#alr some sorting tags now:

[the-chaotic-snek]

do i love physics yes, does it make me cry, also yes. Call that Toxic relationship

[lewkwoodnco]

I got options, babe - Lockwood x Reader

“It’s a snow globe.”

In a miraculous moment of clarity, she realised what George was violently trying to communicate to her from behind Lockwood: play dumb.

”What’s a snow globe?”

George was positively beside himself.

a/n: the people have spoken so here is part 2 to buy me presents! am so sad i fell a little sick during the hols, threw a terrible wrench in my 12 days of fics plans for last year but i'm alr planning ahead for this year :))) yes its xmas themed but the vibes are close enough to valentines so shush. if i was in the l&co universe i would pay good money to see someone tell george to live laugh love, and i would tip extra if it was lockwood hehe. also I tagged a few extra ppl who seemed interested in a sequel!

warnings/tropes: lockwood x glassmith!reader, mostly fluffy, only a smidge of angst towards the end, clueless lockwood my beloved <3

word count: 2.6k!

buy me presents (pt 1)

TAGLIST | MASTERLIST

When Lockwood had shaken George awake plenty of hours before, it had taken a while for George's brain to catch up to what was happening. By the time it did, he was worriedly watching Lockwood animatedly talking to one of the shop assistants from a nearby telephone booth.

"No idea what it is, or why..." he was telling Lucy. Lockwood was looking around for him. George nervously shifted behind one of the bars of the booth. 

"Maybe he's just blowing off some steam?"

Lockwood was now wearing an aggressively tinseled Santa hat while wielding an identical one. George had a pretty good idea who that was for.

"Er, maybe. But perhaps you should come home too. Just in case."

Lockwood had finally spotted George and was frantically waving him over. George did not like the way the Christmas lights were reflecting in Lockwood's eyes.

"For the love of God, Luce, please come home. You can't leave with me...this."

With a bone-deep sigh, George regretfully hung up and emerged from the telephone booth, smiling weakly at Lockwood.

He was more than grateful for his presence of mind earlier, once they had reached Portland Row. Lucy walked in just minutes after Lockwood's unpleasant realisation about Nicholas and guffawed at the sight of the tiny tsunami of gifts.

"Brilliant," George said. "Your turn." He handed Lucy one of the last presents he had been holding and disappeared into the kitchen. She turned towards Lockwood incredulously, who was indignantly standing in front of the sea of presents with his hands on his hips. She raised her eyebrows.

"Oh, okay, I see how it is. I buy a few gi-"

"In what WORLD is this few-"

"- few gifts, and suddenly I'm the bad guy. It's Christmas, but I'm feeling a lot of negativity pent up here."

"Now you're just deflecting." Lucy rolled her eyes as Lockwood started fishing out some receipts from his pockets.

"Can't a guy spend...uh...three-oh. Oh. That's a lot of zeroes."

"Lockwood. How much did you spend?"

"...suddenly, I don't think I know any numbers past ten."

"Lockwood!"

"I couldn't figure out the installment plans! That's Y/N's job!"

George returned to the front door corridor and started picking up some boxes at random and shaking them experimentally.

"Yeah, a fine job you've left her to sort out your debts! No more shopping till Easter. And George, if you don't steal his wallet, I will."

He held up the present he was holding to Lockwood. "Listen, I don't think Y/N's going to want all of these, so how about I -"

"Absolutely not."

George made a rather rude gesture and disappeared back into the kitchen. Lockwood bent over to start clearing a path through the presents to the stairs.

"How was I supposed to know she was only kidding?"

"You know what her sense of humour's like. George and I would have picked up on it in a second."

A very unhappy Lockwood straightened out from under the avalanche of presents. 

"What's that supposed to mean?"

A little before lunch, Lockwood knocked on the attic door. It was ajar, and she was reading in a contorted position, all twisted up with a blanket on her rug in the one patch of sunlight in the room, leaning against her bed. She nearly tipped over when Lockwood poked his head in, but caught herself in time.

"Hey."

"Hey."

They stared at each other for a moment. It was the first time they had been alone since the morning's happenings, and it didn't feel as easy to laugh about it all when it was just them. Because the truth was, she didn't find it all that funny. Confusing, yes. Stressful, perhaps. But it wasn't that funny when all the emotions felt excruciatingly true. She closed her book, and Lockwood took another step in, leaning against the bannister.

"I'm sorry about the whole Nicholas thing. I was having a laugh, that's all. I never wanted to make you seem...foolish."

"I don't even remember Nicholas. I mean, that guy."

"Lockwood."

"Who's Loc- I mean, Nicholas? I'm Lockwood."

"Yes, I know."

"And I don't feel foolish. Do you think I'm foolish?"

She smiled at him with rheumy eyes, and his face twisted strangely like he was suppressing his own smile. His eyes drifted to the book in her lap, and the blanket swaddling her face.

"Er, reading?"

"Trying to. The sun's making me feel so sleepy."

"Then move out of the sun. Or take a nap."

She glared at him, scoffing incomprehensibly. "T-take a nap? What am I, 5? And we barely get any sun as it is, I'm trying to thaw my insides."

"Can you even breathe in that?"

She took a wheezing breath. "...yes."

Still, Lockwood sat down next to her, and after a bit of scuffling, she was tipped slightly to her side, leaning against him slightly. She was starting to regret using such a thick blanket through which she barely felt his shoulder. He picked up the book and opened it to the pages her finger was stuck between, and started reading. She closed her eyes and listened. It was some dream to be sitting next to him, without the usual inches between, to hear his honeyed voice ebb and flow, to watch his fingers smooth the pages and fiddle with the edges.

It was mildly disconcerting to hear the shape of his voice take on such a poetic form as if they were in some parallel universe. As if they were in some parallel universe where falling in love was easier than falling asleep.

A few hours later, she woke up on her bed with a jolt, writhing uncomfortably in her blanket. Once she had managed to peel herself out of it, the embarrassment of having fallen asleep on him sunk in. She needed something to take her mind off it and eventually decided to tinker in her workshop. Down in the basement, she had a small makeshift workshop set up for the occasional tinkering or fiddling with some spare parts. It helped her mind relax when her hands had something to do.

She spent a very peaceful hour regluing some tiny diamonds that had fallen off an old watch. That was, until a door banged open from somewhere else in the house, followed by frantic voices. She looked up in alarm as the footsteps drew closer, blinking owlishly behind her magnifying eyeglasses. Her door swung open and Lockwood walked in, closely followed by a barely suppressed silent, but very agitated, George.

“Y/N, look what I found in George’s suitcase.”

Between the panicked sirens blaring in her head and George’s epileptic hand gestures, it was a miracle she was able to process all those words in the right order.

“…oh?”

A frozen smile sat on her face as her eyes nervously darted between the boys’ faces.

“It’s a snow globe.”

In a miraculous moment of clarity, she realised what George was violently trying to communicate to her: play dumb.

”What’s a snow globe?”

George was positively beside himself.

Lockwood, on the other hand, looked alarmed and touchingly concerned.

“You...you don’t know what a snow globe is? Do they not have snow globes where you’re from?”

“Did you just ask me if they have snow globes…in Hackney?”

He looked slightly miffed, but she couldn’t stay annoyed for long with his foolishly good-natured intentions.

“Look, Lockwood, I’m a little busy here. Is there something I can help you with?”

“I just…wanted to see if you knew anything about this.” He turns it over in his hand, and even with the shelter of anonymity, she finds herself desperately seeking the approval in his eyes that she had been hoping for. “It’s...it's beautiful. When I first saw it, I thought…” He looks up from the snow globe at her, where she’s holding her breath, and she’s distantly aware of how suspiciously invested she must seem in his answer.

“I thought it had to be you.”

She has his answer, but she still hasn’t let go of that breath, as if keeping at bay all the emotions and hope that will come rushing in with her exhale. He watches her face, and she’s too scared to even twitch. Too scared to come right out and say everything the snow globe meant.

“You thought wrong."

George’s seizure-like convulsions returned with a new vigour. Lockwood continues standing there for another minute, and it makes her think he hasn’t heard her until he regretfully bows his head.

“I suppose. Well, I hope your work won’t keep you long. We'll be having tea soon. Let’s- good God, George, are you having a fit?!”

After their Christmas Eve tea, they exchanged presents, and to call it an awkward affair would have been an understatement. She passed Lockwood the pair of snowman socks. George grudgingly passed him the snow globe. The absurdity of the gifts and their donors made the four of them pause for a moment. 

Finally, Lucy broke the quiet by handing out her gifts: mugs with pictures of Inspector Barnes accompanied with cheesy quotes. George's was 'live, laugh, love.' Lockwood's was 'keep calm and carry on.' But everyone was still looking far too solemn, so she nearly had an aneurysm holding back her laughter.

After they all retired to their rooms, she retreated into her chilly workshop. But instead of continuing with her work, she just sat at her desk, brooding a little. A few minutes later, there was a knock on her door as a rather breathless and pink-faced Lockwood poked his head in.

"Still working?"

She shook her head. "What are you doing?"

"Returning the presents." He turned to step out but hesitated. "Are you sure you don't want to keep any?"

"I'm sure that I would hate it if we went bankrupt. Do you need any help?"

"Oh, no, I'll be - yes. Yes, actually. These are a lot of presents. If you could spare the time...I'd really appreciate it."

So after she bundled up in her woollens and wrestled a scarf onto Lockwood, they somehow hurriedly carted the many slightly scuffed shopping bags into the cab, where they only had a brief break to catch their breath, given how close they lived to the shops. 

After that, it was a race to hit all the stores before they closed for Christmas Eve. After a couple of rounds, they had developed the fairly efficient system of Lockwood lugging the gifts around while she spoke with the shop assistants. The one drawback to their fine plan, at least for him, was her glancing at the receipts and the too-long numbers at the bottom of them ("Jesus Christ, Lockwood, how did you not have to take out a loan for these? Honestly! Do you think we're made of money?").

Finally, their luck ran out at their very last store, which looked as though it had been closed for hours. She knocked and peered inside feverishly, clutching the very last gift stubbornly.

"No, no, we were so close! Now what do we do?"

"We can come back after the holidays. Or," he gently pried the box out of her fingers, smoothly lifting the top, "you could keep it."

