#I promise I could draw better than that a year ago that one's just. Bad. For some reason.

[lost-in-frog-land]

definitely the guy I draw most often.

[erospandemos]

Some things never change

NewJeans Danielle x Reader

Where Danielle tries everything in her power to make you understand her feelings

Beta-reader: @leafostuff

You had known Danielle Marsh all your life, from when she was just a little kid to now that she's a fully grown adult, although her height kind of stopped halfway. You met her in the first days of elementary school. She must have looked weak to the other kids with her two missing teeth, thin legs, and pale complex, so a group of rascals started messing with her.

They would call her all sorts of names with their limited word knowledge, mocking her with gestures and weird sounds. They'd also push her around or make her trip and fall. Even though their mind was still limited, they already had a knack for bullying.

You happened to be around her when you witnessed one of those scenes. All it took was a slap and a threat and the kids fled away. It was just a normal thing for you, as fights were very common at that age but for Danielle, you were her saviour.

"Are you okay?" you asked her worryingly.

Amidst her sniffling, Danielle managed to reply, "Those bullies were teasing me. But you made them go away, so thank you."

You felt a bit bad about her. Her eyes were so red from crying and she kept rubbing her eyelids to dry those endless tears. "Don't worry Danielle. They will never tease you again. I'll always be here for you," you reassured her, not knowing what kind of promise you were making.

What followed were days, weeks, and months of annoyance. Danielle followed you everywhere you went, pestering you from the morning to the afternoon—always talking, always joking, always asking.

"Thank you for helping me!" she told you. "Jinyoung hasn't been mean to me anymore! I love you!"

You were annoyed. You let her talk and kept walking, "He was just being an ass. It's nothing special."

She began to be your shadow, a silent companion seeking solace. A girl looking for a friend, or at least that is what you and she thought. There was already something present in her heart but you just didn't know it yet. But kids learned quickly.

It was a random day in April when she made her first move.

"My parents taught me that I should hug the ones I love. Can I hug you?" Danielle asked you, her eyes earnest and pleading.

You were caught off guard but still nodded hesitantly. You opened your arms and she stopped closer, embracing you tightly. She found comfort in your warmth and kept you there close to her. You didn't know why she did that but you liked it too.

Then a couple of months later, you were invited to her house. You and her parents got to know each other and figured it would be a good occasion for you two to bond together. At her house, there was a very nice illustrated book for children. The kind to have small but enormous sentences. Her eyes were sparkling with excitement when she brought it out from her desk to show it to you.

"It's a story about a prince who married the princess he saved. Don't you think that it's so... cool?" She said, her eyes wondering between dreams and fantasies.

"Yeah, I guess," you replied. You didn't fully grasp the implication of the tale. You just liked the drawings.

"You saved me from the bullies, just like the prince. Maybe... maybe we could get married someday?" Danielle confessed, blushing.

You chuckled nervously, still oblivious and clueless.

Things also got more complicated when she caught you talking with a girl from your class.

"Who's she?" Danielle asked, laced with jealousy.

"Oh, this is my friend from the class, Seo-yeon," you introduced her, unaware of her stern demeanor.

"Well, she better not try to steal you away from me!" she declared, pouting and crossing her arms.

You laughed nervously again, not understanding what she was trying to say, and apologized the poor Seo-yeon who was receiving the possessive gave from Danielle.

That was more than ten years ago. But now that you were both grown up, things didn't change at all.

You're reading the book you've been saving up for weeks, finally free from the exam season of college. It's been a relaxing day, as it's been the first full break you could take and you decided to just replenish your energy by doing nothing all day. The day was good outside but you didn't feel like going out at all.

But you did not know that the outside would visit you instead.

A too-familiar figure barged into your room, with a familiar voice and force. "Hey! Your mom said I could come in. Hope you don't mind," Danielle exclaims.

You look up, surprised. You have to bid goodbye to your book because there was no way she would've left the house now.

"Uh, hey. No, not at all," you say, recollecting yourself. Looking around, you could see the mess the room was left in but after all the times your friend had seen, it wasn't much of a problem. You just left it as it was.

Danielle approaches, her grin widening as she eyes the book in your hands. She lowers her head and reads your title, not because she is interested, but because it could be a potential reason to tease you.

"What fascinating world are you escaping to today?" Danielle asks you.

Before you can respond, Danielle snatches the book away, dramatically flipping through the pages, not a word passing through her eyes.

"It's a great book, you know," you say before she can judge you. But that wasn't her intention. Danielle tosses the book aside and, with a sly grin, moves closer to you.

"Boys, your age don't really stay in their house all day, shouldn't you go outside?"

You raise your eyebrow. "What are you trying to say?

She clears her throat, "Well, you know, all boys go around picking girls, shouldn't you be interested in girls too? Especially me..."

"Books are interesting enough," you say, annoyed.

Danielle sighs heavily and slaps your shoulder. "You really don't get it do you...? Whatever," she says, "But do you know what's even more interesting than books?"

Without waiting for an answer, Danielle wraps her arm around you, pulling him into an unexpected side hug. You, visibly annoyed and embarrassed, squirm from the surprise and try to claw out of her grasp. But it just gets tighter. "Danielle, seriously, what are you doing?" you stutter.

Danielle chuckles, enjoying your annoyed remarks, and lets her other arm get you too.

"Just playing with you."

You try to pull away, but Danielle persists.

"Can we not do this right now?" you say. Danielle rolls her eyes and sighs before releasing you.

"Oh, come on. Just having a bit of fun," she says, pouting.

She playfully pokes your cheek and laughs.

"This is ridiculous."

Danielle seizes the opportunity and leans closer, circling your thighs. "You know, a little embarrassment never hurt anyone," she says and eyes you up and down, locking her eyes with yours. "Besides, you're kinda cute when you're flustered."

You groan, covering your face with your hands. "Why are you doing this???"

She laughs, finally satisfied, and lets herself fall on the couch. "You know," she speaks truthfully, "there's something about you that's just too irresistible."

"Yeah, you aren't the only one."

Suddenly, you feel Danielle's intense gaze on you. "Who else is teasing you? Girls?"

"Sometimes?"

"Oh, that's not good. They have to know you're taken."

You raise an eyebrow. You don't sense anything good coming. "What are you talking about now?"

"I was thinking, maybe I should leave my scent on you. You know, like marking my territory. That way, other girls will know you're taken."

You blink repeatedly, utterly bewildered.

"Leave your scent? Danielle, we're not animals."

Danielle chuckles.

"Just imagine it – you walk into a room, and everyone's like, –Oh, they smell like Danielle. They're off the market!–"

"You've been watching too many nature documentaries."

"Shut up and come here."

Danielle snuggles closer, her energy warming the room and your body. You feel her arms quickly wrapping around your body and her legs tangling into yours and before you knew it, she was already spooning you. After all these years of doing so, she has gotten quite good at it. "You know, you really should loosen up. It's just a cuddle between old friends."

You shift uncomfortably, a bit against her although her lively insistence was stronger than your will. "Danielle, seriously, we're not kids anymore. We can't just... cuddle like this."

She tilts her head, studying you with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Come on! Don't be such a grown-up. We used to do this all the time when we were kids. It's nostalgic!"

You sigh, giving in a bit. "Yeah, but things are different now."

Danielle was a slim girl, petite. She felt small although you were the one under her grasp, and her limbs were delicate and fragile. She felt small but soft as well. She was an adult now, and her touch made your heart beat faster, in a way it never did.

Danielle grins, unphased. "Different doesn't have to mean worse."

"But seriously," Danielle says with curiosity, "you used to be the one initiating these cuddle sessions. What happened to that fearless little kid?"

You blush, a rare occurrence for the reserved you. "Well, things change. People change."

Danielle's eyes soften, and she nudges you gently. You can smell her perfume and it calms you. "Change isn't always bad, you know."

You can't help but smile at her infectious enthusiasm. Danielle, her head still nestled against your shoulder, can't resist the opportunity to tease you. "You know, I always thought you were the bravest little knight in our little adventures when we were young."

You raise an eyebrow, a hint of a smile playing on your lips. "A knight, huh? I'm not sure I see the resemblance."

Danielle chuckles, tracing imaginary patterns on your arm. A soft red starts to appear on your cheek. "Oh, please! You were my protector, always ready to face imaginary dragons and monsters. What happened to that fearless warrior?"

"Well, maybe I outgrew the knight phase."

Danielle leans back, looking at you with a sly grin. "Outgrew, or maybe you're just afraid to admit that deep down, you still have a bit of that brave knight in you."

You roll your eyes, but a small smile lingers on your face.

"Did you remember when I told you I'd be your princess? I still mean it you know?" she says, as if it was nothing.

You realize the meaning of her words and can't fathom any response, and Danielle can't help but enjoy the gentle blush that colors your cheeks. She teases you further, "You're blushing, Mr. Grown-up. Who would've thought the mighty knight would be so easily flustered?"

You mumble something incoherent, avoiding her gaze.

That was typical of you and your friend: constant teasing and joking. But you knew you wanted something more from her and you were just running around, trying to avoid it. One day, however, it finally came to you, knocking at your door, and you had to face it head-on.

You hear a loud frantic knocking on your door. The sudden noise surprises you and you get slowly, weary of who might be on the other end. The knocking doesn't stop and you look into the peephole. To your surprise, it wasn't a killer coming for you but it was your friend, Danielle, and from the looks of it, with her disheveled hair and tired eyes, she wasn't looking so good. You open the door and she bursts inside your apartment, drenched from head to toe, dripping water everywhere.

"Whoa, Danielle! What happened to you?" you exclaim.

She shakes herself like a wet dog, sending droplets flying, and brushes her wet strands away from her forehead to look at you in the eyes. "Caught in a sudden downpour. I practically swam here!"

You chuckle and walk to the bathroom. "Don't move!" you tell her as you go grab some towels. You don't want her wetting the whole house as well. "Well, you certainly look like you went for a swim."

Danielle takes the towel, but instead of immediately drying off, she shoots you a mischievous grin. "You look quite excited about seeing me, don't you?"

You raise an eyebrow and look at her, confused. "What do you mean?"

Danielle pretends to inspect her soaked clothes with exaggerated concern, scanning her shirt, and her skirt. She opens her arms and invites you to look at her clothes. "Oh, no. I think these clothes might be see-through now. But I'm sure you already noticed. I can feel you glued on me."

You immediately understand what she's trying to say. You roll your eyes and grow. "Danielle, come on. Don't be ridiculous."

She smirks, wringing out her hair over the towel. "Ridiculous? Or am I just giving you a little peek? You know it's fine. I didn't tell you not to look."

You blush, trying to play it cool. "You're impossible. I'm lucky it's just the two of us. Otherwise, I might get in trouble." You hate to agree with Danielle, but it was impossible for you not to notice her figure, perfectly feminine, perfectly grown, and perfectly beautiful. You gulp loudly and stare at the wall.

