#I finally managed to take on these sketches

[reginalusus]

Ok so what if I put them in Dark Souls.

Ok, ok, ok, this fucking concept has been stuck in my head for around two months and I never bothered to draw it because I don't enjoy drawing armour and shit as you can see, but I managed to get a rough sketch of some stuff out yesterday and today.

If you would like to hear me yap about how DC Dank Souls would work and Two-Dads boss fight and their designs, feel free to go under the cut. ^-^

So it's basically a Souls-like game where Gotham is a decrepit, corrupt kingdom, even more so now that Bruce Wayne/Batman has died, and the player plays as a random, chosen Gothamite that must take down the villains/morally questionable of Gotham. Obviously I'd have Harvey and Jason be the final boss due to their personal connection with Bruce. They'd have the biggest banger of a boss theme known to man and work as a duo, similar to how Sister Freide and Father Ariandel work, or Lorian, Elder Prince and Lothric, Younger Prince etc. (both from DS3).

Some quick notes about their designs.

Harvey - Blindfolded like Lady Justitia. - His scales are a sacred chime, so they can emit miracles and be used to buff. They are also pointed with a dagger - can be used to stab as a back-up. - Due to Harvey having 'fallen angel' imagery, he DID have angel wings, but over the years and as his corruption grew, they became tattered and broken and sore. They drag behind him like a cape.

Jason - His lower body is bandaged, similar to the bandages he was wrapped in prior to being placed in the Lazarus Pit. - Grim Reaper imagery, but rather than a scythe, he uses twin sickles. Sickles are normally better for prying the hard-to-reach and tougher elements of a crop. - His eyes glow similar to the Lazarus Pit.

First Phase Harvey and Jason share a health bar in the first phase. Jason is very aggressive and will attack the player with quick and brutish heavy attacks with his dual sickles. He can also throw knives, use the environment to leap around and use a chain grapple to grip the player forward. Harvey will buff Jason in the background with his scale chime. Sometimes he will buff Jason's speed, sometimes his strength - however, before he does this, he will flip his coin and there will be a distinct ding. When that ding goes off, the player has around three-five seconds to hit Harvey and prevent the buff. The player can choose to be aggressive to Harvey since he is mostly idle during this phase, but he can admit a divine AOE (Call of the Jury, perhaps it's named) from his chime that will push the player back, forcing them to fight Jason. Git gud.

Second Phase Once the health bar is drained, a cutscene will play. Jason will fall to the ground in defeat, spluttering blood and essence from the Lazarus Pit. He dies. Harvey will fall beside him and cradle him, weeping and lamenting as he does so. He will mumble something like, "a second death to a second life would pleaseth us… however, for one as beloved as thou, we want a third," before carrying him to the Lazarus Pit. He will set Jason into it, before turning to face the player and removing his half-helmet, as well as his blindfold. They will drop to the ground, and from Harvey will admit Janus, melting into view gracefully at his side as a sort of spectre. Double health bar now, woo!

This fight play similarly to the Pontiff Sulyvhan fight from DS3. Harvey will no longer bear his scales and coin; he will swap them for dual swords resembling the Sword of Justice. Harvey's attacks are not as heavy as Jason's, but they are smoother and more elegant, similar to the Dancer of the Boreal Valley from DS3 or Rellana, Twin Moon Knight from Elden Ring. Janus deals less damage but, again similar to Pontiff Sulyvhan, will actually betray what move Harvey is about to perform, giving the player a chance to learn movesets.

Third Phase Once Harvey is defeated, another cutscene will play. He will fall on one knee, crestfallen and weak. He gazes over at the Lazarus Pit and from it will emerge Jason. He will pull down his hood, revealing a distinct, crimson helm that contrasts with his green eyes beneath it (think of Pursuer from DS2). He looks over to Harvey and approaches him before helping him to his feet. Harvey flips his coin, and it comes scarred side up. Jason and Harvey will then face the player, unyielding. Then the health bars pop up, wooooo!

Jason will be similar to his first phase, and Harvey will be similar to his second phase, minus Janus. They are both aggressive, but one will tend to give the player breathing room now and then. Sometimes they will have choregraphed attacks where they work together, sometimes one will try to grab the player so the other can unleash a flurry of attacks. They have separate health bars obviously, so the player will have to choose which of the two they want to try and tackle first, or they can even out both. Git gud.

Ko-Fi Bluesky

[writerandbaka]

The jackal and the witch AU ～ Tighnari and Cyno 💚💜

I have sketched out a reference sheet for witch Tighnari and jackal Cyno! Soon I'll draw those of other characters as well for future chapters! ฅ(◕ᴥ◕)ฅ

And as promised, here are my headcanons for this AU:

Magic is basically a component of every living being and manifests itself in different amounts and shapes in different individuals

Magic is invisible to humans. However, some humans are able to perceive it

Humans who know how to use their own magic and that of their surroundings, shaping it to their liking, are called "witches"

"Witch" is a generic word used for people of any gender without distinction (gentleman, ladies, non-binary specimen etc…)

Through spells, witches can shape magic to alter reality

There are mainly two types of spells: those that are free and uncontrolled, and those that are infused in potions

A free spell is easier because it applies directly to reality, which is thus modified at will. However, it’s more difficult to be controlled and managed if you don’t have good control over your magic

A spell infused in a potion is more controlled and specific than a free one. On the other hand, however, it's more difficult to achieve the desired effect this way