It was a silver charm bracelet, with rapier and lavender charms dangling from the central chain, much like the ones they laid out on jobs. It was beautiful. But she couldn't take it.

"You already gave me a present."

"Have another. A little special something for a special someone."

His cavalier attitude, his foolish smile - in that moment, it was all too much. Her terrible temper flared and she shoved the present into him, forcefully enough to make him stumble a little. She turned and started walking home briskly, fuming silently until he and his long legs finally caught up to her.

"Wha - was it something I said? Y/N? Y/N."

"I don't know, Lockwood." She was sick of his carelessness, sick enough to be a little careless herself, let her tongue run loose. "What have you said? Or haven't said?"

"Y/N, you know I'm terrible at riddles."

"Well, maybe Belinda can help you."

That stuns him enough to make him stop in his tracks. She slows down and, after steeling her fraught nerves, turns around.

"...what does Belinda have to do with anything?"

His hopelessly clueless expression, which typically soothed her anger in their worst fights, only served to infuriate her further here. She walked towards him angrily.

“I didn't want to give you the goddamn snow globe because Belinda exists. All right? Because there are a thousand different girls out there who you’ll like better than me.” There’s a sudden tightness in her chest. With some difficulty, she turns away from him, lightly pressing her sternum. “I can’t compete with them, Lockwood. I won’t let you make me.”

She hears the crunch of the snow under his shoe as he takes a step towards her.

"Belinda is...amazing. She might even be perfect. But even she's just a friend, because...because you exist. And-and I could find...the most perfect girls out there, but the image of you would still be breathing in some corner of my mind. It wouldn't be the same with anyone else. It never is."

She sniffed gently. "This might be the right time to tell you that the snow globe...was from me."

She can't decide if she hates or loves how she can hear the smile in his voice. "No. Really?"

She turns back around, smiling sarcastically at him. "Ha-ha. But don't get too excited about it. I made little figurines to represent the four of us at Portland Row, but you can't even see them from the outside. It's ridiculous."

"It's okay. I'll know they're there."

At that moment, she felt a rush of gratitude towards Lockwood. He made everything a little easier, a little sweeter. They were standing so close that she could see a tiny snowflake on one of his eyelashes. She didn't dare breathe.

"There really never was any competition."

"I know."

"Then why does it sound like you don't believe me?"

She frowned. "I do believe you."

"I don't think you do."

"...do you want me to not believe you?"

"Y/N."

"What?"

"There's something you should know."

"Lockwood, I am going to throttle you."

"You're standing under mistletoe."

She glanced upwards, and it was as though all the air had been stolen from her lungs. Against the pitch-black sky and the gentle dusting of snow, a soft white sprig of mistletoe was curling out of the edge of a branch. She lowered her eyes back to Lockwood's, and her eyes fluttered shut as he leaned over.

As impossibly close as they were before, they were even closer now, and it still felt like they would spend their whole lives trying to get close enough to each other. She kissed him the way she loved him - desperately, with her whole being. When they broke apart, the tip of his nose and cheeks were tinged pink, and there was a light dusting of snow on his hair. In that moment, all she remembered thinking was that none of his presents made a better gift than he did.

As they walked home with fingers tangled together, she realised that they didn't need some parallel universe. In every universe, they would somehow, somewhere, find each other, and dare to love. 

TAGLIST: @novelizt @thegreathuxton @avdiobliss @dangelnleif @elenianag080 @snoopyluver20 @ell0ra-br3kk3r @mitskiswift99 @ahead-fullofdreams @neewtmas @mischivana @houseoftwistedspirits

[theunholybastard]

Kinktober: October 16th - Spanking (Papa Emeritus I x TransMasc!Reader)

Tags: Minimal AFAB Language Used (Cunt, Pussy, Clit, etc.), Spanking, Punishment, Degradation, Praise, Creampie, Cum-Eating, Established Consent, First Person POV

I didn't mean to make him mad. But really, dealing with Papa Primo in any way, shape, or form, you will always manage to get a rise out of him, no matter what you do. I just made a particularly bad mistake this time. It was late at night, my duties around the ministry were almost over and done with, I just had to finish tidying up his office. Why the fucker couldn't do it himself, I had no idea. But hey, I guess that's why I was hired to be his assistant, huh?

I was in a hurry, I was distracted, and quite frankly, intimidated by his presence. And all that paired with the way his nightly whiskey was sat so precariously on his desk, I knock it over, spilling all over his robes. He rises with a growl, spewing Italian curses and insults from his mouth. "Stupido ragazzo! I just had these washed! How dare you!" He yells, inching closer and closer to me till I'm pressed up against his desk. "You will pay for this. Turn around and bend over." He orders, venom dripping with every word. I shudder and obey. What else am I to do?

He pulls down my pants with one swift tug, my ass now fully exposed to him. His favorite view, he claims. Damn, my cunt is already glistening and he hasn't even touched me yet. "I think ten spankings is fair enough, si?" He questions, but it doesn't really matter to him what I think. His cold, crooked fingers trail tantalizingly over my behind, goosebumps prickling over my skin.

"T-ten?" I exclaim. "Papa, have mercy, it was only an accident!" He laughs humourlessly. "Are you trying to make it twenty?" He hisses, his talon-like nails digging into the flesh of my hip impatiently. "Nessuna lamentela. You will count for me, in Italiano. Capisci?" I gulp and nod. "Si, Papa..." He hums approvingly at my display of submission.

SMACK! The first one is firm, but tame, only making me wince slightly. "Uno." I cough. SLAP! The second one is harder, causing me to cry out this time, but still not the full extent of how harsh he can be. "D-due."

SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! "Tre! Quattro! Cinque! F-fuck!" As expected, each lashing got gradually more forceful, rendering me nearly in tears by the time he got to ten. When he was done, my ass was stinging painfully, no doubt bright red and welted. I take a deep breath in, thinking it was over and I could finally relax, but said breath caught in my throat when I felt his hardness behind me.

"Do you feel what you've done to me?" He spat. "You caused this. Now you will take some responsibility and fix this problem." He removes his robes, completely naked underneath them as always, and tossed them aside, the smell of whiskey hanging in the air intoxicatingly arousing. "What is the safe word, caro?" He lines up with my waiting hole. "F-flower." I stutter. That was all he needed, pushing in and giving me no time to adjust. I gasp, attempting to wiggle my hips away from him to gain some sort of reprieve, to no avail.

He bucks into me wildly, with the energy of a much more youthful man. He will definitely be complaining about his back pains the next day, no doubt blaming it on me, as if I made him do this. I'd tell him to just pop an Advil and shut up, if that wouldn't cause him to immediately jump my bones again. It's truly a mystery how he hasn't managed to break a hip or have his heart give out yet with the way he screws. Must be an Emeritus thing.

"Bravo ragazzo, taking me whenever I so please. Such a good fucktoy for your Papa, isn't that right, caro?" He accentuates his words with each snap of his hips, barely able to hear him over my own moans. I just nod dumbly, braindead over his mind-numbingly good dicking. He was long, a little on the skinny side, but so. Fucking. Long. Not to mention, when his fingers delved downwards to stroke my swollen clit, already throbbing with desire, I was lost in the pleasure.

"You're a lucky man, brother _____. Most Siblings would kill to be in your position. Don't you feel lucky, my boy?" He interrogated, giving another slap to my sore ass when I didn't respond right away. "Yes! F-fucking so lucky, Papa!" I scream. I don't know how much more of this I can take. It feels like this has been going on forever, even though realistically this hasn't been nearly as long as our usual 'sessions.' I'm going to cum, and soon. I just hope he allows me.

"Papa! Close!" I manage to sputter out, whimpering pathetically. "C-can I cum?" He chuckles lowly. "Why, of course. You've been a good bitch for me so far, haven't you? Took your punishment so well already. Cum on Papas cock, caro." My orgasm hits me quick, to the point where it's a little embarrassing. I clench around his cock involuntarily as I ride out my orgasm, only making myself more tighter and wetter for him. It isn't much longer till he grows close to his orgasm as well, thrusts becoming a bit more urgent, more insistent, before stilling. I feel his thick, heavy load spilling within me, filling me with his warmth.

The tension that was previously filled the room subsided substantially, the atmosphere cool, peaceful, serene. That was, until he pulled out. Before even a drop of his cum could exit my folds, he dipped down, forcing his tounge inside of me, lapping up all of the seed from my dripping pussy. The oversensitivity was unbearable, but deliciously pleasureable at the same time. I know from this angle I couldn't squirm away from the unrelenting caresses of his tounge, so I just arched my back to give him better access, letting him finish cleaning me up. At least it was a kind gesture, even if he was mainly doing it for his own sexual satisfaction.

He pressed one last kiss to my folds, shakily standing up, his old knees working against him. I wouldve helped him, if mine weren't so shaky as well. I unfold myself from over his desk, pulling up my pants and straighting myself to the best of my ability. Primo, who decided to remain in the nude, sat back down on his arm chair, patting his lap. "Come sit with me, my darling boy." I do so with a giggle, careful not to put too much pressure on his legs.

"You felt good, caro? Your punishment wasn't too much for you?" He asked attentively, kissing my cheek. "You know I would've said something if so." I assure, resting my head on his shoulder, the two of us melting into eachother in a comforting embrace.

"Next time, dear, come up with a different reason for me to punish you. I wasn't lying, I really did just have those robes washed this morning." He says grumpily, though the slight smirk on his face shows me he's not actually mad. I laugh.

"But it really was an accident, Papa!"

"Sure, amore."

-

[prettykittytanjiro]

INTRO POST (⁠◕⁠ᴗ⁠◕⁠✿⁠)

Hiii! Welcome to my blog page :)

I figured it's about time to make a pinned post so let's do this!!

(edited) ATTENTION PLEASE:

I am not in the circumstances to make a donation to any sort of account; but I will be certain to share it.

You can call me Lemons or Lilavati! I'm a minor who loves Stamp/Coin collecting, birdwatching and all things mythology :3

I've been on this hellsite for maybe two years(?) by now!

