#I decided to draw her eyes the same shape as when she is a human because I feel like they look better this way

[ganondoodle]

can you tell us more ab shargon’s kids?? :0

(sorry for the ... very rough sketch and probably unreadable text, struggeling alot with art atm ... still ..)

Thank you for asking!

Shargon has two young children, Jyothi and Tyura (forgive the weird names, made them when i was young and they are too ingrained now to change ..)

(Shargon is a single parent; demons do not have a gender/only one, all of them have the ability to bear children with an organ that sits right beneath the demonic heart, they also do not need a partner, they can just decide to have a child and trigger the process- while carrying they cannot shapeshift since an unborn demon cannot go along with that- genetics are usually not a problem since demons generally draw from a huge gene pool dating back eons; if they have a partner they will have to exchange some heartblood for the child to be a mix of both; growing a child is very energy draining and when carrying its not unusual for a demon to resort to consuming food, which they typically dont need to do; maintaining a certain energy level is very important since otherwise the risk of deformities in the child increases alot; a newborn demon (birth occurs through the mouth) has a few baby teeth with which to bite its parent/caretaker and feed on their demonic blood, it is not a requirement but many do since it accelerates their growth and can even out energy imbalances)

Jyothi, comparable to a 13 year old human, is a rather healthy young demon with alot of skill using elemental magic (wind in her case), which is why shes being taught by Lord Eadrya; Eadrya wants Shargon dead and regularly attacks him and although both of his children inherited his unnatural and hated/feared eye color, Jyothi stood up to Eadrya not knowing who they were at the time (and thus not their status and reputation) since Shargon lives extremely isolated- and even challenged them to a fight showing so much character and skill that Eadrya saw past her heritage and offered to teach her

The two get along well and she often sneaks away to find them bc she is so eager to learn and spend time with such a powerful and careless demon that everyone respects ... unlike her parent, who is weak, riddled with anxiety and hated by everyone, she still loves him of course, but the more time she spends away the more she adopts the way the other demons think and speak of Shargon

Shargon hates that she goes to them so much, mostly bc he is afraid they, and especially Eadrya, will hurt her or stop her from returning home, even with her special status bc of her talents, she still is his child after all; he does not and could not force her to not go though (a benefit is that she has been the only one besides Thor (Eadryas best friend) able to stop Eadrya from literally killing Shargon, as much as they are horrible to him, they do care alot for her)

(Jyothi has only started to grow her horns and her markings and colors will shift alot as she grows, as is typical for young demons)

Tyura, comparable to a 6 year old human, is much more like Shargon himself, very fearful and skitters away if theres anything they are unsure of, they are of the same elemental type as Shargon (lightning) but thus far has never used it beyond weak defensive shocks; they are also mute and have a deformed left hand likely bc Shargon was attacked and hunted for a long time while carrying them, thus not able to provide a stable energy level the other demons know of them but any attempt to get close to them has been prevented either by Shargon himself or .. Tyura fleeing and hiding (their body structure is also rather similar, the round shape is largely just fluffy feathers)

when Shargon is in the human world his children tend to stay with the only other demon he can trust (Ceryrion, an earth elemental and the chillest guy you can imagine), they dont like him much but love children and will happily go about their day while a little Tyura clings onto their back (though Tyura will absolutely dive back to Shargon whenever they notice his presence) both kids have been to the human world before but since it is very uncomfortable to be in as a demon he has only done so for them to meet Mori (Shargons human friend that lives .. illegally .. at the gates to the demon world) and avoided bringing them there otherwise

the time he is away has notably increased alot after accepting the deal with Zaphira (being her bodyguard .... 24 hours a day .. granted she did not know he had children, and also didnt know anything about demons but that she could use him to solve her problems)

here i go rambling again, i hope that gave you a bit of an idea of them ;O;

[daryascurse]

ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴏɪꜱᴏɴ ɢʀᴏᴡꜱ ᴀᴛ ᴄʜʀɪꜱᴛᴍᴀꜱ

“Deadly to eat.” His voice is smooth velvet. “Isn���t that funny? Humans saw a parasite that can kill, and decided to call it romantic.”

“Only if you eat it, then,” you say. “Something harmless pretending to be dangerous.”

“Or something dangerous, pretending to be harmless.”

SUKUNA x READER | 3.3k | ao3 | ᴀꜰᴀʙ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ɴᴏɴɢᴇɴᴅᴇʀᴇᴅ ᴘʀᴏɴᴏᴜɴꜱ, ᴍɪʟᴅ ᴘᴏꜱꜱᴇꜱꜱɪᴠᴇɴᴇꜱꜱ, ʙᴇɢɢɪɴɢ ʙᴊ/ ᴅᴇᴇᴘᴛʜʀᴏᴀᴛɪɴɢ, ɴɪᴘᴘʟᴇ ᴘʟᴀʏ, ꜱᴘᴀɴᴋɪɴɢ, ꜰɪɴɢᴇʀɪɴɢ, ᴄᴜᴍ, ᴄʀᴇᴀᴍᴘɪᴇ

“You have to kiss under mistletoe,” says the little girl who materialized at your elbow. “That’s the rule.”

You take a step backwards, startled, and she just beams up at you. “Well, look.”

“Careful,” Sukuna mutters as you almost tread on his toes, and the child scowls at his low tone. Her mother swoops in and grabs her forearm, tugging the girl down the snow-dusted street with apologies tossed your way. They make their way through the thinning crowds, the streetlights throttled with green cords and illuminating bulbs.

You glance up. A cluster of frostbitten mistletoe dangles, knotted just over your head where someone’s tied it off a lamppost’s iron branch.

Sukuna’s hand is at the small of your back as you lift your fingers to touch the shriveled plant. “Careful,” he says again. “It’s poisonous.”

“Hmm?”

“Mistletoe,” Sukuna says, and you pinch the ribbon instead as you bring it closer for inspection. It’s half-black with rot and frost. The red berries glimmer, weakly reflecting the streetlight around. It’s on its last legs of life as the holiday season peaks, just a dead plant tied together with fraying ribbon.

“Poisonous?”

He lifts his hand as well, cupping the berries in his palm. “Deadly to eat.” His voice is smooth velvet. “Isn’t that funny? Humans saw a parasite that can kill, and decided to call it romantic.”

“Only if you eat it, then,” you say. “Something harmless pretending to be dangerous.”

“Or something dangerous, pretending to be harmless.”

His breath is hot in your ear and the tableau is frozen a moment; a hand at your spine, the turn of your shoulder warm against his chest, your outstretched arms embracing the same plant. You tilt your nose closer to his face.

“A weed,” Sukuna says, and suddenly snaps the ribbon clean from the iron post. "It's also called the thief of the tree."

You turn, your face burning, and can’t watch him fling the mistletoe down the street. But he offers you an elbow as you walk towards the small square at the end of the street. Blinding lights take on proper shape as you approach. Fenced trees, white with snow and dead under a layer of frost, circle the plaza. They sparkle with the same golden and green lights threaded up the trunks and through the branches. The footpath is lined with electric, brilliantly scarlet poinsettias that cast an artificially red glow along the ground. Every few minutes, the colors ripple and change hues, eliciting sounds of delight from the children in the crowd.

“Beautiful,” you hear a woman breathe to another.

And he, Sukuna, he is beautiful too, his chin buried in the cowl of his dark coat, his narrowed eyes shining like the ornaments around you. You duck your face away in a bashful smile. The warmth of his thick coat pushes into you. Streetlamps pepper your way with light, and you shiver, even with Sukuna’s body heat snug and welcome against you.

Chirp!

The winter serenity is broken by the phone beeping in your pocket.

You try to draw your arm away from Sukuna to get to it, but he clamps his elbow closer to yours with a bullish look ahead. You use your other hand to awkwardly reach across.

“Oh,” you say as you read the message. “The girls – they want to meet up a little earlier for drinks.”

“You need to get the train now?”

Sukuna’s looking straight ahead.

“No, not yet,” you say, but frown when you slip your phone away again. “I think I left my headphones at yours, though.”

Sukuna rubs the tip of his nose with his free hand, and slides it back into his pocket. You can’t read the flash in his eyes. “We’re not far.”

“I know,” you say, and give a wistful look to the romantic lights around you. “I’m sorry to leave early…”

He grunts, a response you can’t quite decipher. But he turns and leads you from the square. Slowly, with each new block, the illuminations and lights drape away to bare night streets.

It’s hot in the lobby of his building. Sukuna’s bicep flexes in release when he slides your body from his arm to push the door open and lead you to the elevator.

His boots are off. You’re shimmying free from your shoes in his foyer when he turns. He pulls his hand from his pocket and lifts it over your eyes, backing you against his closed door; the stolen mistletoe and ragged black ribbon threaded between his fingers.

“Now what did that brat say, you have to kiss underneath this?”

Sukuna dangles the mistletoe, lifting his arm. You feel the weight of your head in a nod.

“But what if I want more than a kiss?”

Your eyes skim, up to the pinch of the mistletoe in his hand, before coming back down to meet his gaze. Sukuna smirks.

His lips are on yours before you can even lean into his chest. His mouth is cold to the touch. Your fingers grab the front of his coat and his free hand slides to the small of your back, drawing you closer. His fingers are impatient and they curve to pluck under lengths of fabric, to curve his hold to your body. You breathe shakily through your nose when he breaks the kiss.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Sukuna says with a thin smile. He looks at the mistletoe, back down at you. “What else can I make you do with this?”

Your elbows are resting on his chest, your grip still against the lapels of his coat. Sukuna’s fingers push at you.

“I asked, what if I want more?”

“I’ll give it to you,” you say, your breath coming quick and jagged. Your tongue feels heavy in your mouth without his own.

“Good answer,” Sukuna says. His voice is throaty, his lips spreading in a grin. The next kiss is encompassing, his arms on you, around you, to guide an entwined walk from the foyer. Light spills from the entry to the dark room. Your arms wrestle his coat free. He tosses the mistletoe somewhere down to the couch, and his hands move to his pants as your own jacket slips from your shoulders.

“Come here.”

Sukuna lifts his hips to let his pants kick down. He sits wide on the sofa, and you drop to your knees. He strokes his cock lightly in one hand, unbuttoning his shirt slowly, lazily with the other. His eyes fall down as you sit between his spread thighs.

“I want you to suck on it,” he says.

His hand is on yours to control your motions when you lean forward; back up, down, up again. He stiffens under your touch and the tip glistens as your thumb slides messily in circles. Sukuna lets go with a groan coming from his throat.

You guide him to your lips and he moans again, the sound hitching in response. The taste of him waters your mouth. He hits the back of your throat and you move back up with a slight gag.

“Mmm- ”

“That’s it, that’s it.”

Your mouth adds pressure to the rhythm, your tongue stroking along the underside of his cock until you’re sucking him, harder, harder, before gasping. Sukuna is hard and full when you put him back in your mouth. Saliva gathers, drools out over him.

“Fuck…”

You force your eyes up to see Sukuna’s lids are closed, mouth agape with elbows slung over the back of the couch. His chest rises and falls rapidly, half-bare. Slight groans slip from his lips.

As if he can feel the plead of your stare, Sukuna’s hands drop to the back of your head. His cock is ribbing over you, pushing to the back of your throat with each urge of his hand. He’s fucking your mouth more than you’re sucking him off now, his hips thrusting shallowly upwards with no mind to your struggle. Your hands fumble clumsy and blind to smear your saliva down.

Tears are beading involuntarily, leaking from your eyes as he moves you faster and faster over him. There’s that long, hard vein – and your tongue finds it, runs over it again and again.

“Oh – ”

The sound comes with an anguished force from him. The hands are pushing back now, and you lean away panting for breath. You wipe your lips with the back of your hand.

Sukuna lets out a groan like a growl, fumbling with the last buttons of his shirt. His eyes are wild on you. He tears the sleeves from his arms and he pulls you to his lap with rough hands. His mouth returns to you again, tasting his suggestion with a reverence, and the hands are busy to help you shed the layers from your own skin.

“You didn’t need mistletoe for that,” you whisper, your lip twitching in a half smile between kisses. Your nails card through his hair again, raking lower and lower, and then a hand to balance on his shoulder.

He urges your hips up a moment and your panties are off with the measured patience of someone who restrained himself from ripping the fabric from you. “Careful.”

“Why – oh – ” and as he steadies your knees over his thighs, you curl your fingers into hair with a gasp – “do you keep saying that?”

The question stutters out of you as his hands ride up around your ribs.

“Because you think everything is harmless until it bites you.”

Sukuna kisses your neck, your collarbone, down your breast where your skin pebbles cold.

“A weed… a kiss… a man.”

He bites then, pulling your nipple between his teeth with a pinch that makes you squeal. The words dissolve on your tongue.

There’s nothing slow or gentle to help slow your eager heartbeat. Sukuna dances his tongue until your nipple peaks, one hand coming to brace the small of your back to balance you, really keep you at him this time. He moves to the other with a fervor, saliva sparkling across your skin as you shake over him.

His other hand pushes into you, his finger seeking between your folds and urging your hips into position with each suggestive turn of his wrist. His finger finds your clit and begins to rub.

“Ohh – ”

It lowers you in a relentless rocking to where his cock waits, hard at the back of your thigh. The smoothness of it makes you whimper. Your muscles are tensing, relaxing when you realize you’ve been holding yourself steady for him; but then you tense again in a desperate reach for anything close to friction.

You curl your fingers into his shoulder to keep the balance as you reach with your other hand anxiously, trembling. His cock is still wet with your mouth.

“Impatient,” Sukuna murmurs.

“Maybe I should hang the mistletoe over your head,” you say, trying to angle him to you.

“You want more than a kiss from me?” His hand at your back lowers, and you’re leaning against the strong muscle of his forearm for a moment as he slaps your ass – cheekily, but with enough of a smart to make you yelp. “Didn’t you have somewhere to be soon?”

“Ah- ”

You’d forgotten, with his other hand now running a teasing finger along you to coax out the slick that opens you to him.

Sukuna’s lip curls at that, at the vacancy settled over your eyes, and he slides into you easily. From above like this, he’s pushed up so deep –

“- so d-deep…”

You’re stuttering, clutching to his shoulders with both hands now. Your thighs are clenched as you sink onto him.

“Move your hips.”

There’s an edge of impatience in his voice, choked with something thicker. Sukuna’s hands are there now, and he lets his palms run gentle massaging circles before slapping your ass with both hands now. It stings, and you bark out another cry. You push your hips back in whimpering response and spread your legs as best as you can to let your thighs and knees work and support the movements. But this dropping pushes him further inside you, and you let out another whine.

