#Howdy misses his extra hands :(

[unwelcomeoutside]

How does everyone feel about Being human? is it easier or harder?

[fangswbenefits]

Revelations

𓂅 𓄹 Summary: Miguel asked you to keep a secret, so naturally everyone is about to find out.

𓂅 𓄹 Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x spider-woman!reader

No warnings! Just a humorous drunk!reader drabble :)

“How much did she have to drink?”

“Maybe three beers?”

“Oh, she’s out of it.”

“How so?”

“She’s been tellin’ everyone she has a boyfriend.”

Jessica Drew’s eyebrows shot up. “Who?”

Hobie merely shrugged.

You threw them a death glare before trying to negotiate with Peter Parker for another bottle, but all to no avail.

“Please! Give me another one,” you whined, sitting down with a thump on the chair oposite to his. “I’m not drunk!”

“How many fingers am I holding up, then?”

You shove his hand away. “Seven… don’t be silly!”

He banged his hand on the table. “See? You have zero tolerance.”

“You have seven fingers on that hand, Jerry!”

“Who’s Jerry?”

You gasped loudly at the sight of Gwen sitting to your right. “When did you get here?”

“What? I was here the whole time.”

Peter cleared his throat. “Gwen, take a good look at her,” he mustered a serious voice. “You don’t want this to happen when you grow up.”

You leant back in your seat with a sigh of frustration. “I want Miguel.”

“Miguel… O’Hara?”

“Gwen, she’s drunk,” you heard Peter whispering.

“Hey! What did we miss?”

Miles and Pavitr nade their way through the busy crowd of fellow spiders, each holding a glass of apple juice.

“Took you some time!” Peter beamed with a wife smile, scooting to the side so they could join the group at the table. “Nice job, kids. The mission was a success.”

“Miguel seemed unimpressed,” Miles grumbled into the heel of his hand.

Peter hid a bottle away before you could snatch it from him, earning a grunt. “I’m sure he’s delighted!”

“Yeah? That’s his delighted face? Looked like someone had just threatened to break canon.”

Pavitr patted his back. “That’s just his regular face, Miles.”

“But he’s really hot…” you said dreamily with an ear-to-ear smile, leaning into Hobie’s shoulder.

Multiple pairs of eyes blinked at you.

Pavitr spoke first. “Miguel?”

Both Miles and Gwen were looking at you like you’d grown a third arm.

“Maybe we should get him here?” You heard Jess saying from behind you. “And you,” her hands gripped both your shoulders to straighten you up in your seat. “You need to sober up.”

You stuck out your tongue as the other spider-woman brought her travel watch to eye-level.

“Lyla, I’m guessing Miguel doesn’t want to come, but—”

The AI cut Jess off with a cheeky smile. “He’s on his way, actually.”

“Miguel is coming?” Peter beamed, unable to contain his excitement.

“Great!” You clapped your hands a couple of times, eager to see him.

Hobie took a sip of his drink. “Bet he’s gonna ruin the vibe.”

Miles nodded right away.

You were about to protest when a chorus of greetings from diverse spiders echoed throughout the bar.

“Evening, boss.”

“Miguel! Great to see you here tonight.”

“Howdy, boss.”

“Meow!”

He was here and once he came into your field of vision — albeit slightly blurred — you felt your heart flutter.

“Look who decided to come out of his cave,” Jess said, her lips quirking up into a smile.

“Miguel!” Peter punched his bicep playfully.

You were waving your hands enthusiastically at him. “Hiiiiii!”

But Miguel wasn’t amused.

His eyes roamed across the table.

“Who brought the beer?”

Everyone immediately pointed at Peter — you included — who was already smiling sheepishly while raising both hands in defense.

“Miguel, we’re just celebrating a successful mission and—”

“Peter, how many times must I tell you not to bring that stuff here?”

“She only had a couple of beers,” Peter replied. “It’s not that strong. I don’t thin—”

“That’s your problem! You never think,” he replied, jabbing a finger at bim.

You giggled. Miguel looked extra hot when he was pissed off. Poor Peter, though.

“Up you go,” Hobie said, hoisting you from your seat, trying his best to keep your balance. “Mind your feet.”

“Wait where are we going?”

“You need to get some fresh air,” he said, helping your arm around his neck for support. “Mr. Grumpy here is about to ruin the mood, I reckon.”

You didn’t want to leave, but figured Hobie was right. He was always right.

“Where are you going?” You heard a voice call out once you’d turned your back.

You twirled on your feet nearly tripping and knocking Hobie down in the process.

“Wait… why are there two of you?” You hiccuped.

Both Miguels arched an eyebrow simultaneously. Impeccable synchronisation. “Two of… what?”

You reached out with your hand to touch one of them but it met with nothing but air.

Huh?

“We were goin’ out for some air.”

You shook your head and the two spider-man 2099 had finally merged into one.

You fluttered your eyelashes dramatically at him. “The just one last beer… pleeeeease…”

“I really can’t do that.”

“But you can do me!” you blurted out with a wink.

Miguel pursed his lips.

Chaos immediately erupted from the bar table, causing some of the spiders nearby to shift their attention to the commotion.

“Language! There’s kids here!” Peter said, trying to cover Gwen’s ears.

“We are not kids!”

Jessica clicked her tongue. “No more drinks for you, young lady.”

“—you are still kids at heart!” Peter was now dealing three very grumpy young spiders.

Hobie, however, saluted you with a proud smile on his face. “You just left Miguel O’Hara speechless. Respect.”

You giggled at Miguel who was definitely not amused. At all.

Before your brain could process what was happening, your body was being hauled from the ground and tossed over someone’s shoulder.

“Time to go home.”

“PUT ME DOWN!” you protested, balling your fists and smashing them against a very hardened surface. “MY BOYFRIEND IS GOING TO DEAL WITH YOU!”

You felt your stomach lurch violently from the motion and decided to tap your webshooters in an attention to free yourself.

The result was…

“HEY! Get-get this off me!”

“I’m sorry, Pavitr!”

Your blob of web had landed on his face, sending the young spider into a frenzy as both Miles and Gwen hurried to aid him.

“Who’s the bloke, hm?” Hobie asked with a grin.

“It’s classified!”

The spider-punk scoffed. “Is that code word for ‘capitalist knobhead’?”

“Funny, ‘cause when I first met Miguel he—” Gwen started.

But was promptly cut off. “Lyla, deactive her webshooters before someone loses an eye.”

“On it, boss!”

You growled in annoyance as an orange beam hit your wrists, rendering the devices uselss. It didn’t take long before you were being dragged out of the bar, multiple spiders glaring you and whispering to each other.

“We can take her home,” Jessica offered, patting the top of your head endearingly. “It’s close by.”

“No, I’ll do it.”

Hobie seemed visibly amused. “Maybe we should wait for her boyfriend to get here.”

The big man carrying you halted his steps.

“What?”

You blinked a few times as you saw the pavement start to tilt and go into a swirl. “I’m going to fall!”

A strong arm came to wrap around your waist, keeping your firmly in place.

That was close.

“Yeah she’s been sayin’ her boyfriend’s gonna be here,” Hobie shrugged.

“She’s had too much to drink,” Peter said dismissively.

“And he is!” you snapped. “See, he’s very strong, Jerry.”

“Really?”

“He’s the strongest spider-man,” you smiled, pride evident in your voice. “Very handsome…”

The spiders in front of you exhanged confused looks and as the motion resumed, your insides flipped momentarily.

“He’s really big, too…”

Jess spoke this time. “Big? As in… tall?”

You nodded. “Right! But also… his dic—”

“Enough!”

“Bloody hell…”

“Woah!” Jess gasped.

Miles, Pavitr, and Gwen, on the other hand, were having the time of their lives.

“Miguel’s face!” Gwen chuckled as Miles leaned on her shoulder fighting back the tears.

Oh. Right.

Miguel was the one carrying you…

Peter was absolutely scandalised, urging them back inside. “Let’s finish our apple juice,” Peter called, ruffling Pavitr’s hair. “I have these amazing photos of Mayday to show!”

None of the budged, though, enjoying the show.

“Real shame your boyfriend isn’t here to witness this,” Hobie said.

You grinned. “But he is! Right here!” you accentuated each word with a pat between Miguel’s shoulderblades.

“Ah, knew she was talking gibberish,” Hobie clicked his tongue.

Jess came to take a look at Miguel’s face. “I… don’t think she is.”

“Well! What a fun night,” Peter said in his usual cheerful voice.

“Wait… WHAT?!” Gwen and Pavitr half-yelled in unison.

Miguel let out growl. “Go back inside. We’ll talk about the next mission tomorrow.”

“But—”

He turned to face them, which had you clamp one hand on your mouth from the turbulence.

All three of them rushed back inside with Peter following closely behind.

“No wonder you showed up for once,” Jess said adjusting her glasses.

“Please… don’t start,” Miguel sighed. “Especially you.”

Hobie adjusted a couple of pins on his vest. “Chill, bro.”

“Say bye-bye,” Miguel said, tapping the back of your thighs.

You waved your hand clumsily at them. “Byeeee!”

Both of them returned the gesture, chuckling.

In no time, you felt yourself being hurled into the night sky across the tall buildings that covered the landscape of Nueva York.

The cool air and silence allowed the realisation to suddenly dawn on you as Miguel carried you effortlessly with each swing of his web, red glow flashing around you.

Fuck…

“They all know, don’t they…” you mumbled into his embrace when he made a quick stop at a rooftop.

“Yes.”

“Sorry, Miguel…” you hiccuped.

He pressed a soft kiss to your temple. “It was only a matter of time, I suppose.”

You curled up against him, cheek resting on his shoulder as he heaved a deep sigh and ran one hand along your back in a loving caress.

He had wanted it to be a secret mostly because he feared others might see it as a liability. After all, as long as he put up a front that he had nothing to lose, then it would be a great asset to have in this line of work.

Or so he thought.

Feeling the pounding headache brewing inside your head, you merely groaned into the crook of his neck.

Masterlist

[the-nosy-neighbor]

I was going through text and sound today, looking for mentions of a thing (I'll talk about it later) being repeated, and I pulled up all the audio from the secret videos:

Because at this point, I've rabbitholed far, far away from where I meant to be. I had also gotten a bit distracted about "the numbers are so hard to read." I don't think I've ever read any theorizing including numbers.

And as I was watching these videos, I saw Wally reach out and tap his cup 3 times. So, I started over, noting the numbers that are said or visuals that you can count:

Poppy/Howdy: Can see 4 balls of yarn

Poppy/Sally: Wally taps 3 times, 2 geese because they are that puzzle kind

Sally/Howdy: There are 2 fruit loops right in our field of vision

Frank/Barnaby: 10 figures (an extra on each side you can see as the video slightly pans.) 3 tomatoes can be seen, with 1 squashed

Barnaby/Eddie: this one doesn't seem to have one? There are 2 or 3 letters on the screen, it's hard to tell

Julie/Frank: 6 figures, 2 tomatoes

Julie/Eddie: 4 crayons

Frank/Eddie: A ton of paper chains. I noticed during this scene that Eddie calls Frank "Frank" and then changes to Mr. Frankly, so it got me to wondering if the lack of number is because a plot point is in the segment. (I know, way out there)

Frank/Poppy: 6 apples on the board, 1 doily

Sally/Jules: 3 images on the script board, Julie makes 3 decrees, she demands 2, 20, 30 in hopscotch,

Julie/Barnaby: 3, 2, 1 (Remember to come back to look at Barnaby talking about being small) Also, here, Julie says "I have a joke that will knock your head off." That's not a typical way to say that. Usually, it's "knock your socks off" so I think we can assume that this is more headless Barnaby motif.

Barnaby/Howdy: 1 ice cream, 1 berry, 2 straws, 1 spoon

Howdy/Eddie: 5 apples, they say 1 and 2

Barnaby/Home: 3, 1, 2 , 4, 4, 2

I may be way off base here, but we've been told about the numbers for a while now. I also want to post another thing about numbers later.

I really don't think it would be accidental, but I don't really know how often numbers are used in a video/script/conversation naturally. Also, I would just be assuming that they wanted us to count things in front of us. That is kind of a crazy idea.

But on the other other hand, the videos are in a particular order (they are named with numbers). The going theory on that is that they progress through the day during the videos, first video being the morning and last video being the evening. But what if the videos are also numbered so that we can put numbers in the right order?

We also had this mechanic in the hidden sound clip naming, which allowed us to hear Wally's message in order. Numbers being ordered that way isn't too far fetched when considering the precedent.

In short, I don't know, but here are some numbers. I think there is something missing from this theory, in that we haven't been provided with a key to tell us what numbers count. Then we'd have to find some kind of way to translate those numbers into something usable.

Comments and ideas welcome. I will even accept and encourage telling me I've been staring at Welcome Home for too long..

I'm going to go find a random video and see how many times you get numbers or a repeated word.

[ihavemanyhusbands]

Hi love, I recently found your tumblr and I'm obsessed, you write so well and i alredy read everthing you wroted <3 would you mind writing a fluff imagine reader x hannibal x will? something like the reader feeling out of place in the relationship, thinking she doesn't fit in with them but them proving her wrong and they love her so much!! Thank you * 3 *

Howdy! Awww thanks so much!! Glad you like my stuff! <33

Thanks for requesting!

———

The sound of Will and Hannibal’s voices turned into a soft din in the background. Your gaze was fixed on the fire dancing in the hearth, your mind further beyond.

The two of them were recounting the events of the day. They’d been assisting Jack with an ongoing investigation, but you hadn’t been listening closely to all the details.

You liked to observe their rapport from time to time — the familiarity, the subtleties, the mutual understanding, among other things. They had met long before you’d come along, and though they didn’t always agree on things, they had their system.

And how you fit into that system wasn’t always clear, leaving you feeling slightly unmoored.

“You’ve gone quiet,” Hannibal’s voice pierced through your daze. “Are we boring you?”

You smiled a little, looking up to see them both looking right back at you.

“No, just thinking,” you said, adjusting your position on the chaise. “Did I miss anything?”

“Not really, just realized we’d been talking for a while,” Will said, eyes scanning your face. “What were you thinking of?”

You shrugged, not really wanting to give those thoughts a voice. He set his glass down and stood up, lifting your legs so he could sit beside you, then placing them over his lap.

“I can tell something’s up,” he said, hands massaging your legs lightly. “How can we help?”

You absently played with a loose thread on your old sweater, meekly glancing at them in turn before sighing.