I'm in a fair amount of fandoms- some of the more prominent ones include:

My Little Pony

The Mysterious Benedict Soceity

Night At The Museum

Miraculous Ladybug

Five Nights At Freddy's

NCIS: Naval Criminal Investigation Services

Lord Of The Rings (still getting into it)

Ducktales (2017)

Elementary (2012)

Asterix and Obelix

The Adventures of TinTin

The Backrooms

Ever After High

SCP: Secure Contain Protect

Aru Shah (The Pandava Quintet)

Avatar: The Last Airbender and Legend Of Korra

Demon Slayer

If you wanna know if I'm in any specific fandom, feel free to ask <3

I play the violin, and do indian classical dance!

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My aesthetic according to Pinterest:

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"hiraeth (n.): the feeling of being homesick for a home one is not able to return to; homesickness pertaining to a home that never was."

Moodboard by @kyayarpriyanka (tysm for it it's so beautiful!!)

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My tag system:

lemon reflection: My random little ramblings- mostly for me to look back upon or record

lemon contemplates life: Rants and existential crises

lemon writes: My own writings, which I reblog from my side acc!

lemon answers: Asks which are sent to me <3 (I'm super grateful for every single ask, so thank you!)

lemon does music: Stuff about my violin playing or music

lemon wishes: Significant days/events which I want to remember and post wishes for!

lemon rps: My interactions with rp accounts!

tumblr buddies: my interactions with my beloved moots <3 (I love all of you you're all so cool omg)

thats krishna guys (⁠⌐⁠■⁠-⁠■⁠): My personal tag for everything to do with Krishna (bc my brother needs his own tag or my blog will be flooded with yapping smh)

fic recs: Fanfic I have read on here!

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My writing blog is @lilavatilikeslemons ! Please do go check it out if you're interested- it means a lot to me!

My inbox is always open, so feel free to drop by <3 (just please please please, use tone indicators if that's possible, I'm extremely tone deaf 😭)

Hope you have a wonderful wonderful day/afternoon/evening/night- and stay safe, healthy and hydrated :)

Alr I'll see myself out-

[fraternum-momentum]

wait waht weirdos?? also could we know your boundaries regarding your ocs? they’re really cool but it would be nice to know what is allowed and what isnt for making a character for this au. thanks 🤍🤍

Fortunately, there hasn't been any weird people in my inbox but some shit happened and i'd rather not elaborate bc it's not in my place to tell you about it, but for context, the gist of it was people were fighting over this person's oc and the creator and other people are getting harrased for it.

Another mutual of mine told me that they also had unpleasant experiences with an old blog of theirs, and they had to delete it bc of it.

I just don't want any infighting or harassment getting sent to other people over something that's honestly not that serious.

People design and create characters because it's fun. Why ruin it for everyone else?

Just please keep it all lighthearted and don't make it weird. Constantly check yourself and ask if what you're doing is ok or think about how your actions affect other people.

Reality checks are also important. Please keep in mind that these are just fictional characters in a fictional universe that i just made up. None of this shit is real.

ok so i'll establish the boundaries for my ocs:

Fanart is ok, sfw and nsfw. Thirsts in my inbox, tags, and comments are fine too, they're pretty funny actually AHSVA it's like wow is this what it feels like having bitches? LMAWDOAD but i digress.

I'm still unsure about ship art, because it'll inevitably get messy if i start allowing it. So for now, it's not allowed. I would be the only person that can draw my ocs interacting with your ocs/sonas/etc. Just think of it as like some sort of weird rp chatbot askblog or some shit,, i dont know.

I know it may seem hypocritical of me because i literally have a self insert but its just better to prevent potential shit from happening than finding a solution for it.

If ship art not being allowed somehow upsets you, then that's a sign that you're not welcome here.

My sona is a different story though, because it's basically just a representation of me so you can draw her ( or me??? idk lol) with your character. same thing, sfw and nsfw are okay. Thrists are fine (who would even do that anyway 💀💀) like i doubt anyone would start causing problems from me interacting with other ppl bc im a real person???????? idk??????? 😭ive alr drawn stuff with my mutuals too anyway so

[dio-the-thot-exterminator]

whats the tumblr accounts of some of ur fav ocs like

I wanted to come up with actual usernames for them but some were taken and that's kinda awkward uhhhhhh

Becky Maurice

“You have tumblr? Ew grosss”

I love Becky but she wouldn't be caught dead on tumblr 

She's a Instagram tiktok girl sorryyy

If we are being sillay then she’d have a secret acc prlly one of those girly coquette blogs or a stan blog for cupcakke whaaaaaa

Definitely just something with aesthetic photos and gifs.

Also Becky does editing as a hobby so she might post some of her videos

If she were to interact/collab with someone it would be like those giant editing videos

(i guess this might be an instagram thing but when a lot of amv editors come together and slay)

She would only post edits that are relevant to the aesthetic and theme of her blog

also she'd delete asks and dms (if its not about collabing)   

Jia 

"What the fuck did you just fucking say about me, you little bitch? I'll have you know I graduated top of my--"

I used an old photo i alr had oof

I don't even know but she would send a lot of hate anon

Like her whole blog is just her arguing with people.

She sends it off anon first but if someone stops replying or blocks her

She makes an another acc and goes on anon to terrorize people.

She's deff the person on live telling the opps to pull up and it's like 4 am

She got a job (a literal warrior princess) but she behave like she unemployed so she on here 24/7

I don't wanna say her blog would be like a thirst trap blog but...

if she's not arguing with ppl she's flexing on them and posting like insane workout videos.

Or sparring sessions.

or thirst traps but in a way to piss people off

She’d prlly post some sort of art too but the replies and reblogs are turned off cuz she fight with too many people hahhhhh

She’d also have to remake her blog so many times cuz she gets reported a lot

Jelly

"Actually now that i think about it she'd send anon hate too"

Jelly wouldn't use social media cuz she doesnt know what it is

But if she was stalking really liked someone she’d join.

Deff one of those accs that look like a bot

no header no pfp no posts no likes no titles or anythin

she just lurks 

or sends weird anon asks

Rurue 

"I draw her too damn much she doesn't need an image"

pink with glitter and its kinda tacky lookin with clashing colours

Her tumblr would be kinda a fandom blog?

About all her little shows that she fw

reblogging and likin everything hahaha hits the post limit everyday

she's one of the people that goes crazy in the tags

Rurue would post her fandom ocs awwww its gonna be so cute. 

Also just post images of her toys and little crafts then fucking randomly a image of her killing someone.

She gets away with it because people think it's a fake

She also doesn't know how to take good pictures so the victim is not identifiable

Octavia and Debbie

"Debbie doesn't look like that i was having trouble with her face so i covered one eye and yassified her..."

I'm grouping them together because they’d have very similar blogs.

(they are literally connected)

they are both kind of self loathing so they’d never post anything directly about themselves. 

ooo Becky would prlly find Debbie's blog and put her on blast -

"Uh look at the stupid shit debbie is posting on tumblr lets all make fun of her"

"Wait a minute becky…how’d you find that?”

“.......”

“What are YOU doing on tumblr???”  

The blogs would be a mix of like a rant vent #depression and like those early 2010 cringe like

The main difference is that debbie would be posting shit like this

and like those black and white images of crying anime girls.

Octavia would be reblogging historical art and photography etc etc

Ok thats it. Ahaha i spent to much time on this, sorry for typos <3 

[cartoonrival]

Rival sorry i just saw that you aswered my ask im the kiribaku warrior gjfj sorry i don't have the panels at least not translated, the ones i've seen are from navigating the wasteland of the tags here(a lot of it is b*dk). I do know now that supposedly the volume 42 of mha should come out tomorrow(december 5) don't know the hour tho(im from the southern hemisphere).

Also if you ever want recs of fics of krbk(or meta, character studys), gen, etc i've found some very good ones(i have too some sns, naruto gens, fix its, etc). And i got in ranma 1/2 seeing your posts about it, it's soo good(was already into inuyasha before) wow rumiko you atleast certainly do know how to develop a good slowburn romance in your storys more than one time...i tip my hat to your writing skills in the compelling main characters and romantic deparment. Anyways sorry if some of my grammar is a bit wonky or confusing, english is not my first language and tend to overlooked somethings 😅

ur alr lol, ill just have to wait 😔😔but i will survive. i dont rly read fanfic but honestly if u have good krbk recs or fics that r about all of class a, i like the casual slice of life-y stuff abt them hanging out between extreme situations yk lol. so if u have recs for that sort of thing then pls send !! any krbk (as a unit or individually) meta/studies are also welcome lol.

IM SO GLAD I GOT U INTO RANMAAAAAA...... rankane yuri goes WORLDWIDE !!!!

also ur grammar is rly good i wouldntve known english was a second language if u hadnt said

[sweetmoonstorm]

Trying out this matchmaking thing cuz I'm curious!

Name: Aruna

Love language: Quality time and physical touch

Personality: Curious, can be somewhat nerdy, very kindhearted, will flirt back if flirted with

Sexuality: Pansexual

Aesthetic: general very light, Pastel blues and yellows, imagine a winter vibe mixed with summer. Also space, specifically the moon.

Appearance: image below!

Fandom: Lego monkie kid!

Likes: singing, the moon, chang'e, baking, rain

Dislikes: loud thunder and lightning

Notes: She's blessed by chang'e, which gives her a few small powers. Mainly a nice singing voice, good vision at night, and a natural connection to spirits and the celestial realm! Also sorry if this is long 😅

It's alr!! Also sorry for taking a while on this--(and this is kinda long, so I hope you'll be alr with that! I got a lil excited on this one, and included how I think they'd meet an all, so yea-)

@artemfluid

hope you don't mind me tagging you-

For this particular oc, I think MK and Macaque would be the best matches for her.

Here's why.

MK

This match is a bit more based on personality, but Aruna and MK would be a lovely couple, both possibly getting into shenanigans at times.

Now this part may be a lil inaccurate, but I can see Aruna as seeing Tang as a good friend, or acquaintance at least.

Perhaps one day, Tang would show her Pigsy's noodles, or she's a regular. Either way, that would be how she meets MK, a worker at Pigsy's Noodles(and adoptive son of Pigsy).

From there on, MK and Aruna would go on to become great friends, always finding each other in curious and unique situations, unto which friendship would turn into something more.