Generally, spells are temporary. That means that the magic that shapes and changes reality tends to resume its original form within a certain period of time, returning reality to its original state too

A permanent spell is consequently more complicated and difficult to accomplish. Permanently altering reality requires a good deal of magical power to force the magic of the environment to change shape forever

To perform a spell, the witch's magic influences the external magic, and weaving them together can have a different effect on reality

The witch's personal emotions are very important and act as a catalyst to manage and control magic itself. If one doesn’t have good control of their magic, when they use it, the environment magic can take over from the witch, taking command of the course of the spell and dragging the witch to its will

Spirits are creatures able to see magic, being themselves made of pure magic

Spirits come from the spirit realm, a realm separate from the earthly realm of Teyvat. They can descend to earth only when the veil between the two realms thins, during full moon nights

Spirits can take corporeal bodies only through a contract with a witch, thus becoming "familiars"

The form the familiars take depends on many factors, the character of the witch, their amount of magical power, etc. But they are always only animal forms

To enter into a contract, the witch and familiar set their own conditions (a wish, specific needs, etc.) and when these are approved or met by both parties, the contract is finally sealed

The contract between a witch and a familiar is also manifested by two small objects carried by both of them, which can be jewelry, accessories, etc.

Having a familiar is not mandatory for a witch. The spirit simply helps them control their magical power by giving them an extra dose of magic to draw on and helping them stabilize their own

The witch and the familiar share strong emotions and feelings through their bond

The witch and the familiar cannot be excessively physically distant from each other for long periods of time

The contract between a familiar and a witch binds them inextricably until the death of one of them, usually the witch. In some cases, spirits too can also die if their magic is absorbed or corrupted due to a curse

Curses are nothing more than enchantments or spells whose effects are usually negative for the creature they are aimed at

Curses may be the cause of the presence of exceptions to what has just been written so far 

The Akademiya is a witchcraft school, where students of any age can be admitted to learn to study magic

The council of Sages, or senior professors, are bigoted people who are in charge of school management, often bypassing the principal when the latter is not physically present

There is tension between the principal and the current council of Sages, for a variety of reasons

So, no visions for this AU, but each character still has different aptitudes for certain types of elemental magic rather than others

That’s all!!✨

I won't spoil anything more about the plot, but these are pretty much the things to keep in mind as the story progresses. All of them will be picked up as we go along at various points, so don't worry, I will specify everything again at the right time, so that you can appreciate the fic even without the need of this post (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

Oh btw, If you haven't read it yet or if this sketch has made you curious about this AU, here is the first chapter of the Ao3 fic I am talking about! The next chapter will be posted on Monday and is already basically ready! Can't wait for you to read it!!!🪄🌱💕

[lx1920jmax]

Anagan's everyday appearance is quite simple, practical due to his active lifestyle and does not differ in style from his wizard's combat outfit.

He prefers comfortable shoes (mainly sneakers), trousers mainly made of stretchy materials that do not restrict movement, shirts and turtlenecks. And a large number of coats, the passion for which arose from his love of wearing cloaks behind his back.

My headcannon-fact: he has a passion and great interest in traveling and attending various events of different subjects (be it a fair or a national holiday of the country in which he found himself), but despite this he is so inconspicuous or ordinary in communication that everyone who saw him or had contact could not even remember his appearance: the shade of his skin or the color of his eyes and hair. (Duman: If I didn't know him, I would be amazed that such a noticeable guy is so inconspicuous.)

A small sensation is Anagan without a beard.) I don't know if I'm so bad at drawing beards, or if he's really better off without it. XD

[densewentz]

Dreamling can be dads together, as a treat

[hplonesomeart]

I can’t think of any funny quips to put as description for this one so uh- suppose this time around I’ll just let the art speak for itself lol

Enjoy the daily dose of fanart while it lasts because I can’t quite guarantee I’ll be able to keep up this speed throughout the upcoming month. But I’ll sure try to! Thank you all for the support <3

[fluffs-n-stuffs]

Eusine being one of the most stacked units in pokemas will forever be the funniest thing to me because everytime I send him out I just imagine it like

Directly based on this;

[sysig]

Noooooooo

[mimimarilynart]

@toastedbuckwheat Happy birthday my love🥰🥰

[ninadove]

Adrien Agreste and his evil (?) clones

Original here!

Alt text and bonus below:

Text: People always talk about evil clones like…

Text: “Oooh, a dark mirror!” Picture: Claw Noir forcing Chat Noir to cataclysm him.

Text: “Oooh, what if you saw what a cruel person you are capable of becoming?” Picture: Nightormentor whispering in Antichat’s ear.

Text: But what if you were the evil clone?

Text: What if you looked in the mirror Picture: Felix confronting Adrien in Risk

Text: And what you saw was so bright it blinded you? Pictures: Felix reclaiming his amok // Strikeback falling into the sun // Felix holding the camouflaged Peacock brooch for the first time

Text: What if you had to know Pictures: Felix’s sewer speech // Felix handing Kagami her amok // Argos drawing a heart on Kagami’s window

Text: exactly how good Picture: Felix standing up to Gabriel’s gigantic silhouette

Text: you could have been? Pictures: Adrien crying upon learning his father’s death // Adrien feeling the absence of his Miraculous on his finger

Text: Imagine thinking you have achieved your happy ending Picture: Adrien waking up in the new world

Text: that you’ve finally managed to claw it from the hands of fate itself Pictures: Adrien getting his Miraculous // Marinette sliding the twin rings back on his finger // Adrien holding the lucky charm Marinette made him

Text: only to discover a mirror of yourself who lives in a happiness you hadn’t even been able to imagine! Picture: Kagami sketching Felix by the pool

Text: Imagine meeting a version of yourself who considers you to be evil Picture: Cat Walker standing in front of the full moon

Text: and your happy ending Pictures: Close-up on Adrinette’s hands as they kiss in Chat Blanc // Post-reveal hug in Ephemeral // Adrinette kiss in Recreation

Text: to be a horror story. Pictures: Ephemeral using his powers on Marinette // Chat Blanc preparing a cataclysm // Gabriel’s statue

Nota bene: the pictures are vignetted in white, and the effect gets stronger with each new row.