“I don’t know… it might sound kind of dumb,” you started. “I’ve been thinking… I guess I put myself in the sidelines because, well, I’m not sure where else I should be. Maybe I’m that janky extra piece that sometimes come with puzzles.”

The two of them shared a look, understanding your meaning.

“That’s not true,” Will said with a frown. “You are the last piece of the puzzle, the one that brings everything together.”

You blinked at him in surprise. Hannibal kneeled in front of you so you would be at eye level, taking your hand.

“Perhaps we’ve let the comfort of your presence become… second nature. That was a mistake,” he said, brushing his lips over your knuckles. “Our love is sometimes quiet, but it is still there. I don’t want you to ever doubt it.”

Will squeezed your leg reassuringly, his gaze softening with the bare truth of Hannibal’s words. Giddiness fluttered in your chest, warming you up.

You knew the two of them rarely, if ever, let anybody get close. But you were not just anybody, and their gift had been the trust to fully let you in. What was that if not love?

“I’m surprised you don’t notice me following you around like a lovesick puppy,” Will said, smiling lopsidedly in amusement. “Hannibal won’t let me hear the end of it.”

“I think I’m just in my head too much…” you murmured, biting your lip as Hannibal leaned in to kiss your cheek.

“We’ll have to do something about that, won’t we, Will?” He said.

Will nodded and reached over to take your free hand, thumb tracing over the back of it. “Anything for you.”

——

[fifi-afterhours]

Telephones and Their Possible Connection with the Audience

So some time ago l was scrolling through @/partycoffin’s blog as one does when you fall into the fandom hole of welcome home, and I wanted to do a little speculation post about telephones and this picture:

Or more specifically, Eddie's and Howdy's ones, and their different rotary dialers.

[Supposed tiny post turned into long theory ramble below cut!]

(I have checked that this was made on 4 December, 2022, so I think this could be speculated on!)

As we can see, not only are the phone types different (with theirs presumably being portable), the numbers used for dialing are replaced with colours instead. Now, a simple explanation could be made that the colours simply replace the numbers, but that's not the case:

(I know they're not buttons, but let's just use that as a placeholder name for now-)

Neither of them seems to match with the 10 buttons needed for a a normal rotary dial, so the only explanation I could think of is that each colour corresponds with a neighbor.

@softestvine made a post about this before, and if you take a look at the guestbook signatures, the missing purple button on Eddie's phone makes sense since purple should represent him, and therefore his phone number in a sense.

The real question is why would Howdy have his own phone number. Maybe an extra set of hands means he owns two phones? Or maybe it's normal to have your own contacts to ring yourself up, and Eddie is actually the odd one out? For that I'm not sure.

Continuing on, there's also the curious addition of a black button, which doesn't seem to connect to any neighbor at all. My first thought was that it could be related to Home, but considering that it communicates through onomatopoeia that even Wally couldn't understand sometimes, I feel like it's doubtful that it's meant to be for Home. (though I'm not saying that it's impossible, just unlikely for now).

Which leads to the second theory: it's to represent us, the audience, the viewers of the show. My speculation is that there was a segment on the show that would involve the characters calling or receiving a phone call from a fan of the show, similar to how irl children shows that includes audience participation will show off fanworks in their episodes. (the closest example I could think of is Blue's Clues right now since my sister used to watch that).

Admittedly this feels like a stretch, but phones seem to be important to the show in some manner. In some old posts, we have audio of what prank calls to some of the characters are like, and although they're definitely not relevant to the work now, it's interesting to note that the concept of a way to communicate with the puppets exists.

Another thing is that on one of the secret pages of the website, you're sent to this page:

An error page that shows altered text and a phone gif instead of the one with Home. Perhaps I am looking too much into this, but compared to the other hidden links, why would this one take us to an error page first, albeit a different one?

Some people have pointed it out here that if you inspect the phone gif, it says "It's for you". When you click on it, you're taken to a page called 'duet' where Wally is singing to Home.

Don't you think it's coincidental that the only page with an audio file was only found through a phone? And why is the page called 'duet' when Home only responds after Wally finished his song? That's because the duet isn't sung by Wally and Home, it's supposed to be sung by Wally and you. By clicking on the phone, you're answering Wally's call, hence the "It's for you" file name.

My conclusion is that the phones were used to talk to the audience back when the show is running, and now Wally is using them to try to reach out to us.

[hauntedjohnny]

A PIECE OF MEAT

johnny x reader (est. relationship) | sissy x reader

wc: 7k tw: DUB-CON | NON-CON. bondage. gags. objectification. possession. knife play. blood play. oral sex (m+f). spanking. humiliation. nipple play. slapping. branding. p in v. breeding.

MINORS DNI

a/n: i seperated the sissy section in case anyone wants to skip it. this is my first fic. it may be my last. enjoy :)

It wasn't every day that you were left alone without company. It wasn't every day that you were given the power to tend to the family gas station. One misstep into one of Nubbin's macabre creations left Drayton off his feet, going off about how he can't count on no one around here.

His misfortune opened a door of opportunity for you; Drayton still hadn't warmed up to you completely, so you'd been trying to get on his good side by helping around the house. Hysterical giggles bounced off the walls of the house as Nubbins reenacted the mishap for Sissy and Bubba. The laughter trailed off as you made your way through the house to find Drayton sitting in the living room, his foot being iced by a slice of meat.

"I can't think straight with all this craziness going on," he murmured to himself, rubbing his temples to relieve the tension. Timidly, you approached him, giving a light cough to make your presence known.

"Sorry to interrupt, Mr. Sawyer, but I was just wondering if you were gonna need help with the gas station tomorrow." Gesturing to his legs, you trailed off. "Seeing as you're in no state to be on your feet all day n all."

He stared at you for a moment, his eyes squinting at the proposal. Seeing nothing but sincerity in your eyes, he reluctantly shrugged his shoulders.

"Was thinking of just closing for that day," he hummed, tilting his head to the side, "but money is getting tight with that extra mouth of yours... I don't see why not." Your eyes widen in surprise, thinking he'd laugh at your offer. "Lord knows no one else in this house is competent enough for such a task."

That morning, he reluctantly gave you a ring of keys, slowly walking you through each one and what he expected of you that day. His patronizing tone was unable to dull the excitement buzzing through you; the prospect of spending the day out of the house alone was a once-in-a-blue-moon occurrence. Turning the sign on the door to open, you started your day eagerly, repeating his rules in your head like a mantra.

It turns out all the regulars are dreary or crazed, the morning rush filled with short conversations and confused stares. Leaving the cool confines, you decided to refill the vending machine out front, the heat from the mid-day sun causing a wetness to form on the back of your tank top. A set of large tires rumbling against the gravel pulled your focus from the monotonous task. Turning to greet the customer, your eyes fell on the figure of a young man you'd never seen before.

"Howdy, miss.  Sorry to bother you, but I was just wondering if you could help me find my way. I appear to have found myself lost." He stated, raising the map with one hand and the other dragging through his blonde hair to soothe his nerves.

Drawn to his niceties, you smile and nod shyly. "Easy to get lost in these parts, with all the roads looking the same. Where you headed?"

"The Jackson ranch. It's my grandpa's; he needs help with upkeep in his old age. Stubborn bastard says he's fine but thought it wouldn't hurt to stay awhile." He chuckled bashfully.

Truthfully, you didn't really know where this ranch was. You barely knew the area from the house to the gas station. But this was the most interaction you'd had with anyone new in a while; surely it wouldn't hurt to pretend. The map was placed on the vending machine in front of you. You stared at the lines, trying to find your bearings, before a thick finger fell in front of your eyes, marking the gas station. With an awkward laugh, you placed your finger next to his and traced up the road you traveled this morning, trying to recall any ranches nearby. Drayton's voice comes to mind as he scolds Nubbins about straying too close to the graveyard, telling him to go no further than the Jackson ranch. Or was it the Johnson ranch? You bit your lip in contemplation, unaware of the man studying your face.

Deciding that he wouldn't call your bluff, you point close to the graveyard. "Should be around here, sir."

He scoffed at the title: "No need for those formalities; it wounds me seeing a pretty thing like yourself talk to me like I'm withered."

He introduces himself, presenting his hand for you to shake. You offer your name back, heat blooming in your cheeks at the compliment. Questions get thrown back and forth as you get to know each other, a breath of fresh air for both of you. Even the rumbling of a second set of tires isn't enough to drag you out of your bubble. Johnny observes you from the driver's seat as the man leans into you, causing a laugh to bubble from your chest. The movement of the truck door opening draws the man's attention. He cowers at the daggers being thrown his way, knowing he's overstepped in some way.

"I better be off, neighbour. I hope to be seeing more of you soon," he winks. You scoff at his forwardness, turning back to the vending machine as you say your farewell. What you didn't notice was the man lingering behind you as you bent down to grab the warm soda bottles, your denim shorts exposing the softness of your upper thighs. The roar of an engine signaled his departure as you went back to mindlessly refilling the machine, a soft hum filling the silence.

"Who was that?" A voice spoke beside you.

Glass hit the floor with a crash as you brought your hand to settle your startled heart, sticky soda seeping into the black boots of the man behind you. His shadow engulfed you, protecting you from the hot rays. The scowl forming on Johnny's face made you raise an eyebrow.

"Family of the Jackson Ranch; just need some help getting there, s'all," you reassured suspiciously, meeting his eye as you stood. He was standing so close that you could feel the growl emanating from his chest. His hands wrap around your waist, pulling you tight against him.

"You always flirt like a needy whore with boys who need help?" Johnny's breath on your face sent a chill down your spine before settling into your core. Noses centimeters apart, you felt his nostrils flare at the thought. His mocking grin dared you to divulge your fiery heart's desires. Intensity radiates off him as his dark eyes stare you down. A moment passed.

"Only the pretty ones," you coyly provoked. The sudden force of being pushed against the machine winded you, with a strong grip on your throat preventing you from catching your breath. Despite this, a wolfish grin found its way to your face. You'd never seen a jealous Johnny. It was exciting. Responsibilities faded from your mind. Anticipation swirled in your eyes. Before you could poke the bear harder, he dropped his gloved hand from your throat and made his way to the back of his truck. You tried to blink away the confusion, watching him take a couple of jerry cans and fill them up with gas.

Abandoning the safety of the gas station, you tentatively followed Johnny's movement before speaking up, "I was only playing, Johnny. You know I don't have eyes for anyone else." There was a facetious ring to your tone.

You cleared the nerves out of your throat when he turned his back away from you. Rolling your bottom lip into your teeth, you sway impatiently, kicking the dust beneath you, your fingers fiddling with the hem of your frayed top. You desperately tried to come up with something to say as you watched him finish up with the cans, not wanting him to leave upset. As he walks past you, you paw at his shirt, causing him to stop in his tracks. Pleading eyes met void eyes. A whine of his name causes them to glaze over.

"In the truck." He demanded.

"Johnny, you know I can't leave this place unattended. I'd be kicked out quicker than a greased pig." You argued, words going in one ear and out the other.

"Now."  He snarled, taking the keys from your pocket before sauntering to the gas station entrance.

Your tongue pokes at your cheek in annoyance, eyes rolling as you muttered curses under your breath. Stubborn bastard.  The open sign turns to closed before you can close the truck door. Like a moth to a flame, your eyes meet Johnny's as he brings the engine to life. He turns away, pulling out of the gas station. Eyes not moving, you sit, waiting for the bomb to explode next to you. Johnny has never had control of his emotions.

You bit your tongue waiting for him to start, but your impatience won, causing you to meekly break the silence. "Johnny, I'm sorry. He really just needed help."

The wind whistled through the truck.

"Can't even notice when someone's eyein' ya up like a piece of meat, can ya?" His voice was calm and low—unsettling.

"Johnny, it wasn't like that. He was being neighbourly" you began defending yourself, rolling your eyes at the pending argument brewing.

Your words were met with nothing but a scoff—not the reaction you were expecting. Apprehensively, you glanced over at Johnny, expecting him to be staring back at you. His eyes were glued to the dusty road ahead of him. You could tell he was angry; he's always had a short fuse, but it never felt cold like it did now. Your eyes jumped around his face, desperately trying to understand what his problem was. Did he not trust you? His jaw clenched under your hot gaze, gloved hands tightening around the steering wheel as he adjusted himself in his seat slightly, trying to subdue the feelings buzzing inside him.

You lay your head against the window, hoping the coolness would soothe some anxiety, but you were only met with warmth where it had been out in the sun all day. The silence was more unbearable than the heated argument you expected, receiving nothing but a disapproving click of his tongue every time you tried to break it. A tight knot formed in your stomach as you replayed the interaction over and over. Had you been flirting with him? Sure, you may have smiled more than with the other customers, but they all speak in grunts; it was nice to have an actual conversation with someone. With a sigh, you focus on the fields turning into a blur of dusty yellow, frustration brewing in your chest.

You get broken out of your daze by a door slamming behind you, the vibrations shaking the truck. Your eyes follow him as he walks around the hood, rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck. A film of sweat has formed on his forehead, dark splotches colouring his shirt, speaking to how much physical work he'd done in the Texan morning heat.

A swing of your door caused a familiar gust of septic and blood to enter your nose—the slaughterhouse, the place where there's more iron in the air than water. Johnny's suede hand gripped your upper arm and pulled you out of the car, slamming the door behind you. He walked onward expectantly before you were able to spit out any questions. You'd never ventured past the parking lot of the slaughterhouse. The questions swirling in your head left you frozen in place, staring wide-eyed at the buildings in front of you. Did I mess up that badly? Was he going to kill me? A whistle echoes through the lot, causing you to lock eyes with Johnny standing in front of the unlocked facility building. A small smirk rose on his face as he watched you obediently scurry across the parking lot, stumbling over the short staircase on the way.

Now face-to-face with Johnny, he brought a hand to brush a loose hair behind your ears, eyes lazily dancing over your face as he read your every thought. You bit the inside of your cracked lip as you tried to do the same. With a light tap on your cheek, he moved out of the heat. You took a deep breath, filling your lungs with air you didn't realise you were depriving yourself of, before following Johnny into the facility building. Quick on his tail, he leads you through the crumbling corridors until you reach the other side. Overgrown weeds tickled at your ankles as you made your way to a worn-down building. It smelt earthier in here, the wooden walls sheltering you from the scalding sun. It wasn't the slaughterhouse he was taking you to; it was the... holding pen?

