#I swear I still draw them I just haven’t been posting on here

[alksnd]

Silvillllll

[ivymarquis]

Say You Won't Let Go

Last House on the Right

Pairing| John Price x F!Single Mom!Reader Rating| E Word Count| 1.1k Kinks/Content/Warnings| Post Apocalypse!AU, Single Mom!verse, pregnant reader, mentions of pregnancy related eating issues + vomiting, Reader's got some separation issues. Fair warning this is so half baked I haven't even decided what kind of apocalypse it is, but somehow Ive got a whole plotline regardless.Same pairing as my fic Blind Date

Next Chapter

You can’t believe your luck. 

You’re not sure what exactly it was about this house in the dead of night that had you so transfixed, but your intuition has paid off in spades. 

The area’s been abandoned, to your knowledge leaving you the sole inhabitant meandering around. 

Or maybe waddling would be a more apt description.

Fear and uncertainty of the outside hurry you along into the house. Most everyone- the survivors- has splintered off into groups. There’s no evidence of anyone still living here (admittedly it’s not like you’ve taken the time to check every room, but there are signs when a house is inhabited), but you luck out that the cabinets haven’t been picked over. 

It’s been entirely too long since your last meal, and it takes a good amount of restraint to not devour the can of ravioli too quickly. 

As much as you’re tempted, you know there’s a fine line between what will and won’t have you immediately throwing up in the sink- grazing seems to keep the worst of the upset down.

There’s no hospitals to jaunt off to if you end up dehydrated. Excessive vomiting is not ideal post end of days.

If you were in your right mind- not frightened, isolated, starving, cold- and not focusing on how the unheated chef boyardee might as well be a five star michelin meal for all you can think right now, you might have been paying more attention.

The sound of a safety clicking off behind you freezes your blood far more than the cold. That sound is deliberate. Whoever’s behind you- gun pointed at you- wants you to know they got the jump on you.

“Hands where I can see them,” the order is gruffly barked at you.

You feel stupid. Of course all of this was too convenient for you to simply be catching a break. It wasn’t exactly well lit and designed to draw you in- but you’re an animal caught in a trap regardless.

The fork clatters against the counter next to the can as you go to comply.

“Turn around. Slowly.”

You’re not much of a threat in your current condition. That much is obvious.

Time stopped having any sort of tangible meaning a while ago. You should know how many weeks you are, but the days run together fending for yourself and you just know that you’re close. There’s no hiding the swell of your belly.

The man at the doorway looks as gruff as he sounds. Your mind spins like a tire in mud to process everything in front of you in the poor moonlight. Military, that much is obvious. You’re not actually sure if that’s a good thing. Handsome from what you can see, though historically your type has been men who don’t have a weapon leveled at you.

The taciturn expression on his face falters when he spots your bump, but you’ve learned by now to not expect any sort of special treatment.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize immediately. “I-I didn’t know anyone was here. I’ll leave, I swear.” 

He looks at you another moment before a look of resignation washes over him.

“Turn back around. Keep your hands up.” Oh God. Your mind immediately goes to the worst- That this man, for whatever reason, has decided that your infraction has signed your death warrant. That he can’t quite bring himself to fire on a pregnant woman staring him in the eyes, so the last thing you’re ever going to see is some tacky wallpaper and ugly cabinets.

You yelp when one of his hands finds the pistol on your hip. Holy shit you didn’t even hear him cross the room.

“Easy, love,” he soothes as he starts to frisk you for more weapons. “Not gonna hurt you. You have anything else on you?”

“A knife in my back pocket.” It doesn’t even occur to you to lie; putting yourself in his good graces is your only option and you can’t do that by lying.

His hands slip under your jacket, the hem oversized and hanging even with your arms up, making a wrong guess at the first pocket he checks before grabbing the knife out of the second one.

“Anyone going to come sniffing around looking for you?” A fair question, but one that sticks like a knife between your ribs.

The “No,” that escapes you is softer than you meant it to be, voice warbling as you try not to cry.

Hormones would have had you on the verge of tears at any given point, and that would have been before the end of the world and before your group abandoned you. You’re well entitled to your tears, you think, but try to stuff them back down anyway.

“You’re out here alone,” he grouses, sounding like he doesn’t believe you. The like this? is implied.

Your arms are still up, and they’re getting tired. Everything tires you out these days.

Like he can read your mind, he releases you with a “you can set your arms down now, love.”

“Thank you,” you’re in full fawn mode, turning to face him. While he’s clearly decided against killing you, you’ve been scared and alone for the past few days and you really don’t want to be separated from the only person who will give you the time of day right now. 

“Is there anyone else here? Other soldiers?” Your fate is sealed and lies in the soldier’s hands regardless of his answer.

Nothing with change, no matter what he says, but you think you’re less intimidated if it’s just the two of you. 

The world’s gone to hell in a handbasket, and yet you’ll never forget watching 28 days later when the line I promised them women was dropped.

“Got separated from my team.”

He turns away from you, gesturing to follow him out of the kitchen and towards the living room.

He’s limping.

You haven’t seen him move until now. You’re more an expert on busted hardware than busted body parts, you can’t tell if it’s a fresh injury that’s still healing, or an old one that’s set in place.

“They left you.” They left me, too.

“They didn’t leave me for dead, they think I am dead. Gonna take a bit more than that to get the job done, though.” 

You have no reason not to believe him. Despite having just met him, the man is like a living manifestation of everything masculinity is supposed to be- down to the surly attitude despite him herding you further into the house. It doesn’t take much to figure out that he’s tough as nails and sure why not flirt in death’s face that her last attempt wasn’t good enough?

You sit on the couch he points to, as he settles into the leather chair across from you.

“Christ what’d I’d do for a fucking smoke right now,” he mumbles, pawing at his chest absent mindedly on reflex.

You mean to sit stiff as a board, but your body is tired and the couch is surprisingly comfortable.

The soldier, however, sits like he owns the house. “And now for the question of what to do with you.”

[kkolg]

Hi there! I recently was recommend your Abyss animatic on YouTube and was like… whoa…. WHAT IS THIS I NEED TO KNOW MORE ABOUT THIS AU‼️I’ve been scrolling through your tumbler for several days just soaking in everything about The New Dawn and I was curios what’s happening in this world. are they in an apocalypse of some sort? Either I didn’t scroll far enough on your Tumbler to know more or you just haven’t revealed yet 💀 . Don’t spill anything you don’t want to, I am here for it all.

Trust me you are NOT ALONE 😭😭, I probably should’ve mentioned that I’m super bad at writing down my thoughts when it comes to storytelling in general BUT IM HERE TO CLEAR THINGS UP NOW I SWEAR‼️‼️ The New Dawn AU summary will be under the cut as it might be a bit long lol ANYWAYS THANKS FOR BEING SO INTERESTED IN THE STORY THAT YOU ASKED AND I APOLOGIZE FOR ALL THE CONFUSION 🙏🧎‍♀️also disclaimer because I’m writing this before the season finale some things may change to be in further line with the show which is another reason I didn’t write out the story before BUT ANYWAYS ENJOY‼️‼️

So basically after the events of the show N and Uzi defeat the solver with the power of friendship (also V’s back idk) and they go back to outpost 3 and are like “YIPEEEE WEVE FINALLY DEFEATED THE ABSOLUTE SOLVER WITH THE POWER OF FRIENDSHIP ALSO DO I HEAR A SONG COMING ON???” And then they all start dancing and Uzi is essentially the new leader of the colony (if you couldn’t tell this part of the story is not that important but you can interpret what I said here as fully cannon in the au if you want lol)

Not too long after that N is like “hey can we try to like reform the disassembly drones and let them into the colony?” And Uzis like “wait that’s an amazing idea” and then they make out but that’s not important- so they go out and start telling all the disassemblys they can find that the solver is gone and can’t spread anymore and that living with the workers is actually pretty lit. A good lot of them are like “woah I didn’t know you were chill like that” and most of them go to live in outpost 3, a few of them are skeptical and still wanna eat workers so not all of the disassembly are chill but most of them are.

While doing this they come across a disassembly drone named A and he’s like “sure I’ll join” and he does…..but he’s not a very cool guy- I plan to make a comic about this so I’m gonna be vague and just say turns out he’s insane and N basically exiled him from the colony.

Fast forward like a month from that incident and Kim is created, finally, and the Doorman’s live happily ever af- WRONG turns out A ganged up with all of the other mean disassembly drones and try’s to just OBLITERATE the colony during a raid and whoopdeedo Thad dies but I’ll make a comic about that later so I won’t get too detailed. OH YEAH KIM IS ALSO ABSOLUTELY TRAUMATIZED SO THATS GREAT-

Fast forward a few years and now we’re in the current time of where most of my comics/drawings take place. Kim is older and looks in the forbidden trauma closet that N and Uzi said never to look in but rebellious child I guess, and he finds stuff about the solver. Getting curious he pulls an Uzi to leave the colony and try to find out what the fuck this thing is and OH NO X JUMPSCARE, again another thing I’ll probably make a comic about but they fight, X says that a certain guy she knows might know about the solver thingy, they become buddies, C-1 is also there- weird visions start to make Kim have a robot seizures, and that’s kinda where we’re at rn

I hope this cleared up a lot of questions you guys may have had and I’ll be adding a link to this post on my pinned in case you ever need to refer back to this‼️‼️

anyways byeeeeeee

[hannie-dul-set]

Hi hi! How about jaemin? 🫣

I've been into him since he posted him wearing spec on ig 😭😭

[an untouched cooler of strawberry and vanilla]. na jaemin still remembers that your favorite popsicle flavor is vanilla strawberry swirl. 

it’s just the perfect amount of sweet, you said. the fruity taste of strawberry mixed with the mild vanilla can make me eat ten popsicles in one sitting. jaemin never really shared the sentiment, going as far gracing you with a horrified expression when you forced him to taste it before. he still remembers the gross flavor on his tongue. he still remembers how much sweeter your laughter sounded— sweeter than the ice cream flavor you loved so much.