Please also take this gem from @dragongutsixofficial and I’s texts:

[notnights]

I'd been doing some design exercises with the ADC characters as humans a few weeks back. I have sketches of the others but nothing finalized as these ones.

My prompt was "try to keep to the silhouettes, and give them actual circus-jobs."

Gangle got a little revamp along the way. And the ribbon braids are something I've wanted for a humanization for her for a long while since uhh ribbons, and are something I grew up with. She is the main acrobat of the group. Several of the other members can preform with her (namely Zooble, Pomni and Kaufmo) but she's the main acrobatics.

Ragatha was probably the easiest to turn human for obvious reasons. She usually shows off her "oddity" but she's the main caretaker of the group. Ticket taker, managing money, doing a lot of the small niche things Caine forgets are important stuff. She's technically second in command because of that.

Jax is the animal handler. Trains and takes care of them. Brings them out to preform with etc. He himself doesn't have much of a role in the showmanship though he can preform certain stuff if need be, doing gags with Pomni or Kaufmo, assisting with Kinger and Gangle's performances if needing too though he'd like to avoid it if he can and he's usually not the first pick either.

[acewithapaintbrush]

Saw @artsymeeshee hospital sketches of the sea grunks and thought to myself, is this finally my time to write some brotherly angst for these two? The answer is yes. Short but sweet, please enjoy.

******************************

The first thing Stan becomes aware of is the noise.

A constant beeping right next to his ear. Loud and high-pitched and repetitive and unfortunately very familiar to an old grifter with bad luck like him. He would be a lot more annoyed with this sound if his last clear memory wasn't of roaring waters rushing past his ears, stealing his hearing and leaving nothing but white noise behind.

He'd rather take the beeping.

Next comes taste, which, ugh! He could have gone without that! The feel of scratchy sheets is not much better but it tells him that he is in one of the better hospitals. Believe it or not, the better the hospital, the scratchier the sheets. Ford should cool it with the mystical beasts and research what's up with that!

Speaking of Ford.

Stan keeps his breathing even as he slowly opens his eyes. The light has been dimmed in anticipation and he blinks a couple times at a ceiling that is painted a nondescript beige color. He looks at it for a moment and for some strange reason he suddenly feels a fierce urge to video call Mabel.

But first things first.

Stan slowly turns his head to the side which actually hurts. Don't they have him on the good stuff?

Just as he expected, there is his brother. Ford has squeezed himself into the same bed as Stan, facing his brother's prone form. Stan can't help but smile. His brother must have bullied the nurses into letting him stay. The bed is way too small for two grown men but somehow the genius has managed to practically fold himself into a compact ball, leaving enough room for all those fancy machines connected to the patient. One of his hands lightly rests against Stan's chest which he hasn't even noticed until now.

Ford's eyes are closed but he is mumbling under his breath, reciting one of his journal entries from memory.

Stan winces. His brother must be really rattled by this little mishap.

‘Great job giving the guy another thing to worry about, Stanley!’

“I think climbing into the hospital bed with the patient is against the rules, Sixer? You are not supposed to do that.”

He was going for levity and humor but his hoarse voice kinda ruins that.

Ford's eyes don't snap open. He doesn't gasp or jerk upright or anything like that. Instead he takes a shuddering breath and deliberately opens his eyes. They find Stanley immediately and there is not a hint of surprise in them. Stan wonders how long Ford has known that he's awake.

“Same to you,” Ford says and his voice is so flat it causes a shiver to run down Stan's spine.

“Hey, s’not like I planned for this to happen.”

“I would be very cross with you if you had planned falling overboard, Stanley.”

Ford's emotions still feel weirdly flat. He isn't even lecturing and scolding Stan for his reckless behavior, just presses his six-fingered hand against his chest and stares at him with those blank eyes.

“I'm alright.” Stan shifts so he can face his brother and, damn, those ribs are definitely cracked. He briefly wonders if that happened in the fall or whether someone had to do CPR on him and quickly decides that maybe he doesn't want to know. Close call. Much too close. “I'm alright, Ford,” he repeats as if that makes it true.

For the first time an emotion flickers through Ford's face. He narrows his eyes and for a moment Stan thinks he's angry but then a single tear runs down an unshaven cheek, immediately seeping into the pillow.

“I thought I lost you for good,” Ford whispers, voice tortured. “I couldn't find you. For the longest time. I looked and I looked and you were just… gone. I couldn't find you!”

‘Same to you,’ Stan echoes with a bit of a bitter edge, mind replaying thirty years of hunching down in a dusty basement in a matter of seconds.

But this is not about him and Stan is, no matter what some might want to tell you, not an insensitive asshole.