The question finally falls off your tongue. "What are we doing here, Johnny?"

He crossed his arms, the muscles bulging, as he dragged his eyes across your figure, "Well, darling, if you wanna act like a piece of meat, then imma treat you like one."

Your eyebrows furrowed as he slowly approached you, but before you could contest, he grabbed you by the scruff of your neck, pulling you deeper into the holding pen. He stopped in front of a wooden structure with three holes in it. It was clearly not designed for cattle; it was too small. Your squirming body had no effect on his actions as he unlocked the frame. The pleas falling from your lips dissolved into the thick air as he pushed you forward towards the pillory. Unable to catch your footing, you fell into place, your head and hands now bound by the wooden barriers. Hair fell onto your face, restricting your already limited view. You felt your breathing get heavier in anticipation, the crunch of boots on the dirty floor being the only indicator of Johnny's position.

The feeling of hands on your stomach made you tense. Johnny's fingers hastily unbuttoned your shorts and pulled them down your legs, discarding them in the dirt behind him. A soft huff left his lips as he pulled his knife out of the sheath on his belt. The warm air hits your breasts as he sheds you of your tank top. The only sound you could hear was the blood in your head—the buzzing getting louder as every second passed. You closed your eyes to try and quell the sound, but a strong grip on your jaw opened them instinctually. Johnny's eyes stared into your doe-like ones.

"Got anything to say to me?"

A beat passed.

"I'm so sorry, Johnny. Really, I promise I didn't mean to," you whine out, words melting together, before being hushed by a low chuckle and finger tapping your lips.

He slowly rose from his hunched position as he tutted, "Not quite the answer I wanted, but I guess that's on me. How am I to expect you to know how to use your tongue when you can't even use your eyes? What stupid slut can't tell the difference between a neighbourly gaze and a sexual one?"

He undid the buckle of his belt and unzipped his jeans, revealing the leaking tip of his penis against his stomach. You were dumbfounded. A wave of shame ran through your body as your eyes met the floor, suddenly finding the tracks in the dirt very interesting. Johnny, however, didn't let you get distracted as he grabbed the hair that had fallen over your face and tugged it so your eyes met his. The warm stickiness on your lips made your eyes flutter closed, but a click of his tongue accompanied by a yank of your hair opened them in shock, your mouth following suit. The sharp pain on your scalp made a small gasp leave your lips as he met it halfway. You gag at the sensation of him brushing the back of your throat. The sound trailing off into a soft moan as he began to rut himself into your slack jaw.

"Such a dumb little thing already. Look at me," he demanded. "Does this look neighbourly to you? Is this the kinda thing you'd let a neighbour do to you? Because I know this is all that boy could think about when he saw you."

A harsh slap across your cheek had you shaking your head, eyes wide, pleading in apology. His pace quickened as tears started to prickle in your eyes and a dull ache spread through your jaw. The lack of oxygen made you delirious, causing a low whine to escape around him. The feeling of the vibration coupled with the sight of drool running down your chin caused him to throw his head back and pull harder at the hair underneath his covered fingers. He lets out a low curse before his breath hitches. The smell of musty sweat fills your nose as he buries your face in the coarse hair covering his pubic bone. Squirming does nothing as his cum finally shoots down your throat.

The taste is bitter, but you know better than to spit it out. His hold loosens under your sagging body as he catches his breath, running a hand through his hair. Once the twitching subsides, Johnny slowly pulls out of your mouth, leaving a trail of saliva that connects you both. A choked gasp left you as your lungs begged for oxygen. You croaked out a soft, apologetic Johnny.

"Pieces of meat like yourself don't speak," he tutted as he grabbed your cheeks with one hand, causing you to pout.

You try to focus on your breathing as Johnny buttons up his jeans and wanders to the other side of the pen. Hearing his return, you crane your neck to see what he has—a black bar with a leather buckle. Your mouth opens in question, but Johnny meets the forming words by stuffing the gag bit into your mouth and buckling it around the side of your head. You shake your head, trying to push it out with your tongue. Johnny kneels in front of you, brushing his nose against yours to mimic your struggles before letting out a dark chuckle.

Your body was unable to comply with the buzz of frustration in your chest, forcing you to sag in defeat, blood bubbling with rage as Johnny takes a step back to study your situation. He moves out of your eyesight, the footsteps growing quieter as they move behind you. It's quiet for a moment before his rough, calloused hands start trailing up and down your body, his heedful eye locked on each groove and bump until he reaches your heat. He pokes the dark spot that has formed on your underwear, causing you to twitch and cry out.

"Y'know, I could teach you a thing or two if you just listened. It's a dangerous world out there." He trailed off with a sharp inhale and a slap to your underwear-covered cheeks.

Ripping echoes through the pen as Johnny tears the underwear off your body, leaving you exposed to the elements. A new wave of defiance rolls through your body, kicking and twisting your legs, trying to preserve some dignity. An impatient sigh falls on your back as Johnny grabs some discarded rope in the corner and ties each flailing ankle to a metal loop screwed into the base of the wooden restraint. Now spread and open, he watches you thrash against the new restrictions to see if they'll give.

"You could've made this a lot easier on yourself, darling. Nothin' I ain't seen before," he huffs.

He's right.  Johnny has had access to all parts of your body before, but not like this, not when you didn't have access to his. This was new. This was different. Your body started to relax in its hold, as you remember; this is just Johnny. Your Johnny.

Mockingly, a knife starts to run down your spine. "Now, it's time to teach you a lesson."

Despite the trepidation, you slowly nod your head and take a deep breath. Just keep breathing. He trails the knife down your back as if following an invisible guide. When he reaches your lower back, he pushes the knife deeper, leaving a thin, horizontal trail of blood. Johnny's lack of self-control was clear as he licked across the cut he had just made. It always tastes best when it's fresh. In quick succession, he makes more shallow cuts on your back, explaining cuts of meat as he goes: the loin is the most tender meat down here on the lower back; above it are the ribs (perfect for barbecuing); and then we have your cheaper chuck. A trail of prickly fire spreads from your lower back to your shoulders as blood oozes out of all your cuts. You start to become restless as he leans back and admires his work, his hands resting on your hips.

Whimpers escape the gag, causing a smirk to creep onto Johnny's face, "Oh, sweetheart, I'm only treatin' ya like the thing you are," he says, bringing his hand down to your ass to cease your fidgeting. "Besides, we've not gotten to my favourite part yet."

He crouches behind you, one knee deep in the dust. He slowly drags the knife to the underside of your cheek, turns the blade, and pushes a deep cut across, causing blood to trickle down your leg. You buck away from the sensation, gritting your teeth around the gag as you grow uncomfortable. Pain and pleasure start to merge when Johnny starts suckling on the flesh of your thigh.

"This is the shank," he mutters against your thigh. "Used to tenderize it for Mama's stew; said it makes the meat less tough and more succulent."

He held your flesh between his teeth, applying more pressure, until he could feel the blood beneath your skin rushing to the surface. Sweat, blood, and saliva covered your thighs as he took his time playing and fondling. Arousal starts forming in your lower stomach. Fog starts clouding your brain. A muffled moan echoed through the holding pen, telling him you were at his beck and call. His mouth made its way to your sticky cunt, mixing the blood on his tongue with your arousal.

"Leaking like a faucet..." He groans, mouth watering at the thought of your juices.

Enamoured by your scent, he found himself buried in you, his nose prodding at your entrance as both hands wrapped inside and around your thighs to pull you closer. Instinctually, you push yourself towards him in desperation, eager to be relieved. Unable to deny you, his tongue grazed against your clit, making its way up your puffy slit. Two broad fingers followed in its tracks. Johnny's mouth watered at the sight of your glistening folds; a tight squeeze on either side causing more of your excitement to seep onto his tongue.

A guttural moan bounced off the walls when his rough thumb began drawing circles on your clit, his dick twitching at the sound. His mouth replaced his fingers as he latched onto your swollen clit, rolling it against his tongue. You could do nothing but quiver and moan as he spread your cheeks, groaning at the sight. You clenched your fist as if you had hold of his greasy locks, your eyes rolling back as he hummed into your heat. Thighs tightened around his head, spurring him on. He relentlessly lapped at you, like a ravenous dog burying itself in his last meal. Sharp canines scraped against you, the animalistic nature of his actions bringing you closer to the edge. He's hungry for you. An endless spur of nonsense fills the room as your body tightens against his hold. He knows you're about to cum. He always knew what your body wanted. A burning white is all you see as fire spreads through your body. Kneading the flesh in his hands, he let you chase your high, suffocating him with your excitement before melting against his mouth.

A cool, hard sensation against your throbbing pussy pulls you back into reality. Johnny rubs the blood-stained knife up and down your puffy slit, collecting your juices. Twisting the knife in the air, he admires how it glistens in the beam of light leaking through the wall crack before wiping it clean on his bicep and putting it back in its sheath.

Dragging one hand across his chin, the other slides the unbuckled brown leather out of its belt loops. Coolness brushed along your thighs, doing very little to soothe the throbbing marks Johnny left in his wake. Without thought, your hips tilted towards him in submission, making Johnny's chest fill with pride; he almost forgot about the boy at the gas station. Almost.  Before you could even register the whipping sound slicing through the air, you felt it—the sharp sting of his belt. The impact caused your body to lunge forward, your knees buckling as you lost control. Johnny had never used his belt like this before; you often traced the insignia on the buckle, wondering where he got such a thing and how long it'd been with him. It felt strangely intimate. Merciless hits leave your head foggy with arousal, each eliciting a gasp, whimper, or wail. A sharp sting spreads its way to your core as tears start to form in the corner of your eyes, slowly making a trail down your face. Despite the brutality of his strikes, your body grew more aroused with each passing welt.

Obstructed, wet sobs harmonise with the sharp cracks of the belt. Your thighs trembled when he suddenly stopped. He traced his finger across the indents he'd just made—the design of his belt buckle marked into your skin. A heavy breath tickled you as he licked into the shallow dents of your skin, savouring the feeling of each divot before pulling away. A soothing coolness was left behind as the wet started to dry. The sound of his zipper made your body buzz with anticipation; your toes clenched at the idea of what was coming. Anticipation turned into confusion as you felt rough hands brushing at the wetness on your face, opening them to see Johnny looking as put-together as he started. As he pulled a hanky out of his back pocket to clean the snot that had fallen from your nose during the anguish, he saw the confusion swirling in your eyes.

A snicker passed his lips before he got up, his eyes never leaving your face. "You ain't leaving just yet, sweetheart." His silhouette grew smaller as he made his way to the doors you both entered. He quickly glanced over his shoulder at your tangled form, "Can't promise I'll be quick."

The air grew heavier in his absence as you sobered to your reality. Without Johnny's distractions, you felt everything. Fatigue took over your body—every muscle in your body ached, your fingers were growing numb. Frustration started to pilot your body as you flailed against your shackles, hoping the ropes would slacken. Noticing a shining latch from the corner of your eye, your fingers searched around the grainy restraint for freedom, but nothing was within reach. You attempt to shout for attention, but the gag still held between your teeth muffles any noise. Maybe Johnny would return quicker if he thought you were in trouble. Maybe he was too far away and someone else would hear you? Did you really want anyone to find you in such a vulnerable position? Tears prickled in your eyes at the thought. A huff leaves your lips as your body sags in defeat. He was right; you did feel like a piece of meat.

Humidity hangs in the air. Hairs are stuck to your damp forehead, itching to be moved. A string of drool connects your bound mouth to the newly formed puddle on the floor. You try to focus on the smell of the stale hay as it fights with the metallic blood in the air—your blood. The grasshoppers and crickets in the field outside are the soundtrack to your humiliation—an incessant buzz to match the numb feeling of blood pooling in your legs. The occasional sniffle breaks the monotony. At some point, your eye hung closed, dragging you into a state of semi-consciousness. Every second is like a minute. Every minute feels like an hour. The growl of an engine alerts you. The sweet call for Johnny that follows confuses you.

"Johnny,"  The calls get louder as the person approaches: "The old man's threatening to take his stick upside your head if you don't bring back them gas cans." 

You chalk the voice up to your state of delirium. There's no one actually here. The figure making its way into the holding pen isn't actually there. You close your eyes as you shake your head in denial. Maybe she won't see you in the corner and move on.

"Oh, you poor little thing," Sissy interrupted your deluded thoughts. "How'd you get yourself all done in like that?"

You lowered your head in embarrassment as she skipped her way across the pen. What are the chances?

"Aw, ain't you a sight?" She cooed as she lifted your head.

Soft fingers brushed the damp hairs away from your eyes, combing out the knots that fought against her fingers. Your swollen eyes were fighting fresh tears at Sissy's caressing touch. Humilitating.

A faux pout formed at the sight: "Did that mean boy leave you tied up like a Christmas ham?"

A hand reached for your chin, forcing you to nod. Unable to muster the strength to defy, you accepted your fate—nothing but a doll in Sissy's playhouse.

"From the moment I saw you, I knew you were special, y'know."

A giggle escaped her lips as she let go of your head and began circling your motionless body, a soft hum letting you follow her position. The sensation of her finger trailing down your spine was so light it felt illusory; her finger snagging slightly against the scabbing cuts.

"Ain't that a pretty view?" Sissy admires the watercolour of purple painted on your thighs. "Just like a blackberry pie."

You felt dizzy at the softness, underwhelmed, and overwhelmed at the same time. The skin under her fingers twitched as it begged for the pressure it had become accustomed to. A fearful whine crawls up your throat as you feel her finger push against your puckered hole, swallowing it as she continues her path. The thrum of your heart pounds louder in your head, the sound suppressing the jovial tunes Sissy crooned. With no patience, two fingers sink into your neglected cunt, a scissoring motion drenching her slim fingers with your juices. Before you could relish in the feeling, it was gone. Her glistening fingers were brought to her mouth.

She hummed as she suckled on them, delighting in the flavour, "Sweeter than one too."

Her words made you dizzy with desire—shame dethroned by pleasure. Your body craved her touch. Sharp fangs peered over her lips as she felt your body gravitate towards her; she wanted to taste more of you. Nimble fingers began picking at the scabs on your back, relighting the fire as blood trickled down your ribs. She lapped at the blood, her flattened tongue tracing your wounds with vigor.

"Look at all this pretty blood," she coos. "Let's see where it leads me."

