#and i have several more drawings of them for anyone who would like to see jfkdjgksj

[arolesbianism]

Shakes the bars of my cage I need to draw soooo bad I need to draw I need to draw let me draw I have to draw I need to draw I must draw (<- has been too sick to be on electronics much and doesn't like doing traditional art)

[rin-may-1103]

The Disappointment.

This may or may not have multiple parts, depending on whether I feel like writing more. (dcxdp, demon twin au.) also based on some post I read a while ago... can't remember for the life of me who wrote it but if any of you guys do, let me know.

"This way," Mother hissed, snatching Danny's wrist tightly. Damian lagged behind, twisting his head this way and that, keeping an eye out for anyone following them.

"Quick now, we must hurry." She hissed again, her eyes darting back and forth, eyeing the small nicks and scratches she had left previously to lead them away.

Danny glanced back at his brother, watching as he scowled and defiantly lifted his head. His baby brother would die before he allowed anyone to see him defeated.

Glancing back to the path, Danny watched as Mother took down anyone who was in their way, killing without hesitation. As he watched another body hit the floor, Grandfather's muttered words from when he left dinner, ran through the back of his head, "Bring the disappointment to me after sundown. I've seen enough."

There was nowhere in the world they could hide that Grandfather wouldn't follow. They would be hunted for the rest of their short lives, hiding in fear like cowards. Grandfather would not rest until he drew blood.

"In here, Habibi, quiet now. Quickly, both of you." Mother finally let Danny's wrist go, darting across the hall to open the secret door. Danny moved to the side, signaling to Damian that he would keep watch. His brother nodded his head and quickly made his way over, ducking into the small, dark, and eerie corridor.

Mother crouched next to Damian, running her hands over his face like this would be the last time she would see it. knowing her, she probably expected it to be. No one went against their grandfather without severe consequences.

Glancing over his shoulder, Danny studied the shadows; there was a lookout patrol moving closer, which meant they only had a minute before they were discovered. Gritting his teeth, Danny darted across the hall, but instead of joining his mother and brother in the dark corridor, he pushed the wall back, leaving only the missing brick his mother had initially taken out.

"Danyal!" his mother hissed, her voice full of stern panic.

"Apologies Mother, but I can not let you do this," Danny replied, glancing to the side to see how much time he had left. Forty seconds. Crouching down, he picked up the brick and looked back at his mother. Damian stood next to her, his brows furrowed in confusion. Obviously, he hadn't figured out Danny's plan, otherwise he would have started shouting at him.

Mother stared at him for a second, her stern eyes wavering for the first time in Danny's life that he could remember. "Take care of him for me, keep him safe when I can not," Danny asked, grabbing the hood hanging around the back of his neck.

Mother's eyes teared up, but she straightened her back, her black hair framing her pretty face. "You've made up your mind then," she said, her voice low and steady. She rested her hand on Damian's shoulder, giving Danny a nod of understanding. "You are like your father, his love makes him weak."

"But," she continued, kneeling down in a bow, "You are of the demon's blood, it runs in your veins just like mine. Your actions will not be forgotten, nor will they be for nothing. You have my word, tifl alqamar. I love you, Habibi."

Danny nodded his head, unable to voice the thoughts clogging his throat. Instead, he took a silent breath, pulled his hood and mask into place, and shoved the final brick into place. Sealing off his precious family just in time to hear the guards around the corner.

Turning around, Danny silently stalked forward, drawing his shoulders back. The group rounded the corner and stopped, watching him in anticipation. Pitching his voice just slightly to the left and rolling his tongue, Danny spoke in a neutral voice, "take me to grandfather."

The two guards in front shared a look, but the ones in the back straightened up and moved aside. Marching forward, Danny passed the two hesitating guards and with a quick slice, brought them to their knees. He needed this to work, there was no room for mercy, no matter how much he hated it.

"I am the grandson of the demon head, you will respect me as you respect him. there will be no next time." Danny continued walking, pretending to not care if the two managed to follow or not. the remaining guards trailed behind him, silently observing him.

Danny was glad Mother had insisted on them matching today. otherwise, his plan would have failed long before he made it to his grandfather's door.

Stopping in front of the painted carved wood that was grandfather's door, Danny idly studied the carvings and statues around the grand hall. He remembered all the stories of how grandfather had collected them over his lifetime; grand stories of bloodshed and cunning manipulation.

His eyes settled on the one farthest away, with the least interesting story. It was considered ordinary, placed next to art worth billions. But it was Danny's favorite. It was a simple green crystal, carved like a crescent moon.

so simple, yet the most beautiful piece in Danny's opinion. He had always hoped he would die beneath the stars and his ever-faithful friend the moon. Maybe, instead of beneath them, he could die amongst them.

He would take it with him, he decided.

Turning sharply, Danny marched over to the small pedistal and plucked the crystal into his hand. Wrapping his fingers around it, he shoved it into a side pocket and returned back to his position.

They only had to wait for another minute before the door opened, grandfather's servants clearing a path for Danny to walk through.

"I see your mother did not drag you away," Grandfather mused, sitting in his large chair. His dark eyes studied Danny's form, taking in the katana on his back, and the hood and mask concealing his face. He was dressed like he would for a mission; no discernable features, no sign of who he was or wasn't. The perfect image of an assassin.

"at least you aren't a coward," Grandfather hummed, standing from his seat. He slowly pulled out his own katana, aiming it at Danny in a challenge. "no, just disappointing. but you are my blood and that earns you the right to die an honorable death. Draw your sword child, and fight like the warrior you are."

Danny bowed like he had been taught, then without another moment of hesitation, drew his sword and lunged.