Danielle giggles, sauntering over to me with a playful twirl of her wet hair. "Well, I can't let you miss out on the view, can I?" She laughs again as you shoot a quick sideeye at her. "Oh, did I catch you looking again?"

"Come on! No, I didn't."

Danielle comes closer, she's having fun, too much fun. She sways her hips, brushing your chest, leaving wet handprints on your shirt and looks at you with such a teasing smile that you couldn't do anything but blush and back intot he wall. "Oh, don't look away, baby."

"Danielle, cut it out," you stammer, my cheeks turning a deeper shade of red.

She leans in, her voice dropping to a sultrier tone. "What's the matter? Don't tell me you're not enjoying this."

You try to look away, but Danielle continues to playfully tease you. Then she laughs, finally satisfied.

"Okay, okay, I'm just messing with you!" she confesses, wiping away a tear of laughter. "I couldn't resist seeing you squirm."

You sigh in relief, but your embarrassment lingers. "You're unbelievable, Danielle."

She giggles while running away.

You go to your room to pick up some clothes for her, unfortunately you got nothing else to give her but your own clothes. You try the smallest size possible, so at least she wouldn't have to swim in them. You smell them first, to make sure, she won't be annoyed by an unwanted smell, then think if she'd feel cold or not—the house was quite warm on the inside. You knew she always liked to wear shorts, so you get a pair and a shirt and sweater to match.

You hand her the clothes, "Here, these should be more comfortable than wet clothes."

Danielle, takes them and smiles brightly. "Oh, I didn't know you were such a considerate boyfriend," she says. You start blushing but this time she's blushing too between her creased cheeks. You chuckle nervously, dismissing the comment.

"It's nothing," you say and then point the bathroom. "You've already been here before. Go change there or take a shower if you want."

"I'll just change, thank you. Don't peek at me though, okay?"

"What are you saying? Of course I won't," you reply.

She grins and runs into the bathroom to put on your outfit. It doesn't take her a while before she emerges wearing your oversized hoodie and shorts, her hair slightly toused. You have to admit, she looked adorable. The way the hoodie was way too big for her, and how the shorts let you peek at her legs, it was amazing.

It almost looked like she was your girlfriend, and she knew it too.

"Look at me, wearing your clothes," she says, raising her arms. "It's like we're in some romantic drama."

"It's just because your clothes are wet. Don't read too much into it."

Danielle continues, batting her eyelashes dramatically. She looks at you with wide eyes. "You've never offered me your clothes before. Are you sure you're not secretly seeing me as your girlfriend?"

"Don't be ridiculous. It's just clothes," you say, but her words can't leave your mind. You almost agreed.

"But these clothes smell like you," she says, taking a sniff at it. You blush brightly. "Am I stealing your scent now?"

The situation looks absurd and you're getting more and more flustered but still, you had to keep your cool. "Don't overthink it."

She bursts into laughing and jumps into the couch. "You're so cute when you deny things. Maybe I should keep wearing your clothes more often."

Trying to hide his embarrassment, you manage a weak smile. "Sure, Dani, make yourself at home."

You and Danielle keep joking around until something starts to bother your friend. She looks at the sky, more precisely at the rain, as it runs down the window, and her smile starts to fade.

Danielle turns to you and her face drops into a malinconic gaze, her eyes are half there, they're thinking about something else, but you feel the weight on you. "You know, I'm starting to feel like a fool," she says with a sigh.

You blink, taken aback by the sudden intensity in her tone. "What do you mean?"

Danielle paces the room, her agitation pouring out with every step. "You've known for ages how I feel about you. I've dropped hints, practically spelled it out, and yet you never do anything."

Bewildered, you look at her. You couldn't lie to her, you wish you could say you never realized it, but you did. You did know she was flirting with you and you did hear what she told you, clearly and explicitly. But you didn't want to accept it, you didn't want to believe it. "I... I don't realize you feel that way. I think we're just really good friends," you say and truly, you didn't think a girl like her would have any serious intentions behind her smile.

She halts, turning to face you, frustration etched on her features. "Really good friends? You and I spend hours together, we share our deepest thoughts, and I've been giving you every possible sign that I like you. How do you miss it?"

You stammer, attempting to find the right words. "I don't think... I mean, I think you're just being friendly. I never imagined you feel something more. I thought you were just messing with me."

Danielle sighs."That's the problem. You never imagine. You never consider the possibility that my feelings might extend beyond friendship. I've been dropping hints, practically shouting them, and you remain oblivious. Did it ever go through your mind?"

You run a hand through your hair, frustration mirrored in your eyes. "I never mean to hurt you, Danielle. I just... I didn't see it."

Her eyes narrow, the pent-up frustration reaching its peak. "That's precisely it. You don't see it. You never see me. It's like I've been invisible, and no matter how much I hint, you never make a move."

Danielle's words knock the air out of your lungs. You've never seen Danielle this riled up and it hurt you to know you were the cause. You take a moment to trace back your words. Have you ever imagined a life with her? Have you ever wanted to have her to yourself? Have you ever desired her?

The answer was yes. You think deeply if it was fair for you to say that only after she basically begged you to acknowledge her, but it was true, you did like her and you didn't know you were allowed to.

Danielle takes another deep breath, attempting to compose herself, but the frustration continues to spill out. "I've liked you for so long. I think you might feel the same way, but you never make a move. I've been stuck in this limbo, unsure if you even see me as more than a friend. It's driving me insane."

Your eyes soften, a mix of regret and realization settling in. "I didn't mean to make you feel invisible, Danielle. I've just been clueless, and I'm sorry if I hurt you."

She shakes her head, her frustration giving way to a sense of vulnerability. "It's not just about now. It's about all those moments before, the missed opportunities. I can't keep waiting for something that might never happen."

As Danielle's words linger in the air, a heavy silence envelops the room, punctuated only by the sound of rain tapping against the window.

"I never wanted to hurt you, Danielle," you begin. "I've been so focused on convincing myself that you couldn't possibly feel that way about me, that I never stopped to consider how you might be feeling. I'm sorry for not seeing what was right in front of me."

Danielle's gaze softens, a mix of frustration and hurt still lingering. "You're not off the hook that easily. You can't just apologize and expect me to believe you."

You nod. "You're right. I messed up, and I can't change that. But I can be honest with you now. The truth is, I've been afraid. Afraid of ruining our friendship, afraid of facing my own feelings. It's not an excuse, just an explanation."

Danielle raises an eyebrow and folds her arms. "Afraid? You?"

You chuckle wryly. "Fear doesn't always make sense. And I guess I've been scared of admitting that I like you too."

Her eyes widen, she's surprised "You do?"

You nod, your vulnerability laid bare. You hope you didn't make a mistake but you couldn't hold it in, it was now or never. "Yes, Danielle. I do. I've liked you for a while, but I never thought you could feel the same way. I convinced myself it was just a dream."

She tilts her head, a small smile playing on her lips. "So, Mr. Fearless finally admits he's not invincible."

You grin, the tension between you starting to dissipate.

Danielle steps closer, a playful glint in her eyes. As the rain outside continues its rhythmic dance, Danielle takes your hand. "No more hiding, okay? Let's figure this out together."

And for the first time, you hug her first. Your hand gently pulls her and she lets herself go, straight into your arms. You hug her softly, but with passion, with happiness. Danielle does the same, for the first time, not to tease you and not to try to make you fall in love because for once, she knows in her heart you truly love her.

THE END

Written, 16 February - 22 February 2024

[mcntsee]

deer y/n,

Summary: First part of letters to her. I recommend reading the prologue first.

Warnings: Ooc Kaz Brekker, I think one cuss word, terrible writing.

Note: Here it is! First part of the letters to her series. This is super short, I was struggling to figure out what to write for this letter, but I promise the rest are better. I am also trying a new writing style. Enjoy!

* ੈ✩‧₊˚

“Oh my.”

“What is it?”

Y/n managed to misplace her necklace—yet again—turning what was supposed to be a delightful date into a search mission for the elusive piece of jewelry.

Kaz was grateful she had agreed to getting some food and dining in. The past week had been a whirlwind of meetings with everyone in the forsaken city, leaving him overwhelmed. He'd endured an excessive amount of handshakes, enough to last a year, maybe three.

But Y/n understood. After all, she had been by his side since he could remember, never passing judgment on him for anything.

"Love?" He called out again. Kaz despised the silence. It could only mean two things: something good or something really bad.

“Y/n?” Usually, he was the type to lean towards options that gave him more than a fifty-fifty chance.

“Y/n!”

“Yes! Sorry I just-“

He found her in the dining room. “What is it?” As he approached, he noticed she was holding something in her hand. However, before he even had the chance to ask about it, she turned, fully facing him with her hand extended out.

"This," she said, glancing at what Kaz now recognized as an aged letter, "happens to be the first letter you ever wrote me."

She cleared her throat, preparing to read the letter to him.

“Deer Y/n,”

“For fuck’s sake.”

Kaz remembered that day with as much clarity as he remembered his lunch from a couple of hours ago.

It hadn't been anything out of the ordinary, no. Yet, he remembered it nonetheless.

“What is the matter with you?”

"Deer." He pointed at the word that was meant to be 'dear'. "Are you not reading?"

“I am and I’m well aware of the fact that is says deer. Once again, what’s the matter with you?”

“Can you put it away, it’s embarrassing.”

“Kaz, you were five.”

He had indeed been five, and apparently, not the brightest when it came to spelling. However, he laid the blame on his dad, who assured him it had looked good enough to send.

“How do you even have that still?”

“I could never lose it.”

“It’s just a letter, Y/n.”

“The first letter I ever got from you.” She corrected.

“It’s still just a letter, Y/n.”

“Whatever Kaz. It’s my most priced possession.”

He could tell she intended to keep reading the letter, but as her mouth open to let out the words, he noticed a mischievous glint in her eye.

“That and the drawing, of course.”

“The drawing?”

“The drawing.”

Kaz really had thought that it couldn’t get worse. Of course he hadn’t needed her to read the letter for him, so he had more than enough time to realize just how bad his grammar had once been.

But then, she decided to turn back around to grab the drawning and show him.

“I miss spots.” she said. In truth, he shared that sentiment. Spots had been his first and only pet.

He had entertained the idea of getting another pet with her. Perhaps another feline, or a loyal canine. Maybe even a crow. A replacement for the family he knew he couldn’t provide to her. “He was a great cat.”

“Indeed. He had to put up with you everyday.”

“I-, You know what? Same goes for you.”

That laugh. He was convinced that her laughter was the only force capable of resurrecting him from death. That and her eyes, of course, especially when they sparkled with mischievousness.

“Wait! Look,” Before he had a chance to see what she was pointing at, she covered the letter with her hand, completely defeating the purpose of asking someone to look.

“I am trying.”

"No, wait. Before I show you, you know how you always ask why I always sign: Love, my name, and then an exclamation mark with a heart instead of a dot?"

If he was honest, the question about her peculiar signature had crossed his mind only a couple of times. However, with the letter concealed and her mischievous grin, he wondered if uncovering the reason was a journey worth embarking on. “Mhmm...”