“Oh…”

“Better.”

He spanks you again as you move. His cock slides out of you a moment, back in, as you build your own unsteady rhythm. It’s unsteady because every deep, hard stroke inside makes you shake. When he thrusts his hips back up into you with a grunt, the force is so strong that your nails bite into his skin to keep you up. Sukuna moves his hands again at that and lock around your wrists.

You look down between the bars of your arms. Below your chest, his tense abdomen, his cock slides up into your body split and stretched against his width. It makes you shake just to see it, as if it defies reality to comprehend what it is you feel. You close your eyes and tilt your head back dizzyingly, shifting your hips.

“Mm… hmm… it feels so good…”

It’s easier, the more he’s in you, to rock your hips back and forth. You need to feed that desperate desire for friction, even if it grinds you raw. You’re able to move faster now, but Sukuna is still stronger, so much stronger that every stroke up into you stutters the rhythm.

He’s picking up the pace again in a way you can’t keep up with, and he’s groaning your name wildly.

“Feels – good?”

“Yes…”

“You’re… going to… leave my cum inside your cunt,” Sukuna says, his voice a low hiss, strained as he thrusts erratically, ecstatically, up inside you. His grip tightens on your wrists. “All night. With your friends. Let it sink … into your panties… all night.”

You whimper, and it makes your body shudder to hear those words rasp from his lips, wet and red with your kisses. Your back arches and you’re riding him with some new fire in you, even as your thighs tremble and your hips begin to ache.

Sukuna’s fingers are digging into your forearms, hard enough to promise a Morse code of bruises for you to read in the morning. His grip seizes; he releases to grab desperately at your hips again.

“Oh – ”

And Sukuna comes, hot and thick and roaring your name. Your inner muscles compress with clenching over his cock; the punching, dull ache behind your belly button fluttering so tantalizingly close to an orgasm as he climaxes in you. It shoots through and you moan, lifting a hand to clutch at yourself at the sensation – at your cheek, at your throat, squirming at the lewd sense of him.

Sukuna pants. His breath is hot and short as he finishes. He lets go of you, his palms giving a few, sweaty pats. His hips push back and dip into the couch and his cock begins to slide out of you with a slickness.

“Oh – “ you say, and you whimper, grabbing at him again. “Please – please not yet – I’m so close – ”

“Please?”

Sukuna looks up at you through his eyelashes, and just barely quirks his brow up. “Greedy,” he says. He makes a tongue clicking sound of mock disappointment, and pushes up and stays inside you, still heavy and still thick and warm. “Then you do the work.”

You’re so close, torturingly close, and his cool, dismissive gaze mixed with the heat of his words is almost enough to push you over the edge. You drag your shaking hands down from Sukuna’s shoulders, with skin marked with the crescent moons of your fingernails, down over his chest where his heartbeat betrays the nonchalance in his eyes.

“I want to see you touch yourself,” Sukuna says.

You push your hands against yourself. His grip has come comfortable on your hips, the strength of his wrists keeping you in balance. One of your hands hovers down, the heat of your joined bodies still radiating, the other right below your stomach. You push, gingerly, and a moan slips from you at where his cock sits within you.

When you start to force your thighs back to strength, there’s a sense of pure cream coming from you. You look down and could freeze at the sight – his cum is beginning to practically drool out of your spread folds. You rock your hips, slowly at first, and clumsy. Your body is aching for more and you begin to touch yourself, watching the grace of your fingers and feeling your clit slide beneath your touch. You look back up at Sukuna.

He’s watching beneath heavily lidded eyes, and he’s holding his jaw tight and your hips loose. True to his word – you do the work.

But how long will his stubborn pride win over his desire? His breath is coming faster and faster. You press your hand over your belly and let out a louder whimper for effect.

“Oh… Sukuna…”

No, he can’t let you keep control for long. His left hand moves back and he gives another spanking, a sharp one that makes your leg muscles clench across his body, and you yelp again. “Oh!”

“Yes,” he says.

You whine and press your finger flat against yourself. He’s moving his hips now, this time in a frenzy that makes your blood spin at how you can feel him beneath your belly. You have to drop that hand, to brace yourself for support on the couch, and then you cry out even louder when a hand shoves onto yours between your bodies. Sukuna uses your finger, manipulated under his, to push on your clit, dancing a firm pressure on and off your body.

“Come for me,” he says, his voice raspy. “Come on my cock.”

You groan, turning your head with a fevered madness next to his. “Say it again,” you breathe. “Please, say it again.”

The aching place that he pushes at is tightening.

“Please, Sukuna.”

“Do – what you’re told – and – come.”

His voice is dark and rough, as probing and insistent as his fingers. You let out a shuddering cry as it finally takes you to climax. Your orgasm pulses, throbbing and ebbing as it washes over you. He groans, fat and full within you.

“Oh,” you moan, your face in the crook of his neck.

He lets go of you, his hands sliding away.

With his grip released and offering no resistance, you lean back, bracing your arms against the couch as you climb off his lap.

Chirp! Chirp! Chirp!

Either perfectly timed, or simply within your awareness for the first time, your phone begins to sing.

“Oh,” you say again, and press your hand to your forehead. “Oh, shit. I’m going to be so late now.”

You feel sore and weak, your skin hot and sticky between your thighs. Sukuna has gleams of silver across his legs in the darkness.

“Oops,” Sukuna says in a nasty voice that offers no true apology.

He sits up, and his large fingers encircle your hand as you lean forward to fish for your phone amongst the litter of clothes.

“I meant it,” he says evenly.

“What?”

“Go see your friends. Have fun. Get all dolled up. But I want you to put those panties back on. I want you to feel that, rubbing against you and staining you the rest of the evening. I want you to smell me under your clothes. I want you filthy and mine before the whole city.”

You turn your knees towards him, your breath coming from your mouth. Sukuna reaches next to him, and lifts the mistletoe from the couch over your head once more. His eyes shine in the darkness.

“Give me another kiss.”

A/N: this is admittedly a rework/ edit from a fic i did on my old account with chrollo. merry christmas!!

[human-encounters-diary]

Day 5

I successfully made contact with the human today. As per usual, I completed my cyclic meal intake, but did not come across the human. When I arrived at my work station, the human was already present. She turned around to me and once again, her face warped into a horrifying grimace similar to the one on the second day, baring her teeth and raising the corners of her mouth in a rather threatening manner. I recoiled, although fortunately, the grimace was gone as soon as it had appeared. The human did not seem to notice my discomfort, and simply turned back to her work station.

After a moment, I felt secure enough to approach my own work station. As we worked in silence, I pondered if this was perhaps not a sign of aggression, but rather a way of greeting among humans. Although this thesis could not be supported by any real evidence, as baring ones teeth was a universal sign of aggression among most species.

The human, suddenly, seemingly without any indicator, spoke up: "Y‘know, I just realized that I never asked your name. That must‘ve seemed terribly rude of me." "I was not upset by your behaviour", I decided on after a moment.

"So what is your name?" "My species does not participate in the gifting of individual names.", I explained. "We simply address each other by their titles or their profession. I am addressed as 'mechanic'." 

"But that‘s…boring and sad." My front pliers uttered a rattling sound. "I have never known anything else." Her vocal cords vibrated, producing a barely detectable humming sound. 

The silence did not last long. "Can I ask you a kind of personal question? You don‘t have to answer, obviously…I was just wondering: Do…all of your species look like you? Kind of like, insect-looking, six legs, pliers, compound eyes type?"

"The anatomy of my species does not wary greatly. We all look quite similar, yes." "Oh, cool"

I tried to word my own following question as polite as possible: "What…about your species? Do your individuals vary greatly from each other in terms of physique?" 

"Well…kind of. I mean, we all have, like, the same 'ground structure', I guess you‘d call it? Like, anatomy-wise? But we like, can vary in, for example skin colour, eye colour, hair colour, height, weight, so shape, basically. Uuh yeah, that‘s what‘s coming into my head right now." She had started 'counting' with her fingers while she spoke, taking one finger for every thing she listed.

"That is quite astounding, compared to my species.", I informed her. "Yeah, I guess you could say so…", she opened and closed her mouth, producing a clicking sound as her teeth clashed together. Seemingly, she had wanted to say another thing, but decided against it.

Before I was able to strike up another conversation, Wrin walked, or rather, stumbled into the main control room, a bottle in their gloved hand. They informed me that, apparently, there was another leak in one of the machinery rooms that they wanted me to have a look at. Although I doubted their words, I followed them nonetheless, even if it was solely to reassure them. 

As it transpired, there was an actual leak, which I had to spend the rest of the cycle repairing and checking that there was further damage or similar leaks, since there had been two in a row in a rather short matter of cycles.

When I eventually finished the task at hand, the cycle had almost come to an end and the human had left the premises to indulge in her (now dark) recharging time session.

As I stated in the report prior to this one, I do not draw conclusions, but I have a slight presentiment that the human may like me.

[ckret2]

Chapter 16 of human Bill has taken an "I'm not locked in here with you, you're locked in here with me" approach to being the Mystery Shack's prisoner (title TBD), featuring:

Also featuring: Ford and Mabel bonding... until things go very, very wrong. Thanks Bill.

####

October 2012

As Stan turned the corner, he paused to let his eyes adjust as he came out of the blinding evening sun into the shadows of a tight, unobtrusive street, then shuffled up to where Ford was waiting. "All right, I think we shook the cops," he muttered. "The were-rats should keep 'em distracted. Smart move, splitting up to lead them to each other." He rummaged through the bag of ("borrowed") groceries that had caused them all this trouble, looking for a stick of cured meat he'd had his eye on.

"Mm." That was all Ford said.

Stan looked sharply at Ford. "Hey, you okay? The rats didn't get you, did they?" He glanced over Ford for any torn clothes or blood.

"No—sorry, I'm fine. Just..." He gestured at the storefront across the street. "Distracted."

Stan followed his gesture. He couldn't read the language on the signs, but he didn't need to: the pictures in the windows—tarot cards, palmistry charts, a hand-painted poster of a crystal ball, all surrounded by unlit neon tubes shaped into stars—made it clear enough just what kind of shop this was. Stan laughed. "Hey, it looks like what Ma did with the pawn shop after Dad passed. When we're back in the States, I oughta find a picture for you. Or maybe Shermie can 'e-mail' us one, I think his kid was 'digitalizing' the old family photos..." He trailed off as he saw what Ford was really staring at.

Amongst the other dark neon lights, there was a single larger one, just over the name of the shop: a triangle with an eye.

Stan shuddered. "Ugh. I'm never gonna be able to look at those things the same way again, are you?"

"I haven't been able to for over thirty years," Ford said. "It's funny—in most civilized dimensions in the multiverse, that symbol is incredibly taboo, because as soon as it's drawn it becomes his eye. I only ever saw it used as the direst warning in places tainted by the Nightmare Realm—places he could already see."

Stan snorted. "Coming home must've been a rude shock, huh?"

It was true—Ford saw Bill peering from every dollar, winking slyly at him from strangers' gold rings, standing solemn vigil over graveyards from the headstones. Ford remembered the first time he'd returned to his study: of course he'd known that all his art of Bill was still there, but he'd been stunned by the sheer quantity of eyes watching him, ready to welcome him home. He'd awkwardly hidden himself beneath a bedsheet like a ghost to keep Bill from staring at him as he went around the room, covering every tapestry, drawing, and statue with black curtains. He hoped Bill hadn't been actively watching then. He knew he'd looked stupid.

"You don't know the half of it." Ford nodded toward the psychic shop. "Looking at that face now feels like seeing a toxic waste warning sign."

"Do you think she knows?" Stan asked.

"'She'?"

"The psychic!" Apparently, Stan had decided the psychic was a woman. "D'you think she knows what that is? Did he slip her prophecies to start up her business? Or is it just a spooky magic symbol to her?"

Stan was probably expecting Ford to vaguely speculate—but instead, he eyed the symbol critically. "It's got a slit pupil, which is always a worrying sign," he said, "but that could just be an aesthetic choice. If it had his clothing or limbs, I'd know for sure it's meant to be him, but without..."

As they'd spoken, the evening had crept on and the shadows in the alley had deepened; and now it was dark enough that someone inside the shop flipped the neon lights on. Multicolored stars danced around the window. The triangle lit up bright yellow. The pupil and top eyelid had burned out, so now it looked like the Eye of Providence was perpetually asleep, eye shut.

Stan and Ford both shivered.

"That's probably a coincidence, right?" Stan said. "That's—that's just bad luck."

"There's absolutely no scientific reason why Bill's death would cause depictions of his face to—um—malfunction," Ford said. "It's definitely a coincidence." He said it like he was sure.

"Right," Stan said. "C'mon, we should head back to the beach before someone finds our boat." He turned away from the shop. As he walked, he fished his wallet out of his pocket, rifled through the money until he found some American currency, and squinted at it to make sure Bill's eye was still open.

Ford didn't move. He was still staring at the triangle.

Did she know, he wondered? (She or he or whoever owned this shop.) Did Bill have a worshiper here? Perhaps just another distant believer who'd been recruited by one of the micro-cults Bill left in his wake, five degrees and fifty years removed from a former "student" that Bill had "inspired" and then abandoned?

Or had Bill met them in their dreams? Had he been summoned up to give them inspiration and knowledge of the future? Did they remember Bill as the central figure in a visionary dream that now made up the core of their spirituality? Maybe he'd visited them more than once, while trying to decide whether they'd be useful to him? Perhaps he'd been grooming the fortune teller into his minion, feeding them lines he wanted to pass on to a local politician or scientist? Did he ever play board games with them?

Did they worship him still?

Did they know their god was dead?

Stan called from the end of the street, "Ford?" 

"Coming." Ford tore his gaze away from the dead face. "I kept expecting it to blink."

Stan laughed nervously. "Yeah, real funny."

Stan and Ford watched each other from their peripheral vision as they turned the corner, to make sure neither of them tried to glance back to check.

They returned to their boat, set sail, and had dinner. And when Stan went to bed, Ford sat out on the deck, looked at the stars—and wept.

He'd cried when he'd thought his brother had lost his memories forever. He hadn't cried in the month and a half since then. He didn't want anyone to watch him grieve the worst monster he'd ever met.