Her lips followed a trail of red as it dripped down your ribs and across the side of your breast. She crawled under your standing form so she could access the prize at the end of the path, goosebumps forming after every nibble. A soft kiss on your nipple makes your breath hitch. The kisses become fervorous as her lips widen, sucking the flesh into her mouth. Your back arches in a silent plea as she drags her thumb against your free nipple, pebbling against her touch. Fangs scrape against the sore bud as she begins to roll the other between her nimble fingers. A wave of electricity shoots to your core as she bites down.

As she releases you from her bite, she blows on your nipple, her teeth biting her lip in a smile as it hardened under the coolness. Her bony hands cupped both of your breasts as she squeezed and fondled, mesmerized by the way they conform to the shape of her hands, flesh bulging between her fingers. They fell to the ground upon their release, jiggling at the force. Sissy giggled in glee at the sight, bringing her hands to lightly tap at your hanging breasts. The impact causes them to sway as she stares at them, captivated by the movement. Instinctually, you recoil against the feeling, whimpering like a struck dog.

Sissy furrows her brow at the rejection, her voice lowering in sternness. "Stop fightin' it."

She continued her assault, the giggles growing louder as her spanks grew harder. A tingling numbness replaced the burning sharpness as the blood swelled under her hands. Growing bored with your swaying tits, she shoved her face between them, collecting a stray bead of sweat with her tongue, pushing your flesh on either side of her cheeks as she breathed in your scent. Small nips were left in her wake as she trailed her lips back to your nipple. You sigh shakily in relief as her jaw locks around your flesh, the tip of her tongue prodding at your erect nipple, alternating with a flat, pulsating brush of the wet muscle. Her slender fingers supporting your breast massaged the tissue deviously as she pulled you to the roof of her mouth and began sucking vigorously, the flesh rolling with the steady pressure. Unbearable waves of sensation jolted through your body as she relentlessly suckled, coaxing milk to fall from your peak. An enthusiastic groan vibrated against your breast when she could taste you on her tongue, sweet drops trickling on her taste buds like nectar from a wildflower. Confused moans bounced off the wooden walls as your body senselessly rutted towards her. She held you in her mouth as if she were biting into a peach before letting her jaw slacken, relishing in the taste of you. Sweet words fell from her lips as your chest erratically thumped before her but your ears werefull of cotton, oblivious to the praise.

She crawled her way from beneath you, allowing her eyes to devour your shaking, goosebump-riddled form. Her hand began to condescendingly stroke at your heavy head, cooing in faux consolation, "There, there, it's alright. It feels good, don't it, sugar?"

Expecting a reply, the hand in your damp hair tightened. Your motionless body made her yank hard, fearful eyes meeting hers, as she circled to bend in front of you. "Ain't your mama teach you any manners?"

Before you could gurgle your apologies, a bruising slap replaced the hot words that had fallen on your cheek. Your head jolted to the right, dizzying at the feeling. Blinking away the pain, your eyes focus on the blurry silhouette in the door of the holding pen. The feral growl rolling from his chest confirmed his identity. Smirking at the sound, the woman turned around. Mischief twinkled in her eyes as she noticed the darkness in his.

"Ain't your mama tell you not to touch things that don't belong to ya?" He bellowed, his accent growing thicker.

Snickers fell from Sissy's lips as she pressed your cheek against hers. "I don't see your name written on her anywhere," she retorts mockingly, with a small pout on her lips.

Johnny's composure drops for a moment, denting the can in his hand, his growl growing deeper, squaring up for a fight. He knew she was taunting him. It's what she did. But seeing her hands on you blinded him with a primal fury. Your eyes never leave his puffed chest, heart rattling against your own. Sissy concedes with a kiss to your forehead. She skips her way to Johnny, hushed hisses shared between them before she is gone.

Holding Johnny's gaze was a feat; your throat tightening as he sauntered his way over. There's nothing to feel guilty about; it wasn't your fault. But your body didn't listen to the excuses in your brain. A dark shadow cast over your face as Johnny loomed over you, his binding gaze making you a compliant mess. 

"She has a point, y'know... ain't nothing here to tell the world who you belong to." He circles your body like a vulture waiting to claim its prize.

His scent engulfs your mind, the fantasies that kept you company in his absence come to the forefront. A sudden click, followed by a low hiss of air, sounded behind you. No, not air, fire. You hadn't noticed the blowtorch in his grasp when he returned. You tried to swallow the bile rising in your throat, unaware of Johnny holding the torch to a branding iron. He watched as the heat revealed a glowing 'J'. Babbling pleas turned to white noise as you felt the residual heat on the iron close to your trembling body. With a satisfied hum, he squeezed the flesh of your ass before pressing the iron against it. Every muscle in your body tensed as wildfire spread through your body, fat tears rolling down your cheeks, attempting to put it out. A scream fought against gritted teeth, vision going white on the verge of blacking out, suffocated by the smell of burning flesh. Crescent moons were carved into your palm as you tried to grab onto nothing. The pain didn't subside as he pulled away, the clang of the disposal bucket never reaching your ears.

"Most prized heifer in Texas." He chuckles, poking a finger at your entrance. "Well, almost. A heifer ain't nothing when she's not bred."

Pain began to melt into pleasure. The desire in your body was louder than any word he uttered. You wanted him to claim you. The instinctual ache in your body wanted to obey his every command. He could feel it. She could feel it too—his thick length throbbing against your own throbbing heat. You couldn't help but rut against him, eager to feel him inside you. A choked cry escaped your throat as teased your entrance. He met your cry with a groan as he slowly pushed himself into you, savouring the warm feeling. Pushing backwards, your back arched in a silent plea, only to be met with his veined hands gripping tightly on your hips, immobilising the movement. You whine at the lack of friction. He towers over your body, pulling your head back so your eyes meet.

"Got anything to say to me?" His question was marked with a single thrust.

You remained silent, knowing anything you said would be incomprehensible. With a sigh, he brings his other hand to unbuckle the drool-drenched gag, letting it fall to the floor. Eyes wide and watery, you let out a raspy apology, your jaw convulsing at the sudden relaxation. He begins to rut into you carelessly.

"Anything else, sugar?" Each syllable was punctuated with a thrust.

To his dismay, your mind goes blank at the pleasure. Whorish moans are now free to dance around the room as your cunt fluttered around him. His hands roam over your back with possessive desire before groping the round flesh in front of him. Rough fingertips digging into the fresh wound, send a new blaze of fire through you.

"I'm yours, Johnny. Only yours."  Your sob trailed into a moan as his pace quickened at the confession.

His breath tickles your ear. "Every inch of flesh on your body belongs to me." Dominance seeps through his every word. "Every moan.   Every sound.   Every thought. You are mine alone."

You're at his complete mercy. The only word that leaves your mouth is his name. You'd do anything for him as his hands do a second lap of your body, trailing down to your sore nipples, twisting and pulling on them with no compassion. Your eyes fluttered closed as the coil in your core tightened.

"Eyes on me, sweetheart," Johnny mumbled, holding your hair in one hand as the other played with your swollen clit. He could play your body like a fiddle, with brutal thrusts and torturous circles in a melodic rhythm. Slamming harder, he could feel you clench against him. He could feel every warm ridge inside you—sharp teeth meeting your shoulder at the feeling. With a primal cry, your coil snapped. Knees buckle beneath you as your slick drips down his cock, marking him with your scent.

He rode out the wave, circling harder and faster on your swollen bud. The sensation was overwhelming, causing you to pull away with a pathetic whine. Your nerves were raw. The resistance made his length twitch inside you, hands landing on your hips, pulling you flush against him, knuckles turning pale. His breathing got heavier as his thrusts got deeper, his tip bruising your cervix, making his grunts feral. He moved one of his hands to your stomach, pushing against the outline of himself, basking in the feeling of his dick abusing your hole. His pace grew needier. His desire became carnal. His sounds became animalistic. The slap of his balls against your clit was agonising, making your mouth fall open with silent moans. He leant back to watch the point where your bodies connected, groaning at the sloppy sound gurgling around him. Over and over, his veiny dick disappeared into you, covered in a sweet cream on its return. His head falls back, the vein in his neck throbbing as he hisses. The feeling of his release made you see stars, circling your hips mindlessly as he grew limp inside you.

He lazily pulled out of you, mesmerised by the thick, white stream oozing from your folds. Your body twitched under his possessive gaze. Overwhelmed, you closed your eyes for a moment of relief. Not even the sound of duct tape ripping could wake you from your blissful daze. Johnny fingers the escaping cum, pushing it inside you. A tacky strip gets slapped over your abused cunt, trapping his seed. With a final tap, he beams at his prize.

"Would win all the county prizes, you would."

[vilevenom]

Howdy, Anon! An idea for this prompt smacked me right in the face as soon as I read it. Aaaand I have a feeling it's, uh, not as fluffy as you may have been hoping. Still a JD & Bruce fic, buuuut less of an "Oh no! John Dory had a bad date! lol" and more of a "Oh no. John Dory had a bad date." Also, this is set pre-brozone breakup. Let's not mention the sheer amount of times I wrote "Bruce" instead of "Spruce" and had to go back and fix it I hope you enjoy!

John Dory crept into the pod, knowing full well he was much, much later than he had told his grandmother he would be. And after the night he'd had there was no way he wanted to deal with a confrontation with her. She had been upset enough with him when he had proposed the "Win a Date with BroZone" contest in the first place, especially without a sponsor to cover it. He didn't need to provide her with extra ammo over the whole thing by how late he'd gotten home.

He made sure the door shut as quietly as it could, then tip toed through the pod, doing his best to avoid toys and instruments scattered across the floor in the dark. He let out a near inaudible sigh of relief as he made it to the door of his bedroom, reaching for the knob, fully believing he had made it scot-free.

"About time you got home."

"Cupcakes!" John hissed, nearly jumping out of his skin at the voice suddenly to his right. He placed a hand over his rapidly beating heart, shooting a glare at Spruce who was stood in the darkened hallway, arms crossed over his chest, and a scowl on his face.

"Bitty B cried when you weren't home to tuck him in."

John rolled his eyes, shoving his bedroom door open. "It was one bedtime story. I'm sure he'll be fine," John grumbled, quickly ducking into his room and away from Spruce.

Spruce followed John Dory like a shadow, quickly shutting the bedroom door behind him in the hopes of keeping the rest of their brothers asleep. "Oh, no. You do not get to pretend like you weren't out until the middle of the night, making us worry. And you better believe that Grandma is going to have words with you in the morning. You've got to stop putting all of the band crap before your family!" Spruce growled, doing his best to keep his voice quiet, while also conveying to John Dory just how upset he was. Not only did he have to deal with a crying Branch, but Floyd had also been upset by John missing their bedtime routine, and Clay had just been angry.

"Come on, Spruce. Can't you lecture me in the morning? It's late," John grumbled, tugging his goggles off and tossing them aside, not bothering to turn the bedroom light on.

"No! You're going to listen to me, John Dory! This is getting ridiculous. First you start sequestering yourself in your room for hours on end to write, then you're forcing us to practice every minute we're not scheduled for a press conference or photo shoot, now you're out partying it up late into the night, making our brothers upset! It has to stop," Spruce snapped, flipping on the bedroom light as he spoke. He scowled when John quickly turned his back to him, his fur bristling as he stormed across the room. "Look at me when I'm talking to you," he snarled, grabbing John's shoulders to turn him around.

Spruce fully expected John to glare at him and give him some snotty remark about being manhandled. He was not expecting to find a bruise forming over his brother's cheek, and crusted blood covering a split in his lip. Spruce gaped while John looked at the floor, unshed tears brimming in his eyes.

"What happened?" Spruce asked, his tone distinctly softer as he directed John to sit on the edge of his bed.

John took in a deep breath, obviously trying to keep himself from sobbing, but it did nothing to stop the tears that slowly began to trail down over his cheeks. "The date went…badly."

"This looks like it went worse than 'badly', JD," Spruce murmured, sitting next to his brother and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. "Talk to me, bro. What happened?"

John sniffed loudly, quickly wiping this nose with the back of his hand. "You're going to say 'I told you so', and I really don't need that tonight, Spruce."

"I won't, I promise," Spruce said quickly, shaking his head. He had a feeling he knew exactly what John was referring to. After John had argued with Rosiepuff over the date contest, he'd gone to Spruce with the proposal, as he was the designated heart throb and had previous experience with fake dates with fans. Spruce had immediately refuted the idea, citing the debacle when 'Trolls Magazine' had held a similar contest, and the awkward ice cream date he'd gone on with one of their fans and a photographer. John was proposing they run the contest themselves, without someone to vet the entries, to boost popularity before their next tour. Spruce had argued that a date without a chaperone, even with John being seventeen, was a terrible idea. John thought he would be able to handle it. After all, how crazy could their fans be?

John took another deep breath, coughing quietly as he tried to choke back a sob. "You really promise?"

"I absolutely promise."

John blinked a couple of times, before finally letting out a low whine, burying his face in his hands. Spruce rubbed his back in comforting circles as his older brothers shoulders shook. After a moment he finally sat back up, gasping quietly for air. "I…It started off fine," he said quietly, gaze far away, "She looked older than I thought she'd be. Her contest entry said nineteen, but I think she was older. She brought me flowers, which I thought was weird, but sweet. We went for dinner. I took photos with a few fans who asked while we were out. She got mad. She said I should only be paying attention to her and telling the others to go away, because she won my time. I told her I couldn't just ignore our fans, that'd be rude. She was upset, but let it go. She seemed to get more agitated as the night went on, though. Finally, when I was walking her home- or, at least, what I think was her home…She pinned me up against the tree and kissed me. She was rough, and it hurt. She bit me when I tried to pull away. When I did finally manage to get her off of me, she hit me. I ran for it, and she chased me. I only got home so late because I wanted to make sure she wasn't following me anymore."

"John," Spruce breathed, shaking his head in disbelief. To think that one of their fans would do such a thing was disturbing, to say the least.

"I should've listened to you and Grandma," John whimpered, turning a tearful gaze onto Spruce, "I never should've put together this stupid contest. I never should've gone on that date without someone with me."

"Hey," Spruce murmured, "What happened wasn't your fault."

"Wasn't it?" John scoffed, wiping at his eyes angrily, "I didn't listen to you or Grandma, I went out by myself to meet someone I didn't know, and then had to run around the tree for hours so she wouldn't follow me home! I think that qualifies it as being my fault." He let out a weak sob, covering his face again. "I was scared." The admittance was quiet, and Spruce likely only heard it because he was so close to John.