He wished he could say it was a drawn-out battle of strength and minds, but it was not. for Danny was only ten years old, and his grandfather had hundreds of years of training and discipline behind him.

he gazed up at his grandfather as his knees hit the ground, his katana dropping to the ground as his hand reached up to the sword impaling his chest. Grandfather's eyes were filled with nothing but contempt, contempt for the useless boy he had just sentenced to death.

but his contempt did not bother Danny, no instead it drew a smile to his face. As much as Grandfather lorded his sharp mind over them, he had never been able to stop Danny from surprising him. So, with a burst of adrenaline, Danny allowed the small shuriken he hid in his sleeve to drop to his left hand and buried it deep into his grandfather's chest.

grandfather lunged back, pulling his katana with him, removing the only thing keeping Danny upright. Danny's body hit the ground, and with the last of his strength, he twisted his head so he could listen as his grandfather cried out in anger.

Grandfather's breath was heavy, the sound of him removing the dagger filling the silence. the shuriken was dropped to the ground with a sharp clatter, falling just a few feet from Danny's face.

"you," Grandfather huffed, "aren't such a disappointment after all. I'll grant you one last honor and keep you in the family tomb. Rest now, Damian, you have fought well."

Danny smiled, the cold feeling of blood loss crawling through his body, but not fast enough to block out the pressure of the moon crystal still in his pocket. He hoped Mother had gotten Damian out in time, and he hoped Damian could forgive him for what he had done.

[scoutswritingcorner]

Can I request Hazbin Hotel characters reacting to an artist!reader that draws a lot but never shows anyone their work but one day accidentally left it out and their partner finds it and sees several sketches and finished drawings of them? Sorry if it’s an odd ask, I’m an artist and I thought it would be a cute idea I don’t see nearly enough, it’s okay if you can’t. Thank you either way!!!

Artist Rendition

Hazbin Gang x GN!Reader

TW:A little flirty with Angel’s reaction. Other than that none!

A/N: Not an odd request at all, Friend! For Angel’s part I did write for a male Reader and Fem Reader for Vaggie! KINDA SHORT I APOLOGIZE FRIEND!

-🦌Alastor🦌-

-🦌 Alastor was very curious to see you carry a sketchbook around all the time. He wanted to pry so badly.

-🦌 But he didn’t, he simply ignored the book and only ever asked about it if you were near him. You always get flustered and hide the book even further. Oh now he’s wondering what kind of dark secrets you have in there~

-🦌 But to his surprise when he finds it open and on a page, he sees drawings of him, he carefully flips the page and sees a half down sketch of him sitting in front of the fireplace.

-🦌 Oh boy you just made his ego inflate and his undead heart soar to new heights. His tail starts wagging and that’s the only way someone can catch how happy he is.

-🦌 Now? He’s going to poke a little fun at you, “My Dear, if you had to pick anyone in the hotel to be your muse who would it be?” 

-🦌 Silly deer man loves you and your abilities, he often tells you that your work needs to be displayed in a museum.

-🍎Lucifer🍎-

-🍎 Oh boy- when he finds out you can draw? Oh he gets super excited and asks if you can draw him a duck- even if it’s a little doodle! He doesn’t care!

-He doesn’t really ask or pry into your hobby much but he will admit he does want to see what you draw.

-When he does see that you drew him of all people he gets all flustered and he’s prideful cause his partner?? His darling little angel drew him?!?

-He will volunteer to pose for you, he’s used to sitting still for hours on end! 

-He will even pose naked if you want him to! Just say the word and he’ll drop his clothes right there.

-🎰Husk🎰-

-🎰 He watched you sit at the bar and draw to your heart's content and never really commented on it.

-🎰 When he does peek into your sketchbook it’s to pull behind the bar into a safe place so nothing ruins your work.

-🎰That’s when he notices the drawings and doodles of him and his tail curls happily. The way you captured him doing menial tasks sends his heart into overdrive.

-🎰 You were too good for him, damn it. The next time you find it? It has a little sticky note on the cover of your sketchbook and it has a little drawing of you with a small message, “Had to go out with Alastor. Love you, Dollface.” 

-🕷️ Angel Dust 🩷-

-🕷️ Oh this man- he loves it! You’re an artist and he’s also like an artist! But of a very very different genre.

-🩷 He also doesn’t pry much as he understands privacy. He wants to give you that as much as he can since he doesn’t get much of it.

-🕷️ Once he finds out you draw him? He’s over the fucking moon cause his man? His precious boyfriend draws him! 

-🩷Expect him to start flirting more and more but with art related flirts. “Come on, Suga’~ Draw me like one of your french girls~” im sorry. He’s very supportive!

-👑Charlie👑-

-👑 oh this baby girl..she’s been so busy lately that if she did notice it completely slipped her mind!

-👑 But when she finds your sketchbook? She gets super excited cause you draw this good?? She’s so proud that she immediately goes to find you!

-👑 She is another who fully supports you! You need anything, don't hesitate to ask!

-👑 Will try to convince you to start painting for the hotel! You can say no it won’t offend her.

-🎀Vaggie🎀-

-🎀 Much like Husk she won’t point it out or comment on it.

-🎀Will find out you draw her when she sees it when cleaning up and gets all blushy cause this is how you see her?

-🎀 Comes clean immediately about seeing your drawings and tells you how amazing they are.

-🎀 Shyly asks if she can pose for you next time, how could you say no to her?

[vampcubus]

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐄

𝐊𝐘𝐎𝐉𝐔𝐑𝐎 𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐎𝐊𝐔 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

:ఌ¨ ♱ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 : kyojuro sure likes to stare, doesn't he? :ఌ¨ ♱ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 : sfw, gn!reader, pre-established friendship, background obamitsu meddling. :ఌ¨ ♱ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 : 1.4k+

Kyojuro, bless his heart, is so hopelessly attracted to you in ways he’s never experienced. 