MK would love love *love* how kind Aruna is, and would probably look forward to seeing her and bombarding her with hugs and affection.

Of course there could be an awkward moment as to where MK could be trying (and failing) to be flirty, using a... rather cheesy pick up line, and Aruna would just shoot a pick up line right back at him.

It wouldn't even have to be good to get this man flustered, because he'd be all *holy heck she flirted back?? Uhhh.*

You can get a general idea of what a scenario like that would be like-

And allow me to add if you will, I see that Aruna can be 'kinda nerdy?'

MK, even if not much of a fan of a certain topic, would certainly try to peek over her shoulder and take a look at what it is she's a nerd of. Books? The moon? Oh, *mythology*? This man's curiosity is easily piqued!

Plus, if Aruna ever mentioned how she likes the moon goddess, and was even blessed by her, oh honey Arunas got a storm coming-

MK will definitely tell her about how he met Chang'e and stuff, and what she's like if Aruna asks. Wait, Aruna was blessed by Chang'e? With a singing voice? Could he possibly have the amazing chance to hear Aruna's singing voice??

Would absolutely love Aruna, and bring her along with him on adventures and simplistic dates whenever he could.

The two would also find themselves in the kitchen at times, Aruna showing MK some recipes on how to bake, and MK showing Aruna a few recipes he got from Pigsy!

Oh, that would mean both Aruna and MK have some sort of connection to a god! More things in common for this curious and lively couple!

Aruna, someone visiting Pigsy's Noodles, who's been blessed by a goddess : What u doing?

MK, a worker at said shop, who's training under a god : What u doing?

MK + Aruna :

MK + Aruna : YAY!-

Macaque

Now again, his feelings would be oriented towards Aruna's personality.

As a lover, Macaque wouldn't quite care about the looks or popularity of his s/o, as he'd just look for someone who wouldn't ever leave his side, and would always stay with him.

Seeing as Aruna has a good singing voice, meeting the 'Six-Eared Macaque' could go a couple of ways.

1 - Macaque one day hears Aruna's voice with his six ears, and gets interested in the voice, leading him to try and figure out where it's coming from, would eventually see Aruna, but fail in leaving the scene and crash land near/on her.

2 - (Again- this is mainly based around Aruna's singing voice, I get the feeling she may like theaters and such, I apologize if this is inaccurate) Aruna decides to go to Macaque's theatre, and over time Macaque has his interest piqued, and the two get to know each other some more-

3 - Anything else you think would fit your oc. :)

Now, onto the relationship.

Macaque would be more of a guy who uses his words to show his affections, but would eventually go on to trust Aruna more and allow her to bombard him with hugs(at times) due to how kind she'd be towards him despite how he can be.

The man would absolutely love to hear her singing voice, although he wouldn't admit that unless it costed something big-

Really though, the minute Macaque learns about Aruna's singing voice, he'll consider asking her to sing for him. And thinking she does, that's it.

That-

Wrapped around Aruna finger.

That wouldn't be all though-

Macaque is someone who has.. a good amount of abandonment issues due to his past and what happened between him and Wukong.

So knowing that someone actually *wants* to be with him, to spend some quality time with him without a catch, or another reason, and only to be with *him*?

Nothing would ever be able to explain how happy and grateful Macaque would be.

Don't expect him to admit that though.

That isn't it either.

Now, Macaque isn't exactly a master chef.

He probably knows recipes mainly centering around plums, but not much else.

So, that could mean that occasionally, at a time when Aruna is baking, Macaque would sneak up on her, or be beside her, and either a, help her, or b, ask to taste test when she's done.

Plus, on a thundering day, Aruna and Macaque could stay together reading or doing another activity in somewhere cozy, both having the other to comfort them from the lightning and thunder going on.

And when the storm would end, stargazing, or taking a good look at the moon would be a rather nice date for the two.

All in all, Aruna and Macaque would be a sweet couple, with their differences and similarites.

A scenario below!

Aruna : Hello! What are you doing here?

Macaque, disguised as a regular monkey :

Aruna : Heh, it's kinda cold today, take this! *Hands over a small fresh baked bread.* Enjoy!

*Aruna leaves the scene.*

Macaque :

Macaque : *Shit.*

---

There's Aruna's top possible matches!

I hope this was at least decent, have a nice day :3

[nocottageonlydirt]

man this is a lot,, gonna leaving this in the tags

Seen as Wilbur is rejoining the writing team for the DSMP I think that we should expect a bit of a weird transition period in the writing.

I definitely think that Wilbur will be changing some things and the lore streams would have to accomodate for that. This will create weird moments where the streamers will be going blind without a script and possibly future retcons (especially pertaining to the SBI family dynamic- we could get a definitive family tree/relationship charts, etc).

I just think that we should take that into account when writing meta, analysis or anything else. There will be a bit of ambiguity and weird bits. Also lore might be on hold for a while- at least the bigger ones, I don't know.

Personally I'm excited.

This post didn't have a particular point, I'm just glad that Wilbur is back and possibly offering input and fresh pitches for the plot. He's a creative person and he has a firm grasp on storywriting, he's also wacky enough to bring up things that are more for fun than logical. I think we'll need some levity and back and forth after recent events

Tell me what you think that Wilbur will change/add etc. Give me your weirdest theories.

[tarithenurse]

Accidental Partners - 11

Fandom: MCU Pairing: Sam Wilson &/x fem!reader Contents: Angst and pining and a bit of a talking to. A/N: We’re getting closer to an end (in a chapter or two). But there’s still a chance to get on the tag list if you want to – just send me a PM or reblog.

11. Nope, still hell

...  Sam   ...

He can’t shake the harrowing thought from earlier. Can’t find a way to shoo the sadness aside and focus on the time he still has with [Y/N]. She’s been a fix-point in his life for months now and Sam’s not ready to give it up even though he can’t come up with any reasons for her to stay. Why would she even want to? The trial is over and won. Sure, the verdict probably will be contested but at least no one will be under any sort of arrest in the meantime and that means that the woman he’s come to care about suddenly is free to do as she pleases and go where she wants. Without him.

But then why did she choose to go sailing with me? He corrects himself: With us? The optimistic side of his brain is trying to get some sort of point across to him, but Sam just doesn’t have the heart to accept it out of fear that he’ll be burned. Undoubtedly, Sarah would call him something slightly insulting if she knew of his thoughts. Barnes would roll his eyes.  

...  Reader   ...

Sam. Something unspoken hangs in the air between the two of you during the car ride. Bucky, who’s driving, is as usual a man of few words but Sam is unnaturally silent too as he sits beside you in the back of the car. His hand is resting a few inches from yours and you’re tempted to reach out for him. You’ve hugged him once and since then it’s a memory you’ve found comfort and hope in – the heat of his body pressed against yours, the smell of his aftershave.

To hell with it! You inch your fingers closer but just as your about to reach him, he shifts and crosses his arms, leaving you deflated and defeated. Was that on purpose? Did he realize? You know that logically the answer is “no”, but the thought is persistent.

...

It’s too late to head out tonight, so instead the two men find a hotel nearby your place and for the first time in a long time, you have your apartment to yourself for the entire night.

Sleep refuses to come to you at first and when it finally does it’s filled with nightmares of angry CEOs, prisons, people with cameras for heads flocking you, and the constant dread of being abandoned by everyone.

You’re up before your alarm goes off; showered and packed long before the doorbell rings and you can let in Sam.

“You sure about this?” he asks instead of his usual greeting.

“Yes...” there’s a slight hesitation because you’re taken aback by his brusqueness but you recover quickly, “I need to get out of here.”

He grabs your duffel without another word and marches ahead, leaving you to lock up on your own.

This time your alone on the backseat.

It’s an agonizingly long drive to the airport and you’re almost relieved by the hubbub of the travellers hurrying to and from the gates as it provides a much needed distraction from the distance between you and Sam that seems to have developed as if overnight. Sometimes, you catch him looking at you with a pained expression in his eyes, but it’s only a glimpse and then his attention is somewhere else, leaving you behind with a heartache you don’t want to understand.

That’s why it almost feels like a defeat, when the three of you manage to get seats next to each other..in some way it would have been easier to sit far from the men (far from Sam) and you are really starting to doubt how good of an idea it was to head with them back to Sarah’s. It’s gonna be awkward as fuck, you groan inwardly.

“That’s it!” the Winter Soldier declares in his brusque way sometime over Virginia, “I’m gonna stretch my legs and by the time I get back you two better be talking.”

You look at Sam, but he’s just staring out the window and you don’t have a clue where to begin.

You want to reach and take his hand that again is resting so close to yours. Hell, in these narrow seats you’re already so close that your shoulders are touching and yet somehow it still feels like you’re miles apart. His heat is tickling your skin, his scent permeating the air around you – still welcomed by a part of you that has learned to associate it with safety. Like some Pavlovian reflex.

What have I done wrong? You thought you’d done exceptionally well but by the time the trial ended, suddenly the man you care about had withdrawn into a thick shell. Didn’t he want me to win this ordeal? It scares you to consider it because Sam has been nothing but supportive all this time. No, that can’t be it but something has changed and it freaks you out not knowing what, makes it impossible to approach the man and pose him the (perhaps simplest) question that’s burning you from within: What’s going on?

Bucky gets disappointed when he returns.

...

You did go sailing...not the first day back, of course, but on the second day.

You did go sailing and you’re sure you would have enjoyed every moment of it if it wasn’t because you were thinking about Sam. He hasn’t even come along on the trip, but Sarah and Bucky are doing their best to distract you. Keep you occupied.

“Okay, spit it out,” Sarah demands as she joins you at the front of the little vessel.

“Spit what out?” you play dumb, not knowing what to really answer.

She glares at you but sweetens it with a little smile. “You know...you and Sam,” she sighs, “you’re both walking around like you’ve lost the trial and according to Buck none of you are talking to the other...so why not?”

“I wish I knew,” you blurt out. Leaning forward, you can see the sun dance on the murky water. “He just...shut up...pulled away.” Like I’d gone and done something wrong.

Sarah leans against the railing beside you. “Well whatever’s going on between the two of you you’ve got to  -... well you already know that I’m sure,” she interrupts herself. “Listen. My brother’s a lot of things, but mostly he tends to get attached to people and then think no one realizes...but I know better.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Sarah shrugs. “You didn’t get this from me, of course...but I think he worries about goodbyes.”