Spruce tugged John Dory bodily into a hug, his older brother practically falling into his lap. "It wasn't your fault. I should've gone with you, regardless of how I felt. I could've helped to keep you safe." John clutched at the back of Spruce's sleep shirt, the damn of his tears breaking as he wept quietly into Spruce's shoulder. "You're going to be okay, JD. It's going to be okay."

[grapecinnamon]

Welcome Home headcannons (bc I'm obsessed now)❤️🧡💛💚💙💜🏳️‍🌈♾️

Julie, Sally, and Poppy have an all-girls slumber party every once-in-a-while. Sometimes they invite Wally

Wally and Barnaby have regular sleepovers too, usually in Home. They don't like to leave him out

Frank likes to infodump about butterflies to Wally. It's easy to infodump to him, since he doesn't talk much anyway

Wally can pick up weird bugs off the ground with his own hands because to him, "they're just tiny neighbors who live outside."

Wally's the one everyone goes to whenever they have a problem. Wally doesn't mind listening to them and giving them advise. But sometimes, Wally isn't having the best of days and can't listen to anyone. But he always has Barnaby to go to

Julie's most common stim is flapping her hands

Julie only owns dresses. She doesn't really own pants. She has to borrow from Sally

Sally loves romance novels. She'll usually read them when she's not directing

Wally loves talking about art. He'll mainly ramble on about shapes and perspectives, and the color theory, his most favorite to discuss.

Eddie Dear kisses Frank on the forehead to calm him down whenever he's angry. It always seems to help

Howdy is practicing juggling. you'd think it'd be easier with four arms but... not for Howdy

Barnaby is always trying to get Wally to try new foods, even some Wally doesn't think he'll like. It's not that Barnaby doesn't respect Wally's boundaries, he just wants him to at least try it

The neighbors celebrate Thanksgiving, but they call it something else (Feast Day I suppose?)

Poppy is always nervous for Feast Day because she usually makes desert. Since she's afraid of using kitchen appliances, desert making is usually a two person job, sometimes with Julie and sometimes with Sally

Wally loves Feast Day. He gets to make pumpkin pie for everyone. The problem is that Wally doesn't like stuffing (Julie's usual) cause of all the weird textures. He would still make himself eat it so he wouldn't look rude, even though he would be visibly uncomfortable eating it. Now every Feast Day, Julie makes two stuffing dishes. One for everyone else, and one for Wally, which is a bit more plain. It's currently Wally's favorite Feast Day dish.

Wally ate a flower in Frank's garden one time. It did not go well for either of them.

Julie and Frank like to gossip. Nothing too bad, they just talk about how extra bossy Sally was being or Barnaby telling another bad pun, etc.

Wally likes to put his paintings around the neighborhood, almost as if the buildings are fridges

Julie is afraid of ghosts. Frank usually has to be the one to tell her they're not real. "I bet they don't like to play games," Sally says.

Howdy has all of Wally's food preferences memorized, since Wally never really changes his opinion that much. Plus he likes his hot dogs plain

Eddie Dear and Wally bond over their love of arts and crafts. They sometimes get together and make stuff

Wally is usually the stagehand during Sally's plays. He sometimes plays a role, but he's much more comfortable pulling the curtain or moving the spotlights

Wally actually loves pulling pranks. Barnaby got him into them. Most of the time, Wally's pranks are just misplacing objects where the neighbors didn't leave them (he once hid Sally's script, and Frank's butterfly net). But sometimes he'll feel bad and tell them where their missing object is

Wally and Poppy are very good at sewing. Wally loves making sweaters for everyone when it gets cold. Poppy likes knitting scarves and sometimes crochets little messages (she has a "bless this mess" sign in her home)

Wally has a sensitive stomach and can't eat certain things. There's a correlation between autism and stomach problems, and Wally seems like the type to have them

Whenever they have meetings, they always have them in Home, so Home could also be apart of the discussions

Poppy loves having picnics. It's easier to make sandwiches because in her mind, nothing bad has ever happened to anyone who made a sandwich

Wally loves taking naps. He'll sleep for about an hour during the day everyday. if he doesn't get his nap, he gets so drowsy during the day. If he does this, you'd usually find him sleeping with his head leaning on Barnaby, giving up his long battle of not napping. He was once found facedown in Frank's garden. Frank, of course, was not pleased

that's it. for now. Ik it's a long post, but I'm just so obsessed with Welcome Home. Clown, if you see this, you're a goddamn genius

[bundrops-n-fluffytops]

Welcome Home Agere Fic - Broken Mayo

Characters: Howdy Pillar, Eddie Dear, Frank Frankly (later in story)

Setting: Howdy’s Bugdega (bathroom, front counter, aisle)

Premise: Eddie has been feeling overwhelmed all day, but has been hiding it well. After accidentally slipping at the local Bugdega, however, Howdy Pillar quickly takes the reins.

Author’s Note: This fic takes place a few months after Eddie is first introduced to age regression, and starts to experiment with it himself. He doesn’t know that the rest of town practices it as well, so he keeps to himself about it until now. Also sorry that it’s all red, Tumblr is glitching and I can’t see the words unless the color is changed 😅

—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—

To put it simply, Eddie Dear has been having a hard day.

For starters, he missed a day after having a whole day with his husband Frank, so he had to take an extra load. Then, he accidentally upset Poppy because he knocked something over, and made a mess. Then, he delivered the opposite packages to Julie and Wally, and had to take an extra minute to switch the packages all over again.

Needless to say, Eddie was not in a pleasant mood. He refused to show it, however, because he felt that showing his frustration would only make things worse for everyone. So, for the whole day, he bottled it up and kept to himself.

This, however, did not work out well, as he could already feel his top about to blow any second. He could already feel his tell-tale signs of going small: his hands would start to tingle and shake a bit, he could feel a lump in his throat, everything felt just so loud and fuzzy, and any words he could muster were little to long gone. He braved through all that though, all with a smile on his face.

That was until he made his last stop to the Bugdega.

He and Howdy Pillar were close pals, no stranger to each other ever since the titular caterpillar first moved in. They would regularly exchange packages, chat at the front counter, and even have friendly lunches with each other. They also confided with each other when one or the other was down in the dumps, and would offer a helping hand when needed. So to be fair, Eddie would assume he was a good shoulder to cry on and fully embrace his inner child.

That is if he told him.

He wasn’t sure why he didn’t tell him about his regression, but it scared him to do so. The only ones familiar with it were Frank and Julie, his husband and their closest companion, but those were the only ones he trusted with this. He wasn’t sure what the others would think, so it was hard to think how Howdy would feel.

—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—

Eddie soon found himself standing over what once was a jar of mayonnaise in one of the aisles of the store, shaking violently but also completely still. He could feel the tears burning his eyes and cheeks, and his breathing start to get heavy. It was all too much.

“Eddie?” a familiar voice rang out, “did something happen?” It was Howdy. He had overheard the glass break, and a yell coming from the mailman. Concern brewed in his chest immediately and he was hurting to whatever the sound could’ve came from.

Eddie did not listen, however. He couldn’t really listen to anything properly, as the only thing that he could hear was his heartbeat and heavy breathing. Hot tears began to stream down his cheeks, as he begin to slowly fall to his knees and cover his head with his hands. He dropped his basket of other groceries onto the linoleum floor, the foods nearly falling out. He was powerless to resist, and soon fully slipped into his headspace.

A pair of hands caught his attention, however. Or rather, two pairs.

“Hey, buddy… did something bad happen?”

Eddie looked up to meet eyes with Howdy, his concerned gaze burning into his own. This only made him burst into tears even further, lowering his head so he didn’t have to face his fear.

“C’mon buckaroo,” Howdy whispered, ruffling Eddie’s hair, “it’s not that bad of a mess. Here, let’s go somewhere that’s not too distracting, alright?”

With that, Howdy took Eddie’s hand and led the crying mailman to the nearest restroom, sitting him beside the wall near the toilet stalls. The caterpillar followed suit, sitting across him and wrapping his arms around him and hugging him against himself.

Eddie then buried his face into Howdy’s chest, snuggling himself against him to suppress any noise he was making. The shopkeeper shushed him as best he could and rubbed his back, resting his head on top of the mailman’s and gently rocking him.

About five to ten minutes pass and Eddie is soon reverted to breathing shakily, still in Howdy’s embrace and sniffling occasionally. He was exhausted from the panic attack, and could not do or talk much afterwards. He had brought his thumb near his mouth, tracing his bottom lip with it.

The snuggly caterpillar caught whiff of this and buried one of his hands into the pocket of his apron. Out he pulled a plastic green pacifier, showing it off to Eddie.

This took Eddie aback, as he was not sure if Howdy was even aware of his regression. He wasn’t sure if he should’ve said something, but even if he did, speaking was just a bit too hard for him right now.

“I think this is much better suited for you, isn’t it lil guy?” Howdy teased, wiggling the pacifier at him, the plastic rattling a tad. Eddie instinctively lowered his hand and opened his mouth, allowing the caterpillar to pop it in for him. The feeling of the silicon nub soothed him, and soon he was suckling away at the paci with no problem.

“Now, would you like to tell me what’s going on, buddy?” The caterpillar asked. Eddie shrunk a bit, and looked away timidly.

“Too… nn, too mush…” he answered, twiddling his fingers.

“Everything was too much?” He whimpered and nodded.

“Awww, today was a lot to handle, wasn’t it? Well, would you like for me to call someone so you can calm down in a more familiar place? That usually helps me!” Eddie thought for a moment to think about who you call, before an idea popped in his head. He leaned towards Howdy’s ear, murmuring his answer.

“Oh, Frank?“ Howdy confirmed, “that’s just fine! I’ll ring him up right now.” He then buried his hand once more into the pocket of his apron and pulled out a tiny flip phone. Thank goodness for the evolution of technology. A few beeps and bops later, and soon Frank picked up.

“Frank Frankly speaking,” He answered.

“Hello Frank dear, this is Howdy Pillar calling from the Bugdega.”

“Oh Howdy! Is there something important you need me to know?”

“Yes, actually. Your friend Eddie here is currently in a tough position right now, and I was wondering if you could get him so he could calm down somewhere safer.”

“Oh dear, what happened? Is he hurt? Did he get sick, what do I need to clean?”

“Oh no no no, he’s fine! He’s just had a rather rough day and needs someone to come pick him up, is all. Can you do that?”

“O-Of course! I’m on my way right now, I’ll see you there!”

“Alright, I’ll see you here Frankly! Buh bye!”

And with that, the call ended. He closed the flip phone shut and stuffed it into his pocket once more, before turning back to Eddie.

“Don’t you worry, Frank is on the way, dear.” Eddie felt his heart warm up and smiled, hugging the tall caterpillar once more.

“T’ank you…” He sniffled and wiped his eyes. Howdy pat the top of his head, ruffling his hair.

“No problem, buckaroo. Just doing what a good shopkeeper does.” Eddie’s smile grew at that.

They say there and hugged for a tad more, before Eddie pulled away, confusing Howdy.

“What’s up, buddy?” Eddie pointed towards the exit, before mumbling… something. It took Howdy a minute to realize he was talking about the mess in the aisle.

“Oh, do you want to clean it up?” Eddie nodded, the ring of the pacifier jiggling with his movement.

“Hmmm… well as much as I would love for you to help with cleaning up, all that broken glass would hurt you, lil buddy! How about I clean it up for you so you don’t risk getting hurt, okay?” Eddie frowned at this, lowering his head in shame at the mess he committed. He felt that he needed to be the one to clean it, and that if Howdy took the full responsibility to do so he would simply be putting another problem on him.

“Awww, don’t feel bad, Eddie. I don’t mind cleaning up a mess every now and then, I do it all the time!” Howdy laughed at his little joke, before he got a look at how upset Eddie really was. He sighed, resting one of his hands on the mailman’s shoulder, another tilting his head up to face him.

“Listen to me, Eddie. I know you feel bad that I want to clean the mess up, and I understand. It feels like you’re putting the responsibility on me, and you don’t want that. But I can assure you buddy that I am more than willing to take care of you and help you out when you need it, and right now you need it the mostest. So don’t feel bad, okay? I got two right hands to carry you and two left hands to work!” Eddie giggled softly at that, his smile back on his face.

“There’s that smiling face again. Now, let’s go clean up, shall we?”

—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—

About fifteen minutes pass since Howdy made that phone call to Frank, and soon the familiar grumpy fellow came rushing into the Bugdega. He immediately scanned the aisles and spotted Eddie sitting at one of the eatting tables. The bookworm quickly rushed towards Eddie, a first-aid kit in hand.

“Goodness, Eddie are you ok?! You had me worried sick!” Frank blabbered, grabbing and turning Eddie’s face and arms to check for any bruises or bumps.

“Oh, Frank!” Howdy shouted from the aisle, “good to see you, friend! Are you here to pick up Eddie?” He had his sleeves rolled up, wearing gloves and carefully sweeping up any broken glass he might’ve missed.

“Yes yes, of course!” Frank answered, nodding his head.

“I must report that Eddie here was quite well-behaved before you got here! I just handed him some crayons and printer paper and be just doodled away!”

Frank turned to Eddie, who was still scribbling away at that same paper. He smiled, resting his arms onto the table that the small mailman sat.

“Oh, did you draw something dear? Would you mind showing it to me?” Frank asked him, referring to the paper. Eddie nodded, picking up the drawing and holding it for his caregiver to see.

The drawing consisted of Howdy and Eddie holding hands and standing in the Bugdega, only with butterflies and the sun shining outside. It was… not well drawn, but it was incredibly touching to the grey fellow.

“Oh this is lovely! You drew this yourself too, you’re such a talented artist!” Frank cooed at him, making the small mailman giggle and clap his hands together.

Meanwhile, Howdy had just finished clearing up the aisle, wiping his now sweaty forehead and turning to the other two.

“Welp, managed to get the aisle clean! Everything ok-“ He was about to finish before he saw the drawing Eddie had made, pausing and staring at the doodle he made. It was… adorable, honestly, he didn’t know how much he meant to Eddie until now.

He smiled wide, taking off his hat and holding it to his heart and chuckling.

“Is this for me, buddy?” He asked. Eddie nodded, holding the paper towards the caterpillar.

“Why thank you, Eddie! This is very kind of you, I’ll cherish this very much.” Eddie giggled at this, his smile growing side. Howdy folded the paper carefully into squares and put it in the back of his pocket, making sure to save it.