“You did find me,” he says. He doesn't actually know if that's true. The time after he fell into the ocean during that storm is still a bit of a mystery to him. All he remembers is the noise of the water and how cold he felt and a voice screaming his name, over and over, growing fainter with each wave crashing over his head.

But Ford needs some reassurance right now. And the best way to reassure Ford that Stan is alright is by proving his alrightness with a good, old Pines hug.

He lightly pulls at the hand on his chest and with a cut off gasp Ford immediately obliges, scooting closer until they are entwined with one another just like they were as kids when the nightmares became too much to remain separated by a bunk bed.

“You found me.” Stan repeats and ignores the tears soaking into his hospital gown.

‘That's what we do,’ he thinks with a content smile, eyes falling shut with exhaustion. ‘We always find each other again.’

[strwberri-milk]

Hello hello I’ve been reading your work and I really enjoy how you write for our four men so I wanted to jump in and ask how you’d think they’d react to discovering a secret sketchbook full of pretty drawings of them that the MC keeps hidden from them out of embarrassment hahah

I hope this request respects your guidelines and ill be very happy if you accept it I wish you a lovely day :)

Thank you xx

Zayne is very flattered. He doesn't really draw outside of medical diagrams so he loses out on the artistic part of drawing but he can manage a mean sketch. He secretly returns the sketchbook to wherever he found it, not wanting to intrude on something as private as your sketchbook.

You only realise he found the sketchbook when he asks if you'd like a new one as he noticed you were running out of pages. You knew that he knew you wouldn't need one for a while, meaning that he must have found something out. You confront him and he admits it, telling you that your drawings were great and he won't look at them if you don't want him to, but he would love to see them whenever you're willing to share with him.

Xavier thinks the drawings are great. You catch him flipping through the sketchbook and try to take it from him but he just looks at you with confusion. He doesn't understand why you wouldn't want him to see the drawings you've done.

You give up, feeling bad for taking the book from him. He flips through it, thanking you for making him your muse. He's never thought of how you see him but looking at the way you draw him on the pages here makes him wonder if that's really what he looks like.

Rafayel is pouty that you won't show him but also doesn't take it personally. He loves the fact that you've drawn him and eagerly flips through the pages, ignoring the fact that you're trying to get into the bedroom and steal your sketchbook back from him. It doesn't work and then you're left pouting behind the door when he finally opens it for you.

He tells you that it's nothing to be shy about and he has tons of sketchbooks dedicated to you. He digs around for one, casually showing it to you. You slam it shut, chasing him around the room for drawing literally everything about you. It doesn't deter him though - you're the most beautiful thing to him and he'll always want to draw you.

Sylus also holds your sketchbook over your head, not letting it go until he's satisfied himself by looking through the whole thing. He takes his time flipping through the pages, finding your disapproval absolutely adorable. He loves it, telling you that you didn't need to hide this from him. If you want him to model then just ask - he'd gladly do it for you.

[justsomehazbin]

Holy SHIT am I proud of this. It took a day and a HALF to work on it. I really just wanted to draw a cool badass picture of Charlie in a cute dress, and somehow I ended up with my best piece I think I've ever done!!

To see the process, click the 'read more' below!

Otherwise:

Main blog over here

My Etsy Shop!

Originally, I wanted it to look more like a royal portrait, a good excuse to draw a pretty dress.

I adored the dress design, but it was an extremely flat image, so despite taking like. 5 hours to design it and work on it, I rethought my plan, switching to a far more dynamic pose.

I also made sure to add tons of flow lines, both from her hair, to her tail, to help bring the eye all around the canvas.

I did a billion sketches, but this is what I ended up on! Originally I had her right arm holding the pitch fork behind her back, but it just never looked right. I also took a risk and did a facial angle that has always been extremely hard to get right, and somehow I managed to make it look nice!

After adding the lineart, colors and all of that, I knew quickly I didn't want the angel to stick out as much as she did. I wanted her to fall into the background instead, since she was just on the border and I didn't want any attention really taken from Charlie. So I changed her shade to red, and from there I added more of the background details!

Okay I did leave some inbetween screenshots out but it's past my bedtime. I hope this was fun to look at, at least!

Final product once more!

[moraxine]

Fragments of Us [Ekko]

pairing: ekko x reader

words: 2k

summary: ekko wakes up in an alternate universe where you’re alive and everything feels right—but it’s not his world. torn between love and duty, he must leave to save his reality.

ARCANE SPOILERS!

i.

“Powder. Ugh, she’s so annoying sometimes. I told her that the graffiti on Sevika’s stupid bar wasn’t even that good—like, come on, who even uses pink for a skull?—and she just flipped out ! Called me a ‘wannabe artist.’ Like, okay?”

Ekko’s chest burns as he violently jolts awake, aware , coughing as if he’s been drowning moments before. His head is pounding, all memories flooding his mind and spinning round and round. It takes a few moments for his vision to stabilise and start clearing up.

What the hell happened?

“Hey, are you okay?”

Hearing your voice, familiar yet a voice he never thought his ears would detect ever again, he freezes. His eyes snap open, adjusting to the dim glow of the neon streetlamp. After a while of simply blinking, right hand on his forehead, he dares to turn your way, only to face you in utter shock.

There you are, right beside him, nervously fiddling with a small gadget in your hand while waiting for his answer.

Ekko’s breath gets caught in his throat.

