#a wild cannon character appears!

[thelivingartgod]

The Skeleton Prince to-be

*drops the skeleton fucker and runs*/j

Christopher! I think this mans got big brown dow eyes nobody can see cuz he’s too tall, he’s got a bump in his nose, a dimple on one side but not the other and a little harness necklace thing for his flute. He :)

The base elements of this (and the entire necklace thing) comes from @calebs-hangout-corner who I loveee

Drew Cora Drew Kade and Sumi

[coraniaid]

I wish Faith could've met Kendra.

So much of Faith's self-image and growing isolation and self-hatred in Season 3 (and beyond!) is tied up in the idea that, above all else, she isn't Buffy.  The idea that she is in fact defined by being not-Buffy.  That Buffy is the "good Slayer", that Buffy gets a family and friends and a Watcher; that Buffy plays by the rules; that Buffy doesn't ever get too emotional or let herself have too much fun.  By the fear that – however much Faith tries to persuade Buffy of the opposite – they really aren’t alike in a way that matters. (“You’re not me”, as Faith will grimly tell Buffy after her coma).

But imagine if Faith had somehow had the chance to meet Kendra; imagine if Kendra had somehow survived into Season 3 even while Faith was Called.

Kendra is -- while far less defined as a character, barely appearing in three episodes before her untimely death -- also defined within the narrative by not being Buffy.  She loves studying and reading ancient texts and has apparently memorized a Slayer Handbook which Buffy's Watcher gave up on even using for his Slayer; she knew about her potential destiny from a very young age and trained for it for years before being Called; while Buffy has to constantly hide her activities as the Slayer from her mother, Kednra was raised directly by her Watcher and doesn't even remember the parents who gave her up to be a Slayer.

Yes, Kendra and Faith have many things in common Buffy doesn't -- no real friends or life outside Slaying in particular -- and maybe they would (eventually) bond a little over those if they ever got to meet.  But consider things from Kendra's perspective.  

From Kendra’s point of view, Buffy is the wild and unpredictable Slayer.  The loose cannon who doesn't follow orders or report back to her Watcher the way she's supposed to, the reckless girl who spends time in places she shouldn't with people that she shouldn't, who parties and has fun and tempts Kendra into doing the same. The Slayer who spends less time training and studying, but is convinced she'd beat Kendra in a fight anyway because she's more in touch with her emotions and is willing to use her anger to her advantage in a fight.

Imagine how cathartic it would be for Faith if she could meet her predecessor, another young girl who knows what it's like to be a Slayer and to have long given up on any chance of a normal life, only for that other Slayer's first reaction on meeting her to be an appalled recognition that "oh no, you're just like Buffy Summers".

[blackdollette]

Hii Soo I'm not used to sending requests so I'm sorry if this is gonna be a little difficult or confusing. Have you heard that TikTok sound about how "she wanted five guys and I'm not talking about burgers" I was wondering if you could write something like that with 5 characters that Rory plays I don't mind who if you do decide to write it but I'm so sorry this message is so long

ohhh anon you're creative!

"you want more." | clyde, euronymous, jack, kappa, tyler

art deco. - lana del rey

✮⋆˙ [tags] @faesucksass @lustkillers @angelsanarchy @mayathepsychic1999 @josibunn @livingdead-materialgirl@romanroyapoligist @oliviah-25@si1nful-symph0ny @auggiethecreator @vanlisbon@livingdead-reilly @imoonkiss @lankysimp @nom-nommmm1 @xxbl00d-cl0txx @k1ll3rh0rr0r @wildathevrt @mommymilkers0526 @greenxgloss @wild-rose-35

female!reader x clyde + r!euro + jack + kappa + tyler

word count: 1.6k

contents: gangbang, unprotected p in v, anal, a little degradation, a little praise, blowjob, public sex, overstimulation, facial, creampies, a little aftercare

like a doll on display in the window of a toy store, you felt 5 pairs of predatory eyes lying on your almost bare figure as you sat on a scrawny little bed in a private room of your favourite nightclub. what a strange set of men. the thought ran through your mind as you stared up at them, studying the group. 

there was a drunk-eyed stoner dressed in baggy clothes that held a muscular figure, a dark-haired metalhead wearing a cropped shirt that showed off a toned torso, a normal-looking man who appeared more off-putting the longer you looked at him, a greasy hippie who was already greedily palming himself, and a short-haired man with a glowing, throbbing rod concealed in his jeans.

you shyly bit your lip, fidgeting with your thumbs as you thought about what was in store for you. this wasn’t what you initially expected during a night out at the club, but you couldn't deny the adrenaline rushing through your veins. you were wearing a pair of silk panties and thigh-high black socks. the first man to take note of your nervous disposition was the stoner, who reached out a hand to gently stroke your cheek with his thumb.

clyde’s gentle touch made you shiver. “well aren’t you just the cutest thing?” he slipped his thumb between your lips, making you suck on it. “i promise not to hurt you tonight, ‘kay?” while his words were meant to bring you comfort, you could only tremble as the four others clearly had intentions of doing the opposite. 

your eyes darted around, spotting the hippie whipping out his cannon. your pupils dilated as 12-inches of meat dangled in the corner of your eye. your clit throbbed at the thought of his pipe abusing your internal organs, beating them to a pulp. and you caught a glimpse of that dream in reality as he hopped on the bed, lifting up your ass and pressing his hips against you and letting you feel the sensation of his throbbing cock through the dampening fabric of your panties.

three belts clanged as they hit the ground in unison. the three others, euronymous, jack and tyler, took their positions on the bed with you, all five of them surrounding you. euronymous firmly grabs your jaw, making you look up at him. you couldn’t help but whimper quietly, from the sight of him and the feeling of kappa starting to toy with your pussy.

clyde rested back against the creaky bed’s headboard, pulling out his erection that was already smeared with precum. tyler sat next to him and as he pulled out his dick, your life momentarily flashed before your eyes. his shaft was unlike anyone else’s in the room. from the balls, it was a shimmery sapphire blue and it faded into a pretty purple at the tip (like this). it was so thick that you tried to wrap your hand around it, failing.

a harsh slap landed down on your ass, making yelp. jack’s hand left a sting as kappa cooed mockingly. “aw did that hurt, sugar?” euronymous tore your panties off of you, tossing the useless strip of fabric to the side as he massaged your hard clit with his thumb. you arched your back, stuffing your face into the mattress until a hand grabbed you by your hair.

“don’t hide that pretty mouth,” tyler grinned, “we’re gonna put you to good use, baby.” clyde flipped his hair out of his face, teasing your lips with the tip of his cock. you eagerly took it in, taking a second to adjust to his size. clyde let out a low groan, already bucking his hips slowly into your mouth.

tyler’s alien cock glowed with arousal as he watched your throat bulge from being filled up. you brought your hand to his dick, it being much colder than clyde’s. you lifted you mouth off of his, with lips being connected by strings of saliva as you slowly took tyler’s tentacle into your mouth. his hand found the back of your head, gently guiding it down. “yeah… nice and easy.”

then they all went at full force. euro, jack and kappa all slammed themselves into you simultaneously. tears flooded your eyes as you felt two cocks stretch out your pussy and one fill up your asshole. right from the jump, you were already gushing on all of them, the wetness of your cunt saturating their rods.

clyde and tyler took off the training wheels, now making you take both lengths into your little mouth at the same time. you struggled, but your sobs provided enough spit to help them go down easily. both men tossed their head back in unison from the feeling of their girths rubbing together.

though you couldn’t see, jack was taking care of your asshole while kappa and euro dealt with your painfully tight pussy. jack slowly massaged your sore hole as he slowly moved himself in and out of you. “does that hurt, sweetie?” his hand had a gentle grip of your waist and he gave it a little squeeze. both your holes clenched, and jack took this as a sign to be a little gentler with you.

“just give me a little kick if you can’t take it. but i know you can. such a good girl…” jack’s words turned your limbs into jelly. he cocked his head to the side slightly, dislodging a few locks from his bun as he pushed himself in your tight muscle, the vibrations of your groans running down tyler and clyde’s bodies.

kappa may have had the size, but euronymous was carrying the speed. he was twice, maybe three times as fast as everyone else one, your ass bouncing each time he slammed himself back into you. he muttered the dirtiest things of all, making a knot tie in your stomach. “goddamnit, you’re tight as a fuckin’ virgin. but we all know that’s not true, don’t we?” 

you felt your cheeks burn with humiliation, much to his dismay. you ground your hips against them, cum dripping down the inside of your thighs. you had already cum a few times, but how would they know? your mouth was completely stuffed, preventing you from getting a single word out.

clyde reached into the pocket of his cargos which were inches away from him on the bed. he took out a cigarette, lighting it and taking a long drag, eyes locked on you as your spit could his cock in a thin layer.

while clyde was calm and collected, tyler was completely losing it. his hips uncontrollably bucked into your mouth as he gripped the bedsheets so tight that his knuckles went pale. his cock was illuminated like a glowstick, throbbing and oozing as it began to drip with a neon green substance.

as the taste hit your tongue, you immediately felt like gagging. but once you got over the burning sizzle of his cum, it began to taste faintly like green apple bubble gum. you swallowed every last drop that he gave you, desperately deepthroating his length to get more of his solution. then the gates of hell broke loose. he couldn’t hold back anymore and he dumped a bucket load of bioluminescent cum into your digestive track.

it erupted out of him like lava, hot and sizzling as you coughed up green bubbles. clyde burst into a fit of laughter as he shoved himself back into you. “what a party trick, dude.” clyde grabbed a fistful of your hair, aggressively fucking your throat, completely losing control of himself.

you gazed up at him through tear-filled eyes as your lips swelled around him. he’d always been a sucker for “blowjob eyes”, so with a few more lazy thrusts he shot hot strings of his seed onto your face, painting on you like you were a pretty picture.

as you received your facial, kappa exclaimed out a string of curses, as you feel your pussy swell as it filled with cum. euronymous’ balls slapped against your clit as he pounded into you, his fingernails digging into your ass as he lost himself in this moment of pure bliss. as hit orgasm hit like a ton of bricks, he yanked himself out of you, pumping himself quickly as shooting his load all over your arched back.

jack took this opportunity to give it his all, now fucking you rapidly in the ass. you cried into the mattress, loads of cum squirting out of your swollen pussy as he destroyed your insides. “o-oh yeah… good fucking girl…” he reached a hand down and started rubbing messy circles on your puffy clit, making your ass clench as he reached his climax.

he groaned deeply, his body shaking enough the snap the elastic band holding his hair up, sending his full strands all over his face. he used you to milk every last drop out of himself before pulling out and examining your sore hole.

you were a total mess, tears running down your face as they all released you at once. you panted heavily, the room spinning as your eyes fluttered shut. your pussy throbbed from the overstimulation, your entire feeling satisfied despite how worn out you were. in this moment, you felt cold leather draping over your bare body, euronymous’ jacket. clyde lit the small candle on the bedside table with his lighter to keep you warm, jack took one of the hair ties on his wrist and pulled your hair out of your face, putting it into a pretty ponytail, tyler pulled a pink lollipop out of his pocket, putting it in your gentle grip. and kappa’s contribution was a soft kiss on the cheek.

they left you in the cool, drafty room, leaving you with an aching body but a very fulfilled heart.