“Alrighty, dear,” Frank declared, “I think it might be our time to head out. It’s starting to get late, and I wouldn’t want you to grow too exhausted.” Eddie slowly nodded, holding his arms out for Frank to carry. The grey fellow did just that, lifting the larger man by his armpits and balancing him on his arms against himself.

“Thank you so very much for taking care of him,“ Frank thanked Howdy, “I’m so glad he’s okay.”

“D’awww, don’t mention it! I’m just doing my job as the town shopkeeper, is all! Call me if anything is amiss, and I’ll be over there in a snap! Or four, if you want to be realistic.” Howdy chuckled at his own joke, snapping his fingers for emphasis. Frank followed suit, and shook the caterpillar’s hand before turning to head out.

As he was heading out, however, Eddie looked over the typical grumpy fellow’s shoulder towards Howdy. He raised his hand and waved it goodbye, smiling as he did, before he disappeared behind the now closed door of the Bugdega.

Howdy waved back, of course, as it was common courtesy for any good customer. Especially if it was a good friend like Eddie.

—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—

[galdiarie]

꒰ 🎀 Spending the afternoon with Kris!

HOWDY!, welcome to my Homespace!

Cassidy is here! <3

┈ ⋯ ꕀ ┈ ⋯ ꕀ ┈ ⋯ ꕀ ┈ ✦ ┈ ⋯ ꕀ ┈ ⋯ ꕀ ┈ ⋯ ꕀ ┈

Fanfic at the request of

Howdy! Anon Thank you for your request! <3

Another request from our favorite non-binary emo kid hehehe, I didn't know what to do at first so I decided to watch a Deltarune gameplay to get inspired <(￣︶￣)>, hopefully you like it.

TW: Nothing, have fun ;P

After your adventures in the Dark World, you and Kris went for a nice walk around the city before going to Kris' house, you didn't have a fixed path where to go so you wandered around the city, Kris grabbed your hand gently as they walked next to you, the wind was blowing softly, moving slightly Kris's bangs showing a little bit his red eyes, little Kris seemed to be thinking about something while they was walking next to you, although you didn't know clearly what was going through his head they still enjoyed his company, in the middle of his way Kris seemed a little tired of so much walking, so you proposed them to go to the small cafeteria to rest, they slowly agreed and both entered the cafeteria, there you decided to buy a milkshake to your cute partner, they was looking at his hands, playing lightly with his black fingerless gloves, you were a little worried about what was going on in his head, but with what happened with the dark world and that they is now part of a prophecy you can understand them being so like this, after a few minutes the chocolate milkshake arrives at the table, Kris looks at you and the milkshake, asking if it was for them, you nod and you can see them smile a little before taking a sip of the milkshake. While they drank his milkshake, you talked to them about how amazing they was in the Dark World and how you admire his bravery in a world completely unknown to you, they smiled and let out a little laugh at your praise, when they had finished drinking his milkshake, you paid for it and both of you finally decided to go to Kris' house, the ride home was short luckily. When you arrived Toriel welcomed you both with a hug and a sweet smile, she also offered you some caramel cake which you quickly nodded along with Kris, she smiled and cut you both a slice of her delicious cake, leaving you both to head to Kris's room, there you sat on his bed while they put the cake plate on his bedside table and went to bed, you giggled a little while you put a piece of cake in your mouth, the enjoyment of the cake taste was interrupted by some little tugs on the sleeve of your sweater, you looked to that direction and saw Kris signaling you to lie down next to them, you looked at them fondly and sweetly told them "Kris, first I finish my cake and then I'll sleep with you, ok?" They saw you and shook his head and again gently pulled the sleeve of your sweater and in a low voice they said "lie down next to me and hold me", you were a little surprised to hear his voice, they was not one of those people who talk a lot, you could even go days without hearing them talk, so you decided to listen to his request, you left the plate on his bedside table, They hugged you back, you felt his breath on your neck, everything was so peaceful and quiet that in a few minutes you were already falling asleep, in your sleep you thought you heard his voice saying "I love you...", you just smiled and sweetly while you were falling asleep you answered "I love you too".

EXTRA:

Toriel noticed that one of the knives from the kitchen was missing, so she went to her Kid Kris' room to see if they had it, but when she opened the door she saw her son cuddled and sleeping next to his 'friend', Toriel smiled before the adorable scene she saw, she went to the bed and covered them with sheets and then took the dishes from the bedside table and turned off the light so the lovebirds could sleep at ease.

[welcome-back-home]

Hi! Noticed your asks are open, (and also, I love your recent work! The dynamic is so cute!!) and I want to request a wally x reader who is a popstar, I wanna see your take on it!!

Also, Have a great day! 💜💜

thank you so much! im so glad you liked my work! i really appreciate it ^^ you have a nice day too and happy reading!

link: puppet reader

note:this is a massive story im so sorry

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

the day started like any other...at least at first, wally does his daily painting routine at his favorite painting spot, underneath a tree with a easel in front of him. the painting he was making resembled a apple cut open with many colors inside in a lemony yellow backgound. he figured his beloved would enjoy it. no matter what personality, they always loved his work and almost immediately hangs it on their wall.

he then paused, mid motion of dipping his paint brush into red paint...now thinking about it, he hasnt seen you all day or hardly anyone for that matter. normally you would show up to say hello or he finds you during his journey to his painting spots, but he was so caught up in his own little world to notice that...time passed and you still haven`t shown up.

a chill goes up his spine at the thought of something wrong might`ve happened, getting a breif flashback of the time his beloved developed a daredevil like personality and they almost got themselves killed.

he looks at his painting as he set the tools down, "it can wait" he thought, as he ventures off to find you.

walking to your home he noticed the design has changed again, it was covered in colorful music notes and fake plastic vinyl records here and there and music is playing from inside. a pleasant musical theme. however over the music thats playing inside was the sounds of construction behind the house and friends talking. wally thought you where back there building something. so he walked behind the house to not see you, but sally, julie, and howdy. the three are apparently working on building a stage, it looked to be almost done as its firmly standing tall and decorated with star covered curtains and fairy lights.

the neighbors have been busy most of the day making a mini concert for you, a treat you 'the famous pop star' wanted to give to the community as a thank you for being great friends. of course you didnt ask them to make the stage, they offered to make it for you. the three of them was having fun putting the last finishing touches on the setup while frank gets chairs, barnaby gets snacks, and eddie finishing his final mail run for the day, poppy was nowhere to be found. wally wonders where both you and poppy could be...but he figures the both of you are busy with something else important for this setup. so instead he went to say hello to sally,julie, and howdy.

"hello friends!" wally greets the trio while he waves "wally! where have you been? you was about to miss the show" sally asks with a smile, a bottle of glue and a jar of glitter in her hands, she was making glitter covered shapes on the stages platform to give it extra flare "im sorry, i was caught up with my painting and did not notice the time" wally sighs as he confessed where he has been most of the day, embarrassment and a hint of remorse in his tone "thats ok silly! you`re here now!" julie speaks up, understanding that anyone can lose track of time when they are doing something they enjoy, "am i still able to help?" wally offers, even if its kind to late, howdy holds out a paintbrush to him thats coated with green paint "can you help me paint the rest of the stage?" howdy smiles, even if he had it covered already with his four arms, he would love to have some help.

with a grin wally accepts the brush and helps howdy paint the wooden stage. everyone else returned from their tasks and soon the set up was finished, poppy showed up after a while to sneak someone behind the curtains of the stage and took a seat with everyone else in the small crowd.

and then the show begins.

the curtains open to reveal you on the center of the stage, the fairy lights illuminating the stage and makes you shine brighter then anything in the world in wallys eyes. you was smiling, dressed in pop star getup, and face framed perfectly with the new hairstyle you have for the day. you looked like a angel standing on that stage.

"hello neighbors!" you said cheerfully into the mic thats on a stand in front of you "i wanted to give you something in return for the never ending kindness you've always given me since ive moved here" you continued, a spark of confidence in your voice "i`ve written this one for someone special, i hope you all enjoy it" you say as a song starts to play from the speakers.

as you began to sing the world practically stood still, your voice was so beautiful it practically made wally swoon. his heart sped up and his face grew warm as he rests his head on the palm of his hand, never taking his lovestruck gaze off of you. a song you have made for him you`ve sang with all the confidence in your very soul, each lyric and note he will forever know by heart. he has never fallen as hard as he did at this moment...

and even when the song finished he never took his eyes off of you or even stopped listening when you started the next song, he hung on to every word. just enjoying every second of your beautiful performance...

[walli3darl1ng]

Part four?? (Final?)

For context, reader is a local doll maker given the task to make Wally Darling look presentable for an upcoming episode but Wally has plans to keep you around.

You’re finishing up the box that would carry Wally with him sitting on your lap, his hands resting on your forearms as you paint his name on the wood. Over the course of the week you’ve gone pale, skinnier and well looking exhausted. The change was so rapid that you didn’t even have time to stop and think about what could cause it.

Wally has been taking your energy, now knowing if it’s intended or not we’ll never know. The small puppet can’t see that it’s affecting you dramatically. You’ll pass out the second you stop working, when you're up you barely have time to eat since you’re eager to get back to work. It’s like a high you didn’t know you needed, you craved it. It was odd to be addicted to a project but to you it makes the most sense. You’re a doll maker! You live to make this for kids or adults.

You didn’t want to think about what you’ll do when it’s done and you’ll have to give Wally back to those awful people. Will he miss you? Will he remember you? Probably not.

You’re wrong.

Wally has gone…obsessed, to say the least. Celine told him about this ‘shifting’ that humans do to escape this reality into their own desired reality. Does yours have him in it? Have you two together?

Humans can also shift into already existing realities, like a favorite show or movie, even books and comics! So he’s been thinking; why not shift to his reality?! Would that be fun! You guys could finally be together.

Sure you guys have never spoken to each other to the point of the other response verbally but you guys spend all day together! He’ll have you.

No matter what stands in his way.

Celine watches nervously when you lay your head on the desk after finishing the box, you’ve fallen asleep. They see Wally wiggle out of your hold and caressing your face. They’ve noticed a darker aura to Wally but he’s their friend, they will help anyway they can.

Moving from their frozen position, they make it over while dragging a bag behind then and setting it next to Wally’s box. “Here you go! All my extra parts.”

“Oh! Thank you, Celine, you’re a big help!” Wally smiles at them, getting a nervous one back, he takes a look at the bag. “So they made extra parts for you?”

“Originally it was for different poses but then they thought it could serve as replacement parts. If they really wanted to, they could make a second one of me.” They shrug and pick up an arm from inside the bag and twist the ball joint on the wrist. “Everything moves smoothly so you’ll have no trouble making a shell.”

“Perfect!” Wally then looks at your sleeping form and nuzzles his cheek on yours with a content sigh. “You hear that, my Doll? You’ll be safe with me.”

The next day you travel back to the studio and hand over Wally. Reluctantly that is, you didn’t even let them carry him when they told you to follow them to the set.

That’s strange, was there always a workshop house in the neighborhood? You could’ve sworn there were only eight including the main puppet in your arms. There’s Poppy, Sally, Julie, Frank, Eddie, Howdy, Barnaby and your Wally. Who’s the new addition?

Leaving Wally was hard. You didn’t know what to do after getting in the car and staring into the void. Are you going home now? Without him by your side? Do you start a new project? He never likes you touching another doll. Do you wait for him? To need repairs? You’re lost.

Finally getting home you decided to just cuddle up with your ferret name Noodle but you can’t ignore the empty feeling. Does he feel empty too? How can he, he’s a puppet. A plush with stuffing and stitches, he can’t feel. Right?

Back with Wally he’s now in his reality and he’s happy to see all his friends and share the wonderful time he had with you. But the details can wait, he’s got work to do! Going home and to his bedroom he takes the bag and empties it onto the floor. He takes one part at a time and assembles it on the bed. They’re gonna be a little shorter than him but he doesn’t mind!

“Now for how to get you here..?” He mumbles to himself before hearing thuds and tapping from Home. He perks up and rushes to an open window. If he stares hard enough at the edge of the neighborhood he can see the artificial stage lights slowly dimming off and the night lights turning on. In the small glimpse he sees you! Why are you here? Did you realize what he’s doing?

“Y/n! Look Home, it's them! They’re here!”

Home taps in response as he rushes over to the complete doll and holds its face in his hands, bringing his forehead to the doll’s. “Come back to me, Doll.”

Once again to you, you came back because you forgot your phone. How? You have no idea but when you wanted to see the show's release times you went mad trying to find it. So you decided just to retrace your steps.

Looking around you see the staff change the bright lights to some dimmer night lights and you see your phone resting next to a big bright red house. Upon getting your phone you see Wally laying on the other side of the house and you didn’t waste time in reaching over to hold him. “Hi Wally…”

You smile at the puppet, happy to see him smiling back at you. But you start to feel your eyes get heavy and your vision starts to spin. Everyone goes black.

“Hey! Are you okay!? Help! Someone call the ambulance!”

Your eyes flutter open and you slowly sit up with a groan. Did you faint? Your head is slightly pounding, you reach up to hold your head but you stop dead in your tracks. Was this your hand? It has ball joints and is made of glass! Your breath starts picking up and there is a lump in your throat. What’s happening!?

“You’re awake, my doll.”

You turn your head to the voice and you see Wally walking up to you with a cup. “I hope your head’s okay, it was a fast shift.”

“Wally…? Where am I? Why-“ you were getting overwhelmed, this is a lot to take in and most of it didn’t make sense!

“See for yourself.” Wally takes your hand and helps you up while guiding you to the window that’s open. There you see you! But you’re surrounded by staff and the ambulance, what happened to you?

“Since the body doesn’t have a spirit in it, it’s practically a rag doll. Nothing takes control of the brain.” You hear Wally practically all around you but he’s right behind you, wrapping his arms around you. “You don’t need that body, do you? Look you’re here with me, isn’t that wonderful, doll?”

(I didn’t Intended on making it slight obsessed Wally but here we are ƪ(˘⌣˘)ʃ)

[nescaveckwriter]

Wandering Love - Chapter One -🤠💕🐞

Benny Lafitte x Reader (Willow)

A/N: Okayz! So I'm not going to lie, when the beautiful bugsie requested I write something about "dear Benny" I was overly excited, for some reason I'm just always happy to write about him. The bugsie said I could make write whatever, so yeah, I do hope you're going to enjoy this😅...