Everything about you draws him in, from your striking beauty to your quick wit, how despite your snark you always treated others with compassion. You were fast friends, not that Kyojuro was particularly difficult to get along with. You’d even argue that such a person as him was impossible to dislike, at least without feeling guilty about it. 

He was blunt, genuine, and brimming with so much enthusiasm it tended to unsettle some. But never you. You would look upon him with quiet acceptance, hanging onto his every word. You didn’t seem to mind his complete disregard for eye contact or his erratic conversational skills. 

You just get him, he muses. And he’s never felt a kinship like that with anyone.

Kyojuro has always felt like he was moving faster than everyone else, both in mind and body. The man couldn’t sit still or shut up to save his life, or so the other Hashira would say – endearingly of course. No matter the sentiments his comrades held for him, none of them seemed to keep up quite as well as you did. Which is why he presumed you worked so well together.

He could blabber on about anything and have you following along just fine. Though after a few roundabout conversations ranging from swordplay to street food, he musters the confidence to ask if he talked too much for your taste. 

You only quirk a brow and snort, “Pffft, of course not! I like listening to you talk.” and you see something shift in his gaze, the softest shade of pink tinting his round cheeks.

It’s around there when the staring starts.

It’s a subtle change at first, catching his wide-eyed gaze from across the training field. Feeling his eyes upon you as you shared meals together. Stumbling over your words when you realize for the first time that he’s actually looking you in the eye as you talk.

It’s a new and exhilarating feeling to be able to admire those honey-colored eyes fully fixated on you for a change. Too often you found yourself staring back. And the way he brightens when your eyes meet sends your fickle heart into pesky palpitations every time. You swore his pupils bled further into his golden-red irises every time he spotted you. 

The idea of his eyes dilating at the mere sight of you endears you even more fiercely to him. As if such a thing was possible. You’re already attached at the hip, not to mention the dozens of joint missions you’ve taken. 

His exuberance could be trying when your objective was to blend in, but his swordsmanship more than made up for it. He was incredibly good at taking the edge off when tensions were high, he was an emotional pillar of support, and you were honored to have his focus.

The beloved Flame Hashira was enthusiastic about many things, but you most of all it seemed. You’ve been told by several other Hashira that you were one of his favorite topics of conversation. The image of him gushing about you to other people is as embarrassing as it is flattering.

“Y/n is so easygoing, I cherish their company!”

“Did you know Y/n makes the best rice cakes?”

“Y/n is such a fierce swordsman, I am honored to fight at their side!”

“Y/n this, Y/n that. You’re all he talks about you know,” Iguro points a finger in your face one morning.

“So I’ve heard,” you hum, hand perched lazily on the hilt of your sword, though you’re unsure of precisely why he’s telling you this. Your eyes stray to Kaburamaru, who only flicks his tongue at you, leisurely slithering down Iguro’s shoulder from his coiled position around his neck.

You’ve always known the Serpent Hashira to be abrasive and confrontational, but the sudden interest in your relationship with Rengoku was uncharacteristic. Especially since he usually disregarded your presence unless he had something to criticize. You didn’t dislike him, but you wouldn’t say that you were close.

Did he know something you didn’t? 

You try not to make assumptions based on the worries of others, but Kyojuro’s childhood friend approaching you out of the blue to tell you something like that? It makes you wonder just what sort of things Kyojuro has been saying about you to warrant such an interrogation.

Was Iguro trying to discern your intentions as a way of looking out for him? Perhaps your feelings for Kyojuro weren’t as internalized as you’d thought. 

“Is this your way of saying you’ll snap me like a twig if I break his heart?” you ask, lips curling up into a sly grin, head cocked to one side.

Heterochromatic eyes blink in surprise, and then narrow.

“You catch on quick.” 

“You can relax, Iguro. I won’t hurt him.”

“Few can be entirely sure of that. For your sake, I hope that’s the truth,” he waves you off, turning away in disinterest upon hearing your response.

The encounter leaves you with mixed feelings. Would Iguro have asked if he didn’t already know how Rengoku felt in return? It's an unsettling and gnawing feeling. Not the idea that your feelings could be returned, just the uncertainty of it all. If Iguro noticed it, why didn’t you?

“Iguro approached me earlier,” you say as you sit across from the flame-haired swordsman, currently having lunch at one of your favorite spots to eat.

“Did he now?” Kyojuro acknowledges, eyes still closed as he stuffs another bite of octopus into his mouth. His round cheeks puff out cutely, the image of a chipmunk with its cheeks full of nuts forming in your mind.

“He told me you talk about me a lot.”

“All good things of course!” he assures, seemingly unbothered by the news.

“That’s the thing,” you chuckle nervously, poking at your food with your chopsticks. Kyojuro’s eyes fluttered open, now focused on your fidgeting hands. “He seemed concerned that you had feelings for me beyond friendship.”

It’s silent for a moment, and you stuff food into your mouth to escape it, eyes focused on your plate. You can feel his gaze, but you’re too intimidated to meet it.

“Would that be a bad thing?” for once, Kyojuro sounds nervous. 

It's a subtle strain in his tone that others who didn’t know him as well might have missed. But years of close proximity have made you perceptive to the almost invisible chinks in his armor. Kyojuro was heavily guarded for being such a friendly man, always eager to lend a hand or ear when others were in distress, but quick to clam up when it came to his own problems.