“Goodbye? I don’t want to say goodbye!”

“Tell him that.” And with those words she leaves you standing.

Tell him that I won’t say goodbye? But then what are you supposed to say instead?

[taegularities]

Heyy! So, I really dunno if I’m the one who’s lagging on some brain cells but just hear me vent something out. {idk what tw is exactly applicable but ig toxic fandom?tag should be okay}

So, I have a couple moots who are all bookworms like me, and since we’re dedicated armys, we usually lookout for fanfics and basically recommend fics of our choice on an ig chat(sort of a book club activity you can say). Now here’s one thing: a moot shares a profile of <mystical princess> user from wattpad and it creates a sort of havoc in our gc: mostly as in, it’s hyped as if it’s a breaking news or something. Later I get to know that this user happens to be an account owned by aespa’s giselle in her predebut years. It recently got much attention because somebody leaked it apparently, and here’s where the actual problem is. I know some moots on that gc are toxic armys - the army who shared the profile happens to be one too. She said very demeaning stuff about giselle and even said it’s such characterless attitude to maintain wp account if you’re a celebrity - like??? I don’t stan aespa alr, but I’m pretty sure giselle never knew she was gonna become an idol from the beginning. Also, what’s wrong in maintaining a writing page? She did that stuff as a child, and leaking away this info about her account is like breaching her privacy. Moreover, using this as a means to spread hate only because of that one controversy for which she apologised (the racist slur one) is ridiculous imo. I can’t really say anything to them because most of them happen to be older than me but I think what that moot pointed out was blunt hypocrisy. Someday some fanfic writer from tumblr happened to become a popular writer and their tumblr profile is leaked without their knowledge, won’t they face hate too? What’s the point of spreading such hate when you could be peacefully binging on fics instead?😕 I think I spoke a lot anyways, it kinda feels better to have written this out because I was feeling heavy the whole time with this piling up in my head 😅 you’re a good human who listens to others rants without being much judgemental so I just blurted stuff out here, sorry if I had been rude at some point!!

the tw is okay !! thank u so much for adding one <3

hmmm, yeah that does not sound healthy. judging celebrities – or people in general – bcos of such a thing is definitely unsolicited. fanfic writers are just people, too 😭 no one would criticise professional writers either – i don't know aespa or giselle, or anything about the slur controversy (have just heard of aespa), but the fact that her wattpad account caused such a controversy is such a stupid thing lmao that's as if they're cancelling her for being a celebrity's fan pre-debut.

i agree with u, one should just read fanfics in peace 🥲 and ahh, honestly, that's probably just me, but in such a situation i just say nothing; bcos it's a conflict that can be avoided! unless it derails !! 😐

but i mean the main advice i can give u is to definitely leave the group – sometimes, when u feel bad about smth, things just get worse and then blow up someday. i bet it'd be better for u if u didn't have to deal with those things anymore, since i can see that it's affecting u. i hope u do what's right for u tho; and i hope things get better in that group soon 💕

[phantomrose96]

Hi, i was wondering if you had anything you would tell someone younger to do if they want to make comics in the future? ik it’s difficult to do art as a job since it seems to be pretty competitive and such. i’m alr making a comic at the moment to try and put myself out there, and since i’m young i’m gonna try and finish it beforehand just so i can put whatever i want in it. i’m currently 15 and i’m not sure where i should start like competitions or trying to get ads if i do end up posting it. any advice would be good really, thanks!

btw i asked ab the comic thing since ur SUCH a good writer and istg i wanna write like you

Ahhh so! I probably can’t offer great advice about like the ins and outs of creating comics (stuff like best platforms, how to monetize, how to make connections, etc etc is outside my realm of knowledge). If some more comic-minded people DO know please do add on!!

But I can talk a little bit about generally just “starting out creating content.” I think the biggest advantage I had when I started posting fics online (back when I was 14) was that I had no CONCEPT of “trying to make it big”, or hell like, even what being a “popular creator” meant. This was back in the days of fanfiction.net, BEFORE they even let you sort by popularity.

All I knew was I found some cool fics, went “these rock, maybe I’ll try too?” and on a whim started posting with absolutely no expectations of engagement whatsoever. and because of that EVERY response and review was amazing to me. Every single one just made me go “holy shit someone read it? someone liked it? someone had an opinion about the thing I wrote?”

And when I got on tumblr it was similar. I didn’t have any expectations about notes or engagement - I just wanted to play on the playground with people. Getting followers just grew kind of naturally from that. 

And I think that idea is so much HARDER for people starting out now. Because so many people are getting introduced to content creation with like, the TINY fraction of twitter artists who get 100,000 likes on their art, where algorithms boost already-popular things and most websites have a sort of sort-by-popular functionality.

I kinda wish all people starting out could walk in with the same mindset I had, where I just did not KNOW about any super-popular competition and I didn’t have any concept of “making it.” I just liked what I read, and then liked trying to create something too, and then loved seeing that real people were interacting with it.

I still DEFINITELY think you should ask around about the best way to “get your art out there”, like what platforms, what tagging systems, etc etc are best. Which hopefully some real comic artists could answer better than me. But the most important advice I have, especially since you’re young and starting out, is to focus most on why YOU like what you’re doing, why you like creating, why you like practicing and getting better, and then supplementing that happiness with whatever amount of engagement happens (and hopefully that engagement will go up overtime). Because I think the current internet landscape pushes this intense pressure like “if you dont make it HUGE like these small handful of creators, then you failed” which can just kill people’s passion for no good reason at all.

[blackhakumen]

Mini Fanfic #790: Kind of Went Too Far. (RWBY)

12:45 p.m. at the Sidewalks of Mistral.......

Sun: (Starts Panting by a Nearby Pole Alongside with Oscar) Hey....('Pants') Oscar....('Pants') Do you think....('Pants') anyone noticed.....('Pants') that we're long ('Pants').....gone ('Pants')....already? (Starts Wiping the Sweat Off his Forehead)

Oscar: Maybe?....('Pants') Sort of?.... ('Pants') I really don't know at this point to be honest....(Starts Wiping the Sweat Off his Forehead as Well) Let's just hope none of them followed us all the way here....

Sun: Yeah......

?????: ('Ahem')

The duo turns and see Whitley standing behind them while crossing his arms.

Whitley: Do I even wanna know you two are up to right now?

Sun: Oh. (Smiles Brightly at the Youngest Schnee) Hey, Whitley. Oscar and I were just running away from an inevitable doom back at the house.

Whitley: (Raised an Eyebrow in Confusion) Pardon?

Oscar: ('Sigh') We were trying runaway from Yang and possibly even Ruby's wrath after Emerald made a comeback on their mom, Summer.

Sun: Who's not here with us in the land of the living..... Doesn't help the fact that Neptune laughed throughout the whole thing. So....here we are.

Whitley: I see.....Well, I can't say I blame those two for being crossed with her. Throwing insults on the dead does seem pretty distasteful if you ask me.

Oscar: ('Sigh') Tell me about it......But anyways, what are you doing out here, Whitley? Taking a scroll around town?

Whitley: Not necessary. (Points at a Building in Front of Him) I was simply going to the café on the other side of the road. (Smiles a Little) I heard their coffee was almost to die for.

Sun: (Smiles Brightly at the Café) Ah dude! You're going to the Mistral Café? Their coffee, expressos and frappuccinos are the best in the town!

Oscar: (Smiles Softly) I have been wanting to go there for a while now...

Whitley: (Sighs While Putting on a Deadpinned Look on his Face) I take it you two simpletons want to tag along, don't you?

Sun: Uh. Correction. Oscar and I are Huntsmen. (Went Back to Smiling) And hell yeah we wanna tag along!

Oscar: (Smiles a Bit Sheepishly) If you don't mind any company that is....

Whitley: ('Sighs a Bit in Defeat') I suppose I don't mind.....But you two are paying for your own drinks.

Oscar: (Simply Shrugs) Fine by us.

Sun: Yup.

Few Minutes Later Outside of the Mistral Café.......

Oscar: (Smiles Brightly at a Cup of Coffee He Just Drank on his Side of the Table) You were right, Sun. This has to be the best coffee I've ever tasted.

Sun: Right? (Smiles Relaxingly While on the Other Side of the Table) Told ya this place has the best coffee in town.

Whitley: (Nodded in Agreement While Sitting on the Middle of Table, Enjoying his Cup of Expresso) I agree. This Expresso is magnificent in it's own right. It might rival that to Klein's coffee.

Sun: Uhhhh....Who exactly is-

Oscar: (Turns to Sun) He's the Schnee Family's Butler, Sun. Or at least I....think he still is?

Whitley: He isn't really our Butler anymore. But he does seem to spend a lot more time with mother as of late.

Oscar: Oh, really? Cool. (Turns to Whitley) How's Mrs. Schnee been doing lately if you don't mind me asking.

Whitley: She's doing fairly well for the most part. Still adjusting to the outside world and whatnot. (Smiles a Little) We started to spending a lot more time together than before actually. Speaking of which, she wanted to if you and the others would like to accompany us on a trip one of these days.

Oscar: (Smiles Softly) I have ask everyone else about it first, but other than that, it's sound like a plan alr-

Emerald: (Came Out of Nowhere Slams the Table While Glaring at Oscar With a Black Eye, Causing the Boy Get Startled) ('SLAM') Oscar, you traitorous little shit!

Neptune: (Frowns Over Dramatically at Sun While Having a Black Eye of his Own) What the heck, man!? You guys seriously left in there alone!?

Oscar: Oh! Uh....(Chuckles Awkwardly at the Two Black Eyes Friends) H-Heyyy, Emerald..... Neptune....I uhh...Take it that....Yang has..... already pulverized the both of you.... didn't she?

Emerald: Yeah. She did. The girl literally tackled us from the other side of the room and gave us both black eyes. I couldn't even reacted to all of that in time!

Neptune: It took us five and half minutes to escape the house. And once we noticed that you guys were missing in there, decided to look for the both of you.

Emerald: And now we found out that you two have been here enjoying your little coffees this entire time while we suffered! The hell was that all about!?