“na jaemin! why the hell is this entire cooler filled with nothing but strawberry ice cream?!”

maybe because he heard you’re finally showing up to the gathering this summer. maybe because he’s been waiting for you to finally show up after all those unreturned invitations for the past six years.

“you’re lactose intolerant! and you don’t even like strawberries!”

who cares? he’d die choking on milk and strawberries if you tell him to (maybe that’s a stretch, but the sentiment is there).

“hey, where are you going?!”

he hears the gates of his family’s vacation house rattle open. a familiar greeting, a familiar welcome. the voice of his mom, the voice of yours— all of which rapidly grow louder when he runs down the hallway, bumping into mark who’s carrying fruit trays and canned soda, runs down the staircase, breezing past chenle who has a pool floatie caught around his waist, until he finally reaches the main foyer, screeches into a quick halt, and then ah. 

“oh my! i’m happy that your daughter finally found the time to join our summer gatherings together. when was the last time you’ve been here again, sweetie?”

just like how he still remembers your favorite ice cream flavor, his memory of how pretty you are remains unchanged.

“now that everyone’s here, i guess we can start the barbecue!”

well. not all things can remain the same. not all things can stay still like stagnant water. the barbecue starts, and jaemin is manning the grill with haechan— who’s still pressed because he ran from him earlier— now even more pissed because, “dude, the meat is fucking burning. where the hell is your head at?’

his head is turned exactly thirty-seven degrees away from where it should be— pointed at the direction of the pool ledge where you’re sitting, dipping your feet in the water, but it’s not just you there.

jeno is there too. with matching melona bars in hand.

haechan hisses out a swear when the fire burns his side of the meat into char. you didn’t even spare him anything beyond an awkward smile at the front door earlier. the cooler of strawberry swirls remains untouched. haechan kicks him out from grilling duty until further notice, but na jaemin isn’t one to sit around and do nothing. 

“hey.”

somehow, his feet lead him to the edge of the pool. you look up at him. jeno looks up at him. your half-eaten melona bars mocking him in plain sight. he feels five other eyes staring at him, but that doesn’t matter right now.

“we’re missing some plates and utensils on the table. mind helping me get them from the kitchen?”

what matters is making sure that not all things have changed. 

“i missed you.”

and he gets that confirmation when the kitchen curtains draw close, your popsicle hits the tiles, and you don’t push him away when he sinks himself into your warmth, arms wrapped around you, and strawberry vanilla has never smelled sweeter than when he’s taking in the scent from your hair and neck.

“thanks,” you say— the first time he’s heard your voice again after those god awful years. it’s dry, there’s snark in your tone, and god he could die right now and say thank you to the heavens because you haven’t changed one bit. “but if you really did, why’d it take you so long for you to say it then?”

there’s knot in his throat. there’s a gap between you when jaemin pulls himself off, pulls himself together. but just when he’s about to fill you in on the past six years— why things ended, why he couldn’t say a word, why he’s never stopped missing the memory of you smiling through your teeth in between the strawberry-vanilla dessert— the kitchen doors slide open.

“hyung.”

and the smell of rusty chlorine rinses the air.

“the food is ready. time to eat.”

send me a kpop boy (txt/enha/zb1/bnd/dream) to toss into reverse harem hell!

[honey-tongued-devil]

Ur so real for that rant post girl. Too many people are comfortable complaining about (insert niche or underused trope) not being present in free content. The complaint that there is 'too many' afab/women/generally fem leaning readers or whatever in fanfic is honestly so fucking stupid. Fanfiction and fandom spaces in general tend to be predominately populated by those kinds of ppl, then others are shocked when most of the art and writing is centered around those groups of ppl. The thing you mentioned with the ''thIs ChAraCtEr iS oBviOusLy GaY'' crowd that thinks their personal hc is gospel is suuuppperr annoying. Ive seen it with both silco and victor from arcane, if its a femreader or character you ship them with bitches go ballistic over some pixels that according to them are clearly gay or something. Even with characters like astarion who are cannonically attracted to women it happens.

Ppl are even bitter enough to post things like '' *insert character* x fem!reader hc: He leaves you for a man '' then proceed to not male reader stuff themselves but will whine and shit their pants over the lack of male or amab creations. Like the math aint mathing. At the end of the day you dont get to complain about free art and writing not catering to your specific taste, fan works are made by people not content cows. If you want something written, write it ya self.

I’m honestly confused that I haven’t received backlash, but I guess they’ve just chosen to ignore me (especially since even in the comments, people seem to agree with me).

Regarding people pushing headcanons: I swear, my patience is at zero. I was blocked en masse for drawing Astarion with myself because “Astarion is obviously gay.” As if I didn’t pay my €60 for the game and didn’t do the romance route with him—who is canonically bisexual. No character has a declared sexuality, except for a few in BG3, but even then, it’s apparently never enough, and people will still hassle you. This applies to Astarion, Silco, and literally any character.

And, as someone wrote in the comments: “He’s obviously gay because he’s flamboyant is not the hot take you think it is; it’s just a harmful stereotype."

+ I’ll happily repeat what I’ve said in the comments: I’m AFAB, a lesbian, and non-binary. I walk around in heels and a second-hand pink faux-fur coat. I could write a reader that reflects me, but I don’t. I choose to write neutral readers or tackle other issues because I’m the first to think representation matters. I’ve been there, reading things and never finding myself represented. But—and this is a big “but”—I’m a small artist who, unironically, starts creating art non-stop at 9 AM. I’m not paid unless someone decides to support me. Everything I make is for me.

If someone makes a request that inspires me and I have time, I might do it. I draw things and post them. I work for free, which means nobody has the god-given right to harass me.

Want to complain about representation? Take it up with Netflix or another big corporation, not with me—a 24-year-old Italian recent graduate who, instead of minding her own business, spends her time creating free content. Especially because, when I make fanart that focuses solely on the characters I like, nobody cares that I’m a femme in the fandom. But the moment I draw myself with a character, suddenly there are too many women and too much content for them, and I become a problem.

I’m not going to draw things I have zero interest in just because someone else can’t be bothered to make it themselves. Especially when my inbox is full of over 100 requests from people who ask politely and behave respectfully even if I can’t fulfill their requests. The issue here is that someone has convinced you (not you op, I'm happy to yap) it’s your right to be misogynistic and a pain in the ass, and that’s just not the case.

[o0o0thorn0o0o]

I be back.

Images by themselves below the cut because I spent way too much time on them + text because I’ve been gone for a while—‘course I got a lotta say.

It’s certainly been a while, eh? I did this last cour, too, and I swear to God if I do this for the next cour… Worst part is, I haven’t even watched it yet this time, rip :,) Will definitely do sometime later today, for sure, for sure.

So, I meant to get this done for IchiHime week (and look at how that turned out, haha), but not only was July a month full of pleasure, but it was also full of pain work. I was bordering a D for Orgo, so I spent a good portion prioritizing that—and it wasn’t for naught! Not only did I pass, but I went from a C- to a B! A freaking B, not even a B-!!! I’m still so shocked… I also ended up with over a 100 for lab, but I honestly kinda expected that. I’m just so glad I graduated without failing Orgo 2. Was infinitely better than Orgo 1, but goodbye, will never see you again. If I ever do, it’ll be too soon… Had hella good professors, though. That, I will say.

I go from ranting about Orgo to raving, even though it’s almost been a month… Oops ^^” The grade just still makes me so giddy, haha. Anyway, been mainly prioritizing drawing this (plus a part two to this, which I do have done as well, but I will be posting that sometime later today), though I did spend a good portion of the first half of this month rebooting my personal writing club. Enough about where I’ve been—let’s talk about the piece, shall we?

So, this was originally just an art idea I knew I wanted to do later, and when I saw what the first prompt was, it automatically came to the forefront of my mind. That, plus with the idea I eventually got for the second prompt, I really just had to. I actually probably could’ve gotten this done in a more reasonable time, but, see, when things are just an idea, I don’t put too, too much thought into them—only enough to consider them neat or substantial or something.

When it actually came to it, I found myself at a dilemma of just how faithful I wanted to stick with Orihime’s confession. Originally, I thought about incorporating the five specific things she mentioned into different past lives, but then I realized the timelines wouldn’t really make sense with what I was going for, especially considering Soul Society and stuff, which I had not thought about. So I kinda had to choose between previous lives or parallel lives. I initially went with the latter, but… idk, last minute, like the week of, I decided after checking the prompt list one more time that, nah, I definitely wanted previous lives. So, uh… yeah… I might still end up making a parallel lives version of this in the future, ‘cause I did like those ideas, too. We’ll see.