(little drawing of the position yall are in.)

author's note: writing gangbangs is so hard but I love a challenge!

[liliannadelaphinehartifelt]

Alastor - [ DEVOTION Pt. 6 ]

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Blame my obsession with K-dramas for how dramatic this last angsty part is. Also, to be clear, I do know some of you head-cannon Alastor as a ‘charismatic psychopath’ because of the way he acts in the show but personally I see him as more of a ‘dynamic sociopath’ while he was alive. I’m telling you this because I know authors tend to depict their faves so out of character just to progress the plot of their stories without any logical reasoning behind it. I am not that type of writer and therefore I don’t think my perception of (Human) Alastor is strange. Anyways, enough from me. Let’s get back to our regularly scheduled broadcast shall we?

WARNINGS: [ MDNI ] + [ MENTIONS & DESCRIPTIONS OF BLOOD / HORROR ] + [ PREGNANCY TROPE…it’ll be over soon I swear…] + [ IMPLICATIONS OF A MISCARRIAGE ] + [ DESCRIPTIONS OF A DEAD BODY ] + [ HEAVY ANGST ]

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On a cozy November evening, the Garden District of New Orleans bloomed with life. Its magnificent houses and mansions stood tall in the late-day sun, and the woeful winter breeze passing through the dazzling neighborhood rustled the greenery lining each home.

Many of the Jazz City’s locals regarded the area as an affluent attraction for outsiders to gawk and marvel at, while those who resided there took pride in its beauty.

You considered yourself fortunate to be a part of such a gleaming community, living a subtle life of luxury due to Alastor's wild success, but not entirely involved with other well-kept wives of similar influential figures.

Socializing had never been your forte; though it was required of you in mannerable situations, the constant exchange of loose friendships with strangers never entirely appealed to you.

Although, being married to a renowned public figure with an image to uphold puts you in compliance with the aversion.

Parties, local events, and even headlining musical performances became your routine social appearance.

Alastor was immensely proud to have you on his arm, charming the masses with your soft approach, swooning the newspapers with your angelic appearance and kind public gestures.

You did your best to make a lovely impression on anyone you encountered, wordlessly adhering to Alastor’s commanding ego and polishing the rough edges of his public image with practiced selflessness.

Few knew you personally, and even fewer saw you as a socialite.

Sure, you'd been polite to anyone who passed on the street, made small talk with neighbors, did charity work for those who thought to ask, and even donated effort towards Rosies spontaneous book club meetings every other weekend -though they were thinly veiled gossip sessions she'd orchestrate with fellow homemakers.

There wasn't a single person you could call a 'friend' who wasn't already close to your husband…

How Rosie had managed to crowd her stunning home with so many familiar yet strange faces, claiming to be precisely that -your friend- baffled you in more ways than one.

Yes, these people were acquaintances and admirers to some degree, but your friends?…

You had none besides Alastor, willing to remain by his side in matrimony just as you had from the moment you met him, reluctant to make any other connections since your shared childhood.

It didn’t help that Alastor developed a habit of scaring away new acquaintances behind your back and even resorted to violent acts of service to keep other suitors at bay before your shared vows.

As a result, the happy faces you saw now felt fabricated; every congratulatory remark didn't resonate with your heart, and the more people that arrived to celebrate you and Alastor, the more lost you felt.

They didn't know you.

No one knew you, but they adored your husband and, in turn, fawned over you.

Liars.

Everyone spouted half-truths, mirroring the ones Alastor had been telling you for months, and your heart grew heavier with each one told.

You could manage seeing him falsify his real identity to the public, to unsuspecting strangers, and to posh parasites.

You could handle being put on a pedestal, seen as the perfect wife, and expected to echo his ideal perception.

Lying to others was child's play, a game you two had grown to love, but Alastor developing the need to lie to you wasn't a tolerable offense.

The party began smoothly; guests swooped in with delightful gifts, either handmade or recently bought from the showcases of New Orleans's finest shops; gentle swing music wafted through the air of Rosie’s lavish two-story home that sat only a block away from your own.

She'd gone to the extreme for the whole ordeal: live music, tantalizing food laid out on tables in the parlor, decorations befitting a small ball neatly adorning the house exterior, and the creme de le creme of Louisiana's socialites filling the guest list.

Alastor uttered nothing but praise for his dearest friend's efforts, thanking her for the collaborative success with a broad smile and chaste kiss.

You followed his gratitude with a gracious nod, content with sitting at your designated table now lined with small gifts from an array of affluent attendees.

"My, Rosie, you've outdone yourself again! You even got Anthony and that grump Husk to show face," Alastor chuckled, eyeing the chattering crowd carefully until his gaze landed on the two opposing men.

Rosie hummed triumphantly, champagne flutes in one hand as the other flicked off an imaginary offense, "Oh, come now, Alastor, you know I'd do my best for the occasion! Everyone in town begged to be here. Not every day they get to meet radio's biggest star and his wife!"

She flashed a genuine grin at you, noting the slight glare on your face as you returned it, but said nothing.

Her attention reverted to the man beside her, who continued observing the crowd, sharing passing remarks with Rosie when a person of interest appeared.

You oversaw their exchange, deliberately soft-spoken the whole evening, often having to avert your focus to converse with a couple who'd come to give their gift and admiration.

Still, the minute the guests left to join the party again, you'd zero in on them.

Alastor felt your eyes on him, burning holes into the back of his head despite you sitting down to rest as the party moved along.

He refused to acknowledge your staring, patiently waiting for you to call for his attention rather than assume you needed it.

After ten minutes of idle chit-chat, he was obliged to give it to you, as Rosie excused herself for the time being.

You said nothing as he peered down at you over his shoulder, amber eyes glinting gold under the lowering sunlight pouring in from the opened bay windows behind you, lips curled into a familiar smile that you considered returning for a moment.

It was hard for you to deny how magnificent Alastor looked in the thrall of pride, dressed in a Burgundy suit with cream accents, hair neatly styled to hide his natural brown curls from the eye of others, and his skin glimmering under natural light.

He was beautiful, deceptively desirable even in your eyes filled with one-sided hurt, and you wished to let go and stand by his side with the utmost confidence in him just as you'd done so many times before.

It would be so easy to forget his transgressions then, to fully enjoy the celebration of your children's oncoming arrival together, but as he elegantly turned on his heel to approach you, splinters of suspicion pricked through your forgiving nature.

You wouldn't t let him charm his way out of this.

Enough was enough.

Alastor watched as your expression grew hard, hidden from the festive crowd by his lean frame as he knelt at eye level with you.

To those around you, the gesture came off as romantic, an endearing sight of a husband tending to his pregnant wife, and not the unspoken detachment of trust between a loyal lover and her predatory protector.

Alastor reached for one of your hands, subtly tugging it from resting on your stomach to resting in his palm.

A sickeningly sweet smile plastered his face as he placed a ginger kiss on your gloved knuckles.

His eyes never left yours as he enacted the loving gesture, swirling with unabashed mischief as you dug your nails into his skin, and the slight pain beckoned him to hum with delight.

You were angry and even enraged with him, but you showed it subtly and practiced, and if he were an ordinary man, Alastor would've considered feeling guilty for it.

But your husband was far from average, far from the definition of guilt, and you wouldn't have him any other way because, despite all his faults and evils, you loved him.

You loved him, felt loyal to him, would do anything for him, yet he lied.

He carried on belittling your trust to mere innocence.

Resentment radiated off you in waves, barely drowned out by the party's happenings but settling on Alastor's shoulders with force.

"Is there something troubling you, my dear?" he asks lowly, eyes steady on you as your smile tightens.

"You." is the only word that leaves your lips, laced with lethal rage in the softest tone, and the contrast elicits a rare frown from him.

He lets your response linger, tangling with laughter and music but remaining in his consciousness as he rises to his feet.

A specific anger curls in Alastor's chest, one he seldomly felt for himself, but the look on your face as he rose to his full height above you made it potent.

Something was different; that sweet girl he'd grown to cherish now looked tainted, and now he knew it was his fault.

"Darling…" he began to formulate an inquiry, faltering in his well-tailored demeanor to conjure a suitable remedy for your anger, but his excuses weren't quick enough.

You carefully stood to your feet, forcing a smile before raising on your tip toes to kiss his cheek, smoothing a hand over his suit until it rested where his heart was.

Your lips neared his ear, whispering spiteful words that didn't match the loving aura you showcased to the onlooking guests.

"You, my love, are a heartless lying bastard. Keeping secrets from me, your wife, of all people? Is that what your devotion to me means? Not trusting the woman who loves you? The mother of your children? If it is, then you can burn in hell with satan himself..'

The strain of smiling through your pain began to take its toll.

Tears welled in your eyes as each hurtful word fell on his ears, but you refused to cause a scene at such a lovely event and resorted to walking away from him as swiftly as you could manage.

Alastor was left to stand alone, his jaw clenched and his control wavering as he heard your heels click further away.

A few guests tried to gain your attention, but you quickly and respectfully declined their engagements, barely making it out of their view as tears streamed down your face, but by fate's grace, you found solace in Rosie's kitchen.

All of the cooks, maids, and waiters were absent.

Everyone was upstairs enjoying the festivities, celebrating you and Alastor's happiest time, but here you were.

Alone.

Beside yourself and utterly alone.

You tried to sob quietly, choking back frustrated screams while pacing, but the look on Alastor's face after you'd confronted him about lying brought more tears.

You'd never seen him hurt, taken aback, guilty like that.

He'd always been so perfect in your eyes, composed and deliberate about his presence.

Now, you'd ruined that image, and at what cost?

Would he come clean now or shut you out even more?

Was your anger worth any of it? Was his lying worth it?

Your heart was a mess, desperate to connect with his, but reluctant to it all at once.

“….”

Maybe father was right…

The sound of quick footsteps approaching the kitchen didn't register to you, drowned about by your excessive crying, but another presence was made evident as two gentle arms wrapped you in a hug.