Your heartbeat skips, excited and terrified. Was that a confession? Were you reading too far into things? Was the question rhetorical? All these questions well up inside until you feel like you’ll burst. 

You can’t help but let out an exasperated sigh.

“You’re so hard to read,” you lamented, nearly jumping out of your skin when his fingers brush yours from across the table.

“Perhaps If you looked at me, you’d have an easier time,” he laughs, and your heart already feels lighter at the joyous sound. 

The anxiety in your tummy melts into giddiness, and you demurely tilt your head up to meet his eyes. They’re crinkled fondly, pupils large, and fully fixated on yours. His golden-red eyes consume yours, inspiring your fingers to twitch against his. You can only compare such an expression to a smitten puppy. 

You suddenly feel silly for entertaining any doubts that the Flame Hashira was any less enamored than you were.

“To be completely honest, I have been interested in you romantically for quite some time now, and at a loss of how to contain such strong feelings,” he confessed, and suddenly a lot of things started making sense.

He stared at you so much because he liked you. He talked about you so much because he liked you. He let you tag along to missions he could have easily handled on his own because he liked you. Iguro approached you because he noticed.

“Then no, I don’t think that would be a bad thing at all.” You turn your hand with your palm facing upward to accept his own into your grasp.

Kyojuro’s smile widens, and he nearly shakes the entire restaurant with the volume of his declaration of, “WONDERFUL!”

“See, Obanai? I told you they just needed a little push!” Mitsuri gushes from across the restaurant, just her green eyes and the top of her head peeking over the menu.

[kasagia]

Let me follow II

Pairing: Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!Fremen!soulmate! reader Summary: Na-Baron tirelessly pursues and tracks you across Arrakis. You hide in the sands of Dune as best you can, but will it be enough to escape your soulmate with whom you want nothing to do with? Warning: violence; blood; Feyd Rautha; death; soulmate au!; Taglist: @avidreader73 @wo-ming-bai @shara-ne @alana4610 Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Part I ~•♤♤♤•~ Part III ~•♤♤♤•~

You close your eyes and hide your face in the brown scarf around your head. You listen to the sounds of the desert, the gentle sound of sand blowing in the wind, and the gerbils around you, trying to find some shade from the Arrakis' sun.

You breathe evenly and calmly, hearing the blood pulsing in the veins of the animals around you. You freeze, feeling heartbeats that are too loud and rare to belong to any of the creatures of Dune.

Your fingertips brush the sand beneath you, drawing patterns in it. You're manipulating the thick blood in their veins, and by the way you're having a hard time controlling it, you realise who your sudden guests are.

The Harkonnens.

"Did you sense something?" Your father asks while kneeling beside you. You sweep the sand with your hand, making your drawings and patterns disappear from view.

"The Harkonnens. In the southeast. At least 10 of them." You reply, poking your head out of your hiding place. You can't see anything in your line of sight, but you can clearly feel several heartbeats, unlike anything that lived on Arrakis.

"I'll tell the rest. Stay back. We need to make sure we don't have anyone following us if we want to get back to our sietch."

"He won't give up." You answer him, still staring at the desert. "Na-Baron. He will chase after me until he gets me." You don't have to tell him about it. He knows as well as you do that the Harkonnen's patrols have become more frequent and that you have had to escape from them faster than usual.

Na-Baron was looking for you. He made no secret of it. You know from your scouts that he himself commanded one of the units, moving through your territory like a snake, avoiding your ambushes, and entering your sietchs, leaving behind only ashes, ruins, and a sea of blood.

"He will never..."

"Are you so sure?" You interrupt him, scolding him for still clinging to false hope.

One day he will finally get you; the only question was how long it would take you to run away from him again after he catches you. And how long will you be able to enjoy freedom again in the sands of Dune.

"I… really would like to believe that I am." Your father admits it with sadness. You both turn towards the vast sands before you.

The sun burns down on you, making your body sweat more and more. The droplets flow into the tank in the suit. This is your only consolation. At least you're not wasting your water on your run.

"You don't have to protect me. I know Arrakis; I have my power. I can run away as long as I want." You say, glancing briefly at your father.

Now that the threat from the Harkonnens is even more real, you'd rather keep him away from it all. You wouldn't want them to capture him and use him as leverage against you. You didn't want him to get hurt because of you. Or anyone.

"You can run as lons as you are able to." He corrects you and pushes you back towards the rest of the group. You sigh, obediently following him. "And I want to make sure that you... are ready for what is waiting for you at the end of this race."

"Race with fate or time?" You ask him skeptically. You reach for your powers and try to refocus on the location of the Harkonnen group. Their hearts beat faster. You unconsciously wonder if Na-Baron is with them this time...

"You should try to get some sleep." Your father helps you to get on the sandworm you had previously put into a coma. You wait patiently until the entire group gets on the creature and wakes it up. Sand hits your face as the animals start to move and cross the desert.

"I... I have to be aware of our surroundings." You answer evasively, sensing Harkonnens. They were far behind you. For now.

"You can't be like that all the time. Go to sleep. I will take care of everything." Your father assures you and places a kiss on your temple.

You sigh, closing your eyes. You hadn't slept soundly for several nights, too afraid that you would meet Na-Baron in your dreams. If you did nap, it was only during the day and only for a few hours—at times when he couldn't contact you through dreams. You wonder if Reverend Mother could help you block this… connection between you two. But before you travel north, you must first hide out for a few weeks in the safe corridors of your sietch.

Maybe you'll manage to lose the Na-Baron who chased you so tirelessly. You were curious if the stars would show you such a great blessing.

"Thank you, father." You reply with a small smile, deciding to follow your father's wishes and try to take a nap.