His gaze desperately darts around, taking in the distorted version of Zaun. The buildings look eerily familiar but cleaner, more polished. And then there is you —alive, bright-eyed, rambling as if nothing in the world could ever go wrong.

This isn’t real. This can’t be real.

“You’re staring at me like I’ve got two heads or something. All good in there?” You ask, leaning closer as you gently tap his head.

No, no, no.

This must be some kind of twisted joke, a dream soon to turn into a nightmare, like the ones he experienced after your passing.

A strong wave of dizziness takes over and he loses balance. You’re not fast enough to catch him and he collapses on the floor, tears gleaming in his eyes.

“Shit, Ekko, I told you I’m fine walking home by myself! You need to focus on fixing that sleep schedule of yours. You work too much….”

You kneel down to check on him but as soon as you reach for his arm, he manages to pull himself up, wincing as his muscles protest. “I’m fine,” he mutters, his voice hoarse. “Just… where am I?”

Your brow furrows. “Zaun, duh. Did you hit your head?”

Zaun. But not his Zaun. This is different. Cleaner. Sharper. Brighter. Wrong.

You wave a hand in front of his face when he’s up on his feet again, snapping him out of his thoughts. “Seriously, you’re acting super weird.”

He shakes his head, trying to gather himself. “I’m… just tired.”

“Yeah, no shit,” you say, leaning back on your heels. “Well, you can sleep at my place if you want. It’s a bit of a mess, but it’s better than the middle of the street.”

“Why…Why are you helping me?”

I didn’t protect you. I let you die-

You scoff, crossing your arms. “You have to be kidding me, really.”

He stares at you, his chest tightening. You are so casual, so warm, so alive. This isn’t his world—it is someone else’s. Someone’s whom was able to keep you safe and happy.

You wave a hand in front of his face. “Helloooo? You good, or do I need to drag you there myself?”

He blinks, shaking himself out of his trance. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

“Finally,” you say grabbing his arm. “You’re lucky I’m such a good friend, y’know.”

As you lead him down the street, continuing your pointless rambling about Powder and some argument over graffiti, Ekko follows silently, his mind racing. He doesn’t belong here, but for the first time in years, being near you feels like he is home.

ii.

Ekko is standing in the corner of your cluttered workshop, his fingers trembling slightly as he tightens the final screws on a device he barely understands anymore. Weeks have been spent scavenging parts, tearing apart old tech, and sketching blueprints on scraps of paper. The machine is almost ready—his way out of this world is almost ready.

You, of course, don’t know. In fact, you seem to know nothing about Ekko lately. Ever since that incident outside the bar, he’s been acting strange in a way you can’t pinpoint.

“Hey, genius,” you call from across the room, pulling him out of his thoughts. You’re perched on a high stool, playing with a broken clock. “You’ve been staring at that thing for hours. What is it, anyway?”

He stiffens at your question, keeping his face carefully neutral. “Just… something to help me get around. It’s nothing.”

You narrow your eyes, unconvinced. “Since when do you get all secretive about your projects? You used to brag about your tech every chance you got.”

“Since now,” he mutters, avoiding your gaze.

It’s been this way for quite some time now—Ekko growing quieter, more distant, all while you try to bridge the gap with your usual chatter. You’ve noticed the way he avoids your eyes, the way he flinches whenever you stand too close. It’s not like him.

And it hurts.

“You’re acting weird, Ekko,” you admit, setting the clock down and leaning back on your hands. “Like, even weirder than usual. Did I do something?”

“No,” he says quickly, but his voice sounds strained, and the single word only makes you more assured that there is indeed something going on.

“Then what?” you press, leaning forward slightly. “You’ve been avoiding me for days. Is this about Powder? Because if so, she’s the one being difficult, not me.”

Ekko clenches his jaw, his hands tightening around the tool in his grip. He can’t tell you. You wouldn’t understand—not fully. How could he possibly explain that you’re not even supposed to be here? That this version of you isn’t his you? That in his world, you’re just a memory he carries like a scar?

“It’s nothing,” he says finally, his voice low. “Just… drop it, okay?”

You flinch at the coldness in his tone, but you force a laugh, trying to mask the sting. “Fine. Be mysterious, then. See if I care.”

Turning away, you pretend to focus on the clock again, but your heart isn’t in it. You want to push him, demand answers, but something in his expression stops you. There’s a pain in his eyes that you can’t quite place, and for the first time, you wonder if this is bigger than any conflict he might have had with people in the past.

Ekko exhales slowly, his shoulders sagging. He hates doing this—pushing you away. But if he lets you in, it’ll only make leaving harder.

Because he is leaving. As much as he wants to stay, to pretend this is his life, he knows it isn’t real. He doesn’t belong here. And the longer he stays, the harder it’ll be to say goodbye. Especially to you.

“Hey,” you say suddenly, breaking the silence. “For what it’s worth, you’re still my favorite nerd. Even if you’re being a jerk.”

He looks up at you, startled by the softness in your voice. For a moment, he wants to tell you everything—to explain why he can’t let himself get too close. To tell you he loves you. But that would be partially true as you’re not his. Instead, he just nods. “Thank you.”

You offer him a small yet warm smile and his resolve falters for a moment. But then his gaze falls on the machine again—his way out—and he reminds himself why he has to do this.

It’s almost done. Just a little longer.

iii.

Ekko stands in the middle of the workshop, his hand resting on the activation lever of the machine. The room hums faintly with power, the cobbled-together contraption sparking faintly as it waits for his final command. It’s ready. After days of work, this is it—it’s time to go back to the people who need him.