####

There'd been an ache in Ford's chest for over thirty years—an empty pit that once held awe—a dark void that used to be filled with starlight. Ford knew now that, metaphorically speaking, the divine light Bill put off had never been anything but optical illusions with flashlights and mirrors. But even so—even so, nothing and nobody had inspired such sublime wonder in Ford since.

During his lowest moments out in the multiverse, starving and exhausted and despairing, he'd irrationally wondered if the unimpressable depression left in Bill's wake was evidence that Bill had been truly that great, too great for a human like Ford to understand, and the shadow cast on Ford's life in Bill's absence was the natural consequence of turning away from something godlike.

Ford had gotten over that. He'd recovered, he'd grown. He understood the truth: Bill's parlor tricks had dazzled his eyes so thoroughly that now he couldn't detect the subtle glimmer of the truly wondrous. He wondered if his eyes would ever adjust to the dark again.

Whether he liked it or not, he missed the way mind-blowing awe felt. He missed being dazzled. 

There were days when he wasn't sure what he resented Bill for more: vomiting so much glittery garbage into his soul, or stopping.

####

June 2013

When Ford went looking for his briefcase to make a trip to Portland, he found it opened in the kitchen. He shouldn't have left it in the kitchen. His five-page copy of the text from a purportedly-extraterrestrial prehistoric cave painting was spread out across the table.

The mysterious, unintelligible alien text had been fully translated.

With purple crayon.

Into a second alien language.

Ford could have strangled Bill.

And what made him angriest was how excited he was over this new puzzle.

The original cave panting had consisted of hundreds of tiny symbols in an unknown language from an unknown species, painted on rock, the text faded over time. He hadn't even known whether all the symbols were recognizable as their originals. He'd suspected there'd never be a translation in his lifetime, if indeed there ever was. Bill's translation implicitly said, yes, there is a knowable translation. Said, and you can know the translation too. Said, I've made it into a fun game for you. Said, all you have to do is play along.

He would not play along.

He stuffed the papers back in his bag where they belonged, added the stack of notes he'd made for his trip, slung the briefcase over his shoulder and against his back, and went looking for his great-niece.

####

"Hey Grunkle Ford!" Mabel waved from the living room table. "Wanna play fairy chess?" She was wearing a black-and-white checkerboard-patterned sweater with a blue fairy on her chest. Apparently, this was her plan for the day.

Ford paused outside the living room. "What's 'fairy' chess?"

"It's like normal chess, but you get to decorate the chess pieces and give them weird new rules. Look! I made a princess and a unicorn!" She held up a queen piece with a yarn ponytail and a knight piece with a clay horn. "Wanna play? You can make up any kind of piece you want and I can decorate it for you! Or I can give you the rook with the dragon wings!"

Ford laughed. "That sounds fun. Where did you come up with fairy chess?"

Mabel hesitated, her smile slightly flagging.

"Ah." Of course. He would teach her made-up chess varieties. Ford cleared his throat. "Actually, I'm planning to visit Portland today. There's a weird-looking shop I saw while Soos was driving Stan and I from the airport, and I've been meaning to visit it."

"Oh." Mabel's smile wilted completely. She placed her princess and unicorn back on the chess board. "Yeah. That's fine. I could ask Dipper if he wants to play. Unless he's going with you..."

"I was actually going to ask if you'd like to come."

Mabel's head whipped toward Ford, eyes wide. "Really?"

"Sure, it seemed up your alley! I'm going to a crystal shop—"

"WHAT!" Mabel was on her feet and bounding across the room. "Shut up, I love crystals! They're like jumbo glitter for adults!"

Ford laughed. "I thought you might be interested!"

Mabel went on, "And you know those gift shops with all the shelves of glass and crystal sculptures? I love looking at those! I've always wanted to get one, but my parents think I'd break it. They're probably right."

Ford flashed back to the devastation Mabel wrought on the gift shop snow globes last summer. Well. Maybe her parents had a point, but. "You just have to be careful with it during transport! I got one of those souvenir glass statues during my roadtrip from college to Gravity Falls, and it survived all sorts of gnome invasions and eye-bat battles. I wonder where Stan put it?"

"What did it look like?"

"Mothgar." Did they still make Mothgar movies? "She's a beautiful, heroic moth—who's been radioactively mutated into a giant fire-breathing monster. I consider her one of my heroes. Her flame breath held her statue in the air."

"That sounds awesome!" Mabel bounced on her feet excitedly. "I'll be right back! I've gotta change clothes before we go." She pounded up the stairs.

Ford wondered if Mabel would like watching Mothgar, or any of the other Lizilla monster movies. He and Stan had practically grown up on those films; it would be nice to pass his love of them on to someone else in the family. Maybe she'd find them boring. It sounded like kids these days were more into computer-generated movies...

His train of thought gently derailed as he slowly became aware of a dangerous predator watching him.

He looked around—living room, kitchen, hallway, front door. Nothing. He looked up. Bill was standing in the shadows of the attic stairway landing, leaning against the corner where the stairs turned, peering down at Ford.

Ford scowled.

Bill grinned. "Crystals, huh?" There was a mocking edge to his smile. "Doesn't that sound fun. I bet she'll just love that."

That was the idea, yes. "What are you getting at, Bill."

"'Getting at'?" Bill repeated innocently. "What's there to get at? I just think it's nice of you to do something nice for her."

"Uh-huh."

"Especially after all the time you've spent favoring her brother."

There it was. And the dig struck home, too. Ford's stomach twisted. He'd never forgive himself for only confiding in Dipper about his history with Bill or the danger of the rift—and in the process, setting up Mabel to be the next one Bill tricked and exploited.

And as much as he wished he could say otherwise, he hadn't done much better in the months since then. Shortly after arriving home, Dipper had started having nightmares about Bill possessing or harassing him. When Dipper had those nightmares, usually Ford was the first person he called. He didn't want to disturb his parents or sister more than necessary, and he knew Ford kept odd hours in odd time zones and might be available at 3 a.m. California time—and most importantly, Ford had had more restless nights than he could count, waking up on strange worlds from nightmares of Bill. Ford was the only one who could understand what Dipper was going through: that unique sanity-shaking terror that came from knowing it was a dream, but still not knowing whether it was real.

Those late-night reassurance sessions and the conversations he'd had with Dipper after he calmed down had brought both of them closer. Ford was glad that when Dipper had most needed somebody, Ford was able to be that person—but he hated that in giving Dipper that support, he'd only widened the gap in the attention he gave Dipper and Mabel. 

But she had her own life, with friends and school and hobbies—so many hobbies—Dipper had told Ford, laughing, about how she'd had to juggle her parkour lessons with library craft classes—and Ford didn't have excuses to talk to Mabel the way he did Dipper, and so what could Ford do about it? (What could Ford do about it? He actually didn't know. He'd always been abysmal at socialization, even just keeping up with friends and family. And that was before he'd gone thirty years without steady human company.)

Ford had hoped he could make it up to Mabel this summer.

And then Bill happened.

He was smirking down at Ford like he knew he'd hit a bullseye.

Ford wondered how much Bill knew—if he'd assumed that the way Ford neglected Mabel last summer had continued, or if he'd had some way to spy on them over the past school year... or if she'd told him. "My family's none of your business, Bill."

Ford could almost see the gears in Bill's head turning—no doubt mentally trying out various retorts to find the most cutting—but when he spoke again, he simply changed topics. "So hey, what'd you think of that translation? Helpful at all?"

Dryly, Ford said, "You mean the one you translated into another alien language?"

"Wrong-o. I translated it into an alien writing system. It's a human language."

"What?" Ford rummaged through his briefcase for the "translated" pages. "Which language?"

"C'mon, Fords—Ford, where's the fun in just telling you? I want to see if you can figure it out yourself," Bill said. As Ford's scowl deepened, Bill added, "Give you a hint: it's a language you've studied."

A language he'd studied... Did that mean only second languages, or was English an option? No, if English was a possibility, Bill probably would have said "it's a language you know." Unless he was trying to distract Ford from the possibility it was English. He'd keep English on the list. He ought to start by counting up the number of distinct letters, if Bill had used a simple substitution cipher that might rule out some options...

He wasn't sure how long he'd been staring at the first page of the crayon translation when he heard the attic bedroom door open. Mabel came bounding downstairs in a hot pink sweater that said "YOU ROCK!" over a drum kit. "I used to have a sweater with a crystal heart on it but I think I left it in Piedmont! This'll have to do..." She slowed at the landing, giving Bill a questioning look, and then stopped when she saw Ford looking up at them. "What's up?"

Before Ford could speak up, Bill said, "I was asking Stanford about an alien translation I helped him with this morning, that's all! I don't think he's too grateful. Hey—crystal shop, right?" He beamed at Mabel. "Bring me something fun!"

Mabel beamed back. "Ok—!"

"No," Ford said.

"No," Mabel immediately repeated. "Nope! Nuh-uh, crystals are off the list of acceptable prisoner amenities."

Bill sighed deeply. "All right, fine. I guess I'll just go without the simple pleasure of a cool-looking rock in my final days."

Mabel laughed. "You're such a whiner. I'll draw you a stupid rock." She hopped down the stairs. "See you later!"

"Hey, Shooting Star," Bill said. "Stay safe out there, okay?" The way he said it like a warning, and the way Mabel immediately paused mid-step, made the hair on the back of Ford's neck stand on end. 

He held open the door, glared up at Bill, and said calmly, "We'll be back by dinner."

Bill didn't reply. He just smiled.

The moment the door shut, Mabel looked up at Ford, brows furrowed. "Sooo... what was all that about an alien translation?"

Ford showed Mabel the papers. "He rifled through my bag when I wasn't looking, put a translation in a cipher, and dared me to crack it."

"Ah!" Mabel's puzzled look evaporated. "I knew he was up to something! At least he's just being a jerk instead of a supervillain." She laughed.

Ford smiled in relief. He hadn't lost her yet. "This time, anyway."

"This time!"

As they walked around the shack to Stan's car, Mabel tentatively took Ford's hand. He squeezed hers back just a little too tight.

####

Part of Mabel was nervous to hang out with Ford—just Ford, without Dipper or Stan there as well. He loved her, of course—she knew he loved her, and she loved him—but they didn't simply hang out. Last summer, she'd usually been the one to talk to him first, and they rarely spoke over the school year unless it was part of a family call. She got it—last summer he'd been busy with Bill stuff, during the school year he'd been busy with adventuring, and this summer he was busy with Bill stuff again—and Ford and Dipper had more in common to talk about—so it was fine, really. She understood. But even so, being alone with him kinda made her feel like she was in trouble.

But she'd had nothing to worry about. As they hit the road, there'd been a few minutes of awkward small talk—the kinds of questions adults always asked kids when they couldn't think to ask anything else, so, what kinds of classes are you taking next year—but once they hit common ground the conversation got rolling. Mabel had agonized over whether to join the yearbook or take art class, since she only had room in her electives for one, and had finally settled on art; Ford revealed that one year in high school he'd only taken biology and physics and passed up chemistry so that he could take an art class, had kicked himself over it when taking college chemistry courses, but now decades later he was glad he'd made the effort to preserve his artistic side even as he cultivated his scientific mind. Somehow, even though she'd spent all summer looking over Dipper's shoulder at Ford's illustrations in Journal 3, it had never quite dawned on her that being a scientist didn't mean Ford wasn't also an artist.

They talked about their preferred drawing tools—Ford liked the precision and detail of pencils and pens, while Mabel preferred the smooth drawing experience, vibrant hues, and color-blending potential of crayons. They talked about what they liked drawing—Ford typically drew from life, but said he greatly admired Mabel's creative imagination. Ford talked about blueprints and engineering diagrams like they were artwork, talked about protractors and compasses and rulers like they were art tools; and Mabel figured that blueprints were like very angular versions of the intricate star, swirl, and squiggle patterns she liked filling page margins with, so maybe that was a kind of art. They agreed that the greatest artistic masters of the modern age were the people who made those crazy paintings for the covers of fantasy paperback novels. They both couldn't stand watercolor painting and didn't understand how people could control the paint well enough to make it look good, rather than just sort of leak faintly-colored puddles around the page—although Mabel, at least, was willing to give watercolors another shot.

And from artwork they moved on to talking about Mabel's hopes for high school and Ford's memories of that time—the good and the bad. (Ford asked Mabel to have mercy if the class nerd ever awkwardly attempted to flirt with her at a school dance; she could tell the nerd "no" if she wanted, just please don't pour punch all over his suit.) And then they talked about music (they were surprised at how many synth-poppy new-wavy favorites they had in common, and Mabel was heartbroken to learn how much of the 80s he still had to catch up on), and then about all the new technology Mabel thought Ford had probably missed out on and the equivalent technology he'd encountered out in the multiverse, and then some of the adventures he'd had and people he'd met out in other dimensions...

And Mabel kept expecting Bill to come up, but he never did.

The hour drive from Gravity Falls to the outskirts of Portland consisted mostly of wide flat roads self-consciously hustling through forests, as if the cars were embarrassed visitors who'd stepped into the wrong room. Low wooden buildings clustered together in twos and threes beneath the trees like dogs sitting at their owners' feet. The occasional A-frame house peered curiously down at the road through the pines and firs. Mabel peered curiously back.

In the distance, hazy blue mountains bristling with trees tried to bite the sky. Sometimes, Mabel could imagine an X-shaped rip in the sky vomiting colors onto a distant mountain. Not for the first time, she wondered what Weirdmageddon had looked like from outside Roadkill County. She'd searched online, but never found any pictures.

They passed a bright red shop with dozens of wood-carved statues of bears and Bigfoot in the parking lot, and a cute little white house with a metal sculpture of an ostrich sitting in the front yard, and a teeny tiny shack next to a chop-your-own-Christmas-tree farm—"You hack it, we'll pack it". Seeing a gas station beside a trailer-sized drive-thru coffee shop felt like stumbling upon a carnival. Eventually, the trees peeled back to reveal a strip of colorful but run-down local shops lining either side of Route 26; which bloomed into a proper small town, houses painted cloud white and sky blue on one side of the road, a hunter green motel-style apartment building on the other side, though Mabel could always see the trees waiting just a few streets beyond the main road; and then another small town, which beat the trees back even further; and then their surroundings gently became the suburban outskirts of Portland as they got on the highway.

"The crystal shop was somewhere on the north side of the highway," Ford said, gesturing to the right. So far, all that had gone by on the right had been trees, warehouses, and distant clusters of houses. "I didn't get a long look at it, but it had some mystical-sounding name and it was in a row of storefronts with a pole sign next to the highway. The sign had a cutout in the middle for a stained glass window shaped like a diamond."