So you snuggle up in an unfolded blanket and place yourself on the sandworm's back, allowing the walls of your makeshift shelter to keep you on the back of the rushing creature. The sound of the sand blowing through the air and the heartbeat of other people on it lulls you to sleep.

But as Na-Baron promised, you will soon find that there is no escape from him.

Even during the day.

There is blood around you. A lot of blood. It's pouring through holes in one of your hiding places' corridors. You cover your nose with your elbow and walk forward, your shoes soaked in the crimson liquid as you walk forward towards the exit. The blood reaches your knees when HE stands in your way.

"What is this?" You ask him, letting a drop of blood fall from the ceiling onto your lips as you move your elbow away from your face. The smell of blood fills your nostrils. But you can't hear any other heartbeats than yours and Na-Baron's.

"The future—if you keep running away. I must admit that each time it takes me a while to track you, but eventually you will make a mistake. And I will patiently wait for that to happen." You shiver, hearing his low growl close to you.

He acted so casually, as if there wasn't crimson blood dripping from the ceiling on you. He was too sure that his plan would come true. You wanted to tear away this overconfidence from him.

"And how can you be so sure of that? After all, you didn't even get a chance to take a few glimpses at me these past few days. How is your leg, by the way? I hope it hurts just as much as you hurt my people in your… prison." You scoff, not considering this small, cramped cell in the Harkonnen's stronghold as a real prison. It was a place of carnage, filled with death, the stench of blood, fear, and the helplessness of your people. And behind it all was your own soulmate…

"I'm very glad you are concerned about my well-being, darling. Especially since you were the one to stick a dagger into my knee. Fortunately, I have excellent healers. You'll find out about it yourself after our wedding night." You laugh mockingly at his words, shaking your head in disbelief.

How delusional he must have been to even assume that you would rather marry him than gut yourself before he even had the slightest chance to lay his little finger on you again?

"I would rather be eaten by a sandworm." You reply and push past him to leave. Feyd lets you in, inhaling your delicate scent as you walk past him. He grabs the scarf covering your head and untangles you from it. The material stays in his hands as you run away from him as far as possible.

Feyd takes a second to bury his nose in the scarf and inhale its delicate scent. He promises himself that next time he will inhale your scent directly from you—and definitely not in his dream.

He comes back to you, silently walks up to you, and hugs you from behind. He catches you by surprise and pulls you into his chest. You fight against him, struggling in his grip, but he just puts his chin on your shoulder and nuzzles his nose into your neck, not caring about your attempts to fight him.

"Are you enjoying the view?" He whispers into your ear and runs his tongue over your lobe. You shiver in his arms, and Feyd relishes every moment of how you feel in his strong grip. Like a small, trembling kitten that needs to be taken care of—taken care of by him and only him.

You acted so differently. In his dreams, you were a perfect little mouse that he could play with as he pleased, but in reality, you showed that you had a lot of rebellion in yourself to use. And while he was amazed by your cunning, thoughtfulness, and courage, it became irritating as he chased you halfway across the desert without making much progress. The itch in his pants was equally irritating.

"I'll never let you do that." You snap at him, pained to see the sight of a colonised Arrakis.

The Harkonnen's machines worked to extract the spice, and the bald men themselves... cleaned up the bodies of your men, feeding them to the sandworms. You felt sick just looking at it. And it was just a dream. You're afraid and wonder: What would be your reaction if it all happened for real?

"I'm afraid there's not much you can do. Especially from your little hiding place." He wraps his hand around your throat and squeezes it tight. You gasp in shock, struggling for air. You grab his hand and try to pull it away from your neck, but he's not strong enough for you to even make him move an inch. "Either you leave your little hiding place willingly, or I will chase you out with smoke, fire, and the blood of your people."

“Possibly…” You breathed out, wrapping your hand around the hilt of his sword. "But first you have to find me." You gasp and pull his blade from its sheath.

You swing, aiming for his exposed neck, but he anticipates your attack. He pushes you, disturbing your balance. You fall to your knees on the sands of Arrakis, breathing heavily as air finally flows freely into your throat.

However, this small moment of bliss does not last long. You roll onto your back and block his attack. Your blades clang as they meet, sweat dripping down your forehead and your heart racing, pumping adrenaline further through your system.

Na-Baron is on one knee, pressing his black steel sword at you. You shiver, feeling your muscles slowly give out, tiring as you try to push him away.

You gasp, pushing both of your blades out of each other's hands. You squeeze his neck in a tight grip, at which he does the most astounding, shocking thing—a thing that you didn't expect anyone to do in this situation.

He takes advantage of your surprise and disarms you. You growl, digging your nails into his neck and squeezing as hard as you can, cutting off any air he can get, but that seems to do no serious harm to him. You gasp as he collapses on top of you, pinning you to the sand with his full weight, and captures your lips in a passionate kiss.

There is nothing gentle about this kiss—and you don't expect it to be. You've learnt that the Harkonnens are rough, brutal, and sadistic. Their leader must therefore be far worse than they are, representative of the thoroughly disgusting nature of his people.

And though you fight and squirm, trying to break free from his grip, you can't say you don't like the way his mouth takes control of yours. You find it strange that even though you hate his insides and everything he stands for, somehow his touch, kisses, and scent still numb you in a… pleasant way.

This must be another spell of his, another trick he uses to draw you into him. You're still not sure exactly how he created this... connection between you, but you know it's definitely not natural. He may have been your soulmate, but centuries ago someone made sure you didn't feel any connection to the person you were supposed to be with.

You shiver as he caresses the skin of your wrist, where a centuries-old scar with the initials of your soulmate is visible. His initials, as it turned out.