But his chest feels tight, and it’s not just from the lingering ache of exhaustion. It’s because of you.

The door creaks open, and his heart sinks. You’re standing there, your expression caught somewhere between confusion and anger. “What the hell is this?” you ask, stepping inside. “Ekko, what’s going on?”

He doesn’t look at you. He can’t. “It’s… nothing.”

“Nothing?” you snap, gesturing at the machine. “You’ve been shutting me out for God knows how long, and now I find you messing with… whatever this is you’ve made? Don’t lie to me, Ekko.”

He finally meets your eyes, and the raw emotion there almost makes him crumble. But he takes a deep breath and steadies himself. “I can’t explain it.”

You take a step closer, your frustration giving way to hurt. “Why? Why can’t you just tell me? I’m not mad—I just… I don’t understand why you’ve been acting like this.”

Ekko clenches his fists, his mind racing. He could tell you the truth—about the alternate universe, about the fact that you don’t even exist anymore in his world. But what good would it do?

“It’s better this way,” he replies quietly.

Your hands drop to your sides, and the look in your eyes nearly breaks him. “Better for who? For me? Or for you?”

“Y/n…” His voice cracks, but he quickly swallows it down. “I don’t belong here. I need to leave. That’s all I can say.”

You shake your head, your voice trembling. “You’re lying. You’ve been here all this fucking time, and now you’re just… leaving? Without a word?”

“I don’t have a choice.”

“Yes, you do!” you shout, stepping closer until you’re right in front of him. “Whatever this is, whoever you think you are—you’re my… friend, Ekko. You don’t just get to disappear without telling me why.”

His hands tremble as he reaches up to touch your shoulder, his gaze locked on yours. “You are—” His voice breaks, and he has to force himself to keep going. “You’re amazing. You’re… everything good about this place. You’re the reason I’m still alive. But I can’t stay.”

You stare at him, your heart pounding. His words feel final, and the weight of them crushes you completely. You fail to understand. Nothing makes sense, absolutely nothing. “Why?” you whisper, tears burning at the corners of your eyes. “Why can’t you stay? Is it something I did?”

“No!” he says, more forcefully than he means to. He takes your hands, holding them tightly. “It’s not you. It’s… me. It’s my world. I need to go back to where I came from.”

You can’t comprehend what he’s saying, but the desperation in his voice silences your questions. You nod, swallowing back the lump in your throat. “Fine,” you say, even though it’s anything but fine. “If you have to go… go.”

His hands linger on yours for a moment longer before he lets go. “I wish I could tell you how much you mean to me,” he says softly. “But I can’t. Not here.”

Tears spill over as you watch him turn back to the machine. “Will I ever see you again?” you ask, your voice barely audible.

He hesitates, his hand hovering over the lever. “I don’t know.”

That’s all he can give you.

With one last look at you, his expression filled with regret and longing, he pulls the lever. The machine sparks to life, and the air around him ripples with energy. You take a step back, shielding your eyes as the light grows blinding.

When the light fades, he’s there, his tired body slumped down on the ground. You immediately run to his side, kneeling down and pulling him to your lap. The room falls silent, the only sound the faint hum of the now blown up machine. You gently caress his cheek, tears running down your hot cheeks.

After a while, he wakes up.

And it doesn’t take you very long to realise.

You glance at the remains one last time.

And you hope that wherever he is, he’s doing what he set out to do—saving his people, his world, even if it meant leaving this one behind.

[thinkinonsense]

THE BOY IS MINE✮

Logan Howlett x fem!reader

C/W: cursing, obsessive behavior, and slightly sexual content (mostly flirty behavior except at the end)

Word Count: 980

A/N: this is inspired by the song and video for the boy is mine by ariana grande. kinda just wanted to write about someone being obsessive and crazy. if you haven't seen the music video, I would suggest it. it's pretty short so I hope you enjoy <3

ִֶָ 𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆★⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִֶָ

Missions weren't always as exciting as they might seem; bosses were demanding and cruel. The danger was inevitable but you needed to eat so there wasn't much of a choice in finding other work. This would have to do for now but sometimes a girl needs to create her own excitement in life.

Which is exactly what you did when you met the Wolverine.

It was a quick first impression but God, it was one to remember. You were sent to settle a deal with a couple men upstate when a strange man pins you to a wall in the hallway; pressing his hips to the front of your black skirt and a hand over your mouth. He smelled of cigar smoke, wood, and mint. Without hesitation, you sink your teeth into the meat of his flesh until he moves it.

"Who the hell are you..?" You hiss.

"Stay here." He ordered.

The man walks away; metal claws shoot out of his hands as he attacks the businessmen at the table. You had never been so furious. The last thing you needed was for some stranger to come and take your credit. This was your job; not his.

Despite being livid with the stranger, you couldn't help but notice how attractive he was. The man sunk his claws in all their guts; you watched them fall one by one until only the two of you were left in the warehouse. Once you snapped out of his trance, you swiftly reached across the table for the paperwork. His hand lands on top of your latex glove, stopping you.

"I can't let you take that, princess." He says.

"I don't take orders from animals." You put on your best fake smile.

"Really? Because it looks like you did just a couple of minutes ago."

He had you there.

You notice a pair of dog tags dangling against his chest. One of your hands grabs them, pulling him to you. The side shown to you says, Logan while the other says, Wolverine.

Cute name.