"Oooh, fancy."

"And very distinctive. We should have no trouble finding the place again."

The highway ran elevated above the homes and businesses below. After a few miles, a railroad wove up alongside the highway. Ford glanced at the railroad with a puzzled frown. Mabel asked, "Should we have passed it by now?"

"I'm... not sure. I thought we would have—when we were traveling the other direction, I seem to remember I didn't see it long before we exited the highway—but..." He trailed off. "We can't possibly have missed it. That sign stood out like a sore, bejeweled thumb."

Mabel made a mental note to try bedazzling her fingernails. "Are you sure it was on this side of the highway?"

"Positive. I saw it to my left as we were traveling east and considering asking Soos and Stan if they'd mind exiting the highway to visit it, but I decided that would take too much time since it was on the wrong side of the highway and we'd have to do a U-turn. So now it should be on our side of the highway." He gestured demonstratively to the right. "I'm sure of it."

"Okay." Mabel propped her chin in her hand and stared out the window again. A wall of concrete and trees rose up along the right side of the highway, and Ford's frown deepened.

When they reached the exit for the airport, Mabel finally had to admit to herself that there probably was no crystal shop.

Her stomach flip-flopped as Ford silently exited the highway, pulled into a strip mall parking lot, and parked. He stared out the windshield, frowning in deep thought, staring into the distance.

This is it, Mabel thought, ankles twisting together, fingers digging into the bench seat cushion.

Ford said, "We can't have missed the shop. That sign was taller than anything in the area. We couldn't have overlooked it if we'd tried."

Mabel's stomach slowly de-flipped. "Maybe they closed?" she suggested. "Or maybe something knocked the sign down!" In the week and a half since Ford had last come this way.

"Maybe," Ford said dubiously.

Mabel pulled out her phone to search for Portland crystal shops and rock shops. "There's some shops in town, but I... don't see any up here? Maybe they closed years ago and only just took the sign down?"

"Hmm. It seems unlikely, but... I don't know what else could have happened." He glanced at Mabel's phone. "What are you looking at? Do you have the yellow pages in there?"

"Um..." Mabel shrugged. "Kinda?"

Ford sighed. "Well, if we can't find the crystal shop I saw, I suppose we could visit another one. I did promise you crystals. Can you give me directions with that thing?"

Mabel gave him a hesitant, thoughtful look; but then she nodded, grinned, and said, "Sure! You drive, I'll navigate! This'll be easy!"

####

They missed the store four times.

####

The store Mabel had dug up was a general magic shop named Lunar Blessings, on the ground level of a mixed-use building. It was surrounded by apartments up above, a beauty salon to the left, and a tax preparation service to the right. They carefully stowed Stan's car in the parking garage.

"For my thirtieth birthday, I made a trip to Portland and got a cake at a bakery that used to be on this block," Ford said, looking up at the compact brick-like building that now filled the block. "It must have gone out of business." So many little things had changed.

Mabel was treating the sidewalk like a huge hopscotch board as they approached the magic shop, taking huge leaps between each concrete square. As the storefront came into sight, she said, "You know those souvenir shops with trays of polished rocks and little bags you can fill up?"

"The little brown suede bags? Yes, I've seen those. I think they're terrific gifts for young fans of geology." He probably would have gotten one himself as a child, but he hadn't started seeing them until adulthood.

"I have like eight of those bags!" Mabel declared. "I collect them whenever I can! Last summer I tried to talk Grunkle Stan into adding them to the Mystery Shack, but he said they were too easy to shoplift. He let me buy a fake gold nugget for half price, though!" She looked up at Ford hopefully. "A store full of crystals probably has something like that, right? Or at least a few cheap small rocks? Those bags are only, like, five dollars."

Solemnly, Ford said, "Your shopping budget is fifty dollars."

Mabel stumbled her last jump and almost fell. "What! Are you serious!"

"I've been in places like this before. These days you can't get anything decent for five dollars." He offered her a half smile. "Anyway, I missed out on thirty years of spoiling my nephew and my great-niece and great-nephew. I've got to make up for lost time."

Mabel flung her arms around Ford—"Thank you thank you thank you!"—and flung open the store door. "Rockmongers! Show me to your biggest, fanciest crystals! You've got a big spender in the house!" The door swung shut.

By the time Ford made it in, Mabel was saying, somewhat sheepishly, "Show me to your second fanciest crystals." Ford spied her next to an amethyst geode almost as tall as she was and hurried over.

Mabel took his hand and whispered, "You weren't kidding. Fifty dollars doesn't take you far in this place."

Ford grinned. "Funny, isn't it? Considering that you can just dig this stuff out of the ground."

Mabel nodded. "Like potatoes."

Like potatoes. Ford couldn't believe he'd missed out on thirteen years of this kid.

####

The shop boasted books on metaphysics and magic spells; sculptures depicting an undifferentiated mix of global religious figures and fantasy creatures; fake dream catchers with plastic beads and neon-dyed feathers; shelves stuffed with herbs, incense, tarot cards, and more; and most importantly of all: crystals, crystals, rocks, and crystals. Raw stones, polished tumbled stones, carved into figurines and mystical shapes, arranged by rock type in roughly rainbow order around the walls.

It was the kind of place where, once upon a time, Ford would have eagerly spent half an afternoon, browsing the books for something intellectually stimulating amidst the rows of hokey hocus-pocus, scoffing at the promised protections listed on the cards by each type of crystal but still glancing over the crystals themselves for something that might look pleasant on his desk. Not a believer in the melting pot of New Age beliefs being peddled, but still acknowledging he'd dedicated his life to seeking the same things people sought in shops like this.

He was beginning to wonder if he'd ever feel comfortable in a magic shop again. 

He'd hardly been in the shop a minute before he saw a gold-foiled pyramid with an Eye of Horus on the side. And then small pyramids constructed out of seven layers of stone, forming an inverted rainbow from purple down to red. "Divine Eye"-brand incense sticks with a brown logo stamped onto each package depicting an uncannily realistic eye on a pyramid. Milky translucent selenite pyramids. Multiple different tarot decks—simple woodcut designs, complex oil paintings, punkish collage art—that featured an eye in a triangle somewhere on the box art. Shiny black pyramids with copper coils wrapped around them. A poster with a psychedelic Eye of Providence. Pyramids in a dozen other colors and stones. With so many hostile triangles around, even the familiar, watchful nazar and eyed hamsa amulets now seemed to stare at him too hard.

It was almost a relief when Ford spotted, between sculptures of Shiva and a severe-looking angel, one sculpture that was unmistakeably Bill himself. He was seated with his legs in lotus position, "floating" by attaching to a wall of flames behind him, with two blue glass flames in his hands. Anything else in this shop left Ford with the nervous uncertainty of whether the artist had been depicting Bill, or just an innocuous Eye of Providence symbol a hundred generations removed from its initial inspiration. But this sculpture, down to the hat and bow tie, left no doubt.

Ford reminded himself that it shouldn't be a comfort to see Bill's face; and he didn't like that he had to remind himself.

He gingerly pictured up the sculpture, surprised at how light it was, and inspected the bottom. It had a logo stamped on it that matched the logo on sculptures of at least a dozen other less malevolent entities in the store; the shop had probably bought them en masse and wasn't affiliated with Bill. But somewhere out there was an artist who was. Ford wondered where they were.

####

"Grunkle Ford!" Mabel bounded up to him, grinning. 

Ford flinched when his name was called and turned away from the shelf he'd been inspecting a little too fast, like he'd been caught doing something wrong—but he gave her his full, polite attention. "Yes?"

"Look what I found in the window! It makes rainbows when the sunlight hits it! Like a prism-pyramid! A prismid! A pyrismid?" She shrugged. "Anyway, isn't it awesome! Free rainbows, everywhere, forever!" She beamed at Ford, holding her clear glass pyramid up for him to inspect; but when she saw the look on his face, she slowly lowered it. "What's wrong?"

Ford forced a tense smile. "Oh, it's... I'm sorry, Mabel. You're right, it is very impressive. But—" He winced, glancing away, voice dropping, "Bill happens to be fond of those, too. I used to have—dozens of those."

Mabel's cheeks heated up. "Oh." Now that she thought back, she distantly recalled seeing a similar pyramid in the room with the switcheroo carpet, although she'd never seen it in the sunlight. Stupid, stupid, stupid. "Sorry. I can put it back. I saw some pink cats and these resin hearts filled with gold flakes? They were cute."

It took Ford a second to speak; Mabel wasn't sure he'd even heard what she'd said. "He didn't put the idea of getting one of these in your head, did he?"

"What? No!" Mabel said. "Of course not! When would he have even brought it up?"

"You... have been spending a lot of time around him lately."

"Pffft!" Mabel rolled her eyes. "Like when?"

####

"Okay," Stan called from the kitchen, a tray of raw burgers in front of him, "ready to start grilling! How does everyone want their burgers? Your options are 'medium rare' and 'overcooked.'"

Mabel stuck her head in the kitchen. "I want mine with sprinkles mixed in!"

Stan grimaced. "Sweetie, that sounds awful—"

Bill stuck his head in over Mabel's. "I want sprinkles too."

"I'm not making you a burger!"

Mabel chanted, "Sprinkles, sprinkles—" and Bill joined in, "—sprinkles, sprinkles, sprinkles—!"

####

Mabel pointed at one of the cartoon animal drawings on the blackboard. "And the orange one is...?"

Bill, sitting on the living room floor with a notepad and a yellow pencil, raised his hand, even though he was Mabel's only audience. "Teddy Tender!"

"And his job is...?"

"Healing! Uh—doctoring and social reconciliation! He's like a therapist medic."

"Correct! Full points!"

"Yes!"

"And the indigo one?"

Bill squinted at the fishy-looking creature. "The Mystic Dolphin."

"Close enough, I'll give it to you! Misty the Dolphin. Her job?"

Bill frowned. "Psychic powers."

"No."

"Purple has psychic powers."

"No!"

"Who has psychic powers, then!"

"Nobody has psychic powers, man, we've been over this!"

Bill groaned. "Is Misty going to be on the test?"

"Of course she is! We can't just skip over Misty! Indigo gets shortchanged in artistic depictions of rainbows enough as it is!"

"Misty is stupid! She can't even visit the rest of the critters!" Bill chucked his notebook at the blackboard. It smacked it harmlessly and flopped to the floor.

Mabel gave him a stern look. "You'll never grasp the deeper thematic concepts in Color Critters if you can't see that Misty's an equal part of the team regardless of her handicaps."

Bill groaned again.

####

"Hey dudes," Soos said, opening the attic door. "Do you know where my laundry went? I can't find my green t-shirt, and—"

Mabel was wearing Soos's green t-shirt, which went down to her calves like a loose dress. Bill was hot glueing construction paper flowers all over the shirt.

Arms outstretched in a T shape, Mabel said, "I'm the flower queen."

"She's the flower queen," Bill said.

Soos looked between them both, flashed Mabel a double thumbs up, said, "You look beautiful, dawg," and shut the door.

####

Mabel kicked a foot sheepishly. "I haven't been spending that much time with him."

"That was all in the last three days," Ford said.

Mabel winced. "Okay, fine—but—it's all been harmless stuff! Nothing Bill can use to conquer the world or anything! I'm not even letting him use the scissors! And I promise he's not doing anything evil under my supervision. He's actually been really well behaved—"

"That's exactly what worries me!" Ford snapped. He sighed harshly. "Mabel—I'm not surprised he's treating you decently. It's what I expected. I... I've actually been meaning to talk to you about this for a few days."

Mabel immediately went cold. Stay safe out there, okay? "Oh. Yeah?"

"I understand you're just trying to be kind, but considering who we're dealing with here—and how willing he is to exploit and abuse even our best virtues—I'm worried you're not being careful enough around him."

Mabel was never careful enough, was she? Not even careful enough to be trusted with a snow globe, much less anything important. Voice thick, she asked, "Is that why we're here?" She gestured around the magic shop.

Ford hesitated just long enough to give her her answer. "I... didn't think this was a conversation we should have inside the shack."

Mabel looked down at her hands, saw the stupid glass pyramid, and nearly flung it on the floor in frustration. Instead, she set it on the nearest shelf. Don't break anything. Under her breath, she muttered, "Bill said you'd do something like this."

"Bill said? Bill said?! Of course he would, that's just like him. What kind of nonsense has he been filling your head with?"

####

"Honestly, I'm surprised Ford hasn't said anything about you talking to me yet," Bill said, carefully taping construction paper petals together into flowers. "But mark my words—if he's taken this long, it's only because he's waiting for an opportunity to scold you where I can't overhear. He'll probably lure you out somewhere fun—go to the zoo or something. Then he'll let you have it."

"Pfff, come on!" Mabel focused on cutting out the next few flower petals. "He wouldn't 'let me have it.' If it bothered him that much, he'd have said so by now."

"You, my friend, have never seen him get really mad. I have. For the sake of argument, maybe I deserved it, fine—but he's got a tendency to aim that hate at anybody I'm friends with, too. So don't think you're safe."

Mabel paused, then shook her head. "No." She threw another bunch of petals at Bill to tape together. "He wouldn't hate me. We're family."

"If you were your brother, I'd agree with you. As it is, though..." Bill dumped a half dozen finished flowers in Mabel's lap. "Honestly, I can't even tell how he feels about you. Can you?"

####

Mabel flinched. "Obviously what he's filling my head with isn't nonsense, because he was right! You took me all the way to Portland by promising a stupid crystal shop that doesn't exist—"

"What?! Mabel, that's ridiculous! Just listen to m—"

"Why are you yelling! Why are you mad at me, I was only trying to be nice to him!" She let out a sob. "I didn't do anything wrong this time!"

Ford froze. "Mabel..."

She ran out of the crystal shop, crying. Ford watched her go, paralyzed. Mad at her? He was mad at Bill, if anybody. Mad at her?

He turned helplessly toward the shopkeeper, as if the only other adult in the store could help him out. "I'm... sorry for the disturbance." 

The shopkeeper shrugged her shoulder in vague sympathy. "She upset over some guy?"

"Not that way." Thank goodness for that. "She's just..." He sighed. "She's been making friends with a very bad influence."