Side Note: Once again thank you for the love and support🐞💕🥰

Warnings: Drinking, Smoking, Fluff, Tiny bit of Smut, if there's anything else, let me know...💕🐞

Summary: A rugged cowboy, an outlaw if you may, fighting the demons of his past. The only time he felt true joy in his life was the short period he knew his wandering love. But now, he drifts around with Shadow his black stallion, gunslinging through the dessert towns.

Chapter One 🐞

The moonlight danced on the river, tracing golden, lines across the edges, you could see the river from where I lived, old wooden house, with a front porch, consisting of one single wooden rocking chair, half drunken bottle of whisky next to it, as for the ashtray, there weren't anymore space left, the cigarette buds, were just to many. I always sat there, rocking into the night, drinking away my demons, then when its nearly two in the morning I'll take the half drunken 'Jack' with me, go sit on my bed, and drink till I pass out!

But that particular night, something caught my eye, and of course I thought that 'Jack' had some extra kick in it, but turns out my eyes did not betray me.

There it was, the moon was dancing around, something, a woman, bathing in the river. "Hell did that not only happen in the movies? "

I took my old hat, walked down to the water, to see for myself what this woman-child is up to.

The closer I walked the more, the moonlight lit up her alluring beauty, her blonde hair wet and slightly wavy, the length wasn't quite known too me at that point, as the ends where floating in the river.

She was gazing up at the moon and stars, as if it held some kind of magic, we'll that night it did.

All I could see was the outline of her bare skin in the water.

"Howdy miss" his southern voice deep and low.

She squirmed at the sound of my voice, sinking deeper into the river, only revealing her plum lips and button nose, she closed her eyes, and opened it again as if she thought I was a ghost or something.

Her voice shaky but sweet, "Don't come near me mister, I...I... Am not alone."

"Okay City girl, then were is this other person your hiding?" Mocking her

"I'm not from the city," she huffed

"Well, little darling, if you were from here, you'd know there's gators in those waters " he warned

"I'm not your darling, wait! Gators as in Alligator's?" She hissed

"Yes missy" he smirked

She squealed as she ran out of the water, covering the most important parts of her body, hiding behind a big willow tree.

I couldn't help but laugh, the first time in ages.

"Your a jerk, you know that" she scolded

Just her head peeking out behind the tree, wide-eyed she glared

"Hand me my clothes and you better not take a peek" she warned

Glancing over the river bedding, walking towards the clothes, picking up the white summer's dress, striding towards the mysterious city girl, behind the willow tree.

"There you go 'Willow' your garment" handing her the white dress.

She takes it, but then yelps "Spider" letting the dress fly throwing it up in the air, right into the river.

Laughing hard, "Nice one Willow, now what?"

Her sweet voice brittle, "that's just great, I just stay here then"

Mockingly he says "Nice knowing you, hopefully the wolves won't come out tonight"

Terrified she replied "Mister aren't you going to help me?"

"Oh now I'm Mister again?" Clicking his tongue

"I'm sorry about earlier, please help me, she pouts

Removing his shirt, handing it to her "there wear that so long, I'll fish out your dress, we can hang it by the fire"

Her hand shaking, when she takes the shirt! "Thank you"

Wet dress in his hand, feeling her eyes on him, "seeing something you like Willow?" Teasing her

"Uhm no, don't be, crazy" she stutters, her cheeks slightly red

"Well come on now, let me get you by the fire" he suggests

Walking up towards me, then only did I realize how small she is. "Mister, uhmmm..." She stutters

"Speak up little woman-child" his husky voice, makes her tremble

"Your not a psycho are you?" Concern in her voice

"Not more than the average person" he laughs

"I don't think your very funny" she huffed

"I don't care what you think, your the crazy one, swimming or bathing in the river at night" he mocks

Clicking her tongue"I've always wanted to do it, I didn't think there was going to be a creeper close by"

Stopping dead in his tracks, turning to face her, admiring the way his plaid shirt, hugs her curves, "you should decide now, am I creeper or psycho" he smirked

"I'm so sorry Mister" rolling her eyes, adjusting herself so that she faces him, standing her ground, glaring at his delightful lips, scruff beard and sky blue eyes, broad shoulders and bare chest, faded blue denim, and old cowboy boots, thinking damn, he is quite something.

"Its Benny, that's my name, not Mister" his husky voice, is a bit more breathy than he intended.

Smiling "oh hello Benny"

Hearing her say his name, is more than he can take , leaning in placing a deep kiss on her lips.

He suddenly stops, realising that he might be wrong, he pulls back, his husky voice a mere whisper "I'm sorry"

Her voice sounded hoarse and out of breath,  "Kiss me Benny" she demanded,

With out further due, he pulled her closer, he placed his hands on her hips, and his lips brushed over hers, in a deep passionate kiss, sensing the arousal and electricity in their bodies, he picked her up, not once breaking the kiss, he carried her up the porch and into his little rustic home, his hands exploring the velvet skin, his lips tasting her pleasure, the whimpered moans went on till early morning, the two of them devoured each other, over and over, seeing her lay entangled in his bed sheets that was once filled with his scent of sandalwood, musk and bourbon, now drenched in the sweet smell of jasmine.

He just layed there under the bedsheets with her body close to his, skin on skin, admiring her alluring beauty, a soft smile on her lips, when she woke up, looking into his eyes, the sunrise shining through the rugged window, falling across her face, thinking the way the light reflects in her emerald green eyes, he could write  pages of poetry, and it still won't do this beauty any justice.

The pages of his journals are filled with details of how he and 'Willow' the dear woman-child spend their days, a smile crept up his rugged face, its been almost five years, and I still think about her, life has not been easy before I met her, but it sure as hell got a lot harder the day she left, as he rested his head on a sleeping bag, a little fire burning, Shadow his horse roaming around close by, the empty can of beans on one side of him and the bottle of jack still in his hand, his 45' tucked in the holster, replaying the words her sweet voice said "Benny I'm a wanderer, I have to run free, I can't be tamed, if you love me you'll let me go, I'll come back, once I've found what I'm searching" and with a kiss goodbye his city grown willow, got on the train.

Glancing up at the bright stars that fills the dark sky, he ponders where she might be, and with a sigh he closes his eyes, drifting off to sleep.

Chapter One Here :)

Chapter Two Here :)

Chapter Three Here :)

Chapter Four Here :)

[imaginatorcreates]

Commission for Kewkies (@xxxkewkiesxxx)

Kewkies here asked me to write a little scene about her Welcome Home OC, Sabrina Spool, and the neighborhood's famous painter, Wally Darling. There weren't a lot of requirements nor requests for this piece by Kewkies, and the idea and general plot came to me when out and about.

Enjoy this written piece!

Stitch Some Time For Yourself

14 May 2024 — 29 May 2024

Summary: Sabrina, the neighborhood's resident seamstress, suddenly finds herself under a time crunch to make costumes for Sally's upcoming play. How does she deal with the pressure?

Word Count: ~3.1k words

TW: None

Author’s Note: Enjoy! Also on AO3 as a gift.

Sabrina Spool was Home’s resident tailor. Seamstress sounded more elegant to her, but she wasn’t fussy over the details of her job’s name. No, her fussiness instead came over the details of her job. What was it that carpenters said?

Measure twice, cut once.

For Sabrina, not only did she measure twice — sometimes thrice — and cut once, she stretched sheets of fabric between her hands and made calculations in her head. Would this fabric stretch enough to accommodate her customer’s body type, or would she have to allot extra fabric to make up for it? What type of fabric would the customer want; cotton for comfort and breathability, or perhaps silk for the texture and smooth feel?

And don’t get started with her about colors!

While she preferred darker shades herself, she knew that everyone had their favorite colors and patterns to wear. The colors and patterns, when stitched together in just the right size and paired with the right clothes, made the ideal outfit.

Yes, that was what she was fussy over.

Sabrina loved her job, now don’t get her wrong. Nothing can really quite match the exhilaration that she got when someone’s eyes lit up after seeing her work, nor the warmth that filled her body from words of praise once her customer tried on the article of clothing she made for them.

Well, there were quite a few things, she supposed. A good hug or a gift as her payment, for one thing. A large, sweet watermelon or a tart green apple. Her morning ritual with Llyod, as annoying as he was.

And a certain, little puppet of the neighborhood: Wally Darling. He loved apples with just as much — quite possibly more — gusto as she does. His half-lidded eyes and blue, swirled pompadour were part of the charm that drew so many towards him, Sabrina included. From his hands burst painted portraits of still life and of his neighbors that he loved so dearly. And when he pressed those hands against his mouth? A blown kiss with a monotonous “Mwah!”

Oh, even now Sabrina wondered how the two of them managed to get together! It was all so new, like an apple that just ripened to optimal sweetness. If she thought about it too hard, she may accidentally poke herself while sewing.

What have they done already?

They’ve held hands — Wally’s small gasp of “Oh! You’re holding my hand!” made her grin to no end when her mind wandered to it. They’ve certainly spent time together, enough to consider them dates (to her).

But what else can they do?

Knocks on the front door beckoned her out of her thoughts. She turned away from her sewing machine and paused. “Llyod, I swear if you locked yourself out again — !”

“Mailman! Eddie Dear here!”

At the kind southern accent, the vampiric seamstress turned off her sewing machine and hurried to the front door. She turned the doorknob, then opened the door so only a slender crack was visible. Bright sunlight poured through and she squinted outside with a small wince. Beyond flashes of color and small floaters in her vision, she could catch glimpses of the portly mailman waiting for her with bundles of wrapped packages in his arms.

After a few minutes of acclimating herself to the sunlight, she fully opened the door. “‘Ello Eddie,” she greeted him.

“Howdy Miss Spool.”

“Please, call me Sabrina.”

Eddie sputtered. “Sabrina! Apologies Miss Sp– Sabrina.”

Sabrina chuckled and lightly shook her head. All predictable Eddie. “Do you have any mail for me?”

“Ah, well…” Eddie jutted his chin towards the bundles in his arms. “Cloth orders for ya. Howdy was particular ‘bout these gettin’ to ya in one piece.” He shifted the packages and Sabrina took the cue to take them in her arms.

She knew what was inside: lengths of dark cloth, a few dozen sewing needles for her machine and for her hands, and several spools of thread. Still, her eyes widened and she mumbled “Huh” as she took the wrapped packages. They were heavier than she expected.

“Oh, ‘n Sally wanted to give this to ya,” Eddie said as he placed an envelope on top of the packages. “She said it was important, ‘n to read it ‘a-sap’. Whatever that means?”

Sabrina blinked a few times at the envelope, and at Eddie’s words. “I will do that Eddie. Thank you.”

Eddie tipped his hat and took a few steps backwards before he turned on the balls of his feet to head off towards his next delivery.

Sabrina would’ve waved goodbye to him, but her hands were full.

She closed the front door with a bump of her hip and maneuvered back to her room with the caution and grace of a dancer who was paired with someone who never danced before. Her feet knew where to step in her dim house, and she could nudge open doors with ease. But the packages in her arms caused her center of gravity to be located somewhere else, so her elegant movements were hindered. Twice, she dangerously tipped too far and nearly caused any number of packages to slide out of her grip and onto the floor.

In the comfort of her workroom, she ditched her ungraceful packages gently onto the floor and shook out her arms. She shut her door and lowered the lights down, letting the dimness of the room calm her senses once again. She knew that most of the neighborhood preferred a warm sunny day for one reason or another: Frank found sunny days to be optimal for insect observations, while Julie enjoyed making games that made everyone scratch their heads at the rules but at least no furniture would be broken by the end of it.

Sabrina, on the other hand, preferred the night and overcast waking hours. She was aware that this might feed into the fact that she — and Llyod, but this wasn’t about him — were more vampiric than their neighbors, but no one commented much about it nowadays, so she assumed that no one really cared anymore.

She unwrapped her packages and placed the contents where they belonged, taking extra care to not misplace her new batch of needles. She already lost too many to the cracks of her house and carpet. Even when she does her customary sweep of her workroom with a magnet (also from Howdy’s), at least one needle would surprise her when walking barefoot.

Then again, sometimes they would surprise Llyod.

But she couldn’t have any stray needles surprise any of her customers. That would lower her customer service for sure.

Sabrina’s eyes glanced over the letter Sally wrote for her. The playwright’s circular handwriting on the envelope said “To: Sabirella”, and underneath it said “Read ASAP” almost as if Sally didn’t trust Eddie to remember to tell Sabrina to do so.

Sabrina’s nose wrinkled at the elongated version of her name, but she’s long gotten used to the fallen star’s quirks. “Please, it’s Sabrina,” she murmured to herself as she opened the envelope and read the letter inside. For everything that Sally was, at least she was trying to understand what did and didn’t work when trying to communicate with Sabrina. The star’s bright aura — literally and figuratively — drained Sabrina’s energy quicker than she could drain fruit of its juice.

Dearest Sabirella,

I’m sure that you remember my request for your work last month. I remember it like it was yesterday: I, Sally Starlet, gracing you with my presence to craft costumes for my upcoming petrifying play. I can still see your eyes squinting and widening as I slipped you the list of costumes I required.

Now, I know that I said that I’d give you as much time as possible.

Darling, that’s changed.

I need what you have as best as you can by the end of this week. It’s a shame, but I will settle for simplified designs if that is what will work. Your payment will still be front row seats to the play where I’ll be featuring your costumes.

I’ll be expecting the gothic garbs soon.

Sincerely,

Sally

Sabrina paused. She read the letter again. Once more for good measure.

The letter’s edges started to crumple as the seamstress’s fingers gripped the paper with more force than necessary. “A week?” she whispered. “I thought I had two weeks. You– Sally!”

Almost as if the star herself was here instead of the letter in her place, flourishing her hands and beaming from her rays, the vampire felt her energy drain. Her pep and love towards her work left her and was replaced with only a burning annoyance.

“By the end of this week? And simplified?” she hissed. “When I had plenty of plans to give only the best?” She slammed the letter down onto her work desk, causing the items on top to rattle and move slightly from the force. “Do you know how difficult it is to have to rework this?”

Sabrina huffed and pulled out her sketches. She viciously grabbed a pencil and was ready to violently scribble out the costumes she had yet to start. She could already feel the lead of the pencil tear through the paper, tearing her plans into nothing but black graphite and ripped paper.

She paused.

She breathed in, and out.

She let out a sharp sigh and threw the pencil down onto her table. “Simplified. End of this week.” She snapped her mouth shut and went about her work.

