn (I reaaally hope you haven’t got covid, that shit sucks)

Ah god hearing that my silly little doodles had such an impact is kinda insane to hear, if a little bit of the happiness I get out of drawing spreads to even one person then I’m just so stoked. Its whats so awesome about this fandom, the circulation of ideas, people bringing new concepts to the table and everyone being able to celebrate these ideas and have them grow into bigger things.

I’m sorry this has come so late, moving my entire life from one city to another every few days takes up alot of my mental energy. But please don’t ever be afraid to chuck us a dm!

Remember your loved dude and you should absolutely treat yourself with the same kindness you give the rest of us ♥️♥️