####

The entire crystal shop trip was initially one super long chapter that I cut in two. They would have been about equal length if I'd ended this chapter after Ford saw the Bill statue. I decided not to do that. I did that to be mean. ♡

[thesupernaturalhouse]

Ooooookay! Hazbin Hotle redesigns....but not really? Honestly, it's just me drawing them in my style, but they could be considered redesigns, I guess, specifically Charlie

Uhhhh I guess we start form left to right sooo, Emily!

Right, so, Emily is obviously a fallen angle. Thiguht this isn't her fallen look, since we already kneo what she looks liek with wings and a halo I didn't think about making a 2nd version of her without the demon disguise- but maybe I should

Either way, I kinda kept her original dress, with the symbols and what not, I feel liek blue and purple really suit her so, indigo

I tried to add red to her, but it just didn't look good. It gave me an eye strain.though her till and horns have a sort of dark magenta color going on

I wanted to add more 'freckles' cause, thier cute, and I have a bunch of freckles ove rmy arms and legs and face and stuff so, added them to em, I put a few on her ears and tail and horns to

Gave her gold buttons and fishnets on her arms, i forget what their called cause they are cute, and I like Athnek(?) Posts about Emily and uh, goth Emily, I think, is pretty cool and so boom, fishnet glive things- I gitta look up what there called

Lso ehr shoes look liek dolphins, which I didn't mean to do but it happened and I've accepted it

Next is Charlie!!

Um. Obviously, Charlie is the most changed from her canon design, I relaly like her hooves and others redesigns of her looking more liek a goat

Originally, I was just gonna add gaot ears and stuff, but the more I thought about it, the more I liked the idea of her having fur soooo tadaaaaa~

I gave her a little red stripe between her eyes and fade on her legs and ears to match Razzle and dazzle, and since lucifer was a high angle a seraphm/archangels hoenstly I dotn see a difference. I gave her some white freckles as well to sorta, show that connection

Also, toe beans! If she has claws, she can have beans, I think that Emily would have a normal human hand while vaggie would have little soft spikes on her like moths do, tho that's not shown

I also drew charlies wings cause it's cnaon she has them, and I wanted to play around with the demon/angle wing/s she could have, my irl friend K helped me decide which one to choose

I also drew her leg so you can see the fade in full. Side note that her belly has the same cherry red fur

I also added some chest fluff because why not?

As for her horns, I kept them the same color but added rings like Lilith has to show a connection between them. She also has her mom's eyes and heart tail point. I wanted her to have some demon stuff out just cause, she is a demon, she should......also realizing just how long I made her tail-

Uhhh, oh, right, side note, which I'll have to make a separate post about, Lucifer/eve/lilith are all dating each other, and Chalrie is all 3s kid. Eve is where she got the goat aspect from, inckuding horn shape, her scaly tail, snake fangs, red cheeks and color scheme over all are from dad, and Lilith is where she got her eyes and horn rings and heart point from, and beans to I guess

Maybe I should make a gene sheet one day; I gave her Jean shorts, like how I usually wear just cause I didn't want to add too much red or black

Okay, vaggie time!

Vaggie is the least changed. The most I really change about her is how her wings look. Her hand snow has soft spikes like moths do, and her hair

I do think when she fell, she got more demon aspects, but since her wings were torn off, she doesn't have to many physically other than fangs and the spikes

I also made her hair shorter because please, nobody has their hair that long!! or if they do, then I've never seen them!

I know it's a show, but it was driving me crazy! I'm not that skilled at draw front view bodies yet, so if vaggie looks off I'm sorry:(

Play that should be it!-

Oh wait, hold on, right. The reason they have gold rings/objects on them is because in term software demon courting their all technically married, okay bye-

[ele-sme]

3 years

3 years passed since Neteyam died in the last battle, 3 years passed since Quaritch died, shot again by an arrow.

3 years passed without humans on the way.

The grief took over the family for a year, then they had to move on.

Life was good now, Neteyam was missed dearly, but he now was in peace.

Lo'ak and Tsireya started official court, Tuk started training, Kiri decided to return to the forest and continue her training as Tsahìk, Spider, even if slowly was becoming a warrior for the sea clan.

Jake and Neytiri some how moved on, day wasn't passed without them going to check on their forever teen son.

But eventually they calmed down, even apologise to Spider.

Welcomed him into the family, and he slowly became an official part of it, growing strangely close to Neytiri.

She lost a son, he never had a mother, they needed the comfort of one another.

Still he didn't call her mom, but there was time, they had all the time in their life.

Until...

Tuk, Lo'ak and Spider spent all morning togheter.

They played with the water, swimmed, draw on the sand and so so much more.

Now they were laying on the soft sand, now colder and not hot.

Watching as the sun flew down and the sky became of an unnatural natural shape of orange.

Spider was in peace, this is all he ever hoped for.

Being accept, having a family to call his own, a father and a mother, siblings.

Although...

There was one thing he missed more than everything.

Neteyam.

His first friend, died because of him.

In 3 years everyone who visited him said to Spider how Neteyam's soul was not angry at him.

But he wanted to hear it from him...

The thought of never seeing Neteyam again...

Everyone could but not him, that wasn't fair, that was dishonest, this was mad-

But also will of the mother, if she wanted him to see Neteyam, he would have been born with a normal body, and not a pink tiny one.

The sun was now fully dissapering, and the bioluminescence was appearing.

"Guys!" Tsireya happy voice was heard, making Lo'ak jump up.

He greeted her with a kiss, which made Tuk do a disgusted sound.

"Reya, you should totally upper you standards" she said, making Tsireya chuckles and Lo'ak mad at his baby sister.

Spider close his eyes when they started to yell at one another.

So goddamn similar to eachother.

...

...

...

Something was wrong...

Spider felt wrong.

Breathing was hard.

His eyes didn't want to open.

What was happening?!

What the f-

"Spider"

...

Spider forgot about this voice, Something he never wanted to admit out loud but made him cry for months.

But this...this was Neteyam voice!

Spider eyes were close but he could feel Neteyam sitting next to him.

"Dude" he said, Spider couldn't reply, like his lips were glue togheter.

"It's been a while" Neteyam said, as he played a little with Spider's locks.

Why was Neteyam there? Was this a dream?

"I need to bring you there, a direct order" he continued

Oh

As a tear fell off Spider cheek, he gave the other a smile.

He could feel Neteyam taking his oxygen mask off.

Although he could also still feel it but that feeling was faitinig away.

He finally open his eyes again, Neteyam next to him smiling happily at the boy.

Spider sit up right and he finally after so long hugged Neteyam.

"She wants you there personally, she loves you so much i swear, she can't stop talking about you" Neteyam said in the hug.

As they pull away, Spider looked at his friends and siblings.

Tuk and Lo'ak still yelling at eachother meanwhile Tsireya tried to calm them.

"What about them?" He asked, and Neteyam's face was longing.

He wished to remain there for them too.

But this wasn't how the mother wanted.

"They will go on, they're strong" he said.

He offered a hand for standing up, which Spider kindly accepted, he was now standing.

He chuckles when he noticed that he was somehow teller then Neteyam.

' must be a dead thing '

"Ohh shut up" Neteyam said without even letting him start.

With the same hand, he helped Spider step out of his physical body.

Who was now resting in peace, soon to be laid with the ancestors.

Hand in hand they walked in the forest.

"Don't turn away to face them, that would only hurt more" Neteyam said, tightening his grip on Spider's hand.

In the distance there was Tuk, who scream that Spider couldn't breath.

Another few steps and a cold bloody scream came from behind them.

"There's also a human woman waiting for you" Neteyam said, grinning at Spider.

"My...?" Neteyam nodded immediately.

Waiting for them a latin woman, with a shine smile on her face she said hello to her son.

Hugging him tightly when he arrived.

"Come my son, she been waiting for you"

And them three walked away, leaving behind an horrific scene.

Of two parents loosing both young sons in less then five years.

[genericpuff]

Do you have any recommendations for comics on tapas? I'm rather new to the app so I wondered if you had any. Sorry if someone already asked!

Oh, so many! Tapas was one of my OG homes waaay back in the day, when I was still getting into drawing comics (back then it was gag-a-days). I spent a lot of time reading comics on there and it was one of my first introductions to comic platforms in general (next to SmackJeeves, RIP).

Rock and Riot - 1950's LGBTQ+ gangster teenagers getting into shenanigans and turf wars. Very cute and fun and adorable <3

Monster Pop! - Monster girls who are besties! This one has some real gorgeous art especially if you like the original vibes of S1 LO, lots of bright beautiful colors and lineless shapes. The creator of this comic, mayakern, now develops comfortable and eco-friendly skirts with her wife and pals for plus-sized folks! (they have pockets!)

A BETTER PLACE - Young girl Hannah and her little brother Theo find something cool in the woods. Children becoming gods. This was one of those comics that had some REALLY cool "you had to be there" time travel elements that aren't quite as immersive in hindsight (I was one of those people who were there and DAMN it was awesome), but it's still absolutely worth the read and it operates as a sort of prequel to another one of Harry Bogosian's comics on the platform.

Fail by Error - This comic is long since done with, its creator having moved on to bigger things, but at one point in time, this was the titan series on Tapas, before the platform became predominantly BL's and isekais. Fail by Error was truly one of the best of the best of Tapas-hosted comics from its golden era of comedy comics. Also the creator made art for me once and I still have it! <3

(my babieees <3)

RandoWis - funny gag strip is funny ! He also draws an MMO-themed comic that - coincidentally - when I double checked, looks like it stopped updating in 2021 until two days ago. So yeah, good time to check that one out too!

Undying Happiness - Naomi takes a chance on love and decides to meet up with a guy she met online. He turns out to not look like the guy in the photos in the most hilariously absurd way.

Deep Fried Pudge - Okay, this is a really weird inclusion because like... this comic isn't good. This comic is painfully bad. Like, "roll your eyes into the back of your skull at your dad's stupid jokes" bad. This comic has not stopped updating daily since 2012. It literally just had its 11 year anniversary. Every update is just a single panel either making some pun or just stating very innocent, inoffensive opinions. There are four thousand of these things. And every single one is done with the same art style and joke structure as before, the comics from today look and feel like a 7 year old made them the exact same way they did 10 years ago, as if trapped in a hellish time capsule of its own design, and I love it, I freaking love it. Its existence quite literally defies human nature. Reading it and attempting to comprehend why it exists is like staring into the eyes of some Eldritch god that chose peace over chaos. Pudge will outlive all of us. Pudge will outlive the universe. All hail Pudge.

[docholligay]

Shamash Answers: Writing Day Final

Points for everyone who played! Not because there were a tiny amount of answers, I just decided everyone who answered this one was going to get a point early on, since it was a tough one.

One point:

She stumbled out. The house behind her croaked out, like the dying animal it was. Not looking behind her, she reached for her car keys. --Jack (I can't tag you so pay attention to the draw!)

Well. If she had to die, that seemed a reasonable way to go about it. --@seolh (I do low key want to use this)

"I'm supposed to do what with the flour?" ---@madegeeky

Nope, I suck at this, sorry! -- (The beginning of a novel about me, as someone starts telling me about their childhood trauma ahaha) @vassekocho

"You know..." the woman said, looking down at the mass of activity outside the third story window. "I really do love how many specialized words exist." Her companion merely grunted. The woman continued. "It really is wonderful that there is a word for throwing someone ass over tea kettle out a window." --@shavedjudomonkey

Petals clustered in the street, undisturbed by wind or rain, though still reflecting the blue and red of their lights. "I just don't get how those girls are always gone before we're here," Margritte grumbled as she stomped on her finished cigarette. "All. Ways." "When the response time to this neighborhood is twenty goddamned minutes, do you think they're just going to wait around?" Isobel answered, never taking her eyes from her work. Margritte rolled her eyes and debated lighting another. She decided not, seeing Isobel stand up, surveying the outline she'd made. Chalk surrounded the petals. A monstrous shape. But still belonging to a human. A murder, same as any outline. -- @katrani

3rd place, 2 points (Very very narrow between third and second here)

Hollywood and many excellent or otherwise books have prepared society to expect horrific news to be cloaked in muted greys, a terrific downpour of rain, thunderous cloud heads, and the creeping onset of night. Haruka gripped that knowledge tightly to her heart as her fingers clenched around the doorknob, staring out over the shoulder of the CNO standing on her porch, framed by a beautifully clear and balmy spring day. --@rhiorhino

2nd place, 3 points!

It was a romantic story. Beautifully sweet. As long as you stopped before he began to regret the loss of his originally intended life. Before the rat of guilt, born of that regret, began gnawing along the edges of what his life had become. Before she fortified her life against that rat through their children. Before the bitterness that could only have come from such a romantic beginning. --@incorrecttact

1st place, 4 points!

I woke up dead this morning. Or someone who looks like me did: she was cold in my bed when I turned around, and stiff as anything. I just don't know if I can say that if I call in sick to work, you know? -- @everybodyknows-everybodydies

[neerbear]

To celebrate reaching (over) 1k followers on here, I am opening up a DTIYS challenge!

PRIZES:

Fully shaded character half body

Fully shaded character bust

Flat colour character half body

HOW TO ENTER:

You have 2 options - you can either redraw the same pieces as me (the one above) OR you can choose EITHER (or both!) of these characters and ANY of their designs (see ref sheet below) and draw them in ANY pose + setting YOU want!! This DTIYS challenge is supposed to be as open/free as possible, so I suggest you go with the second option and let your imagination run wild!!

OUTFITS REF:

I'll have a quick bio about each character at the end of the post - so check that out as well to get inspo!

I will be reblogging ALL the entries I find! If I didn't reblog yours - feel free to DM me, I might have missed it.

RULES:

No tracing!

Absolutely NO AI (at all, in any shape or form)

Must follow me (if you post on multiple social medias, following me on just one of them is enough)

Use the #neerDTIYS and @ me!

Gore and nudity (nsfw included) are ALLOWED, just tag them properly so others can filter easily!

ABOUT THE CHARACTERS:

This is just for those that will be drawing from their own imagination (or just want to know more)!