"Tell me your name." He demands, pressing wet kisses along your jawline. You hiss at the feel of his cold, black saliva on your skin, the way it soaks into you... you can't waste any water...

You shake your head, trying to pull away from his small kisses, but that only gives him more room to manoeuvre on your skin. You can only sigh and bite your lip as he caresses you through the layers of your clothes, searching like a snake for a place he can crawl into to feel the softness of your skin.

"Your. Name. My. Desert. Rose." He growls with each press of his lips to your skin, fighting against your grip on his neck as you try to strangle him. Which proves to be a difficult task since you’re distracted by sensations he is giving you. Sensations you are ashamed of feeling. But your body can’t recognise an enemy like your mind can.

“Fuck off,” you say, glad for the little bit of control you still have over your body. Your lower half inevitably responds to his demands, growing wet and desperate for his touch. It takes all of your control not to join in his fun and grind against his thigh in time with the way he rubs the growing bulge in his pants against you.

"Oh, I will. As soon as I get my hands on you, I will." He growls against your neck with every last bit of air he has.

You shudder as his teeth sink into your flesh; he groans as if he's just tasted the finest, blood-red wine. The fingers of his hand dig painfully into your hips as he grinds against your core. You bite your lip, barely holding back a moan as you feel his hard length.

"I will find you. I will find you and fuck you until you forget you hate me. You will cry with pleasure, scream, and beg for more. I will turn you into my perfect, obedient whore, my desert rose. I will claim you as I claim Arrakis and your people. You will be a beautiful embodiment of my power—my pretty little prize." He growls against your skin, slowly removing your top layer of clothing. Your body shivers; goosebumps rise on your skin with each gentle brush of his fingertips.

You move your hand to the back of his head, digging your nails into the pale skin. He hisses, sucking a hickey on your neck, unaware that you've stolen his dagger…

You feel him freeze as you drive the dagger straight through his neck. Black blood drips down onto you, running along your collarbone and soaking into the fabric of your bra.

"You… will be mine…" He growls with his last strength, spitting blood at you as the connection between you closes. And you fall into the black void of dreamless sleep. A void where you deeply ponder what you've seen.

~•♤♤♤•~ A month later... ~•♤♤♤•~

You stroll through the marketplace, your nose buried in your black scarf. You discreetly observe the Harkonnen soldiers patrolling the area as you push through the sea of people to get to the waterskin stand.

Some women give you a sympathetic look, seeing your "mourning" attire; others try to look away. You mentally praise yourself for choosing your cover. It wasn't so easy to get a widow's black outfit, but it was worth the effort. The Harkonnens, despite their reputation for great brutality, didn't touch widows and didn't talk to them; they weren't the object of any interest or suspicion. It was strange that in all their brutality, lack of morality, and so on, they respected the period of mourning, especially for women.

You had been on the run from Feyd for a month now. During that time, you had separated yourself from your father and your group so that you could at least protect them from the wrath of the furious Harkonnen who was searching for you.

Although you must admit that the chase after you has slowed considerably in the last few days. You suspect that this had something to do with the baron's arrival on Arrakis. And his... unexpected death.

Yes. Feyd-Rautha became the new baron. You suspected that was why his men had been searching for you so intensely. However, to your great disappointment, he did not leave to Giedi Prime but remained on Arrakis.

You had thought long and hard about the reason, Na-Baron... Baron had decided he had to have you. Sure, you were his soulmate, but why had he decided now that he wanted you on his side? What did you have to offer him that made him willing to slaughter all of your men, destroy Dune, and devote practically all of his soldiers to finding you? There had to be something to it.

Your soulmate mark was the same enigma. There must have been a reason someone decided to cut out your skin with Harkonnen's initials tattooed on it, leaving you with only a faint scar.

You buy water, straining your ears to listen to the rumours carried by the Fremen whispering around you. Everyone was talking about only one thing.

A possible attack by Muad'Dib on the Emperor, his daughter, and the new Baron. These three had gathered recently on Arrrakis to discuss some of their business. Perhaps the main topic of their conversations was the new messiah of your people—the one they had spoken of for centuries, the one who would bring heaven to the sons and daughters of the desert.

You had only seen Muad'Dib once. And you preferred to keep it that way. You didn't read his eyes well. Instead of the expected messiah, you saw a coldly calculating man hungry for power, willing to do anything to avenge those who had brought ruin to his house. Paulk Atreides might have been less of a threat to your people than the Harkonnens, but he was still a threat. Especially his Bene Gesserit mother, who had become the reverend mother. And even more so the child in her womb.

The Harkonnens brought destruction and death. But in your visions (on those nights when you didn't dream of your soulmate/nemesis), you saw Paul Atreides pouring a sea of blood onto Arrakis, which seeped into every tiny sand of Dune.

Neither of them were good choices for your people.

You flinch as a hand lands on your shoulder. You peek out from behind your veil and meet Stilgar's stern gaze.

"What you are doing right now is a profanation." He snorts at you, leading you through the crowd of people and away from the watchful eyes of the Harkonnen soldiers.

"At least I don't attract as much attention as I would without this outfit."

"Let's get out of here. Muad'dib will arrive soon. You'll see, he'll do everything right." He assures you as he leads you out of the market. You shiver as you feel the eyes of passersby on you.

You stumbled upon Stilgar a week ago by accident while travelling to the main city. Your original (crazy) plan was to sneak into the landing site and grab one of the less guarded ships. And a pilot of some sort. It's not like you've had a chance to learn how to fly those weird metal contraptions.

However, your plans changed after your conversation with him. He planned a coup with Muad'dib to get rid of the Harkonnens from the lands of Arrakis once and for all. And your... extraordinary abilities were not unknown to him. You were to help in overpowering the troops so that their messiah could get to the council chamber with his men.