"Oh, honey, come here…" Rosie cooed into your hair, frowning as your cries became hysterical, muffled by the frilly fabric of her dress.

"H-he's been lying to me, Rosie! Alastor…..a-and everyone else in this decrepit city has been playing me like a fool!"

You shuddered violently, trying to breathe correctly despite a filled stomach and a rush of anger taking its toll.

Rosie hushed you gently, letting you cry in her arms until your breaths came steadily.

She ushered you to sit somewhere comfortable as she gathered a few items to help your nerves settle.

"He lied to me," you repeat tiredly, watching as she throws together a pot of tea, using herbs you know all too well.

A sprig of Lavender, sprinkle of cinnamon, bits of rosemary, and a few drops of honey. Finally, a dash of lemon for taste.

This a simple but potent recipe for a calming and effective cup of tea.

Rosie sighs, debating what to say as she lets the mixture steep in a porcelain cup of hot water.

You weren't wrong; Alastor was hiding things from you, and though she hated to see you so distraught because of his hidden deeds, the possibility of hurting you with the truth weighed on her.

Betray, her closest friend's trust, tell his wife the haunting truth and pray she still loves him after hearing it.

Or, keep up the charade he'd so carefully created to protect you, risk driving you mad with resentment, and contribute to the cycle of pain you felt?

Rosie had difficulty choosing which path to follow but soon made her decision as you spoke again.

"Rosie…tell me the truth. Is he…is he seeing another woman? Planning to leave me? To leave us?.." you glance at your stomach, fearful of her answer and terrified your assumptions might be right.

Oddly silent, she doesn't answer your questions immediately and finishes preparing your fresh cup of hot tea, "Rosie, please! Whatever Alastor is hiding from me, I need to know. I…I'm his wife, and I have the right to at least know what's being kept from me. What is he doing out so late all the time? Why can’t I leave the house without him anymore? And for goodness sake, why does he insist I don’t read the paper?!”

The blonde freezes where she stands, whipping her whole body around to stare at you intently, and you stop yourself from rambling seeing her serious so suddenly.

"Al isn't being unfaithful, dear. That I can tell you for certain.."

"Then what in god's name is he-"

Rosie drew closer to you, dawning an all-too-sweet smile you'd learned to dread.

That happy expression was practiced, used only to console your fears or quell any questions you had.

She'd gotten so well at fronting the mask that you nearly began to believe anything she said when it was on, but now you knew better.

You knew that smile meant more lying, and in that moment, you lost the will to trust anyone in Alastors' close circle.

Even Rosie.

"I think it's time you go home and rest, dear. All this stress and crying isn't good for the babies," the blonde moved you gently, helping you stand and walk the expanse of her kitchen, up the stairs, and down corridors until the ongoing party reached your ears again.

That entire trek back upstairs felt meaningless, a distant woeful memory you existed in just to be flung back into reality by Rosie's voice, "I'll go get Al and have him take you-"

Your head snapped up at the mention of the one man who'd caused so much sorrow, tongue poised to speak harshly about him, but your penchant for politeness tempered it.

"That won't be necessary, Rosie. I'll get home just fine on my own."

She balled, clutching the string of pearls around her neck, "Oh goodness no, dear! This may be uptown, but it is still no safe place to walk about all alone. And dare I say, Alastor’s just wouldn't have it-"

"Rosie. I don't wish to see or be near him!.." you hissed as quietly as possible, lips pursed and eyes glaring daggers into her crowded parlor room.

Despite her better judgment, Rosie let the matter go, frowning as she made a heady suggestion.

"Why don't I have a close friend walk you home then? Just in case. There is a murder running 'round, and we can't have you getting hurt or caught up."

There it was again…

We…

You knew she was referring to anyone but you. Alastor, Angelique, her.

Everyone but you seemed to have a significant stake or curious investment in your unborn children's well-being.

The eerie overprotectiveness always made you weary, but at this point, you found it alarming, to say the least.

However, Rosie was right to a point.

There'd been a murder -or several- running a muck in Louisiana’s deep south.

Specifically, New Orleans.

Although the gruesome crimes were frequent, morbidly committed, and consistently reported on by papers and radio shows alike…

No one, not even the expert authorities, seemed to pinpoint a suspect or apparent killer among the public.

All that they knew was the killer's intangible motives, their style, their choice of victims -but nothing substantial enough to apprehend them.

You couldn't care less about a possibility of the Bayou Butcher coming for your head.

Your anger towards Alastor proceeded your worries for personal safety.

Rosie didn't wait for you to come to reason with her observation, already scurrying into the parlor to find your husband and tell him of your wishes to leave.

It irritates you how fragile she, Alastor, and everyone else he knows treated you.

It was as if you couldn't fend for yourself, as if he was the only one capable of cognitive thought in your marriage, and to some degree, the realizations stung your pride.

Traces of anger grew in your heart towards him minute by minute, something you never dreamt of feeling for him, but dreams can quickly turn into nightmares as your father would say…

This moment was that turning point. You could feel the shift as you turned away from the packed parlor, ignoring those who gave greetings as you stalked toward the front door.

Some asked if you needed assistance, and others watched in confusion as you slipped out the door and let it slam shut behind you.

Not many people were on the front porch and lawn, and those who were let you pass through without saying a word.

You presumed they were just waiting for the moment to gossip again, whether it be about you or someone else.

The need to care wasn't one you had, taking brisk steps down the sidewalk under a setting sun as rare chilled breezes sweep the southern heat from your face.

It was convenient that Rosie only lived a block and a half away from you, and Alastor’s shared estate.

The semi-long walk gave you time to think, time to enjoy the scenery around you and get away from the suffocating expectations put on you simply by being the Radio Star's perfect wife.

You scoffed at the thought, trying not to get angry again as your steps took you around a familiar corner, but the negative feeling quickly lessened when you felt a gentle rap of kicks in your stomach.

The twins gave a subtle tussle, sensing their mother's distress, and to some degree, you believed they were trying to cheer you up.

Their tiny gestures worked, putting a smile on your solemn expression and keeping it there to your destination.

You shuffled up the steps to your home, tired, feet sore, and ready to cry again as the large structure reminded you of the man you'd left to endure the company of his admirers.

His.

Not yours.

That had always been the difference.

With a sigh, you unlocked the front double doors, shutting them swiftly as street lamps began to light up and locking the ornate wood panels right after.

It was a habit Alastor insisted on and one you didn't intend to break tonight.

He'd have to come through the back door, and as small as the hassle would be, you still found it a suitable enough sign of discontent from you to him.

With nothing but sleep on your mind, you trudged up the staircase, pulling your gloves off and preemptively pulling pins from your styled hair.

By the time you reached the bedroom, your hair flowed loosely down your back, and your dress zipper was pulled down (by some miracle, you managed to do it on your own).

You tossed the pins on your vanity, jewelry, gloves, and clutch purse, following suit.

Your shoes regained their spot in the closet, your clothes were thrown into the bathroom hamper, and your nightrobe was thrown over your arm as a replacement.

You were ready for bed after one hot shower, a face care routine, and a hair brushing session.

Alastor still isn't home yet…

The clock had struck midnight thirty minutes ago, and he'd yet to show his face.

You half expected him to, but after years of seeing him angry on very few occasions, you highly doubted he'd return without cooling himself down first.

He tended to go hunting as an alternative…which left you alone for hours on end.

Sadness and guilt crept into you as the argument replayed in your mind.

The emptiness of your shared bed did not help your aching heart, and the heavy silence of the house made it worse.

You may have gone too far.

Maybe he wasn't hiding anything, and I overreacted?

Maybe I was wrong to doubt him, to worry and fret over something trivial.

Your thoughts spiraled again, tears filling your eyes as regret got the best of you.

"What have I done…?" you mumbled in earnest, glancing around the room, wishing to apologize to Alastor or at least explain yourself in a better tone.

Sleeping without him felt foreign, unreal, and even like a self-inflicted punishment.

You saw no benefit to it, and you were consumed with worry.

I can’t do this…

With your mind racing but your body ready to rest, you decided that taking one of Angelique's tonics would soothe you enough to relax.

You left the room on a mission, carefully treading downstairs and into the kitchen, and with haste, you found the cabinet holding the container of vials she’d gifted to you every month.

You opened it swiftly, hoping to find what you needed, but the box was empty.

"Oh, for the love of!-" you hissed angrily, shoving the box away with a grimace, but the sour expression didn't last long as you remembered where to find extra tonics.

Angelique was an insightful woman, cautious enough to give you extra in case something like this happened.

Fortunately, Alastor insisted on putting the additional vials somewhere else so as not to mistake them for regular tonics.

You'd agreed to his idea, allowing him to keep them safely locked in the basement, but now you needed them.

Leaving the moonlit kitchen, you drifted into the second hallway, walking straight ahead to the basement door.

Its key hung on a hook to the left, a small silver trinket Alastor kept a tight watch on, and you tended not to mess with it.

That went for the basement as well.

It was his area of the house you stayed away from not only out of personal reluctance but also out of explicit instructions from him.

His reasons for your avoidance ranged from "Trust me, It's too dangerous for you, darling.." to "Just as you have the library as a safe haven, I have the basement as mine…"

You hadn’t thought to question him, having no reason to, but for once, you disregarded his wishes to grant your own.

He'd never know you went down there only to retrieve medicine. What harm could one peek do?

You plucked the key from its hook, unlocking the creaky black walnut door before reaching into the dark abyss for the lamp switch.

Your fingers found it on the left wall, flicking the switch to bring a warm golden light into the damp room.

The steps croaked under your slow footsteps, holding firm under your nearly doubled weight until you stepped onto the cold wooden flooring.

Alastor kept the space oddly clean; a chair sat in one corner, his hunting gear was neatly arranged on one of two long oak tables, and the walls held other hunting equipment.

You noticed most of the hanging instruments were carving aids, something your own father used to cut and properly clean his own game after he went hunting during your childhood.

Seeing the array of butcher knives and other tools did not frighten you; they were familiar and expected from your husband's choice of hobbies.

Nothing caught your attention at first, usual kickbacks and things tucked away in corners and a hefty radio set on the second table, but little stood out.

You treaded carefully though, peering curiously at different items as you searched for the spare box of tonics, but they were nowhere to be found at first glance.

You figured to look deeper, rummaging through cabinets and under the table, mindful of your swollen belly as you bent down or reached above.

The longer you searched, the more anxious you felt.

Somewhat afraid of being in the basement alone, and a little scared Alastor would find you down there, though he explicitly asked you not to be.

"I have to hurry.." you mumbled, eyes frantically searching the space again as the last cabinet you searched held nothing important to you.