Master Hua / Lin Meixiu

Former Goddess of War. In her human life, she used to be a general, who got gravely injured during war and decided to spend her last moments with the people, leading to her hearing how everyone was grieving losses or dying from injuries, cursing the war, the rich and the generals themselves. A strange man saved her - the (then) God of War - and appointed her as his disciple. She trained under him and after his demise, she became the new Goddess of War, with everyone praising her strength and intelligence. After the Great Heavenly War against the devils, Goddess Lin Meixiu concentrated on trying to protect peace, so no more wars would ever happen. Her companions, the other Gods, took in disciples after that, yet she was the only one who refused any disciple, stating that the best God of War is self-made and only by being strong enough to defeat her can anyone hope to replace her. This angered a student who desperately wanted to become her disciple, to the point where he'd train every day and challenge her every year - but he would always lose. He and his friend (who turned out to be the son of one of the devils she killed in war) hacked a plan to get rid of all the current Gods and replace them. Their plan was successful, and after watching all of her brethren die, Lin Meixiu was prepared to join them, but (because of her great inner strength) she survived, injured and weak. Instead of returning to the Heavens, she stayed in the mortal realm and lead a simple life there.

Xiao Shuilong / Guo Xifeng

Her true form is that of a dragon, but she has successfully cultivated a human form. When she was little, her dragon village faced a great disaster. The Heavens blamed the dragonfolk so they sent the Goddess of War to investigate and kill them. When she arrived, however, she quickly understood the situation and saved the dragons, instead. Before she left, she performed a dance for them, as a gift to the young hatchling of noble blood. The dragons then swore their undying loyalty to her. When Guo Xifeng grew up, she decided to pursue her lifelong dream of becoming the Goddess' disciple, so she headed to the heavens to sign up as a student. She won every competition and caught the eye of all the Gods, who allowed her to choose any God she wanted as her master (assuming that God agreed to it, as well). She instantly asked for Goddess Lin Meixiu, but was informed of her passing. During her moment of shock and horror, she was appointed as the disciple of the current God of War, instead. Every day, she would ask about her Goddess, but no one gave her a truthful answer about her passing. One day, long into her training, she overheard her teacher discussing the matter of Lin Meixiu's death, in which she found out the truth. In a fit of rage, she decided to avenge her Goddess by murdering the two Gods, but she was defeated and sent to the dungeons. There, the devil's son poisoned her with his demonic energy and she went mad, turning into her dragon form and destroying half of the place before being defeated again and sent crashing down to the mortal realm, heavily injured and with amnesia.

THEM

The injured dragon was found by a woman, who helped heal the dragon enough to give it a human form and drag it back to her home to further heal it. When the dragon lady woke up, it was obvious she had lost her memories. The strange woman introduced herself as an ordinary flower spirit named Hua. She named the dragon Xiao Shuilong, since she was found in the waters outside. Although Hua wanted to continue living her life, Xiao Shuilong was determined to retrieve her memories, so the two of them started investigating her origins. Every so often, the demonic energy in Xiao Shuilong's body overwhelms her, making her go crazy and turn into her dragon form - but Master Hua found that with dual cultivation, she is able to suppress demonic energy and bring Xiao Shuilong back to sanity. This might have heavy consequences later down the line... The rest you'll just have to read when the novel comes out 😉

[romirola]

Aggro, Bob, and Cheese at the Vet

When @claracatlady shared the brilliant headcanon that William Solaire owns a pampered, spoiled ragdoll cat named Bob, I was inspired to imagine how Bob and Aggro would get along, resulting in this post, and then this post, and then even a few fics that feature cameo appearances by Bob. (This fic is complete, while this one is currently ongoing. Recently, though, @slushiepizza shared that they headcanon Guy and Honey adopted a cat named Cheese. Obviously, this development led me to wonder how this kitty trio might cross paths...

Despite their many differences in lifestyle, fur type, and preferred petting, Aggro and Bob are best friends. It's no surprise that during a playdate, Milo gives William the name and contact information of Aggro's feline-exclusive vet when William decides that he won't subject Bob to a waiting room full of barking dogs, squawking birds, and even the occasional ferret scurrying about the floor. By pure happenstance, Aggro ends up getting stung by a bee the same day as Bob has his first annual check-up.

The diagnoses? Aggro is going to be just fine, though he needs to stay the night due to the heavy bout of antibiotics he's on to prevent his eye from developing an infection. Bob is in tip-top shape, but due to the vet wanting to be thorough and get a baseline of Bob's health, he will have to stay the night to complete some bloodwork and wait for the results.

William and Milo are so sad to leave their sons at the vet, but their health comes first. So, after many goodbye kisses and pets, they leave with empty carriers, counting down the hours until they can pick up their cats again. They are supposed to return to pick them up around 4PM the following day.

Meanwhile, Bob and Aggro are settled into the back room. The staff takes very good care of all boarding patients, including a spacious cage, providing soft towels, a clean litter box, and nutritious food based on the cat's health.

But, still. It's the vet. And Aggro and Bob hate the vet. They hate being in this strange place, with strange people, who all smell and sound strange. It's awful, and neither cat has any problem making that displeasure known. They hiss and growl, swat and bite. If given the chance, they'll even make a break for it and try to escape into the examination rooms. When any staff member tries to do anything to Aggro or Bob, they have to wear big, thick gloves and sometimes, even try to get a mask over their eyes to "relax" them.

Neither Bob nor Aggro finds that mask relaxing. And, yes, they take it off.

Bob and Aggro happen to be placed in adjacent cages, facing a cage that is occupied by none other than Cheese, who is waiting patiently and quietly for her humans to come get her. She is a good girl. Guy and Honey always tell her so. She does not bite or claw, because that would be rude. The staff all speak nicely and softly to her, even if they are jamming some syringe full of icky-tasting liquid down her throat. When Cheese arrived at the vet, her paw really, really hurt when she walked on it. Now, her paw still hurt a little bit, but it was much better, so these different humans must have been doing something good.

Aggro, ever one to establish himself as alpha-cat no matter what kind of medication he was taking, yowls at this newcomer. He puffs himself up so that his gray fur stands on end, claws extended, as he side-hops around the edge of the cage. Bob is unamused, licking at the paw the vet tech had the gall to shave to draw blood from him.

Cheese stares at Aggro with odd fascination. She's not used to aggression in the slightest. "Me-rrow?" She pushes a ball towards Aggro, through the bars of his cage. Maybe if this gray cat batted around a ball, he'd feel better? Batting around a ball always made Cheese feel happy, especially when Guy chased it around with her

Aggro continues his tirade. Bob, however, suddenly grows attentive when he saw the ball hop out of Cheese's cage and onto the hard floor. Bob loves chasing balls around William's mansion. And suddenly, the fact that he was cooped up in a cage is quite an inconvenience. Ever one to handle inconveniences, Bob begins to scream his displeasure, begging for someone to procure that ball from him.

Cheese pulls her ears back at Bob's desperate cries. She flattens herself against the floor, long fur splaying out from her belly. All she had wanted to do was share her ball, and now these other cats were all upset.

Alarmed at his friends sudden change in demeanor, Aggro joins the calls, adding his own voice. The chorus of cries rang out loudly, echoing throughout the room and beyond.

Soon enough, Cheese, too, feels compelled to join in with the meowing. It looks fun, and she always wants to help. She let her own voice squeaky voice add a particularly desperate, pitiful tone to the song.

It doesn't take long for a human to come bursting into the room. "Oh my gosh, what is it?" they ask worriedly. "What's wrong? What?" They spot the ball on the floor. They quickly retrieve that ball and two others, giving one to each cat, before rushing off to an examine room. "Bye now! Be good!" they trill.

Silence falls over the room as Aggro, Bob, and Cheese enjoy the spoils of their vocal hunt...

...until the cats collectively realize the power that their voices held when together. Alone? They were powerless. But together?

They had this vet clinic at their beck and meow.

It's a long, long day for the staff. At 8:01AM, Milo, William, and Guy all receive the following phone call:

"Hi, yes, your cat is all set and ready to come home. Could you come pick up your cat early? As early as you can get here, preferably. Aggro/Bob/Cheese just really wants to come home. Please? Please come get your cat?"

Aggro, Bob, and Cheese hate the vet, but they are quite pleased to have made a new friend.

[trashboatprince]

Drabbled idea, crossover style: 10th Doctor and Crowley stand off while Donna and Aziraphale watch

Gosh, I always love writing Ten and Crowley interacting, it's a lot of fun. :D

On with the fic!

--

Donna stared at the two man-shaped beings as one sat on a couch, the other holding a book open in his hands. The third man-shaped being in the room, the one that didn't look like the first two, was gripping his teacup rather tightly, his eyes never leaving that book.

"You can't just tell me that this was made in a workshop! Impossible!" The Doctor shouted, jabbing a finger at an old drawing of the sun, Aziraphale wincing at the hard jabs.

"I am tellin' you, cause it's bloody true!" Crowley shouted back. "I should know, I helped make it!"

"I've seen the thing explode! Hell, I can go back in time right now and watch it get made! I saw that with the Earth! Remember, Donna? It was during our first adventure!"

Donna snorted. "Yeah, I remember. It was right after I found out that my fiance was going to feed me to a giant spider's babies in order to take over the world. On my wedding day."

Aziraphale made a face. "What a terrible way to celebrate your wedding."

"Well, didn't help that I missed the blasted thing cause of him." She gestured at the Doctor, who gasped, putting a hand to his chest.

"Not my fault! You know this! It was the-"

"Yeah, yeah, ancient particles and all that. What the hell are you two even fighting about over there?" Donna asked, raising an eyebrow. "You two were doing just fine all morning, wouldn't shut up about this and that!"

Crowley made a face. "This guy here is telling me that it's impossible for angels to have created the building blocks of the universe. And even more impossible for this former angel, that being me, to have made stars. Specifically the one this planet is circling around."

"It is! I've seen stars be created!" The Doctor threw his hands up in the air and Aziraphale snapped his fingers, the book was now gone, probably back on a shelf or something. "My own people have helped in development on some!"

"That's cause Heaven decided to let some other lifeforms do what we do. It's, ya know, cheaper labor." Crowley said, waving a hand about.

"Cheaper la-!? Next you're going to be telling me that the universe was made only a few thousand years ago!"

Crowley made a weird series of noises that could have been words but Donna didn't catch any of it, not even the TARDIS could translate that string of nonsense. The Doctor stared in shock. "No."

"Yeeeeaaaahhhh... like, it's hard to explain, time is insane when it comes to angels and demons, we've got our own system and all that. Somehow the humans learned about it and now there's some people who really believe that, but it's like, really? Really? Nah. But yeah, to me, over six thousand years, 's not a big deal."

The Doctor looked like he wanted to throw a fit. Donna almost leaned over to ask Aziraphale if he had any popcorn for this show, but he seemed to be on the same wavelength as her, already holding up a bag for her to take a few pieces.

--

I still trust David's judgement on Crowley and Ten being very fast friends, but I just know that they would argue about science. Angel/demon science makes sense! When you're an angel or a demon.

Not really a standoff, but they're about to have a big nerd fight.

[still-a-morosexual-help]

@🌹anon asked about my ocs sometime back and as I was answering it rn I accidentally deleted the entire thing😭😭😭😭😭

I'm gonna try and write whatever I remember again✌️:

Yes I did it again (shut up);

I'm such a fucking idiot, I found the "deleted ask" hidden deep in my drafts - apparently it went there when I lost my internet connection but instead of getting saved at the top of my drafts it got saved on the day anon first sent me the ask so somewhere in the middle between other drafts??? Anyway:

!!!You asked for it!!

They were all created for some game or another (characters I'll be able to toss away once I'm done playing the games) But I ended up falling in love with all of them🤡

I can't draw people for shit & I don't wanna describe appearances so I'm gonna use picrews (with links added for anyone who wants to use 'em too)

Starting from first created to last & answering it like I'm making them character profiles for a dating sim (but leaving out the three from Choices 'cause I don't know if they can be considered proper ocs rather than just characters the game handed us? Also leaving out the others from fictif because they're not as well developed)

1. "Lex" Alexandra Lane

(Lex after Lex Luthor and Lane after Lois Lane because I think I'm funny)

[1] , [2]

Origin: Love Island the Game S2

25 at beginning now 26 years (Birthday: November 16th)

5'5"

She/Her

Bisexual

Professional Cellist

English/British because the game didn't give me a choice

Married at 26 (because the game gives you no option), will definitely have a couple kids at some point

No gross out factor - probably ate bugs as a kid. Probably will still eat a bug off the ground if dared to. Biggest point of pride is that she can do a backflip in heels. Loves fashion/beautiful clothes that are usually stupidly expensive. Biting her lip and making bedroom eyes at every single person but really just wants to fall in love and settle down. Hates confrontation/any sort of fight but also really wants to know everything about everyone's business. Good at being the mediator. Always the big spoon. Actually pretty buff - can absolutely bench you.

2. Eliza Ramskin

(Eliza after the official name of the porcelain apple doll sitting in a box on my cupboard but then I decided I didn't want it to stand for Elizabeth so now it stands for "A Lizard" after the rubber gecko pasted on my bedroom wall. Ramskin: a bad pun because of the game)

[1] , [2] (yes the little frog is supposed to be me)

Origin: Obey Me!

23 at beginning now 26 years (Birthday: April 21st)

5'10"

They/Them

Queer

Wildlife Photographer

Has chronic pain

Has a scar over one eyebrow - will smugly tell you a cool story for it. In reality dropped a jar of peanut butter on their face. + top surgery scars

-> Essentially just om! gen MC with a background and name. Have you read my post about gen MC's canon facts? Have you read any of my gen MC theory posts, where I take individual canon facts & connect them to see what happens? Have you read any of my obey me! fics? Can you remember what general MC was like in them? Then you know exactly what Eliza is like. But still, here are some of my favourite parts:

Ambiguously human. Would fight God at 2am in a Denny's parking lot and WIN. They're very lowkey an asshole but underneath that they're kinda nice but underneath that they're a bigger asshole but underneath that they're even nicer and so on and so forth. Surprisingly down for murder. 0 self preservation + 0 shame + 0 fear + max drive & determination + max stubborness + max can do attitude + unconsciously charming + actually pretty strong + danger kink + horny = the world's greatest monster fucker.

3. Len

(Len's short for Lenora which she no longer goes by but irl named after my Lenova laptop, No surname.)

[1] , [2]

Origin: The Arcana

31 years (Birthday: June 7th)

5'11"

She/They

Bisexual

Same occupation as the game's MC

The only one who has a defined body shape in my mind and that body shape is plank of wood

Pitch black eyes that reflects no light. Vague cryptid energy. Stoic, cold yet thin polite smile that seems very surface level. Posture's so good just looking at her makes your back hurt. Warms up once you get to know her; is caring and gentle and understanding and soothing but also stuborn and tough/harsh/strict. Responsible but also has no problem breaking the law if needed. Dreams of travelling the world. Gives off black cat energy but is a dog person. Sadistic in both the sexy and unsexy way. Bad puns. So much untapped potential to be a super villain. I think I accidentally just created a female version of om!'s Lucifer...