Anyway, I did try to make them at least somewhat reminiscent of the five things: Orihime and Hikoboshi are related to the astronaut thing ‘cause of space and stars and stuff. Heian Period IchiHime, well, it’s a bit of stretch, but I couldn’t really fit donuts in here since the timeline between them and the introduction of ice cream and the current timeline would’ve made one/two of these lives tragically short without even factoring in Soul Society—nothing wrong with tragedy, but not for this post, haha. So I went with small Chinese cakes ‘cause they’re a sweet? And they’d definitely be a very rare and special treat, so… idk.

Shinigami IchiHime’s also a bit of a stretch? You’d think I’d have the easiest time with being a teacher sometime in history, but I ended up sticking it here, and I was adamant I wanted to draw them in their academy days. So, you’ve got Orihime teaching Ichigo some kido techniques or something, idk. Maybe there’s also a kido equivalent to the dummy Hollow thing? And Orihime has a similar/equivalent position to Shuuhei for that? Idk, am just spitballing here to justify myself even though I know I don’t have to.

Then finally, we got Edo Period IchiHime, with Ichigo introducing ice cream to Orihime for the first time ever. And then of course, I shouldn’t have to explain the last one, haha.

Oh, God, I have so much to catch up on… which I will do later. And hey, since my scheduled posts are all up, I guess I’ll just use my queue to reblog posts I’ve missed since Ik I definitely will be reblogging a lot—don’t wanna bombard you with a ton of posts, aha. I will be making them daily instead of weekly, though, so that I’m not stashing them for too long. Starting tomorrow.

[mint-yooxgi]

{5} - To Tempt Fate - Yandere!Trickster Deities!Ateez X Reader

Yandere AU & Trickster AU

Genre: Mature, Horror, Angst, Suspense

Pairing: Ateez X Reader (Focus on Mingi)

Words: 3,496

Warnings: Depictions of anxiety (not the reader). This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: I have an appointment soon, so I just wanted to post this before I had to leave! Anyways, I'm very excited for the threads to begin unravelling now as more time progresses!! I really hope you all look forward to everything I have in store! As always, feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy!

Also, gentle reminder that I do not do tag lists.

Mini Masterlist - Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four

You don’t know how many times you had circled the maze yesterday. For hours, you traversed your way through specific paths, familiarizing yourself with its twists and turns. The last thing you need is to be running away from either another contestant, or one of the eight tricksters, only to reach a dead end. Your only hope is that the maze hasn’t shifted.

Surprisingly, you have no issues sleeping a few hours afterwards. The exhaustion settling into your bones had you passing out almost instantly, that small knife clutched securely in your hand.

The bed is more comfortable than you thought it would be. Given the way that trickster, of whom you’ve nicknamed ‘Ghost’ due to the colour of his eyes, was acting, you’re starting to believe more in the fact that they view you as ‘special’.

A chill runs down your spine.

Turning onto your back once more, you stare up at the ceiling. Based off of the way you’ve been keeping track of time ever since the other male, of whom you’ve nicknamed ‘Drakon’ due to the deep purple of his eyes, you reckon you have about one hour before the games are meant to truly begin. You still haven’t found a small bag to carry supplies in, but you can always make one out of your pillowcase if necessary.

Sitting up in bed, you rest the knife beside you on the mattress. Lifting your head, you glance at your reflection in the full length mirror.

Giving yourself a once over, you let out a sigh. You have some decisions to make.

One: you could barricade yourself inside of your room for the next twenty-four hours and see if someone happens to stumble across your little shack here. There seems to have been a box of food dropped off at the foot of your bed while you had gone out exploring, so you’re not worried about going hungry. Everything is nonperishable, and still in it’s original container, so you shouldn’t have to worry about someone having tampered with it. Still, you are dealing with tricksters, so it could be poisoned.

At least you have water.

Two: you could go out and explore the maze again to see if there have been any changes to the layout. This would allow you to get a better sense of the games going forward, but you’d have to be on the constant lookout for other contestants. Some might be too eager to start the bloodbath they have been enticed to partake in, while others might start screaming and drawing those types of competitors to your area. Both of which you’d rather avoid for as long as you can.

Three: you could go out and purposely look for other competitors. Not everyone is going to immediately go hunting for their trophy out of the gate, and you’re sure there are probably a few reasonable people around. Besides, if someone got dropped in, and they don’t immediately understand what the hell is going on, they’ll be completely scared out of their wits. Best to make yourself seem trustworthy to gain as many allies as you can.

If you can stop them from killing each other, the tricksters won’t have a game this year, and the blood will not be on your own hands. Besides, you can check out the maze this way for any changes; two birds with one stone.

Pushing yourself onto your feet, you steel your resolve. Looks like you have your answer. If you can align yourself with potential allies, then great! However, if you woke up in an unfamiliar place, were scared out of your wits and deathly confused, you would want at least one person to extend that same kindness to you.

Nothing is worse than being kicked when you’re down.

Twirling the knife in your hand, you move toward the bathroom to freshen up slightly. Like hell you’ll change into any of the clothes they got for you. After the encounter yesterday with Ghost, you know that that’s exactly what they’re hoping for, too.

Washing them might become an issue, but you’ve survived in the wilderness by yourself with only a knife to help you before. If you can do it once, you can do it again. You father didn’t teach you everything he knew about hunting for nothing.

The water feels cool against your skin as you wash up as much as you can. You’re a little hesitant about showering, or even stripping yourself completely naked for the moment. If you really have to, you’ll bathe in your underwear. Who knows what could be watching.

Adjusting your clothes, you manage to tuck the little notebook with your newly drawn map into the back of the waistband of your jeans. A pencil gets slid into your front pocket, along with a few pins, careful not to break the lead tip all the while. The small knife is held securely in your dominant hand, that string with your two keys and paperclip around your neck once more.

Turning towards the front, you take a deep breath once more.

Slowly, you move to unlock the door. It’s about time for the games to start, and from the way you hear a breeze rustling the leaves of the maze, you know it’s begun.

Swallowing the sudden dryness in your throat, you step outside.

The first difference you notice is how the area is now suddenly alive with sounds. The leaves rustle continuously, a soft breeze brushing through. There even appears to be bugs and small animals now in the area, of which were never there before.

Still, it remains as dark as night.

Taking a deep breath, you allow the smell of earth and nature to fill your lungs. The scents are stronger than yesterday, but that won’t be a hindrance to you at all.

Lifting your gaze, your brow furrows. 

There, in the distance, appears almost a small protrusion above the one edge of the maze. An object that hadn’t been apparent before, even in your search of the area yesterday. Almost as if a building has appeared out of thin air.

The only things you did manage to come across yesterday were more of those little clearings with shacks in them. There are eight to be exact, four on opposite ends of the maze, designating where each survivor must first appear in the games. 

Perhaps the first challenge is being able to escape these huts.

Yours seems to be the second closest to the one edge. The one in which you ran into Ghost yesterday is the furthest to the left, yours directly beside it with two more following in succession after that. If you get lucky, and move quick enough, you might be able to slip passed the hut before the person inside manages to escape.

You grit your teeth.

Sick bastards probably intend to let some of them starve, or suffocate to death inside those shacks.

You shake your head, you need to worry about yourself right now. If they can’t get out on their own, then they’re no use to you in fighting off anything or anyone.

A grimace crosses your features. The whole reason you stepped foot outside your own place once the games began was to help others if they needed it. Now, you’re thinking about just letting them die?

You’re not that much like that bitch. You’re not that heartless. At least, not yet.

Too many conflicting emotions begin flitting through your mind. Enough so, that you manage to shake your head again in hopes to clear them. Only, it’s in vain, your thoughts beginning to consume you.

Taking a step forward, you begin to enter the maze. Hopefully, focussing down on the task at hand will help to clear your mind.

Again, just like yesterday, you turn left to start. The familiar path of the maze greets you, and you find yourself almost breathing a sigh of relief the longer you traverse the grounds. At least the maze hasn’t seemed to have shifted in the slightest. Yet.

Reaching that first opening where that other shack rests, you spare a glance into the clearing. Of course, just like yesterday, you’re cautious. The last thing you need is a surprise attack by another contestant, or another trickster.

However, what you do not expect, is for a loud bang to sound from the inside of the shack as you begin to creep closer.

“Please,” the voice is desperate, strained from yelling, “is there anyone out there?”

You freeze right in your tracks.

“Please,” a broken plea as you hear a sniffle coming from behind the closed door. “Someone, help me…”

You blink, unsure if what you’re hearing is correct. Yet, at the sound of the sobs becoming louder the closer you get, you know that whoever is inside of that shack must be desperate. Faintly, you swear you can even make out the sound of scratching coming from within, as if whoever is trapped inside is attempting to claw their way out in vain.

Pausing right in front of the door, you take a low breath in.

“Are you alright?” Your voice comes out softer than normal, but still loud enough for the other person to hear through their sobs.

Immediately, it’s like they go still. “Is someone there?”

“Yes, I’m here,” you gently reassure them. “I’m not going to leave you.”