A particular corner of the room caught your gaze. Right behind the armchair was a stack of boxes of different sizes.

You drew closer to them, spotting the extra medicine box on top, gently grabbing it from the pile, but you couldn't look away from the most enormous box sitting right at your feet.

It was huge and made of sturdy metal, unlike the rest, and you were sure a whole person could fit in it if they tried.

How odd…

You'd never seen it before but the box felt sorely out of place, among other things.

You couldn't peel your attention away from it, some invisible force urging you to look inside, and despite your better judgment, you gave into the desire.

Setting the medicine box down on the chair, you moved the other cases off the larger one, clearing it off before cautiously kneeling to open it.

There was no lock, only four bolt latches, which you found easy enough to undo, but the real task was lifting the heavy lid up high enough to see inside.

You managed it with a few determined huffs escaping your lips, letting the heavy lid hit the stone wall before taking a look inside.

You immediately wish you hadn't..…

"Oh God…" you whispered in utter shock and horror at the sight in front of you, feeling undeniably sick from it, mind racing to make up a rational reason for the vulgar sight.

But what rational reason on Earth could justify your beloved husband hiding a literal mutilated body in the basement.

Your heart sank seeing the poor souls' faces sunken in with dread, drowning in their blood, maned at various points as if an animal had mauled them.

Body parts were missing, skin had been flayed, and you almost couldn't tell if the person had any recognizable features left.

It was horrible…a brain-altering nightmare come to life before your very eyes, and it made you sick.

You began to cry, unconsciously sobbing hysterically as the dead body lifelessly peered back at you, terrified of it… slightly afraid of the man you presumed caused the damming scene.

With a sense of urgency, you reached to shut the lid, flinching as loose blood splattered onto you from the impact of the box closing, and the chill of red liquid dripping down your skin was enough to make you scream in pure disgust.

It was a guttural, frantic cry you'd only expressed in recent nightmares, but a deserved one.

Your body began to shake in peril, the gruesome image engraved into your mind as you scrambled to get to stand, but you weren't as composed as before and stumbled backwards haphazardly as a result.

Everything moved faster than you thought; your body had abandoned control, leaving you to fall without warning.

The room spun as your head collided with a table's edge, a dull pain erupting in your skull on impact, and your consciousness wholly disrupted.

The blinding pain of falling to the hard floor didn't register to you as panicked tears seeped down your face, screams you couldn't hear left your lips, and blood began to pool from your head and between your legs.

Shock, terror, helplessness, fear, and panic were all you could feel.

Intense pain in your stomach and head amplified the emotions but became distant sensations as your vision blurred and faded.

The very last words you remember speaking was a cry for help, a desperate plea for everything you'd seen to be a mistaken dream, a cry for anyone -no- your husband to save you from the terrible ordeal.

A plea for him to appear and tell you it's not true, that the body in the bolted box wasn't his doing, but your hope of him hearing you -anyone hearing you- dwindled rapidly as your concussion took hold.

---------- ----------- -------------- -----------

Rosie found Alastor quickly enough, merely having to spot his neatly styled curls drifting in the wind as he stood out on a balcony alone.

A drink in one hand and a cigarette in the other.

He blew smoke into the murky winter air, eyes dark and narrowed as he stared at the evening sky.

It was rare to see him frowning.

Alastor Hartifelt, of all people, not smiling?

Rosie nearly couldn't believe it the closer she drew to him.

He was…upset.

Irritated.

His smile was thoroughly washed away by your harsh words and prods for the truth.

You'd managed to take his cheer in one fail swoop, leaving him alone to think, and he couldn't blame you.

You, his ever-so-loving wife, his confidant, and his soon-to-be motherly doting doe, were rightfully at odds with him.

He'd hurt you, the very reason he'd began lying in the first place was to avoid doing so, but it'd happened anyway.

A genuinely ironic turn of events, in his opinion.

Alastor glared at the rising moon, cursing whatever higher power meddled dared to meddle in his life of all people, but his inner ranting was cut short as the sound of Rosie clearing her throat hit his ears.

The radio host spun on his heel to face her, fronting a slight smile to hide the agitation he felt at the moment, "Done socializing already, dear Rosie?"

He strived to sound polite and unbothered, but the edge in his tone showed through despite his best efforts.

Rosie paid no mind to his touchy attitude, knowing where it stemmed from.

She came to stand by his side, nodding in response to his question, "I didn't have much time to. I was with your lovely wife…trying to calm her nerves."

Alastor's frown returned at the mention of you, a thin line on his lips and a glint of guilt in his gaze.

"How is she?" he asks quietly, and Rosie's cheery expression falters hearing it.

"She insisted on returning home… by herself. Incredibly distraught on her way out.." She admits.

His chest tightened, heart sinking instantly picturing you at home alone, "Why didn't she-"

Rosie clicked her tongue dismissively, interrupting his line of questioning, "Al, she was severely distraught. Please let her be. I only know a fraction of what went on between you two, but it's obvious to her that you're hiding something. Not to intrude on your marriage, darling, but you must make a choice before something irreversible happens to it…to Y/n."

The blonde couldn't hide her somberness, staring at her long-time friend with a sense of earnest sincerity as she continued, "I shouldn't be the one to tell you this….but if you really do care for the girl, love her like you say you do, then you'll tell her the truth. You'll tell her, and she'll still be by your side…."

Alastor lowered his head, and for the first time in his adult life, he felt perplexed, stuck at impasss of foreign emotions.

He cared for you; some might call it love, and he'd been aware of it since childhood.

You'd told him all your secrets, good or bad, and trusted him.

You trusted him enough to reveal the mental abuse your father had put you through during childhood.

Trusted him enough to tell him how badly you wished you'd died instead of your mother to make your father somewhat happy again.

Alastor even knew of the times you'd been left completely alone as a child for weeks on end, how your father's neglect made you feel less than, and the permanent effect it had on you.

Your desire to fill a void, be loved without being shoved off, and be seen as more than a convenient soft-hearted person for someone to trifle with.

He knew every little thing about you, and it was because you had faith in his loyalty.

He found it easy to divulge his thoughts to you in the same manner, but allowing his secrets out into the open made him uneasy, even if you'd proven trustworthy from the beginning.

Then there was the matter of killing for you.

Alastor had done it so many times without your knowledge…

Stalking down men who stared at you too long for his liking, carving up anyone who spoke ill of you, happily taking the life of those who spoke down on your relationship.

Most of his murderous tendencies were purely driven by his obsession with you, a twisted kind of possessiveness he couldn't let go of, and one that made it easy for him to spill blood for you in the blink of an eye.

He did it to keep you safe…and that’d only be possible with him and no one else.

What stopped him from telling you how far he’d gone to do so, showing you that unnatural side of him only his victims saw, could only be described as fear.

Fear of losing you.

Fear of stripping the warmth from your heart.

Fear of losing the one thing, the one person who'd loved him despite all his flaws.

Fear of never truly smiling, never feeling a genuine emotion again because you -your presence in his life- allowed him to do just that.

Alastor hated to call it what it was, but as he was evading your attempts to understand, lying straight to your face and hoping you'd dilute your intuition was a way cowards way out of telling you the whole truth.

His pride dimmed, a frustrated grunt rumbling his chest as he glared at the drink in his hand.

Rosie sighed, flashing him a soft smile of pure reassurance, "Go to her, Al. Put a stop to her worries and relieve yourself of the burden. If not for your marriage, then for her sanity. She is too lovely of a girl to be treated so faithlessly."

He tongues his cheek at her words, a bitter burn of smoke and whiskey on it as he swallows thickly before nodding in agreement, "Seems I have no choice."

"You best head off. It's getting rather late, and I'm sure she misses you dearly, Al."

Alastor took one last drag of his cigarette, dropping it in his half-full bourbon glass before letting Rosie take it from him as he straightened his suit.

"I'll bid you good night then. You have my gratitude, Rosie, and the party was a splendid success, if I may add." His tone was back to normal, engaging, and mildly charismatic. Rosie smiled wide at his improving mood, accepting his thanks before shooting him off with a quick peck on his cheek.

“Au revoir monsieur!…”

“Au revoir mademoiselle..”

-------- ---------- ------------ --------------- -----------

Alastor made it home without trouble, humming a snappy tune to distract himself from the evening's progressing events.

However, as he reached the back door of your shared home, his shadows twinged with alertness.

His hand froze over the gold doorknob, a certain heaviness settling in his chest as the specters frantically twisted against the back porch walls.

Something is wrong. Can't hear Y/n. Can't hear their heartbeats. Can't feel them-

Alastor stiffened as his shadows enlarged, fueled by the panic he was resisting, "Find her!" he bellowed the order out on instinct, and the leering spirits dove into action as he barreled into the darkened home.

"Y/n!?" he yelled for you, head whipping in every direction as he searched the first floor, stomping up the stairs next to search the second floor but coming up empty.

He stood in your shared bedroom, remaining calm as he tried to figure out where you could be.

All your belongings were here, and you had readied for bed from the looks of your tampered vanity, but nothing else gave him a clue about your whereabouts.

That was until his shadows called to him; a certain bellow of wailing sounded from the lower part of the house, and one Alastor didn't like the sound of.

A warning.

A frenzied one at that.

Found her…hurry.

Without a second thought, Alastor bounded back downstairs, following the whips of his shadow self as it traveled through the halls, only to stop in front of a doorway he dreaded.

The basement. Its door was wide open, the lamp light eerily aglow as his shadows whirled past the steps to engulf the room.

“Y/n?!…” Alastor called for you again as he crept down the creaky wood steps, voice stiffer than he intended it to be, but its edge paled compared to the large lump forming in his throat when his eyes spotted you.

Splayed out on the floor, on your side, lying limp and motionless.

A small puddle of blood was forming near your head, another was quickly growing in between your legs, and splatters of it covered your face, hands, and nightgown.

For the second time in his life, Alastor felt true terror, bewildered by the sight of his darling wife in distress and paralyzed by the powerful possibility it was his fault.

He’d only felt this fearful once before, afraid his father would end his mother’s life right in front of him after a hefty night of drinking, but even then, he found the courage to act.

Merely killing his father out of pure rage-filled instinct, but now…how he would remedy your suffering alluded him completely.

She's barely breathing… Their heartbeats-

"That's quite enough from you!" Alastor roared in utter frustration, moving without thinking, willing himself to do anything but panic.

He worked as quickly as his mind would allow, trying not to break down as he knelt beside your still body, "Y/n…darling…wake up… please…" he begged quietly.

Being as cautious as ever, he cradled you close, praying to whatever cruel god there was that you'd respond or at least open your eyes while he carried you out of the haunting basement.