4. Vale Knight

(Vale after welcome to night vale which I hadn't watched at the time, Knight from the same place but it's also a pun because of what happens to them in the game)

[1] , [2]

Origin: Last Legacy

28 years (July 10th)

6'0"

They/Them

Queer Polyamorous

Same occupation as the game's MC

Not only are they a weeb they're an ASSHOLE. The kind of person to get stabbed because their first instinct was to mock the mugger. Decided to dye their hair for cosplay once and then went "wait a minute -" A shameless flirt until someone flirts back and then they're a flustered annoyed mess. Had a lot of jobs over the years, currently a barista - doesn't want to be a barista forever but doesn't know what they want to do (other than gaming, watching movies/shows/anime, reading books/comics/manga) until they accidentally discover a passion for medicine and go to nursing school

5. River Bouwmeester

(River after Lake from Infinity Train which I've never watched, Bouwmeester because it's a Dutch surname meaning "master builder" because they work as a home renovater)

[1]

Origin: Monster Manor

27 years

5'1"

He/They

Queer

Same occupation as the game's MC

American (because the game gave me no choice) with probably Dutch origins from their father's side

Couple of big scars here and there

BIG "I can fix him energy". Moves around a lot = not much possibility for a long term stable relationship = oblivious and shy when it comes to romantic attraction. Strong, patient, practical. Very little can rattle them. Came from a long family line of home renovaters/builders (of the magic, strange & weird) but no close living family. Unironically loves bob the builder. Trying very hard to forget about the fact that they're extremely lonely by keeping up a very positive optimistic attitude. Their truck is their pride & joy. Absolutely loves their job even though it's what causes them to move about so much and so makes it hard to form close connections. Very friendly from the first moment but isn't tolerant of anyone's bullshit.

6. Roo Kidd

(Roo after the baby kangaroo from Winnie the Pooh, Kidd because the baby kangaroo was a kid. Surprisingly the actual meanings behind both names fit with their character/circumstances)

[1] , [2]

Origin: Twisted Wonderland

16 years (Birthday January 10th)

5'7"

He/They

Gay Demiromantic Asexual

Wears reading glasses

Lots of small scars from scrapes and scratches all along body

Always cold + loves cute clothes = wearing summer dresses and instantly regretting it. Head in the clouds 7 outta 10 times. Has never felt romantic attraction before - believed they never would and was 100% okay with that - so the one time they did start feeling it went "wow I'm really into this friendship" and stayed oblivious for an annoyingly long time. Also similarly oblivious to romantic attraction directed at them. Kinda klutzy. Big wet eyes. Big bright smile. A ball of sunshine but also really snarky. "This might as well happen" energy. Fast with quick reflexes and a sharp eye for detail. A cunning edge that comes out only during emergencies. Strength of a wet noodle though. Gets a shitty impromptu/accidental haircut that leads to him buzzing it all off and having to grow it back.

[cherry-valentine]

Spring 2023 Anime Season

Here’s what I’m watching!

Dr. Stone Season 3 was probably the series I was most looking forward to. The basic setup is this: a mysterious green light spreads over the entire world, turning all human beings into stone. Thousands of years later, teenage genius Senku awakens from his stone prison and decides to save all of humanity, bringing them back to the modern scientific age in the process. Unlike most popular shounen series, the focus of the story is notably not on fighting, action, training, chasing a dream, or even “the power of friendship”. It’s very much centered on Senku and his allies rebuilding society, recreating important scientific inventions, exploring, etc. There is some action, even some fighting, but the long stretches without either manage to be entertaining and, at times, thrilling all the same. The show also makes a point of telling us that physical fighting ability is definitely not the only thing that determines how strong or useful a character is. Senku himself is physically rather weak, especially when compared to the characters who can fight. But he’s super intelligent. There are characters who are good at lots of various things and are considered strong and important even if they wouldn’t stand a chance in a fight. I feel like this sets the series apart from other anime that focus so strongly on power levels and such. This season’s plot focuses on the characters exploring an island with a different village of people living on it, ones who might hold the secret of the petrification beam that swept over the earth thousands of years ago. The animation is great. The male character designs are great. The female character designs… not so great. I’m just not crazy about how the mangaka draws women. They all have enormous eyes that are drawn way too far apart. It’s a strange visual. But that’s a minor complaint. The music is fantastic, with my favorite ending theme of the season. If you haven’t tried Dr. Stone yet, you owe it to yourself to fix that mistake.

Hell’s Paradise is a series I was very excited to try. I’ve had the first few volumes of the manga on my Amazon wishlist for like two years now but never went ahead and bought them. The story is about a mysterious island that’s said to hold the elixir of immortality, but no one has come back from it alive. A group of dangerous death row prisoners are offered pardons if they can go to the island, find the elixir, and return with it. They’re accompanied by members of a clan full of government executioners who are highly skilled with the sword. The main character is Gabimaru, a notorious ninja assassin who was betrayed by his village and just wants to make it home to his beloved wife. This simple desire to be with the woman he loves makes Gabimaru easy to root for. The secondary protagonist is Sagiri, the executioner assigned to Gabimaru, and she’s where my main problem with the series is most clear. In the first episode, Sagiri is a stoic, badass swordswoman who is unfazed by Gabimaru’s seeming immorality and is so skilled that he’s legitimately afraid of her. She was quickly shaping up to be one of my favorite characters of the season. But then episode two comes along, and suddenly Sagiri is weepy and frightened and being derided as weak by her peers. We also get several of these shots that are supposed to represent her fear but are just images of her naked body being clawed and groped. I’ve never seen a character get nerfed so fast. Episode three restores my faith in her. Episode four has her being weak again. And so on. It’s a bizarre roller coaster that creates a very uneven experience for viewers who were excited to have a badass heroine. There are other female characters, though most of them are also used for fanservice. As it currently stands, Sagiri is back to being badass, so who knows how this will turn out? Aside from that issue, the show is pretty good. The animation and design work are gorgeous. The opening theme is easily the best of the season. The creature/monster designs are unique and interesting. It’s definitely worth watching, but I still wish Sagiri’s character had been a bit more consistent.

Kimetsu no Yaiba Season 3 is, as I understand it, the second movie broken up into tv episodes the way the Mugen Train movie was done last season. I haven’t watched this movie so this is all new content for me. As usual for this series, the production values are sky high, with breathtaking animation and incredible music. I’ve said it many times before, but Kimetsu no Yaiba’s strength really is in its gorgeous presentation. The story isn’t bad by any means but it is fairly standard shounen fighting anime fare. But it’s not just the animation and music that elevate the show. The design work, for the characters as well as the various demons and weapons and settings, is fantastic. The fight choreography is top notch. It’s all the little details, it’s the voice acting, it’s the beautiful colors, it’s everything coming together to make this series so damn watchable. To explain what I mean, the first episode of this season was a double length episode, but I watched it and had no idea until I later skimmed the comments. It was double length and it still felt short. That’s how you know something is highly entertaining. High on my watch list.

My Home Hero is a compelling cat and mouse game. It follows Tetsuo, a seemingly average middle aged father who finds out his daughter is dating an abusive yakuza thug and decides to take matters into his own hands. He ends up killing the boyfriend, and the rest of the series is about his attempts to keep this fact hidden from both his daughter and the dangerous yakuza family that is searching for answers. What follows is a tense, thrilling roller coaster. Tetsuo is a kind and caring father who looks like an unassuming salaryman, but he has a ruthless, cunning side to him that comes out when he needs to protect his family. He’s physically weak but incredibly intelligent and armed with a lifetime of reading mystery books. His only true ally is his wife Kasen, who is just an absolute delight. She never questions Tetsuo’s motives and doesn’t even bat an eye when he tells her he killed someone to protect their daughter. She just rolls up her sleeves and gets to work on helping him dispose of the body. She proves to be a strong asset, as her creativity and fearless nature get them out of trouble several times. The way the couple works together as a team is honestly very heartwarming. Even if they’re working to cover up a murder. The show has one major flaw, however, and that’s the animation. While it’s definitely not the worst I’ve seen, it’s certainly not good. I’m assuming it had a low budget. But it says a lot about the quality of the writing that this is one of my favorite shows this season despite the subpar visuals. Highly recommended.

Skip to Loafer is a sweet and gentle palette cleanser after all the intense shows I’m watching throughout the week. It’s a high school slice of life series about a country girl named Mitsumi moving to Tokyo to go to a better school and meet new friends. Mitsumi is well meaning, smart, and ambitious, but she’s also easily distracted and a bit clumsy (not in the usual cutesy way, but in the accidentally puking on her teacher on the first day of school way). Her life could be summed up as one of those “expectation vs reality” memes, but a big part of her character arc is understanding that things not going according to plan is not necessarily a bad thing. The supporting cast is made up of interesting characters that manage to be unique without being exaggerated caricatures. Most important (narratively) among them is Shima, a handsome and popular young man who seems aloof and carefree, but of course there’s more to him than that. His relationship with Mitsumi is one of the main plot points of the series. It’s also worth noting that Mitsumi lives with her aunt Nao, who is a trans woman. From what I’ve read/heard, Nao has been well received and counts as positive representation. She’s a funny, cute, engaging character who is never reduced to a stereotype. The show overall has a calm, soothing feel to it, with pastel colors and peppy music. Recommended.

Best of Season:

Best New Series: My Home Hero

Best Opening Theme: Hell’s Paradise

Best Ending Theme: Dr. Stone

Best New Male Character: Tetsuo (My Home Hero)

Best New Female Character: Mitsumi (Skip to Loafer)

[thepaintedlady00]

Nightshade Chapter 7 Sneak Peeks!

Sorry this has taken so long! Last week was swamped and this week started off with a dentist appointment and my little down getting just absolutely slammed with snow! But here's the sneak peeks!

Since this one was a tie I decided to cut both peeks in half and give y'all a little bit of both! Enjoy!

👬

He squeezed past the busty doe-eyed girl as she smiled, batting her eyelashes at him, and made his way upstairs to change. When he opened his locker to find the familiar sleek black leather of his jacket Jake smiled. How the hell did she even get this up here? Her perfume was all of it, covering up the musk he'd been so used to the old thing holding. God, he wanted to hold it to his nose and burn that smell into his sinuses.

After he changed the doorway filled with the familiar copper-haired brute and the thinner bald man. Patrick and Peter looked around for a minute before they looked at each other. "You wanna start or should I?

Peter scoffed, "I'm the oldest, I'll start."

"There a problem?" Jake asked calmly. If they'd wanted to kick his ass Patrick would have done it by now.

"Not yet," Patrick replied, keeping his arm out as Peter took a step forward.

"I've heard a lot about you," the brother said with a grin. "Oz and Pat have been pretty good at keeping me in the loop when it comes to you and my little sister."

Jake shook his head, leaning back against his locker. "There's not much to tell. We're friends."

Patrick rolled his eyes, mumbling something in a different language that made Peter chuckle. "Friends is hardly the word I'd use to describe you two. But, I don't really care what you call it so long as one thing stays the same. You respect her."

"God knows she's had enough of dumb little pretty boys taking advantage of her kindness," Patrick added, giving him a stern look, not unlike the ones he'd been giving him from the start. 

"Listen, Jake," Peter continued. "I know my sister. I know she comes off as this strong, indestructible force of nature that can kick anyone's ass and that doesn't feel a damn thing." He winced as he shifted, balancing himself on Patrick's waiting arm. "Lena is strong… One of the strongest people I know, but she's still human. It still hurts when people she cares about let her down."

"And you think she cares about me?" He asked, trying to sound amused to cover up the way he genuinely wanted to know.

Patrick nodded, quietly making sure Peter wouldn't fall. "She doesn't bring just anyone to the old place and she's brought you more than enough times. Even talked about pops."

"She also shared Cape Cod with you." Peter nodded. "Yeah, I know about that."

💄

Jake felt light, almost weightless as he lay in the warm bed basking in the rays of sunlight. The air around him was laced with the sweet smell of perfume, cherry with hints of rose and light woodsy leather. It was intoxicating and the more he breathed it in the more he found himself craving the smell. A weight was comfortably settled onto his chest as his fingers ran through silky strands of hair. His blunt nails scratched her head drawing out soft noises of contentment. He chuckled, an odd sense of joy rushing through his veins.

“What’s funny?” She asked, lifting her head off his chest.

Opening his eyes he smiled up at the sunlit halo of red hair and sparkling green eyes that stared down at him. “Nothing at all.”

Her eyebrows lifted as amusement made her face even more beautiful. “Nothing at all? Why do I not believe you?”

“Calling me a liar?” He teased, his hands running along her smooth skin, tracing the curved shape of her snake tattoo up her spine. “In my own bed, that’s rather inconsiderate.”

“You weren’t complaining earlier,” she teased back leaning into him, her fingers tracing his lips. Jake watched her face slowly soften, looking at him like he was everything to her. “You never thought you’d get this attached, did you?”

Cold weight started creeping back into his body as his mind recognized the dream. He still clung to her, clung to her soft skin beneath his fingers, the loving gaze she gave him, the smell of her perfume. Jake still closed his eyes when she leaned in to kiss him and he still hesitated to pull away even though he couldn’t even feel her lips against his.

When he opened his eyes again she was gone and he was alone. He set his hand against his chest, taking in deep breaths to try and escape the sudden breathlessness. Rolling onto his side he looked at the empty space beside him, quietly recalling the sight of her bare back and that damn tattoo that he now knew painted her skin. Jake forced himself up and followed his shitty routine to get himself ready for another long night of service. It was starting to get ridiculous the never-changing nature of bartending at 22West.

He found himself thinking about what would have happened if he had actually gone through with his plans with Scott. Would he have his own restaurant? A bar that wasn’t constantly surrounded by rich assholes that had more money than god and were still stingy with their tips? Would he get to wear what he wanted and throw people out when they’d clearly had enough? No. He reminded himself. It was a dumb idea, rushed and poorly thought out. It would have failed before it even started. Simone was right… All that was just a pipedream meant to help keep him from going insane with the mundane normalcy of life.

[creator-of-roselle]

Remeeting Roselle

I am change Roselle Lord to fit in x men 97

How Roselle was conceive?:

Roselle was conceive though pure love not doing it(if you know, you know). Her parents love each other so much that love make Rose formed herself into a chrysalis and had Roselle while in the chrysalis.