“Look!” She said while pointing at Kaz’s - or, well, five year old kaz’s signature. “Look, look, look, look, look.” Kaz couldn’t help but smile at her excitement, but he still couldn’t fathom why she was making such a fuss over his childhood attempt at penmanship. “Sweetheart, I am looking.”

There it was, his old signature in all its glory, proudly proclaiming, "Love, Kaz!"

[blankwashed]

I’m thinking about…

(you’re around his age, 26/27)

Satoru being a close friend of yours since school, he knows that you are married but he wants things to go his own way. That’s the kind of guy he was after finding out that he, the only person in his clan to be blessed with both the six eyes and limitless technique.

Satoru knows about your whereabouts at all times, can’t blame him. His capability to feel your presence using his extraordinary perception. He uses that for his advantage since you were married to one of the higher ups that were richer than his clan. He needs to dominate you, at least in some way.

“Is he home?” Satoru asks as he steps through your front door. He’s talking about your husband. Satoru has a bad habit of showing up completely unannounced, uncaring if your husband is home. He thinks highly about himself.

You shake your head, “No, he’s not. What are you doing here?”

"Oh?" Satoru raises an eyebrow, looking around your empty house before turning back to you. His eyes sparkle with mischief as they travel down your body, taking in every curve.

"I guess we can be comfortable then." With that, he steps closer and wraps his arms around you, pulling you flush against his chest. The warmth of his skin sends shivers down your spine, making it hard to resist him even though you know better than anyone how dangerous this could be. But something inside you gives in - maybe it's the thrill of having someone who truly desires you, or perhaps it's just pure lust clouding your judgment. Either way, you find yourself melting into his embrace as he nuzzles his face into your neck, breathing heavily against your skin.

Wrong, it was all wrong.

Cheating, lying, lack of trust, all wrong. But the white haired flirt had you where he wanted.

“Toru, I-I don’t think what we’re doing is right…” you clasped your arms around each other while biting your lip and looked at him.

He smirks, “The crime here dear, is how you look so tasty every time I see you…you can’t blame me for wanting you. It sucks that you married that dumbbell of a husband of yours,” he continued, “or else we don’t need to sneak around..remind me dear, why can’t you just leave him?”

“You know I can’t…my family would be devastated…” you sighed, feeling the same way as him. “It was my parent’s last wish for me to marry into a family that is richer than ours…”

Satoru got closer to you, putting an arm around your body.

“but darling, your parents are…” he stops. He knows that your parents aren’t alive anymore. Marrying your husband was a tribute for them.

“I know, I know…they’ve left years ago,” you sighed.

“Shouldn’t you do something that you would want to do? Your parents are in a happy place now together, they definitely would love to see you happy as well,” he said while holding on to your hands.

Sigh. He was right, wasn’t he? You weren’t always happy with your husband. He’s always working, spending minimal time with you. You doubted that there was any love left in him for you once he got back from work.

“…….well I guess…” you timidly replied.

“Not to mention dear, he hasn’t been pleasuring this sweet, pussy of yours in a long time, hasn’t he?” Satoru starts to draw circles on your panties, close to your private spot.

"Our journey together promises to be full of excitement, passion, and most importantly, love. There isn't anywhere I wouldn't go or anything I wouldn't try with you by my side." He trails his fingers lightly down your spine, sending shivers of anticipation coursing through your body.

You moaned, Satoru always knows where you’re sensitive.

“hmm..I guess I’m right,” Satoru sneers at your non-verbal response. “I know you better than your husband…” he licks your ear. He trails his fingers down your spine

You didn’t have to say anything, Satoru was already able to read your mind. You were going to divorce your good for nothing husband. He didn’t even have the time for you…

“Isn’t this a reason to celebrate, my new wife?”

[oceaneyesinla]

Reciprocal

I enjoyed writing this so much, and I desperately want a Giyuu of my own.

Warnings: Both Giyuu and Reader are implied to have mental health problems, and this does deal with bad mental health days. Take care of yourselves, everyone <3

Divider by @cafekitsune

It felt like you hadn’t seen your boyfriend in forever - the last week or two, you had communicated almost exclusively by text or call. The school year was drawing to a close, and tensions were running high with both students and teachers. Giyuu could be firm, and occasionally a little uptight about the school rules, but you knew he cared. You saw evidence of it every day - from watching him work into the night to plan lessons that would suit every student and their abilities, to accompanying him to stock up the little stash of sanitary products he kept on hand for anyone who might need them.

The end of the school year was a completely reasonable explanation for why you hadn’t seen Giyuu, but something about the tone of his voice and the look in his eyes when you video called him made you think something bigger was going on.

You had tried to check in with him as much as you could, but you couldn’t force the information out of him if he wasn’t willing to share. Giyuu always did play his cards close to his chest, never confessing how he felt, even if it was eating him alive.

So you did the next best thing - you reached out to the people he loved the most. Tsutako answered your call with a fond greeting, and filled you in on her business trip - the one you knew she was supposed to have returned from a week ago. It had been extended due to a new opportunity for the shop, she explained - and a few pieces began to fall into place.

Your next call was to Urokodaki-san, the man who had tutored you and Giyuu as children, and still took care of you to this day. Both of you made an effort to keep in touch with the old man, but he informed you that other than at work, he had barely heard from Giyuu recently. You finished the call with a promise to visit soon, once Giyuu was less occupied.

The final call was to Kanae - Giyuu’s favourite colleague, and your best friend. You could hear the worry in her voice as she told you about Giyuu’s recent retreat into himself - eating alone at lunch, avoiding his coworkers during breaks. She was apologetic as she admitted that he and Sanemi had been butting heads; petty arguments and snippy comments. You hung up the call, finally feeling like you understood where his head was at.

Your poor Giyuu. Missing his sister, whom he met up with at least once a week and texted every day. The stress of year end probably wasn’t helping, and he always ended up arguing with Sanemi when he got like this, because Giyuu never communicated well and Sanemi didn’t understand why he sometimes spiralled into self-hatred. It explained why he was isolating himself - he was overwhelmed, and didn’t feel like he deserved to seek the comfort he was likely desperate for.

You couldn’t make everything better with a snap of your fingers, as much as you wished you could. What you could do, though, was remind him that you would always be there for him to rely on, even when he felt like he didn’t deserve it.

You made the short journey to his apartment as soon as you left work, picking up the essential supplies at the konbini down the street. His front door key had adorned your keyring since he moved in, alongside the little fox mask charm he bought you back when you were still just kids with crushes. Even before you stopped pretending you weren’t head over heels for each other, you were attached at the hip.

Letting yourself in, you had a plan. First - organise all the ingredients you had bought. It was a possibility that you had gone a little overboard, and probably bought things Giyuu already had in his cupboards, but you didn’t care. You were determined to give him the most relaxing night possible, and that meant you needed to prepare his favourite meal. The ice cream was tucked away safely in the freezer for later

You quickly fell into the familiar motions of making salmon daikon. It was something you cooked on a semi-regular basis, because you were weak and the little smile it put on Giyuu’s face when he ate it was worth more than any masterpiece on Earth. His eyes would sparkle like sapphires and more than once, you caught him swinging his legs like a little child as he tucked in. You had your own fond memories of the recipe; standing next to Tsutako on a step stool so you could reach the counter, all the focus your little mind could manage on the process of making your best friend’s favourite food.

Once the cooking was done and the kitchen returned to its usual state, you moved onto your next task - setting up the couch. You had plenty of experience with looking after Giyuu when he fell into a bad spot, and you knew just what would help - so you pulled out every blanket he owned, including a couple you were sure he must have stolen from your collection when he helped you move out from Urokodaki-san’s place. Those two were both draped over his bed, and it warmed your heart as much as it broke it. Never mind. You had already decided - your boyfriend would have more than fabric to hold through the night; for the next few days at the very least.

The blankets were all tossed on the couch, and you pushed the little side table closer so you would be able to reach your drinks and snacks without having to move too much. You intended to wrap your boyfriend in blankets and cuddle him until he felt better, and you wanted as little as possible to get in the way of that.

You were just standing back to admire your handiwork when you heard a little click and the gentle swish of the front door opening. Your lips pulled up into an excited grin as you bounced down the hall, coming to a halt at the edge of the entryway and watching as your boyfriend slipped his shoes off, freezing in place as he went to tuck them away only to find a smaller pair already in situ.

“Welcome home, baby.” Ocean eyes shot up to meet yours, and widened in surprise as he bolted upright. He just stared at you, and your bright grin began to fade away the longer he stood there, unmoving and silent.

Was this a bad idea? Should you have asked him before barging into his home? Maybe he just wanted to relax alone, or maybe he didn’t feel up to putting up with you. Your hands clasped together and your fingers started playing with a little patch of dry skin as you mumbled out explanations and apologies, “I’m sorry, I should have warned you I was coming. I just wanted to do something for you, and I was missing you anyway, and I spoke to -”

Your rambling was interrupted as Giyuu suddenly jumped into action, crossing the distance and slamming into you, arms wrapping around you as he clutched you against him. His face was buried into the skin of your neck so his words were muffled, but you still made out his little, “Don’t apologise.”

Your smile came back, softer and sweeter as you stroked a gentle hand through his hair, wrapping your other arm around him just as tight as he was holding you. If you felt a couple of little drops of wetness leak onto your skin, you didn’t mention it.

You could feel him relaxing into your hold, and you turned your head to press a kiss against his temple. He released a big breath, pulling away just enough that he could see your face; still keeping you locked in his hold. The intensity in his gaze was unexpected, and before you could say anything, he blurted out, “Move in with me.”

You blinked up at him, wide smile growing on your face as you processed his words. At your nod, his lips curled up into that little smile you adored so much; the one he always wore when he was truly happy. He pulled you back in close, cradling you against his chest and rocking you a little.

A little sniff above you made you laugh, especially once you looked up and saw the little hopeful gleam in his eye, “Is that salmon daikon?”

“Of course. You deserve some comfort, baby.” He deserved the world, and he deserved to never feel like he wasn’t worth the love you freely gave him, but baby steps. You would remind him of that tomorrow, when he woke up to your loving kisses and gentle touches.

“I love you.” He leaned down to press a kiss against your lips, tears welling on his lash line, and you felt every ounce of the love he just proclaimed to you. You murmured the words in return and there was that smile again, lighting up his face and chasing away some of that lingering, bone deep sadness you knew was sitting beneath the surface.

He still looked tired, and you knew it would take more than one good night to get him through this rough patch, but as you watched him chomp on his daikon, eyes bright and legs swinging, you knew he would be okay. He was strong, and you would always be there, right by his side.

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

To say that work was hell would be an understatement, and an insult to Satan and his probably quite lovely home. It had to be better than your current workplace - constantly understaffed, and constantly watched over by the worst manager you had ever had the ‘pleasure’ of working under. She was always quick to catch even the most minor mistake, and had even made some of your colleagues cry. Just her presence in the office was enough to set everyone on edge, like looking up at a black cloud sky and waiting for the thunderstorm to hit, never knowing what the fallout would be.