“Oh, thank you,” a shuddering inhale. “Please, let me out of here. I- I- I swear I’ll be good and do whatever you want. Just please,” he sniffles once more, “let me out.”

“Do you know where you are?” You ask, crouching down in front of the door to examine the lock.

“No! It’s dark, and all I was told was that the games have begun.” He replies, a wail to his words. “What the fuck does that mean? Are you hear to kill me? Am I going to die? I don’t want to be a victim to someone pretending to play Jigsaw.”

You snort a bit at that. Yeah, that’s certainly one way to put it.

“I’m not going to hurt you, as long as you don’t hurt me. Okay?” You say, pulling out some of those pins from your pocket. “I know it might be hard to trust the words of a stranger right now, given the circumstances, but we’re going to have to believe in each other right now. I’ll tell you everything I can once I know I can trust you. Do you understand?”

A small pause where you can just tell that the male stuck inside of the shack is wiping at his eyes. “Yes.”

“Good,” you nod. “Now, I have a few questions for you before hand. They are meant to help you, and I know they might be frustrating at first, but we both need to understand your situation fully. Tell me everything you can see inside the room with you.”

A moment passes by in silence. Then another, and another.

“I can’t make out anything, it’s too dark.” Comes his reply, voice small as if scared that’s not the answer you want to hear from him. “It’s cramped, and I can’t move my legs.”

You blink. “Are you hurt?”

“No!” Immediately, he responds before clearing his throat slightly. “No, I’m not. I promise. It’s just really cramped in here.”

“Alright. Do you have anything of value on your person?” You ask. “Like a phone, or a watch?”

“I have my watch, but no phone.” He tells you, and from the sounds of things, is calming down the more you talk with him.

“Is it analog or digital?” You ask, beginning to pick the lock holding him hostage in the shack.

“Analog.”

You smile faintly. “Describe it to me.”

“Well, my one brother got it for me for my birthday last year, and it has a brown strap,” he starts prattling off. “The face is white, and the numbers are gold…” he trails off. “Hey, why are you so interested in my watch?”

The lock clicks, and you stand back to your feet.

“I’m not.” Comes your blunt reply. “But you’ve stopped crying, haven’t you?”

The male goes silent, contemplating your words.

“It’s unlocked.” You say, turning the handle to crack the door open just an inch.

However, what you don’t expect is for the door to fling itself open almost instantly. Reflexively, you jump back, now eyeing the man that lays on his back on the ground as the door rests wide open.

He groans, eyes closed in pain. “Ow.”

“My bad, I forgot you were probably sitting against it.” You chuckle, dusting off your knees casually.

His eyes open, and you notice how sharp his features are. Though, that’s not what stands out to you the most.

The bright pink hair cropped short to his head draws your immediate gaze, and you can only quirk a brow in response. From the length of his torso, he also appears quite tall, too.

“Thank you,” he shifts his face towards you, eyes still shining with unshed tears.

“Don’t mention it.” You shrug him off. “Can you stand?”

Slowly, the male nods, pushing himself to his feet in the next second.

You’re right, he is tall. Nothing you can’t handle, though.

“What’s you name?” Your eyes trail over his figure from top to bottom, and he has to suppress the pleasant shiver than wants to caress his spine as you do so.

“Mingi.” He breathes, heart pounding inside of his chest.

“Nice to meet you, Mingi,” you nod once. “Though, I wish it were under better circumstances.”

You move around him, inspecting what little you can see inside the now unlocked shack. Looks like there really is nothing of importance inside. All that greets you is a tiny enclosed space with four wooden walls. Not even enough room to lay down on the ground comfortably.

Turning back to him, you see him standing a little ways to the side, wiping at the dried tears on his face.

“Hey, it’ll be okay.�� You smile assuringly at him before introducing yourself. “I know it’s terrifying, but we’ll get through this. Okay?”

He nods, almost vigorously. “Okay.”

“Leaving you by yourself is more dangerous right now than exploring with me, but I won’t force you to come with me if you don’t want to.” You begin to explain. “I-“

“I’ll come with you.” His response is immediate, almost eager, as he cuts you off before you can even continue.

“I won’t lie, you could die either way. These games are not meant to be easy.” You meet his gaze.

“What even are these games?” He asks, swallowing a bit thickly as he watches you pull out that small knife of yours.

“Death games. Insanity games. Whatever you want to call them.” You say, taking one final look around the clearing you’re in. “They’re a type of survival game, if you will. Either you hunt or be hunted while you attempt to find a way out. Only one is allowed to survive in the end, but not this time.” You meet his gaze once more from over your shoulder, smiling reassuringly at him. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”

“Who, in their right mind, would do this to somebody? Why hasn’t anyone caught the people behind this?” He asks, frown tugging at his features.

You let out a sigh, motioning for him to lead on with your head as you reenter the maze. He’s a bit hesitant at first, but with a small quirk of your brow, he doesn’t argue.

“I’ll guide you, don’t worry. This is more of a precaution for me, than you,” you tell him.

“You’re the one with a knife.” He mutters.

“Exactly,” you hum. “So just follow my lead.” He shoots you a pointed look from in front of you. “You know what I mean.”

“Well, you freed me from my chains,” he turns back to face front, turning right on your command. “Least I can do is listen to you.”

You find his wording a bit odd, but relevant nonetheless. Either way, you’re just glad he’s being compliant for now.

“To answer your question, Mingi,” the male nearly shudders when you say his name, though it’s not in the context he would prefer. “The people behind these games are not regular people. In fact, they’re not even human at all. They haven’t been caught because they don’t want to be caught.”

“What do you mean?” There’s a certain tone of wariness to his voice which you have no problem picking up on.

“When is a door not a door?” You quirk a brow knowingly.

“When it’s ajar.” Comes his immediate answer.

“Exactly.” You respond.

“I don’t get it.” He shakes his head, pausing mid-step and causing you to almost run into his back due to how closely you had been following him. “What’s a riddle have to do with anything?”

“Sorry, long shot for me to think you would have understood that reference.” You chuckle. “No, just that there was a show I used to watch that had a particular season which dealt with the sort of inhuman creature these eight devils are.”

“There’s eight of them?” The surprise can only mask the fear so much.

“Yes.” You blink. “There are eight of them.”

“But what are they?” He presses.

You take a deep breath, exhaling slowly as your spine straightens. “They’re tricksters. Powerful ones at that, too. Demons who love causing misery, and tormenting those that are unfortunate enough to get caught up in their games.”

“Tricksters? You mean like Loki?” His brow furrows.

“Worse than that.” You shake your head. “From what I understand, the only way to tell them apart from other contestants is their eyes. Each of them has a specific eye colour unique to their powers and personalities. The colours designate age order, too.”

“Do you know what each of them are?” He asks, beginning to continue through the maze at the sudden jerk of your chin forward.

“If you’re asking me if I know what they look like, I do not. Except for two.” You reply honestly. “I only know a few of their names, too.”

“They have names?” His inquiry is so genuinely curious, the corner of your lips twitch upwards slightly.

It’s been a long time since you’ve remembered what that has felt like.

“Yes.” You confirm. “Everything in this world does, even those forgotten by time.”

“Then how does anyone remember them if they are forgotten?” His brow furrows once more in thought.

“You just need to know where to look.” You share a look with him, something sparking behind your eyes that he and his brothers have not seen in a long time.

“How do you know so much about them, anyways?” He asks, casually glancing at you out of the corner of his eyes.

“There was a time where I was curious about the myths surrounding these games of theirs, and why the supposed victor always came back changed in some way.” You reply, shrugging him off. “It didn’t lead me anywhere.”

The way you curl in on yourself, even the slightest bit, has him backing off for now.

Little do you know of the anger bubbling just beneath the surface of his skin for you. He knows what happened. He knows what that bitch did to you to make you stop researching so excitedly about them. Research which you have never bothered to touch again.

“Well, whatever knowledge you still possess, I’m certainly glad to be on your team with it.” He grins, eyes crinkling at the sides.

His response catches you by surprise. So much so, that you end up freezing in your tracks, blinking at him in shock. No one has ever reacted positively to knowing you’ve spent time dedicated to learning about these tricksters. No one.

“You are?” Your voice is so much more tender, the uncertainty bleeding through in the way you suddenly feel so small standing next to him.

Mingi takes a moment to look you over, a sort of softness shining within his eyes that you don’t quite understand.

“Of course I am!” His grin widens. “Any knowledge is good knowledge, especially when I don’t have the slightest clue of what’s going on. I’m counting on you.”

You smile faintly, the radiance of his own expression managing to lift your spirits the slightest bit, even given the situation you currently find yourselves in.

“Knowledge is it’s own weapon, too.” He continues. “I think a lot of people forget that sometimes. That, or they fear what someone with knowledge can become.”

Your lips twitch slightly, shoulders relaxing even just the faintest bit. “You’re right.”

“Now, come on,” he shoots you a reassuring smile before he begins trudging forwards through the maze once more. “I think I see an opening up ahead.”

[shardechance]

post mortem #3 rating: t (for swearing) wc: 2.5k warnings: none for this snippet, however please be aware that the main work does have a non-con warning.

Seeing as no one in this partnership knows how to be normal, here's a deleted scene from JAWBREAKER between Feyre and the Hughes Twins.