Over his shoulders, you saw more men running in. A pleasing smirk spread across your face, leading him to turn around and see what you were smiling at.

"Since you handled that last group so well all by yourself," You swiftly knock him down with a heel to his chest, catching him off guard. "I'll let you take the next ones too, Wolvie."

Just as the men entered, you snatched the paperwork and booked it out the window to return it to your boss.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

It had been months and still no run-ins with Wolverine. It was beginning to drive you insane; flashbacks of him pushing you up against the wall with his hand over your mouth replayed in your mind almost every chance it could. Your days were spent sketching pictures of him so you wouldn't forget his face or searching for him.

It felt sickening how much you needed to see him again. Your apartment was decorated with sketches of him. He took up every inch of space in your head. This wasn't like you. Normally, you don't entertain the men you encounter but something about the Wolverine was intoxicating. This wasn't some schoolgirl crush. This was a full-on obsession, and you knew it.

The only thing you could do was make him just as obsessed as you were; making him yours.

It took weeks but you finally managed to create your potion for the Wolverine. Now, all you had to do was find him. You asked around to see who he works for and it didn't take long until the name Charles Xavier appeared. Before you knew it, you were back in your latex apparel and standing on the roof of the mansion. The potion was strapped to your belt as you crawled down the brick walls and into his bedroom window.

Almost everyone was out on a mission that evening except for Logan and a handful of students downstairs. You knew if you came any other day, Xavier would have seen you coming and you couldn't have risked that happening.

It was late, midnight by the time he came upstairs. You sat on his bed, waiting perfectly for him. The second you heard his heavy footsteps, your heart almost pounded out of your chest at the thrill.

When the bedroom door opens you are greeted with the scene of the man of your dreams in a white tank top, blue jeans, and a beer in his hand. Instead of running like you assumed he would, Logan stands still with a smirk on his face.

"Didn't think I would see you again," Logan said. He wasn't moving as fast as you would like him to, so you used your whip to bring him closer until he's knees hit the front of the bed.

"It's simply meant to be, Wolvie."

Quickly, you pull the red potion from your belt and pop the lid open. One hand snakes its way up to his jaw, holding him still while the other moves closer to pour. He stops you by pulling off your lacey black mask, finally revealing all of your pretty face to him.

Logan knew exactly who you were. He had been looking for you too; searching every abandoned warehouse and sketchy alley in town. No one knew your name so he thought it was a lost cause and tried to move on. He should've known that you would show up at some point for him again.

Honestly, Logan thought it was cute that you brought some sort of love potion. Little did you know, you had been haunting his mind ever since that night. He wasted no time in smacking the potion out of your hands; laying you back and inching closer until his lips ghosted over your throat.

"I don't need a damn potion."

[nerdy-novelist017]

Trouble (Eric Draven x Rebel!Reader)

Bill Skarsgard, covered in blood and acting feral as he violently kills people to avenge the woman he loves?? Yeah, that really did a number on me….but I couldn’t help but fall in love with Eric’s quiet character in the first act so pls enjoy my ramblings! 💕

Eric Draven Masterlist

Word Count- 1.5k+

Summary- Eric's carefully guarded solitude is disrupted by a bold newcomer who seems to be trouble incarnate.

“I wanna get in trouble.”

A voice, sudden and electric, broke Eric from his reverie as a figure’s shadow fell across the intricate lines and shadows of his drawing. He glanced up hesitantly, shielding his eyes from the harsh sunlight behind you. His eyes were met with the sight of you – a tempestuous spirit with wild, untamed hair that cascaded around your face like a mane, defying the order and discipline of this facility. There was a glint in your eyes, mischievous and daring, that seemed to challenge the very atmosphere around you. You loomed above him, a figure of restless energy, waiting for a response that he was unprepared to give. 

“What?” he managed, his voice barely above a whisper, a stark contrast to the boldness of your intrusion. 

You grinned cheekily, and with an audacity that left him momentarily stunned, you stepped up onto the picnic bench he was perched at, planting yourself so that you were sitting on the table as if it was your own personal stage. Your feet, clad in worn, oversized sneakers rested casually on the seat in a silent declaration of your disregard for rules. “Don’t you?”

Eric blinked at you, his brows furrowed as he hastily pulled his papers closer, as if to shield them from your encroaching presence. “No.”

“No?” you parroted, a suggestive playfulness tone to your voice. “But this place is so boring.” 

He glanced around the yard, taking in the stark reality of the rehab facility, his eyes lingering on the chain link fence with its towering barbed wire glinting menacingly in the afternoon sun. “It’s supposed to be,” he said with cold detachment. “And you’re not supposed to be fraternizing with me.”

You followed his gaze, casting a sly look to the guards who stood at the back door, and a smirk danced on your lips. “Uh oh, I wonder what the consequences for that will be.”

Eric wanted to roll his eyes at your attitude. This was how all the newbies were when they came in: brash, defiant and convinced they could outwit the system. They came in with fire in their eyes only for it to be extinguished within days by the crushing reality of their situation. Nobody stayed trouble for long. He watched as their bravado withered, soon to be replaced by resignation. And the ones like you – those who pushed the boundaries with reckless abandon – often found themselves confined to solitary confinement, their spirits slowly eroded by the wright of their own demons. 

“You think I could seduce one of these guards to sneak us in some contraband?” you asked, raising your brow in a conspiratorial way as you nodded toward a pair of male guards standing near the backdoor, idly chatting and sharing a cigarette. 