The days ticked down. Sabrina spent them all in her dim workroom with only the rhythmic whirr and hum of her sewing machine filling the silence. Multiple times, she poked herself with the needles, but not once did those pokes lead way to any larger injuries.

Lloyd quickly learned to not walk in without knocking, or to not even bother trying at all. The first time he had tried, Sabrina had abruptly stood up and slammed the door on him. His fingers had gotten caught in between the door and the frame.

In hindsight, she was sorry. She would’ve apologized if she had enough time, but that was what she was low on. She was low on time and patience, and she let everyone who interacted with her know.

She got her work done though. She projected as much mercy as she could towards her work, but even those couldn’t escape her wrath when the stitches couldn’t work just the way she wanted them to, or when the colors were just a little bit off. She probably sounded like a madwoman, yelling at the clothes to just fit together better. Several times, she threw the shabbiest of her works onto the floor and stared at them with a look that could kill.

She got her work done. That was what was important.

She got her work done. It was simplified and not as fancy as she imagined, but she got her work done.

Still, she yearned to add some of the additions that she had imagined. The fluffy flowers and the drapes on the shoulders. The cape and ruffles.

On the night before Sally was supposed to pick up the costumes, Sabrina was certain that she hadn’t left the house in forever. She could hear her sewing machine in her sleep, even though she was certain that she turned it off and unplugged it. She could feel the fabrics underneath her fingers and she could feel every stitch that she was certain was misplaced.

She was proud of her work, but at the same time, she wanted to take them all and rip them apart. Start over again. Do it better. Make what she imagined in her head come to life in front of her.

A knock on her door.

She didn’t have the energy to answer it.

Her door creaked open. “Sabrina,” Lloyd called. “Your aim better be good so you don’t hit your actual guest.”

Sabrina opened her mouth to retort, but words had been failing her lately. Still, a whole different reason as to why she said nothing was revealed to her as the guest turned out to not be Llyod but instead — 

“Hello Sabrina,” a quiet, monotonous voice said. It echoed throughout the vampire’s workroom and cut through the sewing machine’s constant noise.

She looked up from her work, but she didn’t turn around. Oh, just when she was almost done, she was hallucinating.

Quietly, two sets of footsteps entered. Several thumps as multiple objects were placed on a free portion of her work desk, then one set of footsteps left. The one that left was heavier and larger, less graceful.

The one that stayed was smaller and quieter. There was a certain way that this one walked.

Sabrina turned off her sewing machine.

“Hello Sabrina,” Wally said. “I got you some fruit from Howdy’s. Llyod was also there, and he helped me carry the watermelon back.”

Watermelon. The vampire had cut herself off from her favorite fruit halfway through her work last week, before she even got Sally’s letter. Convinced herself that she would get it when she was done, as a treat.

“And I carried the apples.” Sabrina heard Wally shuffle closer to her work desk, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw him poke a finger at one of the green apples. He hummed and added, “I don’t understand why you like green apples. Red ones are better to me. But you like apples, so I think the color doesn’t matter too much.” He turned his head to look at her as he nudged one of the apples closer.

Sabrina took one of the green apples in her hand. It was unblemished and smelled perfectly ripe. Howdy’s bodega only contained things that he deemed were of a certain quality to sell. So obviously this fruit was perfect.

It was even more perfect as she pushed her chair away from her work desk, brought it up to her mouth, and sank her fangs into the fruit. She easily pierced through the skin and flesh of the apple, and the juice was sweet and tart.

She almost forgot that there was a watermelon there as she dove after all the apples gifted to her, drinking all the juice until the fruit was nothing more than dried skin and disgusting flesh. Then Wally nudged the large green and striped fruit towards her and she dove after that as well.

Sabrina was a clean drinker when she fed from fruit. She performed the actions with a lady-like poise and prevented as much juice from spilling as possible.

But after she’s deprived herself of her favorite fruits for a while? Add on top of that how she had been stressed from the moon and back, and she threw her finesse out the window. Juice spilled from her mouth and onto her skirt, but she didn’t pay any attention to it until the watermelon was a water-less-melon.

“Sabrina,” Wally said as Sabrina wiped her mouth. “I haven’t seen you for over a week.” He tilted his head and blinked once. He never really blinked much when around his neighbors, and much less around his close friends. He seldom blinked around Sabrina, as if each blink was a full day away from the vampire.

Sabrina looked away. She could’ve pulled her chair forwards and continue working. But her hands were a bit sticky from apple and watermelon juice, and she would hate to ruin the clothes. So she avoided his gaze and fiddled with her fingers.

“Sabrina,” Wally repeated. “I heard from Sally that her play will be tomorrow instead. I know that you’re making her costumes. Have you been taking breaks?” He leaned against her and breathed out a little “Oh!” when she wrapped an arm around him. He went limp and hummed, content with the touch.

“I have to finish this.” Sabrina’s voice came out softer than she expected, with more force than she expected. Talking had become difficult the closer the deadline was, until she could no longer bear to. “I have to finish this.”

“You look almost done.”

“But — ”

“I think Sally would not mind if you gave her something simple.”

“I would mind.”

Wally hummed. “I think your work always looks nice. Something simple made from your hands is always nice. It also feels nice to wear. I like wearing the cardigan you made for me, and I think it makes me look handsome.”

Sabrina chuckled and softly shook her head. “You’re always handsome, my candy apple.” When he laughed that soft, monotonous laugh that Sabrina loved so dearly, she gently squeezed him and leaned over to give him a small kiss on the cheek.

Wally’s semi-permanent smile widened, causing the edges of his eyes to crinkle. “Oh! You are very sweet Sabrina.” He reached towards her face and brushed a thumb against her cheek, his dark eyes looking deeply into her own. “You’re very, very sweet,” he whispered.

One moment, the two of them were staring into each other’s eyes. The next moment, in Sabrina’s opinion, was very sweet and very soft.

She realized, only then, that she forgot one thing when trying to remember what the two have done already since becoming an official couple. Maybe because it was a bit unorthodox, seeing how it was only brought up once then never again. She had made hints towards it, but he never picked up on them. It was only when she had asked him directly did he realize what she was asking. No wonder he didn’t pick up on it; he thought she was being friendly still, just in a different manner.

So when the two parted, it was soft and sweet. Sabrina lightly pinched his cheeks and cooed about how lovely it was. Wally leaned into the touch and softly shut his eyes.

That was the longest break Sabrina took where she wasn’t sleeping or eating. The two simply lingered in each other’s presence, asking about the day and the week. The dried fruit was discarded and Sabrina’s hands were cleaned of the spilled juice.

Wally stayed for a little longer while she worked. He was hypnotized by the sewing machine and his hands stroked some of the fabric as Sabrina fed it into the machine.

All the fuzz in her mind cleared and her work became less muddled and misshapen. They were already good.

And the next evening, when she sat in the front row to Sally’s gloomy gothic play and watched the actors glide upon the stage with her garbs on display, it didn’t really matter how much the play went sideways.

She was just glad that she could do what she enjoys.

[howdytheresam]

Howdy there! Welcome to the Slenderverse Riptide au. For those from the Daily Jay you might’ve seen mod Kian make a few art posts about it. The mod is a collaboration between me and Kian and I’ll be providing a little bit of context into what the au is!

Much of this au takes inspiration primarily from Marble Hornets, but also some bits from Every Man Hybrid. This post is an overview of what the characters are in this au and what the general idea is. If people were genuinely interested I would be happy to dip my hands into an actual story and more art from me to go with it. :]

Overview:

Set with the crew of Riptide in a regular world, three college kids create a youtube channel where they post random mixed content varying of the style of pranks, vlogs, and other little videos. Creator of the channel Chip is joined by his two friends Jay and Gillion as they set to create content they enjoy alongside friends and occasionally some family.

Their usually fun content shifts however, with a figure appearing in the back and some characters experiencing odd happenings. It doesn’t help old mysteries arise and new ones constantly fight against the three friends.

Despite it all the camera stays rolling. It can never be turned off. Who knows what could go undocumented.

Character descriptions:

Jay Ferin:

(Based on Jay Merrick and a little bit of Tim Wright from Marble Hornets.)

A twenty-one year old mechanical engineer student pressured for her choices by most of her family, Jay Ferin is the Riptide Youtube channel certified camera holder and editor. Having the steadiest hand among the group she’s usually the one standing behind the camera just so the other two don’t drop it. This makes her the primary character the viewers follow, but not every time is it her.

In general Jay handles most of their technological related projects and is almost always the editor of their videos. A skill she’s been building on since she was little and hopes to pursue more.

Jay is from the Ferin family, a rather well known family in the town of Featherbrook. The Ferin’s aren’t only known by name, they are also known for the unsolved mystery of the disappearance of Ava Ferin, Jay’s older sister, and the whispered disappearance of Drey Ferin many years ago. There have been times Jay has wanted answers for her sisters disappearance but she’s never been able to figure out where to start…

Since she was a child her best friend has been Kira who grew up close by. After the disappearance of her sister, Kira moved away and the two lost contact.

Although Jay is the cameraman of the group she later requests they don’t keep the camera on in showing sensitive information and personal moments. It’s both in respect to her and others who appear on the channel. This, however, does not turn the camera off.

Chip

(Based on Jay Merrick from Marble Hornets and Vinny from Every Man Hybrid)

Chip is a nineteen year old film student who intends to make it big one day starting with the totally hit and awesome youtube channel called Riptide. He is also the primary holder of the YouTube account and writes most of their planned script videos.

Having been orphaned most of his life Chip has gained quite the skill in thievery, in fact, their camera is stolen. He’s also good at lock picking and cheating on the occasional test. It’s a skill that helps save a little extra occasionally, but might just save his life.

One of his previous caretakers, Arlin James, went missing years ago in a never solved case. Chip secretly believes Arlin is out there, he just needs to be found. It’s the reason Chip is ever so slightly drawn into investigating Kuba Kenta.

It’s his belief that the camera must document everything that happens to them, even if maybe it would be best to turn it off. He’s the one, even when Jay leaves temporarily and refuses to record, Chip continues to record their findings. Investigating the unknown may just be the answer to finding the closest person he had to a father figure.

Other than that Chip has no family besides the closest being an adopted sister named Lizzie. The contact is off and on, and in recent times Chip hasn’t seen her in a while. If she comes back though she may make a great guest to the channel.

Gillion Tidestrider

(Based on Tim Wright and a mix of Every Man Hybrid characters) (warning of hospital mentions nothing in depth)

Gillion Tidestrider is newer to the town of Canella looking at his major options in college. Having lived a more isolated childhood he’s a little awkward around his peers but settles in with Chip and Jay.

Being more built out of the group he often helps with lugging around equipment. Gillion is also better known for being the improv of the group unintentionally.

Gillion’s childhood was one spent in and out of children’s hospitals. A lot of it is blocked from his memory, not until the figures in the woods begin to show up again.

Later in the story Gillion experiences something similar to Tim Wright with Masky, as a figure with a fish mask appears in some videos with Gillion not present. This figure is nicknamed Champion until later discovered its Gillion. Gillion himself is completely unaware of the things he does as Champion.

He doesn’t live by himself, living with his older sister Edyn. Much like the other two he shares a missing relative, his grandfather Finn. His memories of Finn aren’t much but sometimes he’s curious how they would have gotten along.

Kuba Kenta:

(Slenderman / the operator)(Mention of hallucinations without detail)

A strange figure in the background of the videos, complete with backwards hands, causes hallucinations and technology glitches. Kuba Kenta is this universes Slenderman, haunting behind the scenes. Nobody can get close enough to figure out what it is.

While Kuba Kenta is an antagonistic figure he is not the main threat the characters face. It just so happens he lends a hand in that and sets multiple things into motion. The characters believe that he is the reason for their suffering, and seek to find ways to terminate him.

Who knew all it took was setting the damned camera down and leaving things as they were?

Other major characters/canonized roles:

Kira, Lizzie, Alphonse, Gryffon, Ava, Edyn, May and Jayson Ferin, Niklaus Hendrix.

Minor characters/in the works:

Ollie, Queen, Ensa, Earl

Anyone not mentioned has no specific place yet and may be added as the au becomes more rounded out.

Annnd that’s the main au! There are plenty of unfinished and extra bits. Mainly just wanted to cover the main characters plus Kuba Kenta himself. Like most Slenderverse stories if this were to become a full fleshed plot line would be more focused on the humanity of the characters versus Kuba himself.

If there are questions feel free to ask! Open book story-teller here. I’ll be happy to answer anything from characters to general ideas. :]

(Shout out to daily Jays out there! Hope this adds context to some of the posts on there!)

[buthowboutno]

EARLY ACCESS ON KO-FI

Howdy y'all! As some of you guys might be aware, I started a Ko-fi a while ago. I've just now gotten around to deciding how my memberships were going to work as well as the access one time supporters will have as well!

I've just posted a 1.5k ficlet that is available for /all/ my supporters, regardless of whether or not you're a monthly subscriber or just wanna send me a cheeky dollar.

I'm giving y'all a look into Donnie's and Sweet's relationship in the bad future with another part coming soon!

Now, there's no pressure to send me money, as most everything I post on Ko-fi will end up either on tumblr or AO3. Ain't trying to gatekeep, just trying to get some extra coffee money <3

As special enticement, I've posted a portion of the ficlet under the cut <3<3<3

---

“You’re threatening the safety–”

“That’s not what you’re mad about and you know it,” you cut him off, “And I thought we agreed to stop having this conversation.”

Donnie huffed at you, “I am your commander, it is my duty to know when you are off task.”

“Fifteen minute breaks are mandatory for late night surveillance,” you argued, “You’re the one that put that policy in place.”

“You are expected to stay vigilant at all times, regardless of being on a break.”

“You just wish it was you pressing me against the wall,” you said flatly. You stared Donnie in the eyes, not faltering once while you took his wrench and exchanged it for a flathead screwdriver. Even while fighting, the two of you were never any less in sync.

The both of you had been… fighting a lot more recently.

“That’s not even remotely related to this conversation,” Donnie said, tearing his eyes from yours. You didn’t miss the blush peeking out under his mask, despite how nonchalant he was acting.

“That is the conversation, Donatello,” you said, running your hand through your hair. They came out dirtier than they started with how saturated your hair was with grease and motor oil, “You said you didn’t love me, I’m trying to move the fuck on.”

“That’s not–” Donnie cut himself off with a groan, pulling his arms out of the machinery. He breathed in deeply, moving his hands to his sides, “That’s not what I said.”