Oscar flicks on the hall light on the way up, a sticky red smear left in his wake—another thing to clear up later. When they clear the doorway, stepping into the dark of the attic, their new bedroom stands on full display: one wardrobe, two dressers, a toy box that’s seen better days, an armchair, a bookshelf only half full, and a bunk bed. They’d begged for one at the old place. Seems they got their wish. 

Oscar reaches for the lights but Ferye stops him. “No, it has to be dark.”

“But I can’t find my PJs!” Finn whines, flopping down on the bottom bunk. They’ll be under his pillow, where his mom always leaves them, but kids are kids and the tiredness is setting in, irritation along with it. Oscar, having had a little less sugar and a little more patience, reaches beneath his brother's head and pulls out the missing garments, flops them onto his face, and scrambles for his own before Finn can retaliate.

“You two go wash up and then we’ll play,” she says, dropping into the plush velvet armchair beneath the skylight. Oscar is already through the door, footfalls loud and quick on the stairs as he rushes to the washroom on the floor below. They creak with every step. Finn whines as he lifts himself from his bed, sluggish feet carrying him to the door. “And brush your teeth. I’ll know if you haven’t, stinky!” 

He grumbles something to himself but he’s too far gone for her to make out the words. 

The armchair is twice as comfortable as the couch downstairs, a million times more comfortable than the mismatched furniture back home. She leans back into it, legs propped up over one of the arms. It’s better than anything they ever had as kids. One giant bed and three gangly sisters sharing the one duvet, kicking each other, huddled closer on winter nights when the heat gave out. Getting her own space, her own bed, had been the peak of her pre-teen years. 

She lets her head rest on the back of the chair, looking to the skylight above. 

It would be a pretty nice view of the sky and stars if it wasn’t for the wayward branch of a neighboring oak obscuring it. Never having a tenant stay longer than a year, being on the housing market longer still, would do that to a place. Moonlight still made it to the attic though, filtered through the sparse leaves.

Her phone vibrates, probably Lucien trying to goad her into ditching again, or sharing the latest gossip in the group chat she hadn’t left yet. Not that Tamlin ever checked it. On Lucien’s last update, he was somewhere in Cambodia or Croatia or somewhere else beginning with a C, still trying to ‘find himself.’ Not like he needed to go that far to do it. Just look in the trash bin and there’s a dozen just like him. 

Part of her—a smug, satisfied part—thinks he left because of what happened between them. Considering the only person he even spoke to anymore was Lucien and even that was via postcard, the evidence stacks up pretty well in her favor. 

Good. Fuck him.

She pulls her phone out but doesn’t check the notification. Doesn’t have a chance to. The telltale whine of old pipes that she’s too familiar with cuts out, and the pitter-patter of bare feet taking the old stairs way too fast sounds after it. She turns on her phone’s flashlight.

“Will you tell us the game now?” Oscar asks, arms full of costume pieces he’ll likely have grown out of by next Halloween. 

Finn does the same, barreling past to jump onto his bed. A breathless “Please!” as he lands in the bed face down. His twin sits beside him, legs folded criss-cross on the comforter.

Feyre takes a second to draw them closer, flipping her phone upside down so the flashlight shines upwards. By the looks on their faces—equal parts enraptured and terrified—it’s clear she has them right where she wants them. 

“Boys.” Wind surges outside, rattling bare branches against the rooftop. It’s not quite lightning, but it’ll do. “We’re going to talk to spirits.”

Oscar’s awe turns to straight up fear. “Spirits? Like… ghosts?” 

“Hey! Ghosts can’t get you if you’re in bed,” Finn chimes in. “Everybody knows that. Mom said so.”

They bicker back and forth about the logistics of whether it has to be your bed specifically or if just any bed will do. Finn concludes that the best place to be during a ghost attack would be a mattress store. Oscar counters with but how are there so many haunted hotels? which only serves to lead them down a different path of how does he know that and who has been sneaking off to watch Most Haunted reruns even though Mom said they shouldn’t. Feyre lets them argue, for the most part, only jumping in when it seems things might come to blows.

“Did I say anything about ghosts?” she says.

Finn shakes his head, but Oscar—oh, poor baby. 

“Anyway,” Feyre continues, “I put some salt on your window when you were getting cleaned up. Totally ghost-proof, I promise.” A lie, obviously, but she’d seen it in a TV show somewhere and, by the way Oscar’s shoulders retreat from beside his ears, it convinces him well enough. “Do you want to play or not?” 

“We want to play! Right, Ozzie?”

“Right.” Although, Oscar seems marginally less convinced.

“If you say so,” Feyre shrugs. She hands her phone to Oscar who, in typical kid fashion, twists it so the light shines under his chin, but jumps at the glare. She grabs his wrist, gently turning until the light faces down at his blue green comforter instead. “It’s super important that you hold this still. That keeps us connected to the spirits.” 

A purple velvet bag, in all its faded filigree beauty, sits between them.

It’s been too long since she’d last done a reading, usually only reaching for them on the off chance she remembered, or if she’d had a particularly bad day. She doesn’t believe in all the witch stuff like Elain used to, the full moons and incense and tea blends made from garden herbs. No, it’s nothing like that. It’s just… nice to think that there’s a connection to something bigger out there, even if sometimes it takes a pile of old paper for her to realize it. 

Her skin prickles as she touches the velvet, pulling the worn cards from their home. 

“These—” she starts, spreading the deck between her fingers so the boys can see the pictures. Bright and bold and dark and faded all at once. “—are Tarot cards.” 

“Tarot cards?” Oscar wavers with her phone, light dipping but Finn steadies his brother’s hand before she can chastise him for it. 

She nods. “That’s right, and they’re going to help us ask the spirits a question. The cards are a conduit–uh…a tool, I guess? You ask a question in your head, focus on it really hard and pick the card that calls to you. I have to shuffle them first though, mix them all up.”

“They speak?” Finn asks, as she does her best to shuffle the deck. He’s sat so close to Oscar now, knees touching in the dark like that extra point of contact can offer comfort in a way words cannot. Even like this, they’re inseparable.

“Not with words. You’ll feel it in your heart, or your head, maybe your toes. It’s different for different people.” Feyre keeps her words calm, soothing. It’s not meant to be a spooky exercise. It’s not. God, if they wake up in the middle of the night with bad dreams—no, she keeps it cool, smiling a little as she spreads the cards face down atop the bedspread. An arc before all three of them. “To me, it feels warm. Like the sun.”

Oscar lets the phone droop a second time, and when Feyre looks up to him, his eyes are a little wet. “I don’t think I want to play this game.” 

“Ozzie, please!” Finn pleads, taking his twin's free hand between his own. 

Feyre takes a second, watching as Finn soothes his brother’s hand. It's the type of thing Nesta used to do for Elain, when storms blew out the breakers and left them in the dark, their father nowhere to be seen. Maybe once she yearned for that kind of connection with someone. It had never been there in her sisters—not that she blamed them, anymore—but she found it in her friends. She found it in her part time jobs. She made it her mission to be that person when she could. Her hand dwarfs both boys’ clenched palms. “It’s gonna be okay, I promise. Do you want me to get the lights?” 

Oscar, looking at his brother then back to the faded gilding of the cards, shakes his head. 

“You sure?” she asks.

He nods once. 

“Since you’re being so brave, do you want to take the first card?” Feyre offers.

It’s with a trembling hand that Oscar reaches for the cards, letting his fingers slip free of his brother’s grip. He hovers a palm above them, moving left and right across the deck, pausing in certain spots like he’s considering taking one, but never staying in a place for too long. Like weaving between invisible strands of magic, sensing the cards and their meanings. 

“I want this one,” he says, pulling a card from the dead center of the arc. What remains of the gold around the card’s edges catches in the flashlight. Feyre doesn’t even realize she’s holding her breath until Oscar flips his card over, revealing an upside down King of Swords.

Finn almost knocks his twin over trying to see the design on the front. A king alone, sat atop a throne, holding a giant sword. Well, it wouldn’t be her first choice, but it’s not a bad card. “Feyre, what does it mean?” 

“Oh, you would get the King.” She smiles a little. “That’s very you, Oscar.” 

Oscar, eyes still a little wide in panic, seems to relax a little at that. “Why is he upside down? Is he okay?” 

“He’s fine. He means something different if he’s upside down is all!” Feyre places it in the space between them, separate from the face down cards, trying to rack her brain for a way to phrase its meaning. Manipulation is such a harsh word. Inner truth, perhaps? Hidden strength? “What do you feel when you look at him?”

“He looks… cool.” 

“Yeah, but how does he make you feel?” 

“Like… Like I want to play again! Can I have another turn?” 

Finn, eternally impatient, balks at that. He doesn’t have the same restraint his twin has. He leans over Oscar, swiping the first card his fingers touch, swishing it into the air before Feyre can remind them to be gentle. He doesn’t even let her see what he pulled, squinting at it for a second, before he pouts and lays it face up next to the other card.

“At least yours was someone cool! Mine’s just some building.” 

The Tower. Oh fuck.

“Some building?” Ferye starts, nudging so the cards are aligned. She hadn’t been expecting to see the Tower, not really, but hey! These things happen. Chaos? Pride? That’s kinda Finn’s thing so it makes sense. He commands that kind of energy. “That’s the tower! One of the most powerful cards in the Deck.”