Her attitude lately had somehow been even worse than usual, and you were her new target. Tears still threatened to spill over as you left the building, waiting to join the others drying on your cheeks. In front of everyone, she had berated you for a minor mistake in your paperwork - nothing, in comparison to what could go wrong in your job, but still unforgivable in her eyes. When rationality prevailed, you knew this - you knew what she was like, you knew how insignificant this mistake was. However, the anxiety that swirled around in your brain, haunting your every action, meant that this tiny incident had your mind working overtime. What else had you potentially missed? Could this be just the beginning, and it would turn out that you had made some other slip up, something far worse? Something that could hurt someone?

When you finally stood in front of the door to the apartment you shared with your boyfriend, you couldn’t remember how you got there. The journey was nothing but a blur. You pulled out your keys and let yourself in, wishing Giyuu was home. You knew he wouldn’t be - he called you earlier, the only bright spot in an otherwise awful day. The little smile you could hear in his voice encouraged one of your own, and he excitedly told you he was going out with his sister straight after he finished at the school.

You were almost glad he wouldn’t have to see you like this, but you selfishly wanted his comfort. You wanted strong arms wrapped around you, holding you tight against his firm chest so you could press your face into the crook of his neck and breathe in the scent of him - a mix of the sea salt soap he preferred to use and the laundry detergent you now shared; the smell of home.

Just thinking of him was making you emotional all over again, and you shook your head to try and clear it before slipping off your shoes and making your way to the kitchen. You needed to eat something, but even turning the oven on felt like too much effort. Your anxiety had faded a little, but it always left you in a weird state of disconnect - mind exhausted but your body unable to rest. 

You never made it to the kitchen, because the little table you kept in the entryway caught your eye. There was the bowl you kept your keys in, a couple of loose hair ties, the cactus Kanae gave you for your birthday (that you and Giyuu doted on like it was your firstborn). All completely normal, and not what caught your attention. There was something new, placed in the middle of the table, with a note tucked underneath the base.

It was a beautiful glass butterfly; the body was a deep blue that reminded you of the depths of Giyuu’s eyes and the open ocean on your last trip to Okinawa. On the wings, the colour blossomed outwards, fading from that deep blue to a lighter shade. It was like looking at the ocean from above, and watching the colour change as your eye wandered from the mysterious reaches of the open water to the sparkling shallows of the shoreline.

Your hands were trembling ever so slightly as you carefully extricated the handwritten note from underneath the glasswork. As you read it, those tears you worked so hard to hold in began to slip down your cheeks, but this time, they were caused by love so strong it felt like your heart was overflowing.

Saw this at the market and thought of you

Forever yours, Giyuu

He signed off every note he left you exactly like that, no matter whether it was a heartfelt confession or the weekly shopping list. The effortless sentimentality he gave to those he loved was the reason you became fast friends as children, and it was the reason you fell a little more in love with him every single day.

The gifted trinket was just another facet of his love - your shelves were littered with little offerings; gacha toys, wooden carvings, even shells collected from the sands of the beach you visited every year. Every so often, he would arrive home and place a little wrapped item in your hands, pressing a kiss to your head as his eyes greedily took in your joy. Or, like today, you would come home to a piece of paper bearing handwriting you would know anywhere, and a new bauble placed on top.

This was a regular occurrence, but something about the familiar action today was tearing you apart. You clutched the note against your chest as sobs began to escape you. You wanted Giyuu home. You wanted him home and here and wrapped around you and -

The click of the door lock made you jump, and you looked up to find your Giyuu right there in front of you, as if summoned by your desperate wish for his presence. Ocean eyes were wide as he took in what was probably a fairly troubling sight to come home to - his girlfriend, sobbing in the hallway, cheeks flush with emotion and eyes red ringed.

“Love, what’s wrong? What happened?” He practically teleported to your side, cradling your cheek with his hand and brushing away a few tears with a featherlight touch.

You tried to force out an explanation, but the way you were tripping over your words and choking on your sobs made it sound incomprehensible even to you. Giyuu was unfazed, though; just bringing up his other hand so your face was cradled in his gentle hold and your eyes had to meet his.

“Breathe with me, okay?” His voice was low and steady, and his hands were warm against your skin as you followed his directions. Deep breath in, hold, deep breath out - a pattern you were intimately familiar with, and one Giyuu had talked you through more times than you could remember. His fingertips were making soothing tracks along your hairline and slowly but surely, you began to feel calmer, your tears coming to a halt and the nauseating feeling of anxiety fading away.

Giyuu’s lips brushed over your forehead as he murmured out praises, “Good girl. Can you tell me why you’re so upset? What can I do?”

Always so eager to support you, and always oblivious to how much he did for you just by existing in your orbit. You leaned forward, resting your head against his chest and laying your hand against his ribcage, stroking over the fabric of his t-shirt and smiling to yourself at his shiver, “I love you so much.”

You could practically feel his confusion, his hand faltering in its slow sweeps up and down your back, and you pulled back to meet his gaze, smiling at the slight furrow of his brow, “You bought me a butterfly. I had an awful day, and you bought me a butterfly.”

You could see he still didn’t quite see the connection, “I saw it on the way home from the school earlier. You love butterflies; of course I bought it.”

You could feel tears building up again - all of your emotions still on high alert, “When did you even have time? I thought you were meeting up with Tsutako after work?”

“I did.” His hands had come to rest on your hips, thumbs rubbing gentle circles into the plush there, “The school closed early today. I came home to change, and drop off your butterfly before I met up with her. I wanted you to have a surprise to come home to.”

Your sweet Giyuu. Truly, you weren't sure what you had done to deserve him, but you thanked whatever stars aligned to bring the two of you together every day.

“Want to talk about your day?” You immediately shook your head at his question. You couldn't bring yourself to think back on it; not now. It still felt too fresh, and your mind still felt too overwhelmed. At your vehement reaction, he just nodded, leaning in to press his lips to yours in a soft kiss, “Okay. Go and shower; I'll cook dinner.”

Easy directions, one step at a time. On nights like these, you needed that gentle guidance, and your boyfriend was all too happy to oblige. As you followed his instructions, pulling out one of his t-shirts and a pair of shorts, you could hear him clattering pots and pans. You took a deep breath, letting the sounds of your life together calm you down. 

After your shower, you padded out to the kitchen, towelling off your hair as you leaned against the doorframe to watch Giyuu work. He must have felt your gaze on his back, or heard your soft footsteps against the wood, because he looked over his shoulder, satisfied smile blooming on his face as his eyes trailed over the shirt you wore.

“Feel a little better, love?” His voice was warm and infinitely loving, and you moved forward to wrap your arms around his middle, nuzzling against his back. You did feel a little better, and between the warmth radiating from him and the smell of food all around you, you were beginning to feel sleepy and relaxed.

You yawned against him and he let out a little chuckle, patting at your hands, “Come on. Eat, then we can go cuddle in bed. There’s a new episode of that anime we’ve been watching tonight.”

That perked you up - somehow, you forgot about that. You pulled away from Giyuu, tiredness pushed to one side as you began to babble about everything you were looking forward to in the episode. When you looked back up at Giyuu, you found him watching you with a lovesick smile and warm eyes. Heat pooled in your cheeks under his loving gaze but you held his eye, meeting him with a smile of your own. The day had been horrible, but at least you would end it in Giyuu’s arms. Tomorrow, you would tell him all about your shitty manager and he would listen intently, and he would validate every irrational worried thought in your mind, and it would be okay. It always would be, as long as you had him in your corner when the world felt too scary and too overwhelming to manage alone.

[luwritesomething]

hi!! i'm not sure if you'd be comfortable with this, but would you be able to do something with billy loomis x reader where the reader is possibly plus sized and has old sh scars? if you're not comfortable with the last part i understand.

Billy Loomis x Reader: draw stars around my scars

Warnings: Swearing (probably), self-harm topics, self-harm scars, reader did self-harm but now is better, bad reaction at first, PLEASE DO NOT READ IF THESE TOPICS ARE GOING TO TRIGGER YOU.

Tags: healing, reader can be read as plus size, reader has stretch marks, reader has self-harm scars, projecting heavily

Reader pronouns: Non stated.

Word count: 1122

Summary: Billy sees Reader's self harm scars for the first time, on accident.

Author’s note: hi, thank you for requesting! this was healing to write, to be honest. as someone who dealt with self-harm for very long years, all i can say is that it does get better, you have to believe for a better way out for yourself and be very focused on your goal on staying clean. no one deserves to hurt themselves, i promise. if any of you reading this is at a very bad moment, if you self-harm, please know that my inbox and dms are always open for you to rant, even if we've never ever talked before. you can send whatever you want, do it with anonimity if you want through my inbox. but please, know that you're not alone. please, you need to do your best to get help, and if you can't, you must believe in yourself.

i never got help, and i'm still here, and honestly, i thought i would have ended all of this more than two years ago. please, please, stay strong. find your passion, stick to it. i'm leaving this my chemical romance song, because they really got me through my worst times, and the lyric "I'm unashamed, I'm gonna show my scars. Give a cheer for all the broken. Listen here, because it's who we are." really resonated with me and made me believe there was more than hurt. i'm always here for you <3

criticism, comments and reblogs are always appreciated! requests are open, especially for scream! hit that anon button and tell me your ideas. in the scream fandom, i write for billy loomis, stu macher, randy meeks, tatum riley, sidney prescott, mickey altieri, kirby reid, chad meeks martin, mindy meeks martin, tara carpenter, anika kayoko and laura crane.

Having Billy over wasn’t weird, in fact, you had grown so used to him sleeping around and staying until very late hours in your bedroom, that not having him there sometimes got lonely and awkward. You didn’t know much about the situation between his parents other than they had been fighting a lot lately, but that was enough, and you didn’t need to know more to offer a place for him to stay.

That night, you had just come out of the shower with the warm towel around your body when you heard some sounds outside your window. They were the kind of sounds stones made against wood, the kind of sounds Billy made to let you know he was outside, but you still got closer to the window to check if it was him. You saw him outside, with his denim jacket closed around his torso and his hand holding little stones he had gathered around your garden, waiting for you. When he saw you, he waved slowly and gestured to the window, for you to open it.

Making him a sign to wait, you stepped away from the window and hurried to put some clothes on before opening the window for him to climb and enter your bedroom. You settled for a simple t-shirt and cotton shorts, leaving the towel on top of your bed so you could finally let him enter.

Once you opened the window, you stepped back knowing he would climb up without any difficulty — he had really grown to master the art of climbing through your window. Billy was fast, and no longer holding the stones since you had finally realized he was outside, he appeared by your window and jumped inside with ease. 

“I’ve been outside for fifteen minutes.” He grunted as he cleaned his palms against his jeans, then pushed the rebel strands of his black hair away from his eyes.

“I was showering, I didn’t hear you.”