Eric’s gaze traveled over you, from the oversized, ugly pink sweatshirt that swamped your frame to the untamed hair that framed your face like a wild halo. You spoke of “us” as if any semblance of companionship existed between you too. There wasn’t. It was just him and his solitary existence. He had no need for friends, no desire for connections – especially not from someone like you. 

“No,” he said finally as he returned to his sketch, hoping his blatant disinterest would be enough to drive you away. “You need to get off the table.”

He could feel your eyes on him, your gaze almost too intense. When you tilted your head, studying him in amused disbelief, he knew what was coming. Another newbie thinking they could crack him open like some sort of nut, put together the broken pieces like a puzzle. He kept his attention on the drawing, hoping you’d take the hint and leave him alone. 

“C’mon, you don’t look like someone who’s this much of a stick in the mud.” Your voice was playful, teasing but Eric could sense the challenge beneath it. His silence seemed to fuel you, as if his resistance was exactly what you were hoping for. “What’s your name anyway?”

He hesitated, hating how you were forcing him to interact with you like some needy puppy. “Eric,” he muttered, keeping his gaze locked on the drawing.

“Eric,” you tasted his name on your lips quietly. It grated on him, the way you spoke as if you already knew him, already had him all figured out. “You’re an artist, huh? I bet you’re all dark and broody, right? The strong, silent type?”

His jaw tightened, his pencil pressing a little too hard against the paper. He didn’t want to give you the satisfaction of getting a reaction out of him, but he could feel your words digging right under his skin. Dark and brooding? Strong and silent? You didn’t know anything about him, didnt understand the darkness that lingered in the corners of his mind, the weight of the silence he carried, yet here you were, already trying to pin him down with labels. And typically, Eric didn’t care what anyone else here labeled him with, but your unnervingly amicable voice was something he wasn’t used to. It was almost laughable, except it wasn’t. It was annoying. 

Your words struck a nerve. He remained quiet, instead choosing to focus on the shading in the corner of his page, tried to drown out the sound of your voice, but he knew his silence was betraying him. The tension in his jaw, the way his grip on the pencil tightened – it all gave him away, and he could almost feel you noticing it, filing it away for later. God, why couldn’t you just leave him alone? 

Then you leaned in closer, your voice dropping to a whisper for only his ears to hear. “You know, I think you want to get into trouble. You’re just too scared to admit it.”

His eyes snapped up to meet yours before he could stop himself, his heart racing at the sudden intensity in your eyes. And there was something in your gaze that unsettled him. Annoyance flared up first, hot and defensive. But beneath that, he felt a flicker of . . . curiosity. And he hated that too – hated that you were getting under his skin. What the hell did you even know about him? What gave you the right to pry into his life, his thoughts.

“You don’t know anything about me,” he retorted, his voice sharper than he intended, the words escaping in a rush of defensiveness. 

You shrugged, unbothered by his tone, a playful smile tugging on your lips. “Maybe not yet, but I’m good at figuring people out. And I think you’re bored out of your mind here, just like me. You’re dying for something – anything – to happen.”

Eric shook his head, forcing himself to look back down at his sketch. “You’re wrong.” 

Even to his own ears, the denial sounded weak, and that only served to deepen his irritation. 

You let out a dramatic sigh, stretching your arms overhead, and Eric resisted the urge to glance up. “Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me. I’m always up for a little fun.”

“Fun,” he echoed, the word leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. He wasn’t even sure why he bothered to respond, but something about your persistence was unraveling him bit by bit. “That's what got us in here in the first place. 

You paused, and for a second, Eric thought maybe he had finally shut you up. He looked up and caught a flicker of something else in your expression, something serious that made his chest tighten with a feeling he couldn’t quite name. But just like that, it was gone, replaced by that infuriating grin. 

“Maybe,” you said, your voice softer, thoughtful in a way that made him uneasy. “But maybe that’s what will get us out of here too.”

Eric watched as you slid off the table, landing lightly on the ground. For a moment, he thought you might actually leave him alone, and the relief that washed over him was sweet. But then you turned back, hands stuffed into the pocket of that oversized sweatshirt, your grin still in place – though it didn’t seem to reach your eyes quite the same as before. 

“See you around, Eric,” you said before sauntering off, as if you didn’t just turn his whole world upside down in a matter of a few minutes. 

He stared after you, watching as you kicked at the feet of another unsuspecting patient who grumbled at you as you passed. His mind raced, his drawing forgotten, the lines and shadows now blurring together in an indistinct mess. He hated how you so easily managed to disrupt his carefully-constructed isolation, how you made him think about things he thought he’d buried a long time ago. He wanted to believe you were just another reckless newbie, just another faceless patient in a sea of addicts who would burn out soon enough. But something in the pit of his gut told him you were different – something he couldn’t shake. 

In the silence that followed your departure, Eric was left to grapple with the realization that the trouble you brought was not just a disruption, but a catalyst for change, a challenge to his solitude. And now as he returned to his meaningless drawing, he wondered briefly if perhaps your indelible, chaotic presence was exactly what he needed to rewrite his own story in the hell hole. 

And that scared him more than he’d like to admit.

Tagging some of you who seemed interested!

@apolloanddaphnis @one-of-thewalkingdead @m00npjm @maimai-0603 @redwitchbitch1 @at-midnight @fandom-fanatix @spoiled-bat13 @alinahdee @mrsalwayswrite