“Really?” Finn’s eyes light up at that, looking again at the card between them. “I guess the lightning storm is kinda cool.” 

“I’ll bet.” She nods. “I’ll ask you the same question, Finn. What do you feel? What does it remind you of?”

“I don’t know. It’s like when dad used to let us smash sand castles after a beach day. What does it mean?”

Feyre hushes him and, thankfully, he sits back in his place, enraptured as she takes the time drawing her fingertips over the facedown cards. “We haven’t got the full story yet. It’s my turn.” 

There isn’t a specific question in her mind; nebulous thoughts of school and work and home and the two boys only minutes away from sleep, parties she hasn’t been to, assignments she hasn’t done—phantom warmth pricks her index finger. Despite her belief in the metaphysical being skeptic at best, she puts trust in that little spike of warmth, pulling out the final card. 

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. 

“The Devil?” Oscar shrieks, leaning closer whilst simultaneously cringing back. “I thought you said this game wasn’t scary!”

Finn leans into his brother, trying his best to see the goat-headed figure on her card. “That’s awesome! That’s gotta be the coolest one yet! Why is he furry?”

“Hey, the Devil isn’t as bad as everyone thinks!” How do you even begin to explain the intricacies of obsession, passion and sexuality to kids? That’s way above her pay grade. Not a chance. “He gets a bad rap. Not all bad things are really bad, you know? Like… chores! You hate doing them at the time but once they’re done everything feels better, right?” 

Oscar fixes her with a look, dark hair flopping in front of his eyes. “Feyre, it’s the Devil.”

“To me, this means I have an assignment due tomorrow and I need to knuckle down.” Not a lie, but not a full truth either. She does have an assignment—one she hasn’t even started yet—but seeing The Devil tugs on a different part of herself that's probably best kept under wraps. She likes this job. It would be a shame if she scared the kids too much and never got invited back. “It means I need to focus on a few things.”

“That’s kinda… boring.” Finn says, fighting off a yawn. “Can we talk to the spirits now?” 

“We just did, dummy.”

Oscar, seeing his brother fight the clutch of sleep, fails in his own battle. “That was it? What did they say?” 

“They say it’s bedtime. Now.” Feyre collects the unused cards, slotting in the three they chose throughout the deck. Only once they’re all safely in their little velvet pouch does she raise from the bed, letting Finn crawl beneath the comforter. Oscar follows suit, the allure of sleep near irresistible. She lets them get comfortable, standing by the skylight, looking up at the branch blocking most of the view.

“Do you like it?” Finn asks, sounding so much smaller, already halfway to sleep. “Dad says he’s gonna build us a treehouse next summer. We’re gonna have sleepovers and everything.”

Feyre starts towards the door, slowly waiting for creaks of the old floor to announce her slow departure. “For real? Am I invited?” 

Finn shakes his head, or snuggles down further into his comforter. Oscar peeks over the edge of the top bunk, eyes half shut already. “No girls allowed.” 

“Figures.” She reaches the door, pulling it just enough to slip through. One last look over her shoulder confirms what she already guessed. “Night, boys.” 

She doesn’t get a response.

[jacenotjason]

Can we just get some rambles about your AU, like nothing specific, just like little details you haven’t had the ask or idea to express artistically? I just love any little details about this AU (Howdy’s little finger beans)

AAAAA oh my god YES here’s some rambles from the depth that is this AU! Random factoids and snippets and hehehheheh

(Oh hey and checkout the AU itself!)

Hiding this under a ‘readmore’ becasue FUCK I WENT ON A RANT HAUIDA- i tried to stop i swear

OPEN THE FLOOD GATES!!

I HAVE PLAYLISTS FOR ALL THE CHARACTERS!! Ive been thinking about how to share them for awhile bc I LOVE these playlists and they help my brain rot on this AU but mm! Just wanted to get that out there im holding onto these

Something people didn’t catch was that in this animation, which is supposed to take place around the time Eddie moved into the neighborhood, he had his mail hat! But, currently, he doesn’t! That’s not because he lost it, Howdy actually stole it! Howdy immediately attempted to scam Eddie when he first arrived, stealing his hat and trying to sell it back to him, but he did not know that Eddie would not give a fuck. Howdy thought Eddie cared way more about his job then he actually does. So, Eddie’s hat is still currently decaying under Howdy’s desk.

All the characters have trauma or something depressing about them… except Julie! I’m not sure why but I just.. never came up with something reasonable for her backstory. I came up with a lot of ideas, but a lot of them seemed to cliche and controversial? Like, one of my ideas was some sort of sex working trauma, but I thought oooh of course you gave the most feminine character the sex working backstory! Another idea was eating disorder trauma, but again, ooh i gave the fem one the ED! The same thing happened with SA trauma, it all just felt so… cliche. And I felt like I would get a lot of backlash if I tried to implement this. So.. im still working on it!

^ originally Franks backstory was going to be completely SA related, but I changed that. Still not spoiling how, though.

^^ also I really liked the sex working idea! Because I think it would be interesting if thats how Eddie and her met. Not that Eddie bought sex from her, but that they like worked together and slowly became friends! Eddie kept her safe n stuff, beat the shit out of ppl that didnt pay yknow? Explored a deeper level of understanding between them

Ive been daydreaming about attempting to make my own little bootleg “play fellow exhibition” not nearly to the extent that Clown did, but just some sort of fake “restored” things! Maybe even fake interviews with those that remember the show! Ive even recorded some lines, of my own voice, of fake voice clips restored from the show. I haven’t had the confidence to post any of them just yet aa. I think my Eddie impression is IMPECCABLE though. Maybe bc I have a southern accent

^ also if this isnt obvious this AU is still a show being restored by a team, the show is just the adult parody ive created here. Ill be sure to specify if i ever post something restoration-lore-related!

The number of fingers they have is inconsistent, and that is not lore related! I am just an idiot! You might notice that sometimes they have 5, sometimes they have 4. I.. have no actual reason for this. I literally just.. forget! Im literally currently drawing a piece with Julie and Sally where they both have 5 fingers. Why?? Bc the reference I used was of two human girls so!! Just wanted to put it out there, that is not on purpose

I hide a lot of secrets in my art. Bc its fun. If you ever see something in my art thats a little too dark, feel free to up the brightness and see what you find. Does something sort of look like Morse code? Feel free to try it out! I’ll give you a hint, I have used both of these techniques to hide secrets in my art already. The Morse code one is really hard to find, though, so props to you if you find it!

I like to think that the AU’s show is like Rick and Morty. It started out this comedic, very clearly adult-humored show, but slowly the characters had lore! People started watching not for the humor but for the interesting characters. Like when Rick was revealed to have a depressing story with his wife and all that, it was the same as when ppl first found out about Frank’s strange amnesia and PTSD. Like “?? Who put lore in my funny adult comedy??” Yknow what i mean

^ i like to think there was some mind-bending moment where it was revealed Frank doesnt remember anything about his childhood and everyone watching was like :O

Originally in the show, (like season one), the characters were the way they are to make fun of those things. Confusing, but what i mean is that Poppy was a trans woman to make fun of trans people, Eddie and Frank were to make jokes about gay ppl, etc. but SIKE once the show got more seasons and got lift off they became actual characters instead of just jokes! The creators just wanted to make ppl love the show before they made the gay characters actually have personalities, so they couldn’t get cancelled prematurely! HA SUCKERS!!

FFUck okay i think i got it all out of me?? Idk feel free to ask again in like a month maybe more shit will have accumulated in my brain

[rott1ngbra1n]

I posted this to my BlueSky (which is the same handle as here and I will be trying to post there too, I also ramble more there at points haha), but I’ve been experimenting more with traditional art since healing my sketchbook trauma/anxiety.

Ramblings below the cut as usual:

I want to show off more of my sketchbook pages cause I want to maybe help some other younger artists or other people who struggle with sketchbook anxiety. This is also not to say that everyone struggles with this, or has had this experience.

I just know it affected my art journey a bit, and I want to show people how I healed from it. Aside from me needing heal from my carpal tunnel *cough* which is why you haven’t seen me much lmao-

I’ve caught the AO3 author curse I swear /lh

But to explain this page, I was testing out better cell shading styles!

I’m not fully used to alcohol markers, but I wanted to use a bounce light along with a shadow. I still have some more refining to do but I quite like it! Using a red pencil then placing the colors on top, then lining it with a normal graphite lead helps to not only have a bolder final line.

It helps hide certain mistakes or guidelines, I’ve really enjoyed sketching like this. It reminds me of how I would sketch in a different color on my digital art, then do a more refined sketch in black.

I think adding what I enjoy about digital art to my sketchbook has helped for an easier transition between the two, along with easing the anxiety with sketching just in the graphite.

You can also tell I had to test a lot of markers to get the base, shadow, and bounce light colors in a nice order. I found that doing the base color, then bounce light, and then shadow was the best way for these pieces.

As sometimes the bounce light didn’t peek through the shadow as much as I wanted. Learning as we go.