It was supposed to be a quick and short action.

So of course it wasn't like that at all...

You manipulate the blood of the guards, quickly and silently stopping the Harkonnen hearts. Stilgar and Muad'dib and their men follow you through the fortress corridors. You stop only in the council chamber, where the Emperor and the new Baron of Giedi Prime were supposed to be.

But there is no one in the room.

A moment later, Harkonnen troops surround you. You reach out to use your powers, but the moment you try to manipulate the blood in the Harkonnen veins, an unimaginable wave of pain passes through you. You kneel, clutching your stomach, and take a few quick breaths, looking around the room. Your gaze falls on an old Bene Geserit, who is whispering something under her breath, playing with a stone in her hand—a moonstone.

As you writhe in pain on the floor, you are oblivious to everything around you. You feel like every fibre of your body has been burned by the sun, but there is nothing you can do to end your agony.

"One more move, and I will kill her!" Muad'dib screams, pulling you roughly by the hair and pressing his blade to your throat.

Bloody tears begin to flow from your eyes. All you can see is red, your lungs burn, and your breathing becomes too ragged for you to make any kind of threat. Besides, in this state, you have a pretty low level of intimidation.

"Put it down, Atreides... before you do something you will regret." You shiver as you recognise the voice of your soulmate.

"Then let us pass, and maybe I'll spare your bloody witch."

You knew that if they didn't come to an agreement, there would be a real massacre here. And maybe the Fremen seemed to be in a weaker position now, but everyone knew perfectly well that one of their warriors was worth six Harkonnens. But neither side could be sure of victory. After all, it happened more than once that the outcome of the battle was unexpected by both sides.

"You know this is non-negotiable. You're in no position to make demands on me… and she's not worth this much trouble."

"Is that why you chased her across half of Arrakis with your men?"

"It was while we were conquering more territories. I never said that this expedition was specifically dedicated to finding her. As far as I'm concerned, you can cut her sweet throat. My only regret will be that I wasn't the one holding the blade that would inflict her final wound." The man behind you tenses, his grip on your hair tightening in anger and the dagger at your throat twitching dangerously, causing a trickle of blood to leak from the small wound he’d inflicted on you.

"One word from me, and the Atreides' explosives around the spice mines will be destroyed. Including those around the stronghold. I may not get out of this unscathed, but I will drag you all with me to my grave."

"You're bluffing." The Emperor replies coldly, but you can sense the underlying fear in his tone. You didn't know Paul Atreides, but from the rumours about Muad'dib, you could tell he was unpredictable. He could lie just as easily as he could tell the truth. You don't know which was worse.

"Let her go and face me if you want to accomplish anything. As you said earlier: Enough blood has been spilt."

"Since when do you dislike bloodshed?" You can actually see the mocking smile on Muad'dib's face without even having to turn to face him.

"Since I'm not the one who's having the most fun with it." The silence and tension in the room become more noticeable to you than the searing pain in your insides. The tears have stopped falling from your eyes, but it still hurts to breathe. However, you've gotten used to the pain enough that your vision returns, and the blurs in front of you become real people. "Let's finally put an end to this. One-on-one. Winner takes all." The growl of your soulmate sends a cold shiver down your spine.

You weren't quite ready for what was to come, and though you saw flashes of visions of this duel, the outcome never presented itself to you. However, you felt that after this, nothing would ever be the same.

"Rautha..." The Emperor begins with a warning, but before he can finish his sentence and express his concerns, Atreides speaks first:

"I accept."

These two face each other, just like in your dream. Both prepare for battle and present their blades to the other with a mocking "May your knife chip and shatter." The fight begins; both of them deal equal blows to each other, but after a while you realise that it is not Harkonnen who emerges victorious.

The visions you had start to replay before your eyes. You know perfectly well that if you don't react, Feyd will die. And while you liked the idea before, now the thought makes you feel sick, and the pain in your chest only increases.

Suddenly, the sounds around you stop reaching you; all you can hear are the whispers of the Reverend Mother. And suddenly, before you know it, your soulmate scar opens up and begins to bleed. Only your blood isn't red—it's black. You bite your lip to hold back a scream and feel SOMEONE reach for your powers. You are forced to direct the blood in Harkonnen's body and stop the bleeding from the Atreides blade.

This gives Harkonnen enough time to launch a counterattack and deal the final blow to the Atreides.

You gasp in shock, unable to explain why your powers went out of control. Or why blood suddenly began to gush from your wrist. But before you lose consciousness and slump to the floor, you see the dead body of Muad'dib fall to the floor next to you.

As you expected, you wake up chained to a bed with a muzzle in your mouth. You try to break free from your bonds, but it's futile. All you manage to do is shake your chains and make a noise that attracts the attention of the bald Harkonnen's servants.

Five women surround you, trying to keep you in place. You scream and struggle, trying to push their hands away from you as the door swings open with a loud bang.

They freeze the moment Baron Feyd-Rautha enters the room.

He barks a few words at them in their language and waits for them to move away from you. You shiver as you are left alone in the room with him, completely at his mercy and whims. He takes a few slow steps towards you, watching you closely.

"I knew you'd look beautiful chained to the bed." He says teasingly and strokes your cheek with his ring finger.

You tremble under his watchful gaze, your heart beating like crazy, but when you reach for your powers to use them, you feel blocked. You hold your breath in shock as he continues to draw patterns on your cheek, moving lazily to your neck.

"Surprised? I'm a patient man. Very patient. As soon as I heard about your little special ability, I had to find out the source of it… and learn exactly how to control it so you wouldn't rip my heart out of my chest the moment we will be finally alone."