Neptune: (Already in Comical Tears) I thought we were all bros man!

Oscar: ('Sigh') Look, guys, we didn't mean to abandon you two like that or anything.

Sun: Yeah. We were just scared of get wrapped up into Yang's fury. Sooooo....we bailed. And besides, in all honestly, you guys kinda had that one coming.

Emerald/Neptune: WHAT!?

Oscar: I'm sorry, but I'm with Sun on this one. (Turns to Emerald) Emerald, you flatted out insulted Ruby and Yang's mom in front them and everybody else in the room.

Sun: (Points at Neptune) And you laughed through all of that.

Oscar: Like seriously, Emerald, who would intentionally ask someone what shoes their parents was wearing while they're in a casket!?

Sun: Your laugh sounds like a literally hyena, dude. I'm sorry.

Oscar: And then you went and insult their grandma by saying she doesn't have any knees to pray to Ozpin or do some kind of....Double-Dutch or whatever!

Sun: Like, I've never once, in my entire life, ever heard you laugh like that. Hell, I can even ask Sage and Scarlet about this right now and I can guarantee you that they say the same.

Emerald: Okay, so maybe I did went a little too far on the mom and grandma comeback, but she started the whole thing first with the stupid shoes insult! How else was I supposed to get her back after that!?

Oscar: Make fun of her cape and Crescent Rose instead! I dunno! But what I DO know is that you NEVER disrespect anyone's dead relative! Even if you do wanna use it for a comeback!

Neptune: I didn't mean to laugh out loud like that. I had no idea those Burns would be THAT funny!

Sun: Look, man, I'm all for hearing a well deserved Burns as much as the next guy, but even I know I shouldn't laugh to one that involves something personal.

Oscar: You're already like a sister to me, Emerald, and I know you been through a lot before I met you, but if you really wanna makes amends with Ruby and the others, you can't be doing stuff like this.

Emerald: ('Sighs in Defeat') Yeah..... You're right.....(Turns to Oscar With a bit if a Regretful Look on her Face) I'm sorry, Oscar.....

Oscar: ('Sigh') It's fine, Emerald. I was never mad at you to begin with. But you know I'm not the one who you should be apologizing to, right?

Emerald: (Sighs While Giving Oscar a Simple Nod in Agreement) Yeah....

Sun: (Starts Ruffling the Top of Neptune's Hair) That goes for you too, bro. You need to apologize to Ruby and Yang for laughing like a hyena.

Neptune: ('Sighs in Defeat') I know...... (Glares at Sun) AND I'M NOT HYENA!!!

Emerald: (Gives Neptune a Deadpinned Look on her Face) You so did sound like one.

Neptune: (Immediately Turns to Emerald) WHO'S SIDE ARE YOU ON RIGHT NOW!?

Whitley: Once a hyena, always a hyena I suppose....(Continues Drinking his Expresso)

Neptune: (Turns to Whitley) YOU WANNA FREAKING GO, TWERP!!!?

Oscar chuckles lightly at the whole scene before he felt two hands covering his both his eyes.

????: (Giggles Softly) Guuuuess who!~

Oscar: Oh gee, I dunno~ (Starts Smirking Playfully) Is that you, Ozpin?

????: (Starts Snickering) Yeah, right! Like Oz could ever pull off a cute voice like yours truly.

The person remove two hands from Oscar's eyes, revealing herself to be none other than Ruby Rose while smiling brightly.

Oscar: (Smiles Softly at the Girl) Hey there, stranger. What are you doing out here?

Ruby: (Pouts at Oscar While Hugging Him) Looking for you, dumb-dumb!~ You and Sun had everyone back home worried.

Oscar: Even Nora?

Ruby: Especially Nora. She's already forming a search party for you as we speak.

Oscar: ('Sigh') Oh no....(Gets Himself Up From his Seat) Guess we have get back home then. (Turns to Sun) You're coming with us, Sun?

Sun: (Smiles Relaxingly at the Duo) Nah man. You two kiddos can go on without me. If they ask where I'm at, tell 'em I'm having coffee.

Oscar/Ruby: 'Kay!

Emerald: (Immediately Turns to Ruby) W-Wait! Ruby, about what happened earlier, I-

Ruby: (Immediately Held her Hand Up at Emerald While Giving her a Dark Glare) Not now.

Emerald: (Eyes Widened at the Sudden Glare Before Sighing in Defeat While Looking Down on the Ground in Regret) Right........

Ruby: (Turns Back to Oscar With a Soft Smile While Gently Grabbing his Hand) Let's go, Oscar.

Oscar: Oh! O-Okay. (Waves Goodbye at Everyone While Walking Back Hime With Ruby) See you guys later!

Sun: Later, guys!

Neptune: Bye!!

Sun: (Turns to Emerald) You doing okay, Emerald?

Emerald: (Sighs Once More While Slowly Slouching Down on Oscar's Former Seat) Yeah.... I'm just..... Feeling like I'm back to square one in all of this....

Whitley: It could've worse really.....Yang could've suplexed you and Neptune in front of everyone to see.

Emerald/Sun/Neptune: (Gives Whitley Confused Looks on Each of their Faces) ....................

Whitley: My mother suplexed a man for insulting Weiss during that time we all thought her and the others were dead. (Continues Sipping on his Expresso)

@keyenuta

@ma-lemons

@maripr

@hyperfixation-hideout

@albion-93

@roz-ani

@miki-13

[introductions-are-a-spook]

Reblogs and feedback always appreciated! Tag list: @kissthe-gogoat @kyuudomo @caloroso-cosmos @omrade-echorin Let me know if you want to be added or taken off!

Last chapter baby! This was an emotional ride, so sincere thanks to everyone who's stuck with me through it. Both followers, friends, and family. Your support really means the world to me.

“I still don’t understand why you need me for this.”

“I told you, you know the layout better. Since you didn’t give me a map like usual. Sides’ the place is empty- I wanted to ask more about how your whole business works. Somewhere truly private, y’know?”

It was the oldest trick in the book. Get them talking about themself so you can work. Or get them to say something incriminating. Which Antigone, of course, did not oblige.

It was slow work, but Maxwell managed to take back the notes Andrew used to leave in houses. They had sent to work painting the Antigone family seal on them in invisible ink.

With their family’s past (one easily dug up), the police would have no problem convicting Nikos Antigone of everything. All Andrew would have to do was play hostage here in just a few minutes.

“Oh, I need to pick this lock- bit of a two-hand job. Could you hold the note?”

Antigone growled but agreed with a sneer. Andrew discreetly pressed the button for Maxwell. Most likely he was calling the police right now- saying, well, something, anything, to get them there quick. Andrew couldn’t help but smile.

“You know, I didn’t know we went to the same school.” Perfect topic to stall with.

Antigone was immediately thrown off. “What? W-We did?” He sputtered.

Good lord. Bring something up from a criminal’s past and they’re all yours to manipulate.

“According to the book of signatures I passed around on graduation day, yes. Same year and everything.”

Antigone was now staring Andrew down with a dangerous glint in his eye. He ever so slightly thumbed at the dagger hilt on his belt. Okay, backpedaling now.

But the moment he saw faint police lights outside, he knew he had to keep going, for better or for worse. He only had one shot…!

So still fiddling with the lock, he blurted, “I saw your old school sweetheart the other day. Jennifer, right?”

Antigone froze. A stillness hung ominously in the air, like a jaguar about to pounce. The hairs on the back of Andrew’s neck stood up, and he almost started praying.

“How dare-“

Saved by the fuzz, though! As soon as Antigone looked as though he could kill Andrew, the men in uniform came streaming in the front door.

Andrew wasn’t all that scared. He winked at Antigone before yelling. “Help! I’m up here, he’s got a knife! Please help!” And more quietly, “Might wanna check the back of that note, Mr. Tig.”

Antigone didn’t bother to look, and instead pulled out the same weapon Andrew shouted about. “You tricked me!” he jabbed the knife at Andrew, who put his hands up in instinctive defense. “You lying snake!” And to the smaller man’s sickening shock, Antigone swung the knife, barely grazing his cheek and hitting his hand by sheer chance.

But upon hearing footsteps getting closer, the towering villain backed away, leaving Andrew to yelp in shock and fright and the rapidly reddening wound.

An officer stamped his way up the nearby stairs, and shouted at Antigone to freeze, but the man wasn’t having it. Andrew hadn’t thought Antigone would ever use an actual weapon on him- he was wrong. Whimpering in pain and paralyzing, icy fear, he moved only to foolishly pull out the blade and grip his bloodied hand.

“I am not to blame! This scoundrel here-” Antigone shook a finger at Andrew, “-is the thief you’ve been looking for! He did this to himself to make me-”

“Yeah, Chapman told us you’d say that.” A twinge of comfort came with hearing Max’s name, along with the struggling Antigone, who was now being arrested despite his best efforts.

And just like that it’s over, Andrew thought to himself as the officers walked him to a car and drove him to a hospital.

~*~

A day later in that same hospital, Andrew was recovering from a surprisingly quick surgery.

“The knife went through the top of your right palm, losing you a pinky and very nearly your ring finger, too. You have a couple options now; leave the stump or find a prosthetic somehow. Both are up to you to manage,” the soft spoken nurse informed him as soon as he was lucid enough to understand.

“Well, shit. Thanks, uh,” he peeked at her name badge. “Thanks Mary. Guessing you’re not gonna give me a new one for free then?”

“No, but I might,” came a gentle yet dry voice from the door.

Andrew turned as the nurse excused herself. “Max!” a fuzzy black figure hopped up on the bed next to him. “And Maxie!”

“Now, I’m not really supposed to have her in here, so…” Max chuckled, sitting down and giving the cat a few pets.

“Nah, I get it. So, finally coming to see me, huh?”

“I’ve been too swamped with end-of-case work. Our plan worked, you’re off scot free. I considered resigning, but-”

“But you don’t love me that much, I getcha,” Andrew teased.

Maxwell gave him a look. “More that I love my job too much to let it go, risks be damned.”

“Makes sense. But you didn’t come here to talk about work, did you?”