The characters are as follows:

Purple: A cybernetic character, he’s very fun, his name is undecided rn

Green: PonySona, cause cringe is dead

Orange: A fur sona? Maybe? I might make them an adoptable, I dunno I just like their design, funky little fiend. Their name is JuiceBox

Red: Shadow the Hedgehog. No explanation needed. Current hyper fixation-

Blue: GoreSona! I like drawing gore works and wanted a character dedicated to that, one that’s not just an old version of my persona

[munchkin1156]

Any G/T OCs?

Thank you anon, for this chance to finally infodump about my g/t ocs! Just a fair warning, this miiight get long, we’ll see! (I have a lot of em.. So the short answer to your question, yes I do. The long ones under the cut…)

First off, we have my sona, Munchkin :D

(It’s a rather messy sketch, sorry about that)

Munchkin’s a sizeshifting borrower from the sacred realm, destined to try hard and fail.

She’s gotten backstabbed and killed too many times to count, the only thing keeping her alive is Amble, Red, and the group of friends she made as a person wearing a sparkly box from the silent realm.

✨anon✨’s design is interesting, because she’s still mostly herself, with her tail and personality, whereas most people would get consumed, considering it’s a pretty strong mask… huh, strange.

(Just to be clear, I’m not covering all my oc’s, just a few of them, because I’d rather not have over ten thousand words on this post accidentally)

We have Charlie and Adre, from UCD, links to chapter one and two here and here (it’s earlier on in my writing phase, so I’m warning you they aren’t very good, also it’s mainly been Charlie, with only a slight mention of Adre but oh well-)

Let’s have a spoiler for chapter three, shall we?

(A big thank you to my sister @huggablecat for editing this, she’s not a bot I swear- I’m horrible at digital art so thanks to her for taking the sketch and doing something amazing with it… she’s not ever going to see this but oh well-)

Charlie is a Dreamer, which is a small avian race that hates humans for burning the Astrodaryn forest and attempting to destroy all magic, forcing them to flee to the sky. The seeds they have hanging around their neck are from the forest, it’s where their magic comes from.

The goal is to get rid of the humans, and replant the forest. Read the first two chapters for more information.

Meanwhile…

Adre is a human that is called cursed due to his eyes. His pitch black eyes with white pupils, so therefore a lot of people assume he’s magic/dangerous and he gets outcasted.

I don’t want to say too much about him, I want to keep him a surprise for the most part, but let’s just say he finds a small bird person and the authorities aren’t very happy about that…

I have more ocs for this story, but they have not appeared yet/I haven’t made drawings of them/I don’t feel like looking for drawings rn :D

MOVING ON-

Vampire person? For a fake fic title that’s so old Becky probably forgot they gave it to me? Don’t mind if I do~

This is Jamie. They’re sick of being a vampire, sick of living forever, sick of having no one to care about. Aaaaand then they meet a group of friends that will change that forever.

It’s like, small vampire appears on YouTube, group of friends find them there, make videos together, while hiding the fact that they are small + a vampire, and as they grow more and more attached, the fear only grows…

Now, I’m getting tired and I have homework to do (WHYYYYYYYY) and things to memorise for tomorrows test, which is absolutely amazing, but it means I can’t make more detailed descriptions, so I’m just gonna dump a bunch of art, please ask questions about them if you want!

Anyways, let’s get started….

(That one’s not an oc, it’s for the dystopian au but I figured I might as well put it here)

Aaaand that’s all I can find! (For now)

Hope you like these anon, and uh… for the people that I’ve made digital art for/going to make digital art for, if it seems significantly worse, it’s cause I suck at digital art.

I’m really really bad at it. Sorry.

Kindest regards, Munchkin.

(OH SHIT WAIT THE TAGLIST-)

@i-am-beckyu, @da3dm, @brick-a-doodle-do, @faeiyn-cant-write yooooo check this outtt

Oh wow the taglist is getting longer-

If you want to be tagged, just dm, comment, or ask me!

Gooooooodbye!

(that’s supposed to sound like how grian says it, okay? OKAY?)

[milkyplier]

I swear I’m still alive I’ve just been doing school and I actually haven’t had a ton of time to draw lately

Also, in all honesty, I haven’t drawn Legend specifically lately. I know that’s what y’all are here for, but truly my obsession has died down, especially with my inability to express it creatively, namely through writing. I have a harder time expressing it through art because my skill is unfortunately limited—and I don’t know if you noticed, but a lot of my Legend art is virtually the same. But anyways, haven’t drawn Legend a ton, or anything Linked Universe a ton, and while that makes me very sad I don’t really know what to do about it. Who knows, maybe it will clear up soon—maybe even today, in fact! We’ll have to see.

I also apologize if I take a bit longer than normal to get to asks or mentions in posts. I usually reply immediately but lately I’ve been out of energy to respond immediately with as much enthusiasm. I promise I will get to them SOON. Either later today or tomorrow. But soon.

I have a little bit of art I’ll share, nothing in the main areas of interest, but I’ll post it anyways.

Thank you for understanding 🩷

[cobaltsunflower]

Lotsa thoughts in the house tonight

Should i make a separate blog for stuckpiece? I don’t think talking about it on duck(verb) or here is really appropriate since no one cares about it anyway

Can someone please teach me how to put picture on ao3??? And how do ppl do the cool formatting stuffs???

I think i have a lot of bots followers on this main blog so it pushes the number wayyyy too high. Block or no? Tbh it’s too much to bother by now

Cool one piece artists why are you following me?!?!?!? Specially this main blog?!?!? I offer nothing of value besides reblogs and only draws indulgent buggy and crossovers that no one cares for anyway you are making me self conscious please

HOLY FUCKING SHIT THERE’S A COCKROACH HALF A METER AWAY FROM ME AS I TYPE THIS FFUUUUUCCCCCKKKKKK

FUCK RAINY WEATHERS FUCK STORMS FUCK COCKROACHES PLEASE YOU DON’T SEE ME MOVE ALONG PLEASE

Ok calm *Calm* i think it’s stationary

Should i post in vnmese? I won’t have anything better to say but at least swearing would be more satisfying eh. Would serve to make my blog even less approachable i believe

Planned to do so many things in this semester break. Ended up w executive dysfunction and doing nothing. Still want to draw, write down stuckpiece, pick up italian again, finish 2 books i borrowed from the library,... no where with anything yet

Sometimes i feel like me being overenthusiastic is pretty cringe maybe. Im always too eager to chat and answers questions for one piece newbies honestly i just want to make some friends. But i think i’m so cringe.

Maybe i’m not and it’s just a depressive episode from this fucked weather and loneliness. I can’t really talk to my friends about much due to difference in interests and one of them is spiraling in depression that I cannot help and it honestly makes me depressed too every time it came up

If i do an art trade with another artist, do we both post our pieces up and tag the other? Is there a consensus or assumed understanding to post or no? I approached the other artist a bit too abruptly and now I’m embarrassed to ask about posting since it feels like i’m asking to use their name for attention, since for real I wasn’t and was just excited for art motivation. It has been a week and I haven’t post it, would posting/asking permission to post now be too weird?

Should go to sleep now it’s late

[starlingsrps]

no way to say goodbye.

“sidney, darling, thank god you’re here.” mum kisses him in each cheek and starts to steer him towards the sitting room, as casually as she’s capable of doing anything. “the-“

“heat pump?”

“heat pump,” she responds gravely.

“i got it, kitty,” he says, hanging his hat on the newel post and his coat on the rack. dorey catches this conversation as she’s coming down the stairs and he gives her a broad wink and mouths “favorite” at her. 

dorey wants to roll her eyes but knows it’s likely the truth. it’s december and he’s been coming around long enough to slip easily into her parents affections. she’s learned that it’s very easy to like sid- he has the easy disposition of a friendly labrador and mum adores him. he eats whatever she comes up with when she improvises from the rationing cookbook without comment and can fix the frequently broken heat pump seemingly by magic. they had even presented him with a wrench on his birthday a few weeks ago, the kind of recklessly thoughtful gesture that they’re prone to. 

“you tried, didn’t you?” he asks when she joins him on the rug.

“maybe.” she had yesterday, a bit too cocky after the last time when she’d fixed it herself with only minimal input from him. they’ve yet to be able to find a replacement gasket but if keeps sid coming over, her parents seem all too willing to tolerate it. they were slightly less enthused when she’d made it worse but perked up after promised he would be there to fix it soon.

he clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “you stripped the screw, dore.”

“i don’t even know what that means.”

he laughs. “exactly. you’re back to assistant duty.”

she tugs his earlobe and then kisses the back of his neck. “prat.” her mother calls from the kitchen, likely to witness the triumph of her newly created vegetable loaf emerging from the oven. “you’ve just lost your assistant.”

it’s just the four of them for lunch today and mum cheerfully encourages seconds of the vegetable loaf. it’s been quiet since jane left to study in new york and jessa is visiting cas in galway with the intention of hauling him back for christmas. the loaf has a similar appearance to a bit of firewood and is about as dry but with enough brown sauce, it’s not the worst thing to emerge from the depths of her mother’s imagination. sid takes thirds and doesn’t seem at all disturbed by the fact that it bears a striking resemblance to something from the forest.

she draws the line at bringing the idea to the ministry of food. it’s hardly her department and anyway, haven’t the people of britain suffered enough creative use of turnips?

after they finish, dorey and sid are m wrapping up to go for a walk, maybe go to a movie (and make out in the back row of the movie) when the news interrupts the mahler symphony playing in the sitting room. the words wouldn’t have mattered much to her before sid but when she hears the words about an attack on an american base in hawaii, her attention turns to him. he’s frozen, half in and half out of his coat and she realizes that she’s never seen someone at the exact moment their life changes. 