Your body twitched at the sound of a familiar voice, feeling lighter as solid arms lifted you from the cold floor and whisked you from the damp room.

The sound of a rapid heartbeat thundered in your ear as waves of coherence fought to establish itself in you, but the severity of your wounds made it a struggle to function.

You settled for listening to the heartbeat, the voice accompanying it a vague background noise but a comforting one.

Your vision wasn't any better, only allowing you to see a murky image of a man, one you knew well but couldn't determine was real or not in the moment.

“Al..astor?..”you whispered in awe, smiling sadly as he looked down at you, clearly worried.

“Stay with me, darling… Keep breathing, please…”

Alastor felt you shiver violently in his arms hearing him speak, racing up the stairs as cautiously as possible to avoid hurting you more, barging into your shared bedroom seconds later.

He laid you down on the bed, disregarding the blood and dirt staining the sheets as he tried to assess your injuries. "Fuck…fuck…fuck!" he rambled angrily, breaths coming quick, and his mind in a rare frenzy as a result.

Your eyes refused to stay open, an apparent wound was on the side of your head, and the impact of your fall had indeed done something to warrant your lower half bleeding.

He needed to stop the bleeding from both areas, keep you awake, and determine the twin's state all at once.

Alastor knew this but struggled to pull himself together, only able to grasp at one of your hands with both of his to ground himself as a frustrated smile adorned his face.

Pull it together, or she and your children die.

It's all my fault… it's all my fault…

She'll die if you don't act…

It's all my fucking fault…I-

She needs help! Wallowing in your depraved guilt won't change that!

His shadows chittered, reasoning with their host despite the panic they felt seeping off of him.

Alastor screwed his eyes shut, an anguished growl leaving his chest as he tried to think of a solution and push away his panicked state.

You remained still, on the verge of passing out again, trying to hold onto reality a little longer, squeezing your savior's hand back as a weak tether to it.

Alastor froze, feeling your gesture, head lifting swiftly as you attempted to speak, "It h-hurts.." you muttered painfully, acknowledging a new ache you'd only felt a few weeks prior.

Intense shocks of strain spread in your abdomen, noticeable contractions that felt different than previous ones, but as much as you wanted to articulate the agony they caused, you couldn't find the strength to.

You screamed instead, gripping Alastor’s hand hard as the constant pains grew more robust, making your cries grow louder.

The terror in your screeches struck him hard, an almost unnatural sound he'd never imagined coming from you, but your following words gave the sounds plausible clarity.

"Th-they're c-coming!" you choked between labored breaths, feeling dizzy as your blood loss took its toll, but the growing urge to push trumped your need to pass out.

Alastor came to his senses upon hearing your warning.

Fully aware that he couldn't handle this situation alone, he did the only thing that made sense to him.

Ask for help. Something he hated to do but saw no alternative for.

"Go get Rosie. Make it quick. Find my mother next and get her here as well…" he commanded his shadows quietly, heart still racing as he took solace in comforting you.

The bed dipped as he sat down, free hand cradling your head as the other raised yours to his lips.

He planted a kiss on your knuckles; brows furrowed as the feeling of your fingers gripping his slightly lessened, an indication of culminated exhaustion and blood loss.

"Stay with me, ma chere. Just a while longer, alright? Everything…everything’s going to be fine…" Alastor muttered soothing words into your ear, a ploy to keep you and himself calm, and to some extent, it worked.

You hung onto his every word, confused and alarmed by him but clinging to the safety his presence brought.

You couldn't forget what you saw in the basement, the horrid image still stuck in the back of your mind as you cried in agony and writhed in desperation for help.

You couldn't believe that Alastor, your perfect husband, the man watching over you now so fervently, had done something so horrible to another person.

You had many questions, fears, and even more confusion than before.

Nevertheless, your dire position now completely overshadowed the underlying nightmare that was your marriage.

Your children.

That's the only thing you could clearly envision, enduring the heartache, suffering through the genuine threat to your life, all for their sake.

Confronting Alastor could wait.

Surviving the night and bringing healthy twins into this world couldn't.

xxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxx

I'm putting the reader through a lot...but you all will survive... Maybe. Also, the song choices for this one kind of hit just right. ;)

TAGS ❤️: @rapturenyx @michi-keinz @shealizxx @nissrinina @destinyisastar @bubblegumheartsy @sailorsmouth @aestheticgals-blog @rameisa @ellesette

[ BONUS CONTENT + ]

This edit is so fitting, I fear... Credits to creator ❤️

[selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs]

hellooo I want to see the character's reactions to a teen!reader that almost never cries and who feels their emotions pretty weakly, and usually resorts to humor to cope (ending up in making dark jokes about the characters' pasts, but regretting it after they make it.)

this changes when they read chapter 87/see episode 3 of season 5. suddenly the reader is crying for at least an hour about Akutagawa's death, and they realize who the reader's favourite character is from that lmao.

I'm curious about both before and after they leave their world, but you don't have to write both.

Stoic! Teen! Reader

Self-Aware! Platonic! Akutagawa Ryunosuke x GN! Teen! Reader

Description: They get used to you not being emotional. But, one day, your emotions showed.

_______

🧥 You weren't an emotional one. They can't recall many moments, of when you were crying over reading about their past. Yes, your voice would tremble, but, no tears were shed.

🧥 They won't say, that you have a dark sense of humor. It's more that you don't think your jokes through. Many jokes would end in you apologizing to them. It was... endearing in its own way. You didn't know, that they were real, yet, you always apologized, if you thought, that you cross the line.

🧥 There was one thing, they wondered about. Who were your favorite among them?

🧥It was an important question to them. Okay, they simply are curious. And they have every reason to be curious! They were planning to make your life good and happy, and knowing who you will be most comfortable talking with, is essential.

🧥 One day...

__________________

The last pages of Chapter 87 faded on the Meeting Room's "otherworldly" screen. You (and them), finished reading it.

They were quiet. Despite the fact, that ever since Karma was spared, the "cannon events" wasn't happening (Pushkin was really happy not to get punched by Fukuzawa and Mori, Kunikida was grateful, that he didn't lose his hands...), it was hard to see them being hurt. Or mortally wounded.

And then, the cry came.

Akutagawa have Higuchi a side eye, but, it wasn't her. A cry came from above.

Then Little Light plopped down on Akutagawa's head, sobbing, hugging his head.

"No. No. No. Please, no."

Despite everyone being alright, Fukuchi felt guilty over something, he didn't do.

Akutagawa tried to per Little Light, calming you down, but, as usual, his fingers passed through Little Light.

He didn't like, that you were sad.

You continue sobbing.

Gin coughed.

"Well... At least... We knew, who is Guiding Light's favorite... Ango-san, get the camera. Guiding Light are in dire need of more cards of my brother."

________________

🧥 You cried for an hour. Later, when you open BSD Mayoi app, a few dozens new Akutagawa cards waited for you. Akutagawa felt, that they made you happy. You also changed all your cards in team selection and home screen to his cards.

🧥 During the next chapters, you were quieter, than usual. When, in manga, Bram turned Akutagawa into a vampire, you let out a hopeful

"Maybe... Akutagawa will be alright..."

Akutagawa was glad, that you felt better. And Bram apologized to him. Despite not doing anything to him.

🧥 When Episode 3 of Season 5 came out, you cried again over Akutagawa's fate. Fukuchi apologized again. And was planning to apologize to you.

🧥 And then, the day of their arrival came.

__________

The day was wild.

You were doing your homework, when your phone's screen started glowing white. And then, BSD Cast appeared in your room.

You spent the next ten minutes jumping from being confused to apologizing for making dark jokes. Everyone just laughed it off. Then, Fukuchi stepped forward.

"[Y/N], I want to apologize for what happened with Akutagawa in the manga."

You stay quiet. You nodded, scanning the room with your gaze. Akutagawa was here, well and unharmed. Human.

You felt your cheeks burning up. Akutagawa must have heard you crying over Chapter 87. And then over Episode 3.

You shyly looked at your feet. You didn't know what to say next. Then you felt a warm hand on the top of your head.

Akutagawa spoke.

"Hey, [Y/N], don't be sad. I am alright. And I promise that both you and I and all of us will be alright. You believe me?"

You nodded.

For now, you didn't know, that Akutagawa mentally add 'little sibling' at the end of his little speech.

[myfavoritemonster]

The What We Do in the Shadows Finale

It was dog shit. Plain and simple. The entire season was cack.

In my imagination, Jerry never existed. Pointless character. Laszlo discovers his father's ghost plans to make an appearance and decides to finish his monster in order to show his dad he hasn't wasted his immortal life. Guillermo takes his job with Cannon Capital, but The Guide comes to work with him and Nandor instead of Nadja. They somehow accidentally destroy the entire building, causing mass destruction and panic. Nandor tells Guillermo they, or just himself, is going to be arrested for murder. The Guide says they have bigger problems if the Vampiric Council finds out. Nandor decides to head west, just like every Western movie he's ever seen. Guillermo thinks it won't work, but they flee and land in Tuscon, AZ. There they hide out and maybe Nandor and The Guide toy with the idea of being a couple and maybe Guillermo runs into Jenna.

Back in Staten Island, the original plot line with Laszlo's dad conspires, however we get closure for Colin saying he doesn't remember Laszlo raising him, and says he was fucking with him the whole time.

Sean has his heart scare, and Laszlo goes ahead and makes Sean a vampire. Of course he has to train him and chaos ensues.

The Baron, after hearing the news of the destruction Nandor and The Guide had caused, comes looking for Laszlo, Nadja, and Colin. He tells them he's in Tuscon, and thus Laszlo decides they must go to Arizona in disguise. He goes as Jackie Daytona, Nadja decides to go as Wife Daytona (whatever name she happens to pick), Colin goes as Colin, and The Monster is their body guard. When they arrive, Nadja is reunited with Jenna and she, with The Baron, help smooth over the Cannon Capital mess. However, Laszlo has discovered the real mural of him as Jackie Daytona and believes that the town thinks of him as a god, so he, Colin, and The Monster try to convince the town he's their new king. Obviously, this goes horribly.

When they finally arrive home, they find the house covered in bodies and guts because Sean went wild, turned Charmaine into a vampire, and they made a huge mess. Nadja was already pissed about the body parts mess from when Laszlo was building his monster. She screams at Laszlo, and he just grins and shrugs.

The End. That's how it should have gone.

[vigilantesyth]

Damian wayne head cannon, bro is either over dressed or underdressed but always in style. The Wayne's tend to just pick a stugle some times as Dick, Jason ans steph and known for being in tight/short/ skimpy fits with loads of accessories and Bruce, Tim, babs, cas and Duke tend to do a...lot because why show up if it's not to show up? They are beautiful humans and they show off. Damian is from a place where everyone dressed over accessorised.