That made him look up, that little but still sweet smile of his appearing in his lips because God, did he like being with you — and it disappeared when his eyes landed on a particular place on your thighs, and you knew what he was looking at as soon as his eyes snapped back onto yours, something close to rage filling them up.

You had always been so careful hiding your scars. Lately, it was more because of not wanting to have difficult and awkward conversations and not because of being a constant in your life — the self-harming had stopped some time ago already, you had outgrown it, realizing that hurting yourself was something that you did not deserve. The scars were tricky to see, considering they were placed high on your thighs, and even if you wore regular shorts they were almost impossible to see, but these cotton shorts were shorter than usual. 

“Billy—”

“Tell me you’re not doing any of that shit to yourself.” He demanded, and his voice sounded as cold as ice, as hard as steel. Billy wasn’t going easy on this, and you didn’t expect less out of him.

“It was a long time ago.” You said, your voice remaining calm. It was for a few seconds, but your eyes followed him in the path to your thighs, to the scars matching the stretch marks. They were part of you now. “I’m alright now.”

The breath that Billy let out was shaky, which surprised you. He got a step closer to you, then regretted and backed away slightly. You knew his eyes were now scanning your arms, and you knew that, if he looked hard enough, he could also see the ones there — that, or you were the only one who could see the invisible traces the razor had carved into your skin in your worst moments, which was also possible. Some sights were impossible to forget.

“You are okay?” Billy asked softly, with a reason to doubt you. You had been dating him for months, being friends for years, but you still hadn’t told him — you had let him figure it out, by accident. 

You nodded. “I promise. I am. I’m clean, I’ve been clean for more than a year.”

Billy nodded slowly, almost like he wasn’t paying attention — but you knew he was. His steps were quick when he walked towards you and pulled you into a swift, loose hug, his chin resting on your shoulder. You closed your eyes and wrapped your arms tight around him. You wished you could go back and show that moment to your past self, as a promise that everything would work out, that you deserved better. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked in a whisper, and if you didn’t know him better, you could have sworn his voice was strained with emotion. It was. “I could’ve… fuck. Don’t ever do that again, please.”

“I know, I know, it was just…” You shook your head and let yourself hug him a little bit tighter. “It was difficult, bad timing and all… I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry I wasn’t there—”

“Billy, it’s not your fault.”

Billy pulled back slightly from you, looking into your eyes in earnest. “It’s not yours either.”

You smiled softly, and caressed his cheek with tenderness written all over your face. You hadn’t loved anyone more in your whole life. “I know.” You said, nodding your head, and it was true.

Billy watched you again, carefully, from head to toe, and only closed his eyes once he convinced himself that you were alright. It wasn’t something violent to see, it was calming — his worry for you, although at first rather rough and unmoving, healed the open wounds in you that always tried to lead you back into your old ways. The sickness of the addiction had been the worst, wanting to stay clean but slumping again, and again and again, but you were better now. You should have believed when you had heard that things would get better.

In silence, Billy pointed at your bed with his head, as his hand slid into yours firmly but softly. You only nodded, and put the towel away before you two slid into your covers. His hand wrapped around your hips, and it took you a little to realize that his fingers were deftly tracing your scars around, small tickles caressing your skin.

“I’m okay.” You muttered with a little smile on your lips, looking up to him.

Billy hummed lightly, and his lips came to your forehead, kissing you tenderly. You searched for his free hand and shifted around to find a comfortable position, snuggling against him, and feeling calm for the little, incoherent drawings his fingers made into your skin.

[yadchi-i-guess]

Bit of a rant, but there's no way I ain't doing this.

You know, Murder Drones drew me in back in June/July of 2023 when ep 5 was advertised on an episode of SMG4. It just looked... cool to me. I got around to watching the 5 episodes available at the time... and found I couldn't stop thinking about them. I couldn't believe how much I adored this show. The character designs, the characters themselves, the story, the sick as hell animations, etc.

I kinda feel bad that I was only here for this Fandom in the later half of its episodes releasing, the first live episode I watched being Dead End, but hey... better late than never I guess.

Anyway, I started getting an interest in drawing these characters since I saw hundreds of others take their stab in "creating Murder Drones fanart". And well, it wasn't long before one artist drew me to their Tumblr. And then I found this part of the community. One I could stomach better than Twitter, for the most part.

I had been a bit of a silent lurker on here for a while, but after being diagnosed with autism and feeling more like an outsider to real life... I took a stab of my own here.

And oh my robo-god did it paid off.

Murder Drones gave me friends I never want to lose. Gave me a chance to share my art and create for others... and now I love doing this, through highs and lows. I love being an artist. And I love my friends. Not just my mutuals, but my followers and people I follow.

I was going to ask you, Murder Drones comrades of Tumblr, to promise me something. To never let this show be forgotten. It's too magical to be left behind. We, the Fandom, are left as the beating core of this indie show after tomorrow.

But... I know it won't be forgotten. Ever. I just know. As V said so famously a year and four days ago, "I trust you."

So instead all I have left to say is... thank you, Mr. Liam Vickers, Glitch Productions, the animators, merch-makers, theorists, artists, fanfic authors and crazy fanbase for making me love something like an excitable child. And for giving me friends in this lonely world. It's a part of my life I'll cherish forever and never abandon.

Can't wait for tomorrow. We're all going down together 💛🖤

[wannabeanartist]

I just wanted to give my special thanks to everyone who as followed me. Thanks to all of your encouragement, I got better at drawing. There may be only a dozen or so of you listening and reading this, but for me, it's a dozen more than what I would've thought.

Special thanks to:

@paperanimater my first subscriber, here since the beginning

@authorjones for liking almost all my posts

And of course, I could not forget @mylifeisruined69420 you are the first one who gave me so much encouragement, who seemed almost as passionate as I was for my work. I promise to you that even if only for you, I WILL make this game. Just so you can have it.

A year or so ago I was doing this:

And now, thanks to all of you, I am here:

I still have a long way to go, and I hope that all of you will be there with me. Even if there are only three of you, two of you, or only one of you who cares about what I do, I will still do it. Because, despite what social media has told us, making a singular person smile is enough of a reason to keep going.

To all beginner artists out there, even the greatest artist started with stick figures. To all beginner programmers, every good programmer once got blocked for hours by the stupidest error.

If anyone wants to ask questions about me personally, my game, my characters, or anything else, I am glad to answer. If any of you are going through a bad time and need to talk, my dm's are open. If any of you are alone on your birthday, I'll wish you a happy birthday. If you just want to talk or need a friend, I can do that too.

Remember, whatever your situation is.

"Someone always cares, you must simply seek them out"-Zenyatta

[a-minke-whales-tale]

This is a pretty heavy vent post. Just be warned. My emotions have been particularly volatile lately and I am not well. Hopefully we will return to regularly scheduled whale nonsense shortly of either more engineering (I came up with some breathing notes as well as tongue notes), or more cute drawings.

Vent below the break.

Tw: vent, unreality, abuse, captivity, death

I am so exhausted and stressed. I have been honestly much of the past year, it got really bad towards summer and summer holiday did not help. I worked very hard for the humans, I did whatever I was commanded without question or resistance. I was a good animal and did what I was told to. This block it was finally going to start to get easier because I was going to reduce my time. But the humans lied to me and betrayed me and threw me away. I was not good enough for the humans still. And this past month and a half has just destroyed me so much more. I think the increased stress had already caused me to need my crutch again months ago. I am just not handling things well, but I also right now have no choice. I cannot rest, I have to solve this or I go away and if I do I likely never come back.

They took away the stability I was promised, and the relief I was promised, and replaced it with so much more stress. I have to be useful, I have to find new humans to serve. But I am exhausted in a way nothing seems to fix. I try desperately to be good but the exhaustion is just overwhelming. Before I could push myself forward, there was promise of relief of the horizon and the humans I served I thought were happy with me and valued me and I was a good animal, but then that was taken away. I have to still be good, put a smile on my face and obey the humans even though they made it clear I am not valuable to them even working my hardest and they did irreparibly fuck me with their lies.

There is no standing up for myself, there is no defending myself, and no human will help me. The humans did as they are allowed by their own rules, not that the humans would have helped me if they didn't. They are in charge and they decide what happens to me. I can only comply with them and try to make them happy. I have to try to be good, if I am not I go away.

I am not people like others. I am a useful thing. I was made to be useful to the humans and if not then I get put away. I had believed I was owned by the school, they gave me money to buy food and an enclosure and doctors, but they owned me. I do not see an option but to give the humans whatever they want, if I am not sufficiently useful to them I go away. And once they have used everything they can from me they will discard me and get a new one. But if I am not useful I will be locked away again, and I fear eventually I won't come out or they will eventually just have me put down. I often think things like me belong locked away, that I am not capable to really be good, to be useful enough for the humans. I am a broken thing which cannot follow the rules and cannot be good how hard I try. But still I have to try to be good or the humans will make things worse, if you do not comply they will force you to, and they have more power than I could ever fight.

I know the rules and I know my place. I do not have a choice. It is part of why I dream so much to return to the water and spend time to try to design some sort of whale suit. Beyond just fixing my body it would hopefully let me escape this nightmare I cannot wake up from, to escape the overwhelming power of the humans. Or even if I lived in captivity at least I would have my body back and the humans would not be able to pretend they do not have overwhelming power over me and sometimes they would be nice to me. It is honestly the only hope I have right now to cling to that things might someday be better.

Even life as a captive cetacean in a tank offers me more freedom than I can ever have like this. I keep hoping I will wake up. I had a dream/half asleep moment I thought I had died and was a calf inside my mother. The sense of relief that it was over was incredible, until sometime later I woke up and was devastated because it was not done, not yet.

Humans can be extremely unkind and uncaring to those in thier care. It is for me though an insurmountable power. A few times I have been jealous of whales like Tilikum, maybe it wasnt what he was doing when he killed those humans, it strikes me as possibly overly anthropomorphizing with insuffient proof, but he had the strength to pull them beneath the waters and enact some form of revenge. I do not want to hurt the humans though, even if I had the power to. I just want them return me to the water and stop hurting me so much. Let me exist peacefully and let me swim forever until it is time to rejoin the current and rejoin the others. Even in a tank, I would swim more free than I ever could now.

[trashboatprince]

I've been thinking on this for a while now, and I decided to rework the beginning of the sea monster wives au.

Especially with the new ideas I have for it.

So, here's a new, updated version of how Aziraphale and Crowley meet.

On with the fic!

--

The letters creased in the tight hold of Aziraphale's fingers as she read them over a fifth time.

They still said the same thing as they had the previous four times, in the two familiar scripts and words of her brothers. It was the same message, one more friendly and apologetic than the one, which was more stern and to-the-point.

'We will not be arriving back to England like we had promised.'

Jim had been kinder in his letter, but Gabriel had written to her as if she were an associate from a partnering company that he worked with.