Info:

Roselle Elena Marie de la Rosa Montoya was born to Poseidon and the former colonizer Rose Quartz(Pink Diamond) in New Orleans on November 1st, 1960. Rose formed herself into chrysalis and Roselle was born from there, taking Rose's gem. While in the chrysalis, Rose shape Roselle from the bone, organs, skin, and everything else(so very gruesome) leading to Rose to be inside of Roselle body. It fail the first time, but Rose redo it and it took two years to have Roselle on November 2nd, 1962 (hits why Roselle has two birthdates) or Rose was able to reform herself as a chrysalis inside of Roselle that eventually bloomed and rebirth her from Roselle.

Childhood:

Roselle's childhood was happy childhood and she was fairly innocent, naive, and happy child. She see the world fill with good people, but one faithful day in the age of four, she meet her first friend and best friend, Crystalline who was also a gem who can shape into a 15 year old japanese human girl. The reason why Roselle did have a lot of friends it's because kids didn't how blunt and the unable to lie.

how did Roselle know she own earth?:

Poseidon told her, she was inherited earth from her dead mother. She was happy and want to protect earth her like her dead mother use to do. She didn't like the word colonizer and decided to call her "The Queen of Earth".

before meeting her best friend:

One day, Roselle see a baby for the first time, she feels in love with the idea to become a mother. She draw herself as a mother. She decided to visit the goddess of childbirth to see if she can have children in future, but the goddess told her she couldn't have children. Once, Roselle was home, she pray to any god to let her to have a child and willing to take the consequences.

Roselle's abusive friendship:

Crystalline let Roselle to be believe she was good person, but Crystalline show her true nature and physical, emotionally, mentally, and verbally abuse Roselle when she the ages of four to eight.

The end of the abusive friendship:

when Roselle was eight, Poseidon found about the abuse and saw Crystalline give her scar and rip her eye on the same side of her face(look at the drawing). He was smart and ended Crystalline life(she was 19 at the time). Crystalline left Roselle with a lot of disorders.

Her disorders:

Schizoid Personality disorder, obsessive compulsive disorder, Post traumatic stress disorder, Haphephobia, Dissociative identity disorder, Avoidant restriction food intake disorder, Fugue state, Paranoid personality disorder, Alexithymia, Anxiety disorder, Panic Disorder and autism

Her children:

Michael Johnathan or Terrance Montoya(basically Michael Afton)

Evan Christopher Montoya (basically the crying child but Micheal is lot kinder brother to him)

It's like virgin Mary situation but she pray instead of an angle tell her she will have a children with god from the Bible.

Roselle personality:

She was fairly innocent, naive, happy, kind, clumsy, loyal and nice child who wasn't a spoiled brat that people think she is and can't physically lie. After the abuse she became emotionless, distrust of people expect her father, introvert, loyal, kind, can be funny at times, oblivious about things, can get mad easily due to her short temper but will use indoor voice due to her autism to 'yell' at the person who angered her, truthfully, smart, and overprotective of the people who she care about like her only two children, her father, etc. She is shameless and not embarrassed by her father tell stories about her when she was younger. She is still clumsy, sometimes. She is chill and laid back when it comes to her children but she does set rules like any lovely mother would and hate when her oldest and first born smoke in his teenager years but she is patient and knows she can't force him to quit and let he quit smoking on his own terms (Michael did stop smoking).

Her looks:

She has black curly hair with Wine Red/Burgundy highlights and Bright Sea Green (#05FFA6) eyes. She have an (Muscular Androgyny) shape body with a scar going through eye to eyebrow. Sh also have freckles on her cheeks, nose, neck, back, upper chest, hands and arms. Her features include Ancient Greek beauty standards on the face and muscular body that Ancient Greek men had: Mexican lashes and hair; (South) Korean Dolly Eyes(they are natural); African lips and hand palms are lighter than the rest of her skin. Her skin color is #190D08, resembling that of a black woman and half African(creole). She had a birthmark of a trident in her wrist that she was born with. When she in her God form(her real form) she still the same but 8'8 with the body of her father, Poseidon (Muscular Androgyny). She does have big chest.

Her powers:

omnipotent- Her powers are like Rogue but instead of stole them, she was born with every person across every universe, galaxy, multiverse including the dark multiverses, etc(she also have the powers form the people in books, TV shows, movies, comic, and many more).

Power from her deceased mother- She does have the same powers as Rose Quartz and Steve Universe.

Powers from her father- she has the same powers as her father, poseidon.

She had a hard time to control them and took years to control them. If she use 1% of her powers, she still powerful than everyone else. She still have more powers to discover. She is limited to her omnipotent on her powers on those undiscovered powers.

Roselle's weaknesses to beat her in battle:

Her weaknesses is making loud sounds and she becomes sensitive since she's autistic. Another way to beat her is to go to the past and recruit past version of Roselle to fight the control Roselle.

how did Roselle got married to gambit?:

i have a idea of Roselle being control by Apocalypse when she was emotional state before meeting gambit and had to married Gambit(who is know one of Apocalypse houseman of death). Once, they were married they can't have a divorce. Once, Roselle had her mind back she can only use only little of powers and have to relearn how to control her powers and how to use them since she was control for long time.

Her relationship with gambit while in control:

Roselle has good romanic relationship with Gambit(the death) while being this super evil couple this relationship is healthy one. This evil Roselle has a liking for gambit and feel in love with him unlike her normal state of mind who doesn't. She still have her intelligence able to trick anyone if she want to and still has most of her normal personality but she does get annoyed by anyone who isn't that smart enough to know basic knowledge. She can Intimidation, vicious, can be manipulation if she want to but choose not to be and have no remorse of telling the truth and mock people how they truly are and being blunt about it.

Her relationship with Gambit after being free:

Even though they are married, Roselle doesn't have romantic feelings for gambit, due to being demisexual. She suggest they should get to know each other and see where the relationship lead to. Gambit teach Roselle how to be human and humanity society, food, music, etc since she knows next to nothing about humanity. She warm up to gambit and show more emotion finally breaking her emotionless personality. After sometime, their relationship becomes romantic.

Is she's loyal and faithful lover for gambit?

Unlike some marvel characters, she is the most loyal and faithful lover for gambit despite she doesn't love him, she still wouldn't dare to cheat on him.

Can they divorce?

Unfortunately they can't because of apocalypse did something about that part that they are bound to be together as long they live and even if they try to divorce, they can't write their name on the divorce papers like a force field is between the paper and pen.

Her flaws:

Like every character, Roselle has flaws she can be short temper like her father and overthink and overanalyze things too much, which can lead her to feel stressed at times. She is blunt to people which leads to people think she is rude. Which leads to her being misunderstood. She also struggle with self-doubt and have moments of insecurity when it's come to her scar. The disorders are most of her flaws. Her loyalty is also a flaw just like Percy Jackson.

More fun facts:

She is a vegetarian

Her first human drink was coca cola

Her first human food was beignets

She doesn't mind gambit speak in three person.

Her scent of sea salt, sea weed, and jasmines.

She does eat Ambrosia and drink Nectar

Poseidon call her his little guppy or just guppy.

she is a daddy's girl

She does eat Ambrosia and drink Nectar

Her curly type is somewhere 3b or 3c

Male features- body and arms

Female features - face and the cheat

Disguise in human form - 6'4

Goddess form - 8'8

??? Form - 12'8 or ???'8

She was born 7 months out of nine months. She is preterm baby

She is a virgin goddess and she is the goddess of everything.

she is very careless about humanity and how huamn babies are conceive since she was born by pure love.

She is multilingualism, aside from English, Roselle can speak the following languages fluently: English, Spanish, Greek(Ancient Greek and modern Greek), Korean and later Louisiana Creole(she learn how to speak Louisiana Creole when gambit takes her to New Orleans).

She has a tendency to slip into Spanish in conversations with other people, when she is high emotions like angry.

Her blood is ichor, she knows her blood is toxic to humans and could kill humans instantly if they came into contact with it. She avoids getting injured around humans.

Roselle symbols are earth, lions, roses, sea bunnies, and spiders, but her main symbol is the butterfly.

She was shelter most of her life and isolated due to her father overprotective of her (basically she's like Ariel but the difference is Roselle was allow to go to surface if Poseidon is around to watch.)

Roselle is Poseidon's youngest daughter with whom he shares a strong father-daughter relationship. He is highly protective of her as he doesn't want to lose her again after her short live death.

She was raise very old fashion (Ancient Greek) since her father is Poseidon who like old way of doing things by parenting Roselle and being good father to all his children.

She is good mom and she knows she had a lot of learning to do when it comes to her understanding of parenting and willing to learn from her mistakes

She was premature baby, (her mother was only four months "pregnant" with her and she give "birth" to her when Roselle was reborn)

Roselle is technically the first queen of earth since Rose Quartz (Pink Diamond) was the colonizer of earth not the queen of earth, but Roselle love her deceased mother that she give her mother the title of first queen of earth. So that why Roselle is the "second" queen of earth.

P.s the draw you see is after she was free from being mind control and adapted human culture and wears human clothes. When she was mind control she was wearing Ancient Greek clothes.

watch Steven Universe's Most Famous Horror Story by Infamous Synergy or White Diamond | The Steven Universe Analog Horror Au by WillySaintWilly to understanding of the story of Sir Johnald.

The story idea is from Sir Johnald

Quotes:

"if you ever cheat on me, I will make you regret meeting me" - Roselle to gambit

"Don't call me Rose" - Roselle

[savanir]

The first is always the most impactful, first kill, first wife, first son.

Sora's death had been devastating, yes their marriage had been one of convenience at first but feelings change (annoyingly so) and he had come to love her a lot. Danyal's death had been worse, Because unlike his beloved Sora with Danyal he had nothing to mourn. The Lazarus pits either spit you out whole, or not at all. 

After that the only thing that he had left was the cause and the mysterious pits. And for hundreds of years he's dedicated himself to both.

Eventually he had another wife (who couldn't compare) another son (who couldn't compare) and then a daughter.

With Talia things were different, she was his first daughter after all and he found himself being more lenient with her.

That leniency eventually got him a grandson.

Damian got named heir to the demon's head but Ra's never intended to actually pass the mantle on.

His heir died a long time ago, and none would ever be worthy.

And he knew it was true when a new kind of pit demon crawled out of the lazarus pit. One dressed in an off color version of their traditional assassin armor, if someone knew what to look for they could easily recognize this one as one of Ra’s.

They fall to their knees in front of Ra’s and they do not falter even as Ra’s quickly whips out his blade and presses it firmly against their neck. Not enough to kill, but definitely enough to dig in and draw blood. A clear warning.

"My lord, you were right, I was a fool, he truly is the only one worthy in life as well as death, I should have never doubted, and I beg for forgiveness even though I am unworthy-"

Ra sneers, "You speak in riddles beast, make sense or fall to my blade"

"The young master, young master Danyal, he conquered the realms of the dead, he's the new king-" the blade slightly shifts to a far more lethal angle and a sense of white hot fury cascades through the room.

"My son rules the afterlife, is that correct"  it is as if the whole universe holds its breath.

"It is, it is, I'll return and I can inform him that you request his audience" the pit demon in assassin’s armor firmly presses their fist against their chest, and in doing so revealed to Ra’s that the cut he so far has inflicted weeps blood as green as the pits it came from and it doesn’t seem to affect them at all.

Talia’s eyes narrow at the sight and she speaks up, "If it were this easy why hasn't he reached out to us before"

The pit demon goes to respond but Ra's holds up his hand effectively silencing him.

"Very well, deliver the request for an audience and we'll see the truth with our own eyes"

though this pit creature has been of a lucid state of mind it is clearly not human, and he will not blindly believe its words (even as devoid of madness as they are) 

But see they did. Not even Ra’s can help the breath he lets out when what he knows is his son appears from the Lazarus pit because even with the unnaturally white hair and glowing green eyes it was undeniably him. Ra’s would never forget.

It's his son's face that he holds in his hands as he rubs his thumbs fondly over his son's cheeks. That's Sora's eye shape and her nose. Suddenly Ra's remembers a time where he had petulantly complained that their son took so much more after her than him, now he can only be grateful for that fact.

"Danyal, look how much you've grown-” Ra’s eyes sweep over his figure. Danny had decided to wear his more kingly clothes, a more regal version of his usual Phantom suit. though the lower part remained relatively the same safe for the armored boots, the top part was changed in a sleeveless high collar shirt and gloves just over his elbows combination draped over it all is his cape where the inner lining looks like a window into the universe, finally above Danny’s head floats a black iron crown covered in frost, “I have been informed of your newly acquired status as king of the dead, even in death you've made me proud" And Danny closes his eyes and leans further into Ra’s hands, basking in the affection.

And Talia’s lips thin before she silently slips out of the room.

DP x DC prompt [8]

The observants have been pestering Danny for a while now. Something about a ‘kingly’ duty. 

Apparently there is this collective of ghosts who wish to conquer the infinite realms and have been sporadically trying to do so for the past… give or take six hundred years or so? maybe longer. 

After asking around it’s clear to Danny that they get more zealous with each year that passes.

so, ghost cult, world domination, realm domination? doesn’t matter, but usually dead cult folks settle down after their deaths, in this case however from what Danny understands these people are continuing what they started in life. And this is one hell of an ancient cult that’s somehow still relevant considering that ‘new’ members still show up and join their ranks.

But Danny is King now (much to his dismay) so it would probably be best if he just put an end to this matter once and for all.

Danny went in prepared and with backup that he told to wait for his signal should things go sideways. and then went in.

he expected a big fight, a huge mess, he would probably need help at some point cause unlike with most of his rogues this was a big group who were probably a lot more organized.

he did not expect the haunt of the cult to look like a mix between middle eastern and asian, a bad feeling was starting to creep up Danny’s spine.

The bad feeling got worse when Danny got close enough and was promptly surrounded by a group of ninja’s who had their weapons out. He felt himself promptly fall into a defensive stance that he thought he had long forgotten. Danny isn’t exactly sure what to do now though.

the stalemate is broken when one ninja speaks up in arabic “the heir has finally come to take his rightful position” and all of a sudden the tension is broken and Danny is left dumbfounded and with anxiety creeping up his spine as the ninja’s fall into kneeling positions.

“young master Danyal al Ghul, we are most honored by your arrival and here to serve you in death as we have in life”

Ah

Well shit