You can not convince me that the RAs don't walk around with gold/silver/broz/metal and gems apart of every fit.and everyone dose it too just they the main blood line is extra about it something about the wight helps training and you can't go around looking homeless if your a ra. So dami comes with his own gems why thank you and gets more 'anonymously'. It's also a good way to get in his good graces or earn is help or silence(this is abused by the family on 'don't tell xxxx').

So some days you see Damian in this 50 layer kimono because he favourite anime character of the week died or in botty shorts and a crop top (Both with mannny accessories) because he just felt like it.

Mind you he is still wearing heavy jewellery so people do try to rob him. But he is Damain, his rep is of a wild but beautiful dog. He dose bite he also has security detail thanks to his mother and grandfather that only do nothing if they themselves send assassin's to harm him.

He knows everyone knows. They are his old servants and nanny's he acts like it too. Alfred likes the extra help and plays card games with them. One of the mannor floors is dedicated to Damains 'guards'.

Witch leads me to another au.

The nanny's and servants help with house work alot so alf have more time with the family and the family gets to know them as well but they know the servants don't need to awnser to them and it's only because Damain likes them it happens. They are loyal af.

One time burce asked Damain why can't he act like kids his age at the time. The only kids outside of his siblings he knew was the rich brats at school.

This gose wrong fast.

As damaian has them disguise themselves in a mall area and plan for a meeting with one of his classmates who talked bad about his mother one day to come fight.

Damaian had an outing with a 'friend' that day conveniently.

So they met at the mall the kid had like 10 guards all buff and some with guns. Damaian smirked, and like a demon who won a prize, he started cackling.

Brat" why ate you laughing your surrounded "

Somebody was recording in the background BTW. There was even a crowd. When the guards surrounded him he grinned and clapped.

His guards sand up some dropping trays and lifting guns, others lifting knives. All looking at the small crowd of 11.

D: "No you are surrounded"

People in the crowd gasp as more jumps from. The 3rd floor to the 2nd floor some hand off wires with more guns by now even some coming out of the crowd with more weponds totalling to almost 300 men and women.

D"now what was it you said about my mother?being a broke, whore?"

He lifted his hands and grined eith a glint in his eyes.

"Everyone around you is an enemy shawn. You best kneel and beg before me for forgiveness before I have them wiped you off the map."

By this time the crowd was growing and it was on the news all asking who the armed people worked for.

Then they turned red in the center from Sniper aims and it becomes national news it's on NBC and BBC how some wayne kid plans to kill a classmate with 100 men and 40 snipers for being disrespectful to his mother talking about how Bruce is letting his kids use his money.

Then a chopper appears because damain is dramatic he came that way and his family *caough * Dick *caough * made it worst.

His grandfather walks out in all his glory, and it becomes known to the world as it is now world news it has the kids' parents showing up even. That Damian is a part of the Al Gulh royal family, and they came out of hiding because of the disrespect they faced in a school. The parent where bowing a grovelling to spare them. Then talia shows up in her crown princess clothes. It makes RA act even bolder because she often refuses to wear clothes he gives her. She apologized for the mess her son and father cause on international news.

The a chopper came over from the Korean royal family asking who disrespected their family.

Damnian becomes international overnight. His mother and grandfather now have Twitter, and so do the very much hidden in the plane sight empire. While the world want to know what land is, they refuse to talk about it.

And Bruce is pissed he scolds him and then some when he reaches home. Damaian said.

"You said 'why don't I act like other kids' I acted like my classmates are you happy now?"

Bruce sinks in defeat and noe has to make up a story as to hoe he and talia met and now has to fit royal meeting into Damains schedule as the korean[ he didn't know ] side of family also wants turns with him and his siblings if they wish to come. Ras is the same and nobody questions damians linage again.

And all racist comments stop in his presents, his slate wiped clean anyone who offended him where either expelled or conveniently disappeared. Gotham acts like it's an every day thing and now news reporters and other people try to dig into his life more than the other Wayne's forming sort of a protection for them because who cares I'd Jason and Tim had a gun fight in the middle of Gotham (paint gun) all of Gotham didn't care because they too also joined into to the mess.

Damain looks actually too tired to care now because too much is on his plate and he can't get work related injuries else take a leave of absence which last time made international news again, he played off the brused lip as he lost a tooth while reading a book and it fell on his face. Had to get check out infount of t.v to confirm it by at least two nations doctors. All 3 of them did and confirmed the sooth got shook out by something falling on his face. [It was jon. Jon fell on his face].

Damian also has to walk around with food testers and his school released his gardeds once to show off and his private touters [smartest people in the world] showed thier certificates from when he was a child of him being thr smartest kid they have ever thought.

It's not the end of it, Damain now basically sits and eats at galas because who has the standing to talk to him, both good and bad because everyone is watching him and he don't have to talk to them.

(I'm just building help:^

I need to stop alright one more

Sick as fuck rn )

Damains clothes become trendy and scrutinised. Because look at this, he is either over dressed or under dressed but never worse dressed and refuses to care about gender or cultural norms. Once, we wore a whole silk gown to a beach, like the after divorce, or just married a rich man type gown with the slit and everything with heavy jewellery, garter belt and that toe chain that ties up to your calves with a parasol.

(In my cannon, he looks more like talia than Bruce)

[axl-ion]

Since I can't fall asleep here are couple of proposals why Ingo ended up in Hisui, although I will start with my personal preference, which is just... Leaving a lot of the details vague.

My idea is that Ingo never learns why or how he ended up in Hisui, even if/when he regains/unlocks his memory, because the fall itself was so sudden and traumatic for his brain it just shut down. He'll never remember how he fell, because he actually does not possess the memory as the brain didn't create one OR it permanently locked the memory in the subconscious so it can never be unavailed and Ingo can't get retraumatised by it.

A theory I also pair up with this one is that Ingo wasn't even meant to travel to Hisui in the 1st place, but ended up there thanks to Earth's rotation. Because he didn't necessarily have to travel to the same exact o'clock in the past and the difference could have been significant enough for the Earth to be in a different phase of its rotation than when the time jump happened.

Other proposal is what's already in the cannon, that Volo's usage of Giratina just managed to open a rift that suck Ingo in. Although keep in mind that Ingo would probably have to have been in Sinnoh for this to happen since well... You can't get Unovan Pokémon from the rifts and I KNOW I KNOW, several Unovan Pokémon received Hisuian forms, but I'm taking it more as they originated from there (except for Samurott, any wild member of its line is probably an invasive species) or share an ancestor that's recent enough for them to look so similar (also how cool would be an ancestral Zoroark that's just Normal type that evolved into Hisuian Zoroark because... We know why... And into Unovan Zoroark because it just kept thieving, stealing, taking what's not yours, thieving stealing taking what's not yours 🎶). Them not being the exact same species is somewhat possible, because usually if nature figures out that something works it just keeps replicating that.

3rd proposal is that he ended up there, because he already has ancestors there, which is my freshest idea and honestly Idk how that would work, but at the same time, I think it would be very VERY FUNNY if Cogita turned out to be his great-great-great-great...-aunt/grandmother which I only did because they both don't look that old (Ingo in his BW/B2W2 appearances) and already have gray/white hair which imo has to be genetic and Ingo (+ like... Most Unovan characters) just is very racially/culturally ambiguous and American which basically means - you can give him any ethnicity and it would be believable without changing anything about their design (not like you can't edit their designs to make him be from your culture, I will eat up any Ingo content as long as it isn't proship material, I've seen and liked Latino Submas, I think I also have seen Korean Submas somewhere, but I have a memory of a goldfish, but yeah, I would even eat up Black Submas, if you got some send them to me or just any Submas x insert culture I appreciate being sent posts). But the funny part would be Ingo being distantly related to Volo. Like bro wanted to rewrite the universe only for God to throw his distant relative with whom he only shares 1 blood relative to tell him "This guy has intrigued me more than you and your Giratina stunt does so you're stuck with him now! And you're distantly related!"

[little-miss-mash]

All the musical numbers follow the rules of what that character is actually capable of, using the shit and scenery around them, except fizz, who is a high-level hell clown performing whole ass hell clown conjuration magic.

Helluva Boss is a musical show, and the characters are just randomly breaking out into song numbers, BUT for the most part the songs are grounded in the shows version of reality. SO wild violence and drama, but no looney toon shit that breaks reality for a gag.

EXCEPT FOR FIZZ

Fizz, in contrast, is running on cartoon musical physics, if it's funny he can pull it out of his pocket or spin the scene into something else. When he does his big banger 2 Minute Notice, that's all on the spot, the fake office, the fireworks, the everything. In no other musical number, even on stage, are characters pulling that kind of shit out.

In the warehouse he's is just pulling random shit out of boxes, but he's also creating stage lights to spotlight himself, or manipulating the lights in the room.

So, because I love the idea of "performance magic" I think Fizz is doing actual clown conjuration to make these things appear. I think it's a skill he's cultivated for years, and it's a known magic, so when people see a hoe in a clown suit pull a cannon bigger than themselves out from nowhere and shoot 500 exploding sparkly dicks it's not "where the fuck did he get than cannon from???" it's "Wow someone graduatted cum ala latte from clown university"

I looked (quickly) through ll the songs thus far, and for "reality breaking" musical shit we have other characters enaging in that I'm not counting:

-impossible location changes (classic montage shit) -drug trips -pre-edited commercials -millie and moxie sitting on a couch the whole time either imagining or reminiscing about the past -different types of whole ass magic (looking at you stolas)

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Cooking by the Book

Part 1 (ft. Riddle and Silver) I Part 2 (ft. Trey and Kalim) I Part 3 (ft. Jade and Lilia) I Part 4 (ft. Deuce and Jamil) I Part 5 (ft. Ruggie and Malleus) I Part 6 (ft. Cater and Rook)

In which Gordon Ramsay-kun is isekai’d into Twisted Wonderland. Part Food Wars, part Hell’s Kitchen, all Master Chef—Night Raven College isn’t ready to take on this Michelin Star celebrity!!

You’ve got to do the cooking by the book! ... But with Floyd and Sebek, that’s an impossible task. Between noodle sourcing squabbles and differences in their approach, how can GR ever rein these two loose cannons in?

dbjsbskdne I was so excited to write this because I love both Sebek and Floyd 😌 They make for a fun dynamic, especially when mixed in with GR~

I was busy around the initial release of this event months ago, so I’m releasing this SUPER late (but it all ends up working out, since a character cameoing in this fic is one of the new Master Chef units for May 2023). I’ll get the Idia and Ace with GR one out in a week or two 😭 Please bear with me!!