Her eldest brothers, Gabriel James and James Gabriel (Jim, as he preferred), were in charge of their family's shipping and trading companies, currently doing business in America. They had been over there for over a year now, and had promised they'd return by the time Aziraphale would be reaching the age of twenty-six, which was in a few months.

But Aziraphale should have known better, promises are just words that can easily be broken with the twins. Jim was so sorry, having said that while he would love to return to see his dearly loved sister, Gabriel was not letting him return home for something like this. Business was booming in America, Jim had to be there to help!

And... well... from what he had written in his letter, Jim had met someone. The heir to a very successful meat processing venture, Bea Prince, apparently things were going well with the courting. Aziraphale could not fault her brother for staying not just because Gabriel told him to, but because his heart was full of love.

She was herself a hopeless romantic, she adored romance and such. However, she only really experienced it through the characters in the books of her shop. She had never really felt anything for anyone.

Well.

While love wasn't really in the picture, attraction was. Attraction that her family was very much against. The youngest child, the only daughter, in the Eastgate family, could not prefer the company of women over men!

It was bad enough that Aziraphale was pushing her luck with wearing trousers and clothing more inclined for gentlemen than ladies, if she were even to feed her appetite for the fairer sex, she'd be sent to a nunnery!

Or she'd be forced to marry someone her brothers picked. Michael had threatened her with this when he had spotted her being a bit too friendly to a young woman in town some years ago. And Michael's threats had the power of a military captain behind them, considering that was his rank.

Even if she didn't have feelings for women, the thought of arranged marriage was always looming over her head. Gabriel and Michael had been talking before the eldest Eastgate had left for the United States. They had been discussing Aziraphale's age, and how she was practically a spinster.

They had talked about marrying her off to someone.

She had nearly burst into the drawing room of the family's estate home, nearly screamed and shouted and acted like a child.

But she held her tongue, and continued to eavesdrop.

Until she heard a name of a potential suitor and she left.

Mr. Salt, her brother's main business partner, after Jim. He was smarmy man with gold teeth who liked to be a little too close to Aziraphale's seat whenever he came over for dinner. She hated him more than she had ever hated a person.

He was a constant in her life, especially right now, with her brothers away. He was running the business from its main base here on Tadfield Isle, and he was constantly over at the family home. Practically moved in the day her brothers left the port! Michael and his wife, Uriel, were not thrilled, but put up with it due to Gabriel saying it was perfectly fine.

Aziraphale stopped living at home two months after this, and had been living in the flat above her bookshop just to avoid him. Except for Wednesdays and Sundays, when she was required to attend family dinners at the estate.

Mr. Salt did not like her living at the bookshop, in fact, he was quite vocal about how she shouldn't even own the place.

'A young lady has no need for a job! Her place is at home!' He had told Gabriel, who nearly agreed, especially to the idea of selling it. But Jim had put his foot down, saying that it was Aziraphale's, left to her by their grandfather, who loved books just as much as she did. It was in her name, it was hers.

Jim was always in her corner, he was a good man, even if he could sometimes be a dim as a dying oil lamp.

With a sigh, Aziraphale pocketed his letter. The one from Gabriel was held between her fingers before she let it go, watching it fly away with the wind.

She stood silently on the beach, watching the piece of paper move through the air, as if it were dancing.

The beach was her quiet place, like her shop. Only it didn't have the occasional annoyance of a customer, it just had birds that sometimes tried to eat her nibbles she'd bring. It was a small cove a distance from town, a private place that no one ever came to because it was hidden away, ugly and rocky, but it had a charm to it that Aziraphale liked.

Like the cave hidden in the cliff side nearby, the tide pools, the cute crabs she liked watching.

And the quiet, peacefulness of it, where no one could bother her.

She watched the paper as it landed on the water's surface, near the end of the line of weather-worn rocks that reached into the sea.

And that's when she saw it.

Something red and black, right at the furthest rock. Curiously, she watched it, what was it? Debris? An article of clothing floating on the water? A fish of some sort?

No... it looked like hair, with some sort of strange, black plant coming out of the tangles.

The black things fluttered as the paper drifted closer to it, and then something grabbed a paper.

A hand.

Aziraphale's eyes widened and she found herself moving close to the shore.

"H-hello?" She called out.

She watched as the red thing tore into the paper, then suddenly made a harsh sound. Paper was spat out, and what was still grasped was snarled at.

"Hello?!" Aziraphale called out again, now worried, but her curious nature was getting the better of her.

Could this be someone in danger? The hand certainly looks human, even if the skin seems... strange. And the red stuff does look like hair...

But there was a rumor going around town, told by the salty, old sea captain with a weird hatred and fascination with witches, Shadwell, that he had seen and captured a mermaid. Until this 'mermaid' fought back and escaped his fishing boat some weeks ago when they had that massive storm.

Adam Young and his little group of friends had even claimed to have seen the 'mermaid', but they could just be messing with Shadwell, as they tended to enjoy getting him riled up.

Aziraphale was open minded to the wonders of the world, there was always a kernel of truth to folklore and myths, but a mermaid sounded so... outlandish.

And yet...

The strange thing in the water moved fast when it finally heard her, hiding behind the rock.

"Oh, oh please, don't hide! It's... it's okay!" She said, removing her shoes and her stockings, moving to climb up on the rocks. They were a long line, a bit jagged, but flat enough that she could, carefully move across them. She'd done it tons of times over the years, she'd be fine.

Aziraphale got near the last rock, watching as the red stuff drifted through the water, it was hair, beautiful, bright red hair, darkened by the waters. A hand grabbed the rock, long, black claw-like nails scratched as it. She could see a strange thing between the fingers, a blushing red, it looks like very thin skin.

"It's alright, I won't hurt you." She said softly over the waved, though she felt ridiculous, sounded like she was talking to a scared dog.

Aziraphale got down to sit on the stone, looking at the hand and the hair, hearing something that sounded oddly like clicking and chirping.

The figure then slowly moved, letting Aziraphale see their face.

The figure was a deathly pale, with freckles scattered over their cheeks and nose, a mouth that was frowning, but the thin lips parted just enough to show unusually sharp teeth.

The black things from before were thin, like the skin between the figures, fluttering around what had to be ears hidden behind them and the red hair.

And eyes, golden and snake-like, stared at her in a way Aziraphale had never been stared at before.

Then they moved, and Aziraphale suddenly found herself on her back, staring up at the slightly gray sky, and the stranger.

The beautiful, frightening stranger, who continued to look at her with large, golden eyes.

And the frown became a smile.

A smile of shark teeth.

Aziraphale had found the so-called mermaid.

--

Aziraphale, meet your future wife, Crowley. :)

Yes, Jim is now a character in this, the only brother that actually likes Aziraphale. He'll be in support of his sister being in love with a monster, because Crowley makes her happy. And yes, Jim and Beelzebub are a couple in this.

[the-cookie-of-doom]

Prompt: Chay watching size queen!Kim wreck himself on a big dick (this one is for @snickerdoodlles)

Kim is beautiful. Chay has always thought so, ever since he first discovered Wik making covers on youtube. And really, there’s no time he isn’t absolutely gorgeous, even when he’s coming back disheveled from a fight, or waking up in the morning, delightfully sleep-rumbled. 

And in Chay’s opinion, Kim is the most beautiful when he’s like this, being slowly, carefully taken apart. Preferably at Chay’s hands, but it’s just as good when he’s doing it to himself, too. Chay loves to watch Kim make himself feel good. Loves that Kim will allow himself to feel good. 

“You’re amazing, P’Kim,” Chay breathes, tracking a bead of sweat as it drips down the column of Kim’s throat to pull in the hollow of his collar bones. His entire body is glistening with little salty gems, making him glow in the evening light. 

Beautiful. 

This was supposed to be a challenge. Chay gave up twenty minutes ago and Kim is still going, somehow. 

Experience over enthusiasm, Kim had told him, as he slid down onto a dildo that Chay could feel in his throat. They had matching pairs, competing to see who could take the largest. Chay made it halfway down this one, his thighs shaking, his hole spasming around the girth as he tried to take it all. Meanwhile Kim watched him with a lazy grin as he ground down onto the thing, taking it easily. Chay managed to push himself down another inch, his breath catching in his throat, before he had to haul himself off with a miserable, “I can’t.” 

“It’s alright, love,” Kim told him, drawing Chay into a sweet kiss. He nuzzled Chay’s cheek and murmured, “You can just watch.” 

And now, three sizes up from where Chay had failed, he thinks that losing this match isn’t so bad after all, because Kim is wrecking himself for Chay’s pleasure, and Chay has nothing to distract him from the sheer beauty of it. 

“Like what you see?” Kim asks. He’s panting now. Exhausted, trembling, yet still he rides that monstrous dildo with long, languid thrusts, rolling his hips to the rhythm of whatever slow song is playing now. 

“Y-yeah. Yeah, P’Kim, I like it. I like watching you.” Chay always has, ever since he was fifteen years old and first discovered Wik, and had a lovely sexual-awakening that led him to this very moment, all these years later. He thanked YouTube’s generated recommendations every day. “Can I touch you yet?” 

“No.” Kim closes his eyes, grinding down onto silicone, flexing his hands against the floor. Chay knows if he touches Kim now, he’ll come. He’s been at this too long—almost an hour, not—not to. 

Kim certainly deserves it, a nice reward for his show, but if he’s not ready to stop… well, who is Chay to make him? 

“Okay,” he agrees. 

Kim pushes himself fully to his knees, the dildo sliding out of him with a wet sound. He exhales raggedly, looks up at Chay through his lashes. Chay is already handing him the next one, nice and slick and thick as his wrist. Chay;s own abused hole clenches around nothing as his fingers wrap around it. 

“Thank you,” Kim says, polite, like Chay only handed him a glass of water. 

“Can you take all of it?”

“Mhmm. Easily.” 

A long time ago, Kim promised he would never lie to Chay again. Watching Kim now, the way his thighs tremble as he positions himself above the toy, the way his breath hitches as he forces himself down onto it, Chay decides it doesn’t count as a lie if Kim believes it to be true. 

There’s certainly nothing easy about this. Chay deliberately skipped the next side up, just to watch Kim struggle. He doesn’t know how much longer he can keep this up without touching his lover, so he’s rushing things a little bit. The way Kim’s body shakes is gratifying, too. The flush on his face that spreads down his chest, the hard, tense line of his body as every muscle pulls taught. Chay knows better than to second-guess Kim by now; he’ll be able to take it all. But no, it won’t be easy. 

“Fuck,” Kim groans as he slowly sinks down, inch by inch. He has to stop half way. Chay knows it must be agonizing; gravity working against him, demanding he take a position with better leverage, or else succumb to the heavy pull downwards. It’ll hurt if he just drops his weight onto the thing, forcing it the rest of the way before his body is ready. But his body hurts anyway as the strain gets to him, the tremble in his legs becoming more pronounced. 

Chay begins to doubt Kim can do this after all. Reaches out for him when Kim pushes back up on his knees, takes him by the hips to support him, and Kim opens his eyes to smile at Chay. They’re hazy and fever bright. 