“shit.”

“sid-“

“i have to go, excuse me. i need to - fuck, my hat?”

she picks it up from the newel post and silently offers it. he takes it, trying to kiss her cheek as he does. he misses, bumps the bridge of her nose instead. he swears and grips her chin to kiss her hard. “i’ll-“

“when you can,” she interrupts. “be safe.”

by mid january, she’s fairly certain she’s been dumped by a man she wasn’t even technically dating.

she hasn’t heard a word and the note she sends him at base come back return post. when she finally gets brave enough to call, she’s told he’s no longer there and no, they won’t say where. she arbitrarily sets her birthday as a deadline and then resets it for february - they met then and it seems only fair to wait at least that long.

still nothing. 

she lets herself stew on it another few days (making a list of things she could have possibly done wrong before burning it) and then throws herself into work. foolish to let herself forget it. there will be time for romance, time for a life when the war ends, if that ever comes. she thinks in code and spends her time with the other codebreakers, all of whom are blessedly uninterested in anything but codes. her free time dwindles and her life becomes a triangle between her room, hut six, and the occasional visit to jessa to sit on her sofa and drink wine. she can’t quite bring herself to cross the river and have to explain sid’s suddenly very conspicuous absence to their parents, nor can she bring herself to cut out jessa.

“have you talked to sid lately?” jessa calls from the kitchen. 

it’s april and she hasn’t said a peep about him in weeks but dorey should have known she was simply biding her time. she feels a deeply unwelcome pang in her stomach. it’s been at least four days since she thought about him and she’d been so proud of herself, as though she was trying to win a one woman contest. “no,” she calls in response. “i haven’t.”

jessa makes a sad little sound that only pisses dorey off. “i’m sure he’s just busy,” she says, handing her a glass of wine. “nothing to do with you.”

“no, of course. but it’s been three months.” she frowns at the wine. “four. it’s hard to not take that a bit personally.”

“do you want to talk-“ 

“absolutely not, thank you.” she takes a deep gulp. “i’ve been dumped before. i’ll survive.”

jessa pats her leg and gives her a look that makes her want to jump out of a window. “you should talk about it, love. you’ll feel better.”

“i will not. i feel fine,” dorey lies. “he’s very busy and i’m very busy and it was never all that serious. jessa, there’s a war. please be reasonable.”

“everyone needs someone to love them, dorey, war or not.”

she sips and thinks of sid’s sweet, sleepy smile against her skin and the way she felt herself bloom under his attention. it wasn’t as though she’d never dated before or been in a relationship but unlike half the cambridge dons she’s been with, she never felt like he was humoring her until she took her top off. he listened and she couldn’t have imagined how quick she could get used to that. she misses his easy laugh and feeling wanted. she feels a spark of tears and blinks them away quickly. “i wouldn’t call it that.”

jessa rolls her eyes and settles back against the sofa. “of course not. what are we calling it then? for future reference.”

“very good sex and conversation,” she says, returning to caustic. it feels safer this way.

“and that’s half the battle, isn’t it?” she sighs. “i don’t know, i thought-“

dorey kicks at her. “don’t think anything.”

[whereismyhat5678]

Okay, but like, I just REALLY need to rant for a bit-

1) I haven’t been able to draw FNaF anymore for some reason! They always come out so bad and I’m just like- WHY AREN’T YOU ARTING- I SWEAR I’m actually getting frustrated for real- 😭😭

The only thing I’ve been able to draw is Funtime Foxy, which I find really funny because he was ALWAYS the one I was drawing when I was in the fandom (It was the first fandom I’d joined and I LOVED it, after Sister Location I found my absolute FAVORITE animatronic which was Funtime Foxy 😂). I find it kinda sad that I don’t draw him as much anymore, in fact I draw him BARELY. But even when I do he comes out good and I’m happy for that.

But it still makes me sad that I can’t seem to draw anything other than him, I wanna draw more but they always come out like “💩” 😭😭. I still ABSOLUTELY love the fandom!! I REALLY do! But I think I’m not gonna post any FNaF drawings… If I do ever post anything remotely related to it I’ll most likely just be Funtime Foxy.

I still really like the sketch though </]

2) Okay, I use Pinterest, and I post my art there too. What I HATE about it right now is that fact when people comment on my posts (WHICH IS VERY RARE) I can’t see it for some reason, the new update contains the “Hidden Comments” button, and I hate that when it’s not even on, I STILL CAN’T SEE THEM- It might just be a glitch I’m having but STILL COME ON- I also hate the fact that when I try to turn the comments on, or back on, they won’t turn on even though I’ve pressed the button a BILLION times yet it still glitchy!!! I’m getting REALLY annoyed from it man… D:<

Other than that, that’s just what I wanted to rant about. I know some of the viewers I have on here aren’t really interested in FNaF so posting non-FNaF related stuff or not posting anything related to it isn’t a big deal (honestly I get that -w-). It’s just wanted to rant about it because it really does mean a lot to me, I don’t wanna leave it hanging, I still really love the Fandom a whole lot but I’m just not gonna draw any of it anytime soon, once I get better I MIGHT start posting stuff from it but that’s it really. And I’m really just irritated at Pinterest to be honest 😒.

I hope everyone has a great day, sorry about my rant, I had to get it off my chest 😮‍💨😅

[runn0ft]

I was tagged by @goatsandgangsters 💕

rules: pick any 5 of your fics, scroll somewhere to the mid point, pick a line, and share it! Then tag 5 people. 

Since I don’t have five fics published, I’ll choose from my two fics and three wips. I know it’s shameful that it’s been like, three years and still haven’t posted anything I’ve had in the works in that time. I swear I work on them, I’m just constantly battling demons around it.

magpie - Boardwalk Empire, Charlie Luciano/Meyer Lansky

It occurs to him in that moment that over all these years, he’s been the sole recipient of what he considered to be Charlie’s misguided generosity. Sometimes Benny would move to take something Meyer insisted he didn’t want and Charlie would snatch it back with a snarl.

“I didn’t go through all this trouble on account of you.” He would say, and in his next breath he’d call Meyer an ungrateful little prick.

glass houses - Boardwalk Empire, Margaret Rohan, Charlie Luciano/Meyer Lansky

His associate, Mr. Lansky emerges looking decidedly more presentable not five minutes later. Unlike his partner, his face is inscrutable and there isn’t a stitch on him that’s out of place. As soon as Mr. Luciano stepped into the hall she’d had a pretty good idea of who might be in there with him. It wasn’t much to go on, but he hadn’t offered her anything beyond a curt “How do you do” after Mr. Luciano made a show of kissing her. She couldn’t fault him for it. Being in love was a difficult thing when you couldn’t lay claim to it.

milk and honey - Boardwalk Empire, Charlie Luciano/Meyer Lansky

Meyer pulls Charlie to his knees, and Charlie moves with him instinctively, reaching behind to guide Meyer’s slicked cock to his entrance. He plunges in with a single, fluid motion that has Charlie tearing at the rank, sticky sheets with his teeth. This is what Meyer lives for. The moment when he pushes passed that initial resistance before it gives and the molten-hot channel of Charlie’s eager body sucks him right in, enveloping him vice-tight and perfect.

“‘S good,” Charlie slurs, turning his head to catch Meyer’s eye—for permission—red-faced with tears gathering in those impossibly long lashes, looking absolutely ruined even with Meyer stilled inside him. “C’mon, give it to me.”

the sky in a room - Boardwalk Empire, Charlie Luciano/Meyer Lansky

Charlie was sweating under his tuxedo jacket, his waistcoat warm and humid with it. Charlie’s mouth fell open with a wet, strangled cry and Meyer gorged himself on the sound of it and the taste of wine on Charlie’s tongue. Charlie clawed at his back, his shoulders, and Meyer had moaned like a wounded animal at the blunt scrape of Charlie’s fingernails against his scalp. He heaved Charlie closer, ducked his head to bite at the hinge of his jaw, and Charlie went limp and pliant in his arms. God. How could he be expected to go without this?

“Meyer,”

It was Benny, one arm outstretched to keep the door propped open. His gaze darted briefly over to Charlie before it settled on Meyer, bemused but decidedly not shocked. To this day, Meyer doesn’t know if he’d ever walked in on them before. If he had, he never mentioned it, but their position was fairly damning. The two of them disheveled and breathing hard with just enough space between them for any kind of explanation to be thoroughly unconvincing. Meyer couldn’t imagine Benny saw it for anything other than what it was. He looked sorry for it, though.

untitled party angst - Boardwalk Empire, Charlie Luciano/Meyer Lansky

His fingers graze Meyer's sleeve. "Would you've let me cut in? If I asked?"

Meyer draws back to take a long drag from his cigarette. "I've got two left feet, Charlie." he says, gaze cast to the floor.

Charlie frowns at the incredulity. "That don't matter. I'd like all them big shots to know who you're here with. Wanna have you on my arm. Just once."

tagging: @portiaadams @fancykraken @johnmarston @cealtrachs @meyerlansky