Imagine this…

If teaching the Master Chef course at NRC had taught Gordon Ramsay one thing, it was this: the kitchen was an active battle zone, and weapons of mass destruction laid in wait around every corner. It was all open flames and pointed tools... but the most dangerous thing of all to his health and his sanity?

The students.

He had dealt with his fair share of arrogant, ill-tempered chefs. Professionals who thought themselves too good to take advice, newbies who believed they were better than they actually were.

The NRC boys were a whole new ordeal altogether, Gordon realized.

“IEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!”

A bloodcurdling shriek resounded in Ignihyde’s halls. It bounced off the cold polished floors and the metal beams and wires that stitched everything together.

At once, Gordon snapped to attention, pushing himself away from the wall and rushing to the scream’s source. The door snagged, refusing to open--he cursed loudly, slamming his palms against it and roaring, “WHAT’S GOIN’ ON IN THERE?!”

Behind the door, the wailing escalated. There was crashing, screeching, sobbing, begging. His worries ramped up, his pounding, harder and more frantic.

“I THOUGHT I COULD LEAVE YOU TWO UNDERSUPERVISED FOR ONE BLOODY SECOND!!”

Gordon’s palms were raw now, crying out in protest--and, for a wild moment, he considered ramming his entire body against the door. Just as he was preparing to throw himself at it—

Click.

Like magic, the door suddenly swung open. Sebek’s proud face appeared, wearing a smug, triumphant expression. Not good, Gordon thought.

“Rejoice, human!!, Sebek thundered happily. “The merman and I have successfully liberated Ignihyde of its excess of flash fried noodles!! We shall have plenty to use for our cooking lessons!!”

“You did WHAT?!”

“Hmph! Witness our bountiful spoils for yourself!!”

Gordon lifted his head and stared past Sebek.

In the back of the room, Floyd was squatting by Idia’s closet, packet of instant ramen in hand. Boxes and boxes of noodles—rummaged from the deepest recesses of Idia’s mancave—laid in haphazard stacks beside him, teetering precariously atop one another.

Ignihyde’s dorm leader sprawled on the floor, humbly prostrating himself between tears.

“Oi, Firefly Squid-senpai,” Floyd said lazily, using the butt of his frying pan to poke Idia on the head. “This all you got? You’d better tell the truth or else Crocodile-chan and I will squeeze you senseless~”

“Y-Yes, yes, that’s everything!!” Idia squeaked as he cowered in terror. “Y-You’ve already cleaned me out of house and home...!! J-Just take the noodles and leave this nerd alone!!”

“Hmmm...” Floyd laid his frying pan on his shoulder and contemplated. “’Kay! I don’t feel like haulin’ more stuff back to the kitchen anyway.”

“The FUCK is happening here?!”

All eyes landed on Gordon as he stormed in looking none too pleased. Veins bulged on his forehead, and his entire face creased with rage.

A mistake made on his part; he should have known—the students of Night Raven College were the most dangerous aspect in all of cooking.

It had been a sly suggestion from Floyd that started this whole mess. “I heard from a little octopus that Ignihyde’s loaded with noodles. We should go there to pick some up.”

And so Sebek and Floyd had been allowed to go off to collect the ingredients. When they didn’t return in a timely manner, Gordon’s suspicions had set in and he went to Ignihyde himself to investigate—only to stumble upon that shocking scene.

He left fuming, dragging his problem children of the day with him (Floyd) flailing and (Sebek) protesting.

“I said you could get ingredients, I didn’t say you should rob the man blind!!” Gordon grunted, shoving them both through the kitchen doors. “Right, we’ll make noodles by scratch then. Hope you boys remember what you’ve been taught.”

“What? But I don’t feel like it.”

“You should’ve thought of that before you pissed on my mood. To your stations,” their instructor barked, “now!!”

“Maaan... This sucks.”

They reluctantly slunk off, fetching flour, salt, and eggs along the way. Just as Sebek popped open a jar of white granules, Gordon shouted, “Make sure it’s not sugar this time, Zigvolt!!”

Sebek’s cheeks flamed. He shot a fierce glare back, bellowing, “I KNOW THAT!! I don’t need to be told twice! I’ve been expanded my culinary repertoire considerably since the start of this semester!!”

Floyd’s eyes shifted to Sebek’s station. A nasty plot bubbled to the surface of his mind, encouraged by the volatility of his junior’s attitude.

“Ehhh, you sure got guts snapping back to the teach, freshie,” Floyd grinned crookedly as he leaned forward at his counter. “How about you talk big when you can actually own up to it? At least I can cook without a recipe. You’ve been making little mistakes even with a recipe.”

“WHAT!! The only reason we’re even IN this predicament is due to YOUR lapse in judgment!! You INSISTED it would be more cost effective and time efficient to procure noodles in bulk from Ignihyde!”

“You’re the one that went along with me. If you were really smart, you’d have stopped us.”

“Grk…!!”

“Alright, alright, that’s enough out of the both of you!!” Gordon interrupted. “Focus on your pastas instead of stirring the pot here.”

“Tch!! I’ll show him!!” Sebek gruffly tore into a bag of flour at his table. A cloud of fine white powder filled the air, sending him into a coughing fit.

Floyd snickered—he had already shifted his own flour and salt together, forming a well in which he had cracked an egg.

Gordon raised a brow. “… Well? Get on with it then.”

The merman’s lackadaisical smile turned sharp-toothed at the suggestion. “If you say so.”

Without hesitation, Floyd stuck his entire hand into his mound of ingredients, fingers clenching around egg and flower. The yolk burst, viscous yellow coating his hand and flour flying in all directions. A stray speck flew across the aisle and hit Sebek’s forehead.

A low grow came from his throat.

Gordon scowled at Floyd. “That’s not an acceptable mixing technique.”

“That’s right!” Sebek called haughtily. “You should know better!! You’re meant to break the yolk with a fork, then steadily incorporate it into the...”

A fistful of flour suddenly exploded across Sebek’s vision. He jerked back, now boasting a flour-covered face, appalled and mouth hanging agape.

Across the way, Floyd unabashedly smirked. He waggled his yolky fingers at his classmate, incriminating himself. “Oops, my hand slipped.”

“YOU VILE KNAVE!! THIS INJUSTICE WILL NOT GO UNPUNISHED!!” Sebek shoved a hand into his own bag of flour for a counterattack. He raised his arm, and Floyd cackled, knowing his target had taken the bait.

Gordon instantly clued in on his intentions.

This was it: Floyd’s escape from the order to make noodles, to do something more fun.

“TIME OUT!!” The chef abruptly stepped between his students, forming a physical barrier between the two--but alas, too late.

The declaration of war had been made.

There was a battle cry, and then flour flying at him. Gordon fell back, grasping at his face. The world blurred into a white mess, filled with the clanging of pots and pans and erratic shouting. 

“Where are you?!” Sebek demanded between coughs (most likely preparing another projectile). “COME AND FACE ME, YOU FISHY COWARD!!”

Shuffling came from within the flour haze, metal and wooden implements rolled or tossed to the floor to attract Sebek’s attention. Wherever Floyd was in the kitchen, he was a master at avoiding detection.

All the while, Gordon swatted at the air and bellowed, “Stand down, get back to work. ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME, YOU FUCKING DONKEYS?!”

The startled cries of the cafeteria ghost chefs started filtering in.

“G-Goodness, what’s happened here?!”

Gordon lurched out of the kitchen, clinging to the doorframe to keep himself upright. He spat up a breath, then dragged a hand over his face to wipe it clean of flour. The man looked simultaneously infuriated and exhausted, the lines on his face seemingly more prominent than they had been before.

“Mr. Ramsay!! Are you alright?! What’s become of the kitchen and the students?!” one of the ghost chefs asked worriedly.

“The students,” Gordon said wearily. “That’s what happened.”

[thelivingartgod]

Daughter of the Sea

Coraaaa! I’m re-listening to Where Drowned Girls Go and I love her so much. Drawing her body was fun. I’m gonna try and work my way through all the main characters. I’ve already done Kade and Sumi, so now her!

[vinelark]

the way the batfam webtoon illustrates bat fam is pretty much exactly how I'd always pictured them all in my head (but funnily enough never how they looked in the actual comics). What is your head cannon for how they all look?

i also tend to align with the WFA character designs in general! especially jason, that’s the jason in my head. very handsome & wears a belt bag just like mine 💪 i also appreciate that WFA, unlike a lot of the traditional comics, is pretty clear on the fact that damian is not white.

beyond that/more specifically, i always picture tim as @tigerjpg’s tim and @mammutblog’s tim. (side note: ditto for diana.) i also tend to headcanon tim as trans. also in line with mammutblog’s design, i picture steph with some curves/tummy rolls (not sure if they posted that art but it was v cute). cass always has her medium-length haircut when i picture her. babs is oracle babs. i know canonically dick has blue eyes but in my mind they’re brown. most important thing to me about bruce is that once the cowl comes off, no matter how exhausted and beat up he is he’s just undeniably pretty, for maximum vibe shift.

beyond the batfam, kon in my mind is almost always leather jacket flavor kon, and he has curly hair + the earring (if not multiple earrings). i also differ with WFA on bart & cassie’s designs for sure; i see bart closer to his usual comics vibe (big wild hair!) and cassie has short hair/leans butch a la some of cryptocism and coralreefskim’s cassies. clark looks like MAWS clark + @januariat’s clark (the ones of farm boy clark from a while ago have lived rent free in my head ever since i saw them).

there are also so many incredible fan artists with different takes on these characters that make me go !!! that’s them!! so while i have defaults in my mind i am always just happy to see a really cool interpretation/redesign. if official comics can have 50 different appearances for the same character then i think fan artists can have 500 different improved versions of those characters and i’m here for it.

[peachdues]

Begging for Rengoku to make an appearance or at least head cannon and tell us if he’d be a wolf, human, or something else 🧎🏼‍♀️🧎🏼‍♀️🧎🏼‍♀️

Unfortunately, no other hashira except for Mitsuri and Gyomei are set to appear in Part IV of Netherwood.

That said, there are a few other KNY characters set to make their appearance, including someone for Genya

Let’s say he’s gonna take after his big brother

BUT that doesn’t mean I haven’t thought about a monster-fucking AU for Rengoku! A few weeks ago I had @kentohours being a terrible influence on me and encouraging me to think about seelie!Kyojuro with some yandere tendencies…and ngl, I’ve let my imagination run wild in the notes app big barbed cock, anyone?

So we shall see!