“I’m okay,” he says. He shuffles around, sits himself more upright instead of leaning back on his hands, places them on Chay’s shoulders instead. “Help me?” 

Really, how could Chay refuse such a sweet request? 

“Okay. Okay, P’Kim. Ready?”

“Yes.” It becomes a hiss as Kim lowers himself back down. He spreads his legs more, gasping shallow little breaths as he’s split open on the dildo, and then he meets that resistance again, and Chay pushes—Kim cries out, a strangled falsetto as he sinks down further, and then he collapses into Chay’s chest.

“Kim?” Chay asks softly. His lover is boneless and shaking in his arms, his panting breaths leaving moisture on Chay’s collar beneath his mouth. “Kim, are you okay?” 

“Y-yeah. Yes. Fine. Fuck.” 

“Too much?” Kim shakes his head and clings onto Chay. Chay laughs, feeling Kim shimmy his hips against the toy, and pets his damp hair. “Okay, P’Kim, whatever you say.”

Eventually, after Kim catches his breath, he says, “I can’t move.” 

Help me. The request is clear, and doesn’t bear repeating. 

Chay takes Kim by his slender hips again and lifts him up, pressing in close so they’re chest to chest and he can use his legs instead of his arms, like he’s fucking himself, too, lifting both of them. 

Chay peppers Kim with kisses, pressing them against his jaw and neck. He feels Kim reach between them to stroke his cock, moaning and whimpering. He’s so overstimulated from how long he’s been edging himself. The wet sounds of the dildo in his sopping hole are filthy. 

“I can’t, I can’t,” Kim cries, and collapses again, driving the dildo as deep as it can go. When Chay pulls back he can see Kim blinking back tears. “It’s too much.” 

“That’s okay, P’Kim. Come on, I’ll help you come.” He kisses away the tears on his cheeks and squeezes Kim’s hips, guiding him up and off of the dildo for a final time, and lays Kim gently on the towel-covered floor to recover. He can’t help himself, and reaches down to brush his fingers against Kim’s swollen rim, delighting in the way it clenches around nothing, to used to fully close again. “Oh, P’Kim,” he murmurs. He pushes two fingers inside just the feel the way he spasms around them. 

“Chay.”

“It’s okay, I’ll take care of you.” Chay withdraws his fingers. He wraps them around Kim’s cock instead, loving the way it throbs in his hand, hot and heavy. If Chay wasn’t already so wrecked and sore himself, he would mount Kim himself to feel it inside him, but he can’t. So he brings Kim to orgasm with his hand instead, tight, firm pulls that make him shake and moan until he spills onto his belly. 

Send me horny prompts!

[thighsoverlives]

Savior - 1/?

⋆ relationship ⋆

John Price x F!reader

⋆ summary ⋆

Your deadbeat boyfriend up and leaves you, turning your world upside-down. After a mishap at the local liquor store, an older man with a mysterious background takes interest in you.

⋆ notes ⋆

found this in my docs lol. its like 4 months old but i decided to finish this part of it (where is this motivation coming from??). hopefully it turns into something half decent but god knows because i have no idea where i want to take this. soo.. enjoy lol.

⋆ warnings ⋆

implied/referenced harassment (very brief)

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆.

hope you enjoy! (●'◡'●)

Part One : Bad Decisions

Your hands are trembling as you angrily pull at fistfuls of hair. All of you want to do right now is feel anything but this stabbing pain. You’re drawing in unstable breaths but it still feels like you can’t breathe. Like all the oxygen in the world will not be enough because your lungs feel like they're going to collapse in on themselves. Like they’re going to explode. Your vision is blurry from all the tears you’ve been crying. You hate this feeling. Hate how the area under your eyes stings as more hot tears stream down your cheeks. You want everything to stop, stop, stop. You can’t do this right now.

Just last week your deadbeat piece of shit boyfriend had up and left you, using the excuse that he’d found someone better. That he’d been seeing that someone for a while. The insinuation that you had never ever been good enough for him in the four years that you’d wasted with that fucking piece of garbage hurt you more than you expected it to. You’d already emotionally detached from him months ago but it still hurt so much. Even though he was the absolute epitome of trash, he was still a major part of your life. He was stability in the sense that your life had been relatively the same for the past four years. Now that he was gone, what were you supposed to do with yourself? Were you just supposed to pick up the pieces that he had so haphazardly broken and discarded and put them back together? It seemed impossible. 

Your breathing was again becoming more labored. Your body physically fucking hurt. Everything hurt. You wanted things to go back to normalcy. Even if normalcy meant feeling alone with him. Even if normalcy meant suppressing your tears every time he made a backhanded comment or cruel remark. Even if normalcy meant being in the worst emotional pain you’d ever felt for the last four years. You hoped maybe he’d come knocking on your door in the dark of the night, telling you how sorry he was and how he’d treat you right this time. But this wasn’t a fairytale. He wasn’t your knight in shining armor, here to save you and take away all your pain. Hell, even thinking that he would apologize or give you anything that even resembled comfort was a fever dream. Why did you still want him to come back? You knew the promises of changing his behaviour were empty and hollow. But you wanted your normalcy back so fucking bad. Stop, stop, stop, stop. You wanted to yell at yourself for even thinking that. Fuck. He had screwed your brain up so much. Fuck, you hated him.

You wanted to scream. Wanted to break something. Wanted to punch a fucking hole in your wall. Wanted to break everything in your shitty apartment. God, you were such a fool. You’d wasted so much time on him and he was such a piece of shit. Fuck. This apartment was suffocating you. The walls felt like they were closing in, coming to crush you. You had to get out. You grabbed the nearest hoodie and pulled on your sneakers and in nothing else but shorts, you left your apartment. Liquor and Tylenol sounded like a nice combo to forget this shitty week. If you were lucky enough maybe you could forget the past four years too. 

The chilly March night air nipped at your bare skin as you pushed the lobby door open. You should have bothered to put a decent pair of pants on and you could hear your father’s voice in the back of your head saying “This is how you catch a cold,” but you pushed on. 

The streets were quiet. The sun had long since set so there weren’t many people out and about. The liquor store was only a couple blocks away but it probably wasn’t a smart idea to be going out in the first place. Your neighborhood wasn’t exactly what one would call safe. The apartment was dirt cheap, and for good reason too. This side of the city was riddled with crime and shady personnel. It was all you could afford though. It didn’t matter much either. You just wanted booze and some pain killers. The store wasn’t that far away and you’d never been hassled.

The door to the liquor store opened with resistance as the chimes hanging above announced your arrival. You went right to the cooler. It was slightly isolated from the rest of the store, the sliding doors separating it from everything else. The cold once again sent goosebumps racing up your legs as the doors slid open. You walked to the back of the cooler, in search of a six pack of Heineken. Maybe you’d get a twelve pack. You were pulled from your thoughts as three men approached you. 

One of the three stepped forward. He was wearing a baggy hoodie with grey sweatpants splattered with stains. “What’s a lovely lady like you doing out at this time of night?” His breath smelled of cigarettes and alcohol, with a pungent undertone of something you could only describe as shit. 

“Just picking up some beer,” you replied flatly. You had suddenly become aware that they were blocking your exit and a twinge of panic began to bloom.

“How ‘bout I take you back to my place. I can show you what a real party looks like.” He gave you a smile and it sent shivers up your spine. You should have never left the safety of your apartment. 

“No, it’s okay, my boyfriend is waiting for me at home.” You tried to return a smile and hoped your bluff didn’t sound too far fetched.

“C’mon, don’t be lame. This would be way more fun than going home to your boyfriend. Just come with me, yeah?”

“No, really, it’s okay-”

“I don’t think you’re getting the fucking hint.” He reached for your wrist, grabbing it tightly. The two other men that were with him took a step closer. 

Your stomach dropped. You were so fucked. 

“Do we have a problem here, gents?” A thick British accent came from behind the group of goons.

“I think you should mind your own fucking busines-” Before he could finish his sentence, he jaw was connecting with the British man’s fist. You were pulled forward for a second before you were able to release yourself from his grasp. He crumpled into a pathetic mess, blood pouring from a gash in his cheek. One of the other goons went to swing but was stopped by another man who kicked at the back of his knee and sent him sprawling to the floor like his friend. 

“I’d suggest you leave now.” The other man spoke in a low, calm tone as he bent down to look the two men in the eyes.. His voice was also thick with a British accent.

The group of men left the cooler quickly without any more protest.

“You alright?” 

Your hands were once again trembling as you stared at the little splotches of blood on the floor. You should have never left the apartment. What were you thinking? God you were such a fucking idiot. 

“Ma’am?” The voice was calm and soft as it broke you from your trance.

“Fine. Yes, I- I’m fine.” You stumbled over your words, hands still shaking uncontrollably. 

“Uhm, the name’s Gaz, and this is Price. Sorry about what happened,” he paused. “Is there anything we can do for you?” 

“N-no, it’s fine.” You felt lightheaded, like you were going to pass out any second. What the fuck just happened? Your head was spinning. 

“Did you come here by car?” The one named Price asked. Price, a funny name, a last name? It must have been a last name. Price. Like a price tag.

“Walked.” 

You might’ve been more concerned if not for your dazed state. These men were still strangers and despite the fact that they saved you, they could also be acting with ill intentions. Why was he asking if you had a car anyways? Was it so he could determine whether or not you were an easy target? Your head was spinning 

Trembling hands grasped for a case of beer. This night was just getting shittier by every passing second. You had to get out of this cooler. It was suffocating you just like your apartment was.

You pushed past the men, bumping into the older one as you left. 

“Ma’am, are you going to b-,” His voice was cut off abruptly. The younger one said something to him and the talking ceased. They were probably plotting to abduct you. You were so, so stupid. Why on Earth did you ever leave the safety of your apartment? Sure, the complex was shitty and the security wasn’t great but at least you’d be behind a locked door. 

 You tossed the case of beer onto the counter, paying little mind to the cashier.

“Everything okay? I heard a commotion in there.” He scanned the beer, eyeing you as he did.

You scoffed, not replying. It felt like the world was against you. Maybe you were confusing genuine concern for something more insidious but you could care less what he was thinking. 

The bells chimed once again as you exited the building. As you began walking towards your apartment, you saw the two men who’d beat the goons up getting into their car. A black sedan type. You were thankful it wasn’t a white van. You sighed, pulling your hood up over your head. You were so tired of this shit. 

[guppygiggles]

I've been wanting to create a tickling blog here for so long, but I'm afraid I'll get judged. What if no one like my drawing style or will I just go unnoticed? A counter question to you. How difficult it was for you to create your own blog or did not have any difficulties to do it

I have actually provided a very long-winded answer to this question once before, which you can find here. You know my wordy ass is going to answer this again anyway, though.

Ahem.

In terms of your art... here's what I'll say.