Maxwell reached for Andrew’s now four-fingered hand, gently running his five over the bandages. “This wouldn’t have happened if I had just-”

“Hey, it doesn’t matter now. You know that,” Andy reassured him, running his good hand through Max’s thick black locks. The man leaned into the touch, putting his own hand on Andy’s cheek.

“You terrify me,” he almost whispered after a moment. Andrew tilted his head but didn’t say anything. “I’ve never felt so conflicted before meeting you. It was torture. And even now I can’t be sure that loving you is a good thing.”

“Neither can I. And I’ve never met someone that can make me feel so cornered. I didn’t know I wanted to be. But, we’re both selfish jerks. So if loving you is gonna be bad for me, it wouldn’t be the first bad decision either of us has made.”

This made Max chuckle and lean in to kiss Andy. “You’re probably right.”

~*~

It had been a few months. A new metal finger glinted on Andrew’s right hand.

“Jennifer.”

“Andrew.”

“So, I heard ole’ Mr. Antigone is in prison now?”

She gave a solemn nod. “For ten years.”

Andrew blew a low whistle. “Well, shit.”

Her demeanor went from closed to fiery. “This is your fault, you know. I know you and Chapman did something to pin your shit on Nikos. And now I won’t be able to see him!”

Andrew drew away slightly. Both were silent for a time.

“…I think I get it now.”

“What.”

“I remind you of him, don’t I? That’s why when he disappeared to lead his family’s ‘business’ you attached yourself to me.”

She sighed. “…I don’t know. I guess I just hoped I could still hold onto him somehow.”

“So you held on to the crook classmate that shared some resemblance with him.”

She shook her head. Not as a ‘no’ but more as a self-chastise.

“We were horrible for each other. It’s no wonder we fell apart.”

“Yeah.” Another pause. “You could see about visitations.”

“I’ll figure that out on my own. I don’t even know if he’d want to see me. But, I know there’s still good in him. At least I hope so.”

“Heh. There’s my Jenny. Always hoping-“

“-never planning. I know, I know.”

He stood up and started to get ready to go.

“For what it’s worth, I’m at least sort of glad I knew you,” she said with a twinge of sadness.

“Same here. It’s probably best if we didn’t stay friends, but I’m sticking with that bakery. You can always come find me.”

And for the first time in years, she smiled at him- a genuine smile. “Thanks, Andrew. Good luck with your bitch detective.”

“With George and Darwin always lurking around? I’m gonna need it. Good luck with your crime lord.”

“I think I’ll need it too.”

They laughed, and then left, one by one.

~*~

Isabella was melancholically gathering her belongings from the bakery, occasionally swiping up a tear. Andrew walked in by coincidence, and she rushed to hug him.

“It’s not gonna be the same around here without me,” she mumbled into his chest.

“No, but it’s probably for the best,” he said, returning the embrace. “I’m so sorry, Izzy. It wasn’t fair for me to bring you into all this.”

“No, it’s alr… No, you’re right.” And with that, she couldn’t help but start crying again. “But thanks for being my dad, if only for a little while.”

“Dad, really?” he chuckled. “Sure kid. You changed my world for the better. Even if I hurt you.”

“I’ll never forget you. And… Well, I love you.”

“I love you too, girlie.”

She held onto him for just a little longer, before taking a shaky breath and grabbing her bag. “I don’t know if I can,” she whispered.

He gave her a dim smile. “You’re tough, kiddo. You can’t stay shackled to someone like me, though. I know you’ve got the guts to do what’s best for you.”

She wavered, unsure if she wanted to hug him again. But ultimately, she steeled herself, said a goodbye, and walked away leaving a bittersweet taste behind.

[katsuriin]

baby what abt some domestic quarantine hcs w ushi in lieu of your situation HAHA but i hope youre doing okay ily 💞💞

❥domestic quarantine headcanons - ushijima x reader

part 2 of general Ushijima headcanons!!

search tag ushi soft hours:open to find the rest!

YAY I WANTED TO WRITE THESE

okay three scenarios I’ve though about a loT:

1. snacking at midnight

you both know that you’re indefinitely excused from studies so you don’t mind messing up your sleeping and eating schedules and just reaching peak relaxation modes 😌😌

you guys just devouring three slices of toast each bc idk toast just tastes better at night and I hc that ushi can make good toast I just get that vibe from him

you’ll sit on the counter and he’d stand between your legs so you’re just in contact with each other even if you’re not talking that much, you feeding him bites of toast  

and also hot chocolate, you both become highkey addicted to the stuff and have some before bed every night because its warm and makes you both sleepy aAAA cuties

2. always being in the same room I didn’t know how to title this one hsjhsd

ushi is the sort of person that could still be in the same room as you but be giving you space at the same time? like he has a comforting presence so you always know he’s there, but it’s never overwhelming

you’ll be running through some work from one of your online classes and he’ll be on the opposite side of the room reading. if you get stressed/angry about it he’ll let you cool off and set a cup of tea or water next to you. once he senses you’ve calmed down a bit (read: once you’ve finished half your tea) he’ll sit closer to you so you can lean against him or he’ll rest a hand on your thigh, rubbing it comfortingly 🥺🙁

3. NAPS

he loves lil afternoon snoozes especially because he wakes up early to go for a run so he misses a good hour and a half of prime cuddling time. he’ll know your working schedule off by heart so you alr know the second you’re off your last midday zoom call you’re going to be cuddled for 2 hours straight

sure he napped with you before quarantine too but now you both have sm free time during the week, the quantity of your naps together have increased tenfold jjkdfks

you normally nap in bed and you’re in charge of setting the alarm to wake yall up because the second you’re in his arms and on a soft surface, he will just knock tf out 😭🥺 you’re basically his teddy bear he hugs you with both arms in his sleep and does those silent snores where you can just feel the vibrations from his chest dhkshf

and waking him up from those naps? its a mission. you have to play with his hair and coax him awake with soft pecks on his nose and forehead and he’ll groan tightening his hold on you bc smh >:( let him cuddle u forever >:(

[whumperfly-chaser]

Maurice- Ch 2 | A realization

Don't you just hate it when you find out your tenant has been secretly using his home to host and torture someone for his own sick pleasure? Simply the worst way to start an afternoon.

T/W's here: (Emeto, dirty home, rotting foods and other bits, abandoned setting, infestation) (Lmk what else to tag!)

It would’ve been a pleasant afternoon, drizzling slightly on clean sidewalks and an overgrown lawn, children in raincoats playing in the neighboring yards, and birds singing happily under the shower. It would’ve been a pleasant afternoon, but not for Denice or Martin. No… Not for them in the slightest. Denice tightens her grip around the umbrella handle as she listens faintly to Martin’s complaints.

Prev- Next

“I’m telling you Denice, you’ve got to stop thinking that Roger was up to this shit. Sure, he was a little off sometimes, but he paid the rent just fine.”

“And I’m telling you that I heard something in here. I could’ve sworn I heard a scream when I was walking by. That’s no dog, Martin. It sounded human and scared and I-“

“And you what, Denice?” Denice looked at him with a sort of restlessness, every once in a while she gazed at the innocuous exterior. This house used to be hers. It used to feel nice to walk by and it used to feel safe. But now… all it gives her is a sense of dread.

“Are you really going to break into a tenant’s home just to investigate a random shout you heard? That could literally be anything!”

She crosses her arms. “I know what I heard, Mart. And it’s not his home anymore; he’s dead.”

Martin groans, dragging his hands down his face, releasing it with a snap. “Denice, you’re being unreasonable. The guy could’ve had a kid over-“

“He has no kids. And he mentioned it when signing the lease, too.”

“Like hell you remember when he signed that lease.”

“Steel. Trap. Memory. He said, and I quote; ‘I know this neighborhood is real quiet, so don’t worry, I never have anyone over, it’s just me in here.’ End quote.”

Martin rolls his eyes. “He could’ve been watching a movie-“

“That was no movie. It was guttural- and- and real.” Denice shudders, hugging herself as she takes another longing look at the house.

“It could’ve just been him yelling after a rough day-“

“The voice was too high compared to Roger’s.”

“It could’ve been coming from another house, or a person nearby.”

“It was coming from the house.”

Martin stares at her, half nonplussed and half exasperated. When Denice raises an eyebrow at him he simply looks away, staring at nothing in particular as he finds the words to say in response.

When he finally looks back at her, he’s no longer fully disbelieving her, but he’s definitely hesitant. “Look. You heard that noise weeks ago, Denice. Whatever it was, it isn’t there anymore. Plus, do really you think I’m going to go in there when our tenant might have been a psychopath with- people in his house?”

Denice almost glared, but instead she simply took to walk down the dirty stone path to the entryway.

“Denice- Denice, what in the absolute fuck are you doing?!”

“If you don’t want to go, fine. But voice or not, I still need to evaluate the condition of the house.”

“His family might still want his things-”

“He has none he’s close with. He signed his coworkers as references, too. Plus, I have the right to inspect.”

Denice opens the three locks in the front door like clockwork and swiftly opens the door to a dark and dusty apartment. It’s a fairly straightforward layout, with an L-shaped couch and some pillows, a plain carpet, and a coffee table in front of it. On the adjacent wall there’s a television on a shelved stand with some mildly off abstract paintings, strewn with messy strokes of black, blue and red paint. She glances at it for a second and finds herself looking away just as quickly.

Despite that, it was a normal-looking home, if not unsettling because of how abandoned it felt.

The smell is bad, but bearable as she turns on the lights. The furnished living room has a thin layer of untouched dust coating it, as though it finally had time to settle. It’s as she enters the kitchen that the putrid smell hinted at before hits full throttle. She swallows dryly and takes a step back, bumping into… someone’s chest…

Denice shrieks, struggling as a hand is placed on her shoulder-

“Shush! It’s me!” She snaps open her shut eyes and relaxes only slightly upon seeing Martin’s worried face looking back. He retreats his hand and takes two paces back himself, arms up in caution. “Sorry I grabbed you.”

“Oh-!” She heaves to herself, pressing a palm to her chest as if guiding her lungs to stretch further. “I-It’s okay, just don’t- don’t do that again, Mart.”

Martin nods, grimacing from the overall scent of the home. “I’m really sorry… Um.. I found these keys? They were on a keyring next to the door, but they don’t seem to belong to any of the locks.”