[hugemilkshake]

OC GUIDE

I decided to make a lil guide to all my ocs so if people want to ask questions or draw fan art they could and they can find it all here! (Just know there is a lot in this post-)

Character list

Facts Facts pt2 things they would never tell someone OC eyes OC RPG some not so fun facts Oc Facts pt3 little things my Ocs do What my Ocs desire songs that remind me of my Ocs Oc Facts pt4

Adele Penguin

Adenosine cookie

Barbecue “Dragon”

Blackberry Shade

Blazing Spice Cookie

Blushing Snail

Bubbling Oil

Bubbly Milkshake

Burnt Caramel

Burnt Macadamia Cookie

Cinnamon Spider

Dark Apple

Decayed Strawberry

Emperor Caterpillar

Gran-Berry Cookie

Grilled Tomato

Irukandji Jellyfish Cookie

Leaf Sheep Slug

Minty Snail

Peach Novius

Pink Mantis

Purple Mold

Powdered Basil

Red Fruit Cookie

Rex Cookie

Snake Tooth

Starfruit Milkshake

Sugar Water

Snake skin

Sugary Jello Cookie

Shimmering Onion

Salt Water Cookie

Scorched Garlic

Tabby Cat Cookie

Wild Basil

Water Cookie

Weeping begonia

White Flower Cookie

Background OCs (only basic lore)

All of the info is here, designs are below

Ivory Fawn

Ceylon spider

Pure Choco Powder

Peach Shade

Dark Kelp Wrap

Moon Dancer

Non cannon OCs

Bubbling Oil

Crushed Garlic

Foggy Onion

Leopard Seal

Sliced Tomato

Info about them ⬆️

—————————————

LORE

White Flower

Grilled Tomato

Scorched Garlic

Burnt Macadamia and Irukandji Jellyfish

Group info

The Patrons

The patrons were baked by a young right after the five beasts were imprisoned but they never got to be ancient hero’s since they had to take care of cookies who survived the beasts

Each one of them has two soul jams so if they started showing and corruption one soul jam could be removed to lessen the corruption or on the off chance they get fully corrupt, half of their power

The patrons live in a secret kingdom in beast yeast with generations of cookies how survived the beasts

These patrons are Bubbling Oil, Scorched Garlic, Grilled Tomato, Shimmering Onion, Adele Penguin and Powdered Basil

Powdered Basil was the first and so far the only one to get corrupt. His replacement for the time being is Adele Penguin

The Entertainer’s

A trio of cookies that consists of Bubbly Milkshake, Dark Apple and Blackberry Shade

BlackBerry Shade is the one who found the group but the other two weren’t really willing to be part of said group

While Dark Apple and Bubbly Milkshake don’t get along, they both agree that the constant noise of the radio and circus acts are not fun

But let’s not forget the one who saw Blackberry Shades raise since the start… she says that it is something you should respect if you enjoy life

The Nomads

While these cookies aren’t necessarily a group there are certain cookies who fall in this category

Two of these Cookies are Starfruit Milkshake and Snake Tooth who will travel everywhere except Beast Yeast

One who stays in the desert is Cinnamon Spider since he’s a bounty hunter

Burnt Caramel travels to places that have a high amount of light magic usage for unknown reasons

Three cookies who stay by The Dragons Valley is Rex Cookie, Sugary Jello and Red Fruit, except Red Fruit will travel to cities, villages and kingdoms outside of The Dragons Valley

Adenosine Cookie is a traveler who tends to linger around the outskirts of kingdoms, towns and villages, some believe they are a grim reaper but that’s not true.

The Dragons Village

This village by The Dragons Valley was founded by The Great Orange-Red Dragon who is also known as Barbecue “Dragon”

This village has several cookie living there, one of them is Gran-Berry who does work for Dark Enchantress and bakes cookies on the side

Now two cookies who hold significance to The Great Orange-Red Dragon is Tabby Cat Cookie and Minty Snail who were childhood friends of the dragon

But one day an odd “cookie” appeared, claiming her name was White Flower Cookie. Now she would have been interrogated severely if she wasn’t blind… but some swear that she’s more than a simple “Cookie”

The Bugs

A fairly new group that has a plethora of bug type cookies on an island that rests of the coast of Beast Yeast

Some cookies who have moved away from the island is Cinnamon Spider and Minty Snail either because there wasn’t many job opportunities or they moved because of family

Currently the cookies that pop up around the shore line are Pink Mantis Cookie, Blushing Snail, Emperor Caterpillar Cookie, Peach Novius and Leaf Sheep Slug

But these cookies have claimed to see a wolf like cookie prancing the beaches of Beast Yeast… this cookie has been known as Wild Basil

But recently, Leaf Sheep Slugs ex has showed up, apparently his name is Blazing Spice? And he’s a little deranged? Well uh that’s cool ig-

I swear I’m normal. Don’t mind that I have a minor obsession with bugs

The H2-Bros

A group of teen that absolutely despise each other. Do they stick together by force or by choice? The world might never know… but what we do know that they travel around together to just bully people. Water Cookie is probably the most tame, but also the one to get bullied the most. Sugar Water is the ring leader with Salt Water being good at making sure they don’t die

The outlaws

Two men walk among side each other as the blistering heat at the sandy winds cover their tacks. Snake Skin and Weeping Begonia.

Rumors state that the two met in one of the very sand storms they use to hide in…

The witch of the woods

A man by the Name of Purple Mold rests in the woods of beast yeast, studding magic and herbs, he’s grown quite fond of a certen Wild Basil, well that’s a lie. If you ask Purple Mold what his opinion is on Wild Basil, he will tell you that “it’s like babysitting a toddler, a very annoying toddler.”

The lovers

On a coastal town in the snowy region, two cookies were in love, but alas, this was a one sided love, Burnt Macadamia felt his heartbreak at the cruel word he heard. But with a heavy heart he accepted this rejection, but a small part of him still yearns for her love…

On the other hand, Irukandji Jellyfish Cookie is focused on vengeance. After her village was denied help from the Dark Cacao royal advisor, she swore Vengeance. Seeking out strength to take the throne from that spineless king

[lord-rodentia]

I'll be honest, I hate my original art style. It's difficult to work but BUT NOW WE HAVE THE NEW AND IMPROVED HOT GARBAGE!!! 👏👏👏👏👏👏👏 (God the tags after this...)

THIS will be the new artstyle I use from now on, it's easier, it's comfortable to work with, and I get to create beyond hilarious expressions with some of it.

I've also made it easier on myself to differentiate adults from teens (I'm qualifying Zora Link as a teenager because I can) using a small mark usually to indicate eye bags because what's an adult without stress?/hj

I had to alter the appearances of some characters though since I wanted to test it out in the new style and only Mikau would be given his cannon design back after this because in the Botw/totk style the tattoo on his arm doesn't work. Also I gave the Deku scrub a design since for some reason an extremely simple design is too hard for my feeble hands to draw???

I NOW REALIZED THAT I FORGOT RUTELA'S FINS AND BRACELETS-

Anyways, Zelda titles as shown:

Ocarina of Time

Majora's Mask

Twilight Princess

Breath of the Wild/Tears of the Kingdom

Oh hey, I just realized that this is probably the first post where I don't swear while typing out a huge chunk of text... Neat.

[sonicasura]

My mind for the last few days: Transformers x Weretoons idea go brrr.

I have an idea for three specific iterations of the franchise. Those are Prime/Rescue Bots, Animated, and Bayverse. Although the latter two choices I can't really got into depth as there is going to be involvement with a Weretoon OC not designed yet.

Luckily for you folks, Prime/Rescue Bots aren't in that category since there's two perfect characters to experiment with! Who you may ask? How about Miko Nakadai and Cody Burns!

The reason behind it is I can give them two completely different backgrounds for their respective Weretoon sides. Plus both sides of the continuity get dragged into Looney Tunes style mayhem. Transformers Prime shall not escape the insanity this time.

Let's start with the female member of the Jasper Trio. Miko is an afflicted Weretoon as she gotten into an incident at 6 years old. She had to get a blood transfusion to save her life with everyone unaware of what the donor actually is.

Her toon has two sides to it. Miko's usual appearance looks exactly like herself as a cartoon but with obvious differences. She shrinks to 4'8 in height, her fingers are mole claws, a pair of little black bat wings, a pink dragon tail, sharp teeth with two peeking out her upper lip, and two little pink tipped black horns on her head.

Her secondary toon form is a MOLE DRAGON. This is because of Miko's trope: Beast Among Us. A toon who possesses takes a mostly inconspicuous normal form to hide their true monster nature. Miko is no exception either.

Her beast form has a 22 ft long Eastern Dragon/Mole hybrid with 7 ft long arms/legs. Miko's fur covered hide is predominantly obsidian in color for the hot pink scaley underbelly, pink tips on her mane, silver whiskers, light brown muzzle, black bat wings, pink bushy tail tip, salmon(color) nose, pink lavender antler like horns and red back spikes. Her muzzle alongside long arms/legs are mole like in nature.

Despite being able to fly, Miko's more dangerous in the ground. She can dig up to 75 mph and spit out blasts of sand like a cannon. A feat that made her first shift a sheer nightmare. Miko ran away from home and later found herself under the loving care of a demolition worker Weretoon.

Cody Burns is a natural born Weretoon from his mother's side and came into his heritage at age 4. (Got it from his great great grandfather with his mother not inheriting it.) Griffin Rock houses a few Weretoons as the place's secluded but also whacky nature keeps them safe from hostile Cartoon Hunters.

Cody's toon form is (ironically) a 6 ft tall bipedal gryphon. His bird half being a Laughing Gull but his arms are hand like wings similar to the Rito from the Legend of Zelda specifically BotW/TotK. Instead of a lion, Cody's lower half is a Pallas Cat with thick fluffy fur and surprisingly eagle feet than said feline's.

He can fly but not for long as his wings aren't fully developed yet. At most Cody can glide without straining himself too much. His trope is Understudy which means he can learn any skill extremely fast if he witnesses in toon form.

Kade, Dani and Graham are his half siblings as he was born from a failed relationship. They love Cody all the same but being left out of everything hurts much more thanks to this common knowledge. He unconsciously clings to the Rescue Bots once they arrive on Griffin Rock.

Speaking of the bots, both sides are in for a wild ride especially the Prime cast. (Rescue Bots got more available knowledge plus Griffin Rock is already insane on it's own.) Toons don't follow the same laws that everyone else does and Weretoons bask in this unique privilege.

Decepticons will not look at humans the same again once Miko pulls out an ink bottle. She can back up her sass as Starscream is getting stared down by a mole dragon straight from a cartoon. And quickly learns that explosions don't do shit either.

What can I say other than I like chaos?