Draw for you. Draw every day, if you can. Draw what you want to see, and pay no mind to what other people think. Use references. Try to improve a bit each time, when you have the energy. If not, draw anyway. Draw "bad", draw ugly, draw unfinished, draw experimentally, draw with different tools, but draw. Even if all you get is mileage with no intention to improve, you will anyway, you won't be able to avoid it. Think about how kids draw... they're not TRYING to get better, yet, they do. Everything you draw counts. Everything you draw is growth, even if you don't see it. One day, you will. Promise.

That's it. That's the best advice I can give you about art. It's just that simple, and just that hard.

Unless you are trying to make a career (read: money) out of art, what other people think about your art is immaterial.

My art went unnoticed, at first. Understandably so, because at time of writing, I've only been drawing for six months. I didn't care, I just kept drawing, because I was drawing what I wanted to see, not what I thought would get attention. It happened eventually, regardless, and it will for you, too, if you are diligent.

Look, I'll even show you some comparisons. Let me reiterate... I started drawing in November/December last year.

Left is when I started, right is now. Am I an expert? No, of course not! Are there people who think both my new and old art is cringe? Yeah, probably! Ask me if I care, haha!

I draw every day, I draw what I want to see, and I try to improve a bit each time. I try to improve so that I can get closer to recreating the images in my head, not so I can meet someone else's expectations.

I still miss the mark, all the time. Hell, that dancing piece I just did a few days ago didn't come out how I wanted at all, but it's still better than what I could produce six months, or even two months ago, and that's good enough for me!

If you feel compelled to make art, do it. Do it for yourself.

The satisfaction you will experience from expressing yourself in the ways you feel drawn to will far outweigh whatever disappointment you might occasionally feel from going unnoticed... and for the record, I find it highly improbable that you will go unnoticed if you're making art for long enough in this community. The tickling community eats tickle content up at every skill level, from what I've seen.

I'm going to end this with my favorite piece of advice I've ever received, about talent in terms of making art, from the wonderful painter Richard Schmid.

"Don't bother about whether or not you have it. Just assume that you do, and then forget about it."

[rockkandii]

Pokemon/overwatch crossover

Venture meets an interesting trainer from their past

Not my art

Warnings: none

Just traveling around, ventures come to meet all kinds of people and pokemon, even being so lucky as to cross paths with some more than once. This proved true as one day, venture came face to face with an old friend.

Venture: "No. Way.. y/n, is that you?!" An audible gasp is heard from venture as they spot a familiar face inside a pokecenter in a town they're just passing through.

Y/n: jumps at the sudden loud voice calling their name, but upon finding said person a grin forms. "Oh my, it's been a while!" Jogging up to the excited trainer you find they've matured quite a bit physically since the last time you'd seen them. "How've you been? It's been what, two years now!?"

Excited chatter is swapped between the old friends for quite a while, before curiosity gets the better of you.

Y/n: "so, you still traveling with the same partners you had back when?" The question seemed innocent but to Sloane, they knew better. This was your sly way of wanting to battle, seeing as it had always been a swap for who won between the two of you.

Venture: "you betcha! They're tough as tungsten!" They grin, but you don't miss the mischievous look in their eyes when they reach for a pokeball off their hip. "wanna battle, like old times? I can promise you this, you won't win so easily this time."

That's right, the last battle you both shared before going separate ways two years ago, you had won.

Y/n: a smirk adorned your face as you pulled a pokeball of your own out. "Why id be honored, and just so we're on the same page.. I don't intend to lose, my teams as tough as topaz so don't underestimate them or they'll bury you beneath rubble."

Both trainers grinned at each other with adrenaline filled blushes as they headed towards the back courtyard of the pokecenter where a battle field stood.

Y/n: "so, just like old times? Three on three, no substitutions and winner is decided when all three pokemon on either side can no longer battle. Plus the winner gets whatever they want from the loser?"

Venture: "thems the rules n/n! Let's see if you can hold your own! Alright, Torterra come on out!"

-------

The battle was pretty long, and even gained the attention of quite a few passerby trainers. As the battle follows, here's the play by play.

Torterra(V) vs Archeops(y)

Winner: Archeops

Archeops(y) vs Excadrill(v)

Winner: Excadrill

Excadrill(v) vs Swampert(y)

Winner: Swampert

Swampert(y) vs Toedscruel(v)

Winner: Toedscruel

Toedscruel(v) vs Flygon(y)

Winner: double K.O.

The battle ended in a draw, causing mixed cheers and praise from the onlookers before it was just the two standing next to each other.

Y/n: "well you were right, your team is definitely tough! Too bad it ended in a draw, looks like we'll just have to battle again someday to break this tie." Giving a small punch to their shoulder with a grin you both head back into the pokecenter to heal up.

Venture: "I wouldn't have it any other way! Though, too bad there wasn't a clear winner, guess no one gets something from the other huh?" They stretch their arms behind their head, a thoughtless smile on their face.

Y/n: "hmm.. well, the rules say the winner gets whatever. And technically neither of us lost, so it's kinda like we both won.. we could always, both get something this time?"

Venture: tilts their head at you but a grin pulls on their lips as they let out a chipper laugh. "You've got a point! Alrighty, well, what'd you want from me?"

Y/n: "how bout we go out, on a date?" A sly smile slowly slips onto your face as your companions face lights up pink.

Venture: "Aw man, you totally stole my idea!" They laugh again, but quickly grab your hand and lightly swing them between yourselves as you walk back inside. "But I'd love to, looks like I really did win huh?" They grin towards you, you looking away with a small blush of your own.

Y/n: "I think we still both won, n/n"

[sparkie96]

New Fic: “Son of a Devil”

“…you said a bad word.” The little boy suddenly said in a little voice, drawing Nero’s attention, “The f-word.”

Nero looked at the little boy with a softened look, giving a little smile followed by a chuckle, “I did. Very good. The F-word is a bad word and you should never say it. I’m sorry. Do you need help? Is that why you snuck in here?”

The little boy visibly hesitated but then gave a little nod, “Mama told me to run. Find help. Said Papa’s bad friends were coming to hurt us.”

Nero saw Nico look at him with a curious look through the rear view mirror, Nero looking back to the boy, “Do you know why?”

“Papa owed them money.” The little boy admitted, “Mama said he stole it.”

Nero looked at Nico once more, “Still think we should call the cops?” He asked.

Nico admitted that she had already, but maybe he had a point about not leaving the kid behind, “Then, I’m going to grab some stuff. And then we’ll head home. I’ll call Kyrie and warn her ahead of time.”

“Good. But if any cops show up asking questions, you’re talking to them.” Nico said, “Now buckle up.”

Nero gave a little nod before turning back to the little boy in front of him, “I’m Nero. What’s your name, kiddo?”

The little boy canted his head at him, “Leon,” He replied shyly, “Leon Kennedy.”

The drive to Redgrave had been a quiet one for once, Leon staying awake the whole time despite it being past the boy’s bedtime. He stayed in his spot on the couch, allowing Nero to buckle him in for his safety. There was a little duffle bag and a stuffed raccoon sitting on the seat between them, the bag holding all of Leon’s clothes, or as much as Nero could grab. He put the family photo on top, but Leon flipped it over, not wanting to see the picture.

Which was understandable considering what had just happened over an hour ago.

Nero kept an eye on him, and so did Nico, whom Nero caught looking through the rear view, but he knew better than to say anything. Leon was nodding off to sleep, though every time his head sank, he would jolt up and blink with a little noise of annoyance, not letting go of the raccoon while he did so.

“If you’re tired, you can rest, bud.” Nero said, “We’re not gonna let anything happen to you. Promise.”

“Not tired…” Leon insisted before a yawn left him, Nero shaking his head with a smile, “…Dun…wanna…”

“If you want to nap, that’s okay. Go ahead.” Nero insisted, “I’ll wake you up when we get there, okay? You’re safe, Leon.”

(Reverse AU: How Nero Found Leon

Prompt: Age Reversal AU where Nero and Nico are out hunting demons one night and find something else instead. Or rather, someone else…

Meanwhile, five year-old Leon just barely made it out of a terrible and terrifying situation that led to him becoming an orphan. Luckily, he finds safety in a strange van parked on his block.

Rated for Language, Canon Typical Violence and ABO Things.

Sidenote: There will be NO Vergilleon in this for obvious reasons.)

Read More:

[trilobi-te]

Serval Cider. Cider being more or less canonically a furry is my favorite unnecessary plot detail in Chipspeech. I am a furry and I like to think about what different characters' fursonas might be and now I have been given an actual reason to do so.. yippee. I've been looking around to see if other people have made potential Cider fursonas and I found one on twitter from almost four years ago (it is a mouse/rat). Someone tell me if there are any others (or even any ideas floating around) because I am curious.

Furry time below the cut :3

Interestingly enough I had a decently hard time trying to figure out what Cider's fursona might be. This is probably because of my affinity for anthropomorphizations of weird creatures, which don't tend to frequently show up as fursonas (arise my Cambrian brethren). I have not ruled out the possibility of Cider being a weird creature but I could not think of one that fit him well enough. I went with a serval because he honestly kind of looks like one? I do not mean this in a bad way, I really like servals (same kind of cat as Sogga). He just has that vibe. Also he canonically likes cats so I don't think he'd object to it.

Now it's time for me to be boring. The reason I am such a fan of Cider being a furry is (predictably) the whole idea that furries run the tech industry. Afaik the evidence to back up this claim is almost entirely anecdotal, though that one survey from Furscience in 2011 said that around a quarter of all furries surveyed have a degree in tech (plus another ~quarter in other STEM fields) so there's at least one statistic out there. (Generally speaking the Furscience survey is pretty interesting to read through if you're interested in both statistics and anthro animals.) Honestly though the anecdotes seem to be enough to prove that, at the very least, a sizeable percentage of important individuals in tech that are furries given how prevalent they are. In short out of all of the fictional characters I know of the funniest one to make a furry is Cider. A fair amount of furry fandom history is also pretty Cider-adjacent. The way everything lines up is so nice. Fiction does not have to adhere to real world logic but I find it so much more fun when it does. My mind looks like one of those conspiracy boards with all the string connecting different scientific studies and Wikipedia articles I've read to the funni little blorbos. This is definitely normal I promise.

Behold some furry Cider tweets because they are funni (plus him saying he likes cats, that clyp was deleted but it can be inferred). "I was a scientist, last I checked ;)" lmao

Oughh I cannot draw in That Furry Style so I have broken out the chibi(?) style I rarely use because it fits the subject material (furries) better than my normal one? I'm so glad his eyes aren't visible because I can't draw eyes that match this style. The only character I regularly draw in this style is my own fursona but they don't count because their eyes are oversimplified to make up for all of the cephalon details that need outlines. I say this as if anyone knows what I'm talking about. Things I should practice but never do. Oh well. Also the headphones are placed relative to the ear canal at the base of the outer ear. I put them as high up as seemed realistically wearable. And look at the little apple it has ears. Kitty apple :3

Is this entire post going to read like word salad to everyone except me. Hopefully not. I really hope.