“Keep them for now. Maybe he changed some? We’ll have to check if he put a lock or three somewhere here.”

“Isn’t that against the lease?” he asks whilst putting the small wad of keys in his back pocket.

“I’ve got other things to worry about right now… But we’ll need to look through the whole house.”

Denice inspects the room. Kitchenware, some appliances- a toaster oven, a blender… A very… diverse knifeblock… She pulls out a knife, only to find that it seemed recently polished.

Martin notices her interest in them. “Maybe he was interested in keeping everything maintained. The rest of the house seems pretty neat.”

Denice glances at the oxidation creeping from one of the thinner knives and doesn’t touch it. “…Maybe.”

“Is it me, or is the smell coming in stronger from the refrigerator?” Martin asks, but seems hesitant to open it.

“There’s only one way to find out.”

Martin grimaces and looks away from the fridge as he pries it open. The lights snap on, revealing worms and maggots feasting on rotted food. One or two grown flies emerge from the indistinguishable piles of muck and escape the fridge as Martin slams the door shut. “SHIT!”

“The fridge wasn’t closed properly, I’m guessing…”

“You’re guessing? Shit’s a pigsty.”

“That’s what happens when food rots near the presence of flies, Mart.”

Martin gags. “No shit, Sherlock. Hell, did anybody even come in the house after he died?”

“I doubt it… Let’s just move on.”

“Let’s.” Replies Martin, looking through the cabinets. There were several lining the corners of the room, about twenty total; ten above and ten below. Unsurprisingly, a variety of spiders had long made their homes inside of the spaces from the absence of movement. The occasional pest would skitter between the raised boards, one of which being a cockroach large enough to garner a scream from the buxom woman. Martin was ever quick to kill it, slightly more composed than his counterpart.

“I don’t get why he’d have so little spices and so much salt.” Martin finally remarks, opening one of the upper cabinets.

“Maybe he likes pickling food?” Denice supplies, frowning at the dust layering the pots and pans below.

“I doubt it. His fridge would’ve been a lot more tolerable- and less… maggoty.” Martin shudders and proceeds.

Denice is opening yet another cabinet door when the realization finally hits her- She snaps back to a rather calm Martin, who was inspecting one of the bags. “Wait! Mart!”

Martin simply stared at her, nonplussed. “What?”

Denice stares back at him, then his hand. “Wait… didn’t you mention that salt burned you guys?”

Martin looks at the salt in question and chuckles softly, then pats the leaking paper bag. “Don’t worry, salt is only a big deal for obligate vamps.”

“Oh.”

“Yep. Plus I’m almost sure this is full of drugs.”

“It’s too granulated for that, Mart.”

“You never know.” Martin shrugged and placed it on the counter, continuing his run-through.

Why was she even doing this anymore? Did she really want to know what else was here?

…And yet, she finds herself opening the last cabinet regardless, surprised to see a different, smaller fridge inside it.

“…Mart, did we ever leave a mini-fridge here?”

“No? why would he own a separate fridge? Did he own snakes? a lizard of some kind?”

Denice cracks it open, shuddering at the sickening smell of iron and old blood, all in bloated vacuum-sealed bags, separating into clear, off-yellow plasma and coagulated chunks of dark rot. “He- he’s human, right?”

“Yeah? His ID would’ve specified if he were a supernatural.”

“Martin… Either he was a vampire, or he has enough blood to house one for no reason.”

“Blood? Wait-“ Martin ambles over to see it and retches at the sight, spitting into an overfilled trashcan nearby.

“Holy shit.“

“Martin- hey, it's okay man.” Denice rubs small circles on his back, and Martin coughs in his panic until it slowly died down. All is quiet between them, buzzing with unsaid questions.

"It's the smell that's killing me. It's wrong. Blood shouldn't be.." He straightens- realizing something until the last words finish his thought. "...wasted. Denice."

She perks at the call. "What?"

“You need a license to buy blood.” He silently mentions, the statement lingers in the air, weighter. His slitted pupils are wide and anxious.

Denice looks back at the minifridge, glancing at the almost rudimentary setup for storing the bags, compared to the professional handling she's seen with actual banks on the few times she accompanied Martin.

“I think-… I think this was his own. And you aren’t supposed to house vampires—even if you sign for them.” Denice feels her stomach lurch as she closes the door of the minifridge.

Martin looks at the blood with an apathetic sort of disgust, the bags having insulted his senses for the last time. “Will you please close the fridge already? The kitchen smells awful as it is.”

“Oh- Sorry. Let me just-“ She tries to close it normally, but it doesn’t really shut. A bit more pressure is applied, and even then the door bounces back open. One of the bags had clearly tilted out of shape when she opened it, but… Denice was not about to touch it more than she had to already.

She gives it a hearty shove.

There’s a squelch when it shuts, leaving a gush of sickly, yellow-tinted plasma to shoot and bead along the dirty linoleum flooring. Some clots of dark, runny sickness sputter and run down the fridge door

“…I burst one.” Denice gags while a strangled sound escapes Martin’s chest.

Martin heaves dryly, pressing a fist to his lips and an arm around his stomach as though it would stop him from vomiting altogether. They really should’ve placed a better window in the kitchen.

This could’ve been a nice afternoon.

“Den- Denice, I need to take a breather, yeah? or- or- I’ll definitely throw up. Let’s get to somewhere else- I can’t- I-”

“Y-Yeah… Let’s just get out and recuperate a little.”

Denice walked out of the kitchen with Martin following closely behind, his breaths stifled to try and limit the amount of bad air he inhaled.

But now Denice was even more unsure if she wanted to see what else lied in the house. Even with someone as strong as Martin beside her, she felt nervous. Uncertain.

Afraid.

Martin seemed to sense her worry and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “We can always leave. You don’t have to stay here and see whatever else was in here.”

Denice enjoys his touch a little longer, thinking on what to say in response. In truth, she did want to leave. She wanted to leave from the beginning. But seeing just what they found now… Well, the knowledge would only eat at her if she didn’t find a conclusion to this.

“…Let’s just see the rest of the place, and we’ll leave right away. Is that okay with you?” She says despite herself. Martin looks absolutely disinterested in continuing the search for the scream’s source, but sighs. “I’ll go.” The relief Denice feels at those two words is immense. “But only because I don’t want you to be in here by yourself.”

“Thank you Mart.” “Don’t mention it.” His tone is curt yet warm, and Denice opens the door to the staircase with a bit more confidence.

They walked up the pine stairs with little conversation- the smell noticeably got better as they left the kitchen area, until it was replaced entirely by the musty scent of dust and no air circulation. The other two bedrooms were normal; they were replaced with an office and storeroom, both of which had no outstanding features. In truth, besides the paintings, there was a very little amount of personality in his home décor.

The attic was a different story altogether.

Martin bumped his head for the third time on the attic’s ceiling when Denice had seen it- shackles. Chains. Restrains of all shapes and sizes. Whips, prods, pokers and knives. Tasers and Gags and ropes and belts and flails- and a bowl.

A bowl of water, next to a spray bottle. Martin touches it and recoils- hissing to himself as he stared at his now reddening hand.

His burned hand.

----

They stumble out of there, disconcerted and horrified as each of them try not to think too hard on their findings. The lawn door creaks and wanes on its rusty hinges until they both find a place to sit under a lawn table’s umbrella and chairs.

And so they sat, not quite talking but exchanging conversation through glances alone. Martin takes a deep, shuddering breath and holds his head in both hands while Denice hugs herself, desperately trying to make sense of it.

But no matter what, they couldn’t quite make sense of it. It could have easily been confirmation-bias, but every path seemed to lead back to her original theory, and they hated it.

Martin still looked unnerved, his grey-tinted features dark despite the sun peeking out on him. He tapped his fingers against the clouded glass and grimaced- rubbing his fingers together at the gritty feeling of muck layering the table. He takes a quick sip of his flask and grunts as his burnt hand slowly starts regrowing the tissue.

"...It was concentrated." He eventually says after noticing her worried glances. "Fuckin' liquid was probably saltier than the ocean. Could've been acid for all I know. "

Denice felt herself losing composure as well- an internal tremor echoed through her as her worries piled on. Further and further it pushed her will to continue looking. Yet the most she could do was retreat into a better space- a more optimistic section of her thoughts where the noise she heard was nothing more than a figment of her imagination.

She couldn’t imagine how Martin could feel about this- he was a vampire himself, and was now dealing with the possible reality of one of their tenants illegally hosting an unregistered vampire in his home. Torturing a vampire. Feeding it with his own blood to avoid getting into a registry.

She can't unthink it. She doesn't want it to be true, and yet she feels it's growing more real by the second.

She's rethinking every instance with the tenant, no longer a placid young man with a mild interest in the arts, but holding those pokers, those knives, those weapons, and using it on someone. On her. On Martin.

She desperately hoped for it to be a joke. A gag. Something unreal and unbelievable, as Martin had told her just an hour ago. But reality was setting in too quickly for fantasy to fill in the gaps, and now she had seen too much.

Martin was the first to speak.

“I’m calling the police.” It’s such a firm statement that it leaves Denice even more unsure. If they called the police, what would happen? Did they really expect something to make sense if they did? For some justice when they didn’t even know if the man did this? They would most certainly laugh. Laugh at them both for calling them over simply because they saw some odd things in his own home.

She remembers how each weapon had drying flecks of dark ichor lacing them and gags.

“…It's not going to be a good idea. There isn't much in terms of evidence.”

Martin glared at her momentarily, his gaze only softening upon seeing her distress. “We can show them what we found-“

“And then what?”

Martin looked away and at his hand, pensively staring at the mottling patchwork of repairs on his skin. “I don’t know.”

Denice unknit her brow. “Well… we still have one last room to search through. None of the keys fit the other doors. If we see something truly incriminating, we'll call.”

Martin flexed his now-healed hand and pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling forcibly as though trying to grasp his last strands of composure. Or savoring the fresh air while he still could.

“Fine, but I’m not going back there for longer than I have to, and neither are you. Comprendes?”

She nods, now set and resolute. Martin stood up and stretched, his joints popping until he heaved a breath and walked to follow his partner. The one place they hadn’t searched. The last room. The room they both dreaded entering.

The basement.