His hand slides down to your chest. You sigh as he cups your breast in his hand, massaging it slowly, digging his fingers into it. You hiss, but no sound comes through the gag. Harkonnen hums, sitting on the edge of the bed and leaning closer to you as he continues to abuse your breast through the material of the new clothes you don’t recognise and the blanket you’re covered in.

"Hmm… I think I'd rather hear those little sounds of yours." He says thoughtfully and leans towards you. His nose brushes against yours as you lie frozen beneath him. "And kiss those sinful, irritating lips."

Before you can react, he presses the dagger to your cheek. You shiver as the cold steel grazes your heated skin. Harkonnen takes his time. He plays with you, drawing patterns into your skin, drinking in every hitch in your breath, the quickening movement of your chest, and the look in your eyes as you give him one of your furious ones.

"It's amazing how even after having all your fangs pulled out, you don't lose your ferocity, my little, wild, dessert rose." He cuts your muzzle and removes it from you. You grunt and cough, feeling your throat become terribly dry, almost as dry as it was on Arrakis during the worst sandstorms.

He places a few pillows behind your back, moves you into a sitting position, and holds a glass of water to your lips. You have no choice but to drink, hoping that he doesn't intend to poison you since he went through so much time and effort to find and trap you.

His intense gaze pierces through you, and you wonder what is more uncomfortable—the chains around your wrists and ankles or his blue irises focused entirely on you.

As he places his glass on the table, you finally decide to speak to him.

"I see that I should have stabbed you harder." You growl, looking with distaste at how well he moves. His knee is practically healed.

"I see I should have tied you up tighter." He responds to your attack with equal venom.

"What did you do to me? What did your old hag do? Why don't I feel…"

"Take it easy, little warrior. You don't expect me to tell you my tricks before we get home, do you?" The blood is boiling in your veins. You have an irresistible urge to slow down his heartbeat and make him faint and hit his head on the floor, or better yet, some metal rod, but you don't feel anything. You can't manipulate the blood; you can't feel the hearts beating around you. And you feel so damn defenceless because of it.

"I am at home." You growl angrily, trying your best to fight back the tears that were dangerously starting to form in your eyes.

"No, you're not. Your home is where I am. Which is currently Giedi Prime. We'll land there in two days." You stiffen when you hear this. The knowledge that you're leaving Arrakis and that you'll likely never see your friends and father again hits you like a slap in the face.

"What do you think gives you the fucking right to…"

"As your husband and soulmate, I have the right to certain things." Now you freeze completely at his words. Husband? What the hell? What husband?

"What the fuck?"

"Language." He hisses at you and sits down next to you. He gently smooths your hair, and you catch the glint of a black wedding band on his finger. He smiles when he notices you see his newest piece of jewelry. "We'll have to work on that. Since you're a Baroness, a certain degree of… courtesy and manners is expected of you. But don't worry. I'll make sure you learn the skills you need quickly."

"I'm not your damn wife. Or your soulmate."

"Look at your left hand, my darling."

You reluctantly do as he tells you. You gasp in shock when you see that instead of the familiar scar, you have a black tattoo of his initials. And a huge ring on your ring finger. A matching ring to the one Harkonnen wore now.

"How..."

"A Bene Gesserit sister restored the link between our souls that you so brazenly severed. As a child, I believe. Tell me, were you that afraid of me, my love? Did you never even think for a moment that maybe you should get to know me before you try to destroy such a sacred connection?"

"You will pay for this... I swear you will." You vow to yourself and to him furiously, now only reassuring yourself that you were right about him all along.

"Two years with me, and I'll make sure you don't even think about hurting me, let alone running away from me. Besides, it'll be quite a task to run away with a baby on your breast, don't you think?" He whispers, leaning into you. You move to bite his nose, but unfortunately he pulls away before your teeth can even lightly graze his skin and chuckles darkly.

"Once I get my powers back, I'll make sure you die a long, slow death. You'll beg me to kill you." You growl through your teeth, giving him a hateful look.

He just smiles and strokes your jaw gently, treating you like you were a child who has a tantrum. You want so badly to break free from these chains and hurt him...

"Don't worry, honey. We have plenty of time to get to know each other. But let's get started, what do you think?" Before you can react, he straddles you and crushes his lips against yours.

You buck, trying to somehow throw him off balance and push him off of you, but he only tightens his grip on your arms and presses himself closer to you. His hips grind against yours, showing you all too well how lustfully he reacted to your little struggle with him.

He tangles his hand in your hair and pulls your head back, giving himself better access to your neck. He trails kisses from your lips, along your jaw, and down the column of your neck as he settles his attention on your collarbone. You bite your lip as he bites into you with a growl, much like a wolf gnawing at its prey.

"No lip-biting. I want to hear all the little sounds you make."

"Fuck off, psycho." You growl, struggling beneath him and trying to get away from him. He clicks his tongue at you and runs it along your neck, up to your ear, leaving a wet trail of saliva.

"Is that how you address your dear husband? Haven't these wild rats taught you anything?" He mocks you and pulls out his dagger. To your protests, he cuts your dress in half one swift movement, exposing your bare chest to him. You gasp, surprised when he immediately sucks onto your breast, nipping and teasing your nipple.

Your hands grip the sheets beneath you, and even though you hate him with all your heart, the sensations he's giving you are… more than pleasant. You blush as he slides between your legs and moves his mouth lower and lower.

"My beautiful soulmate and wife, I have waited for you for so long." He mumbles against your skin, brushing his plush soft lips against your breast. You clench your thighs, wanting to block his access to you, but it only stops him for a moment.

In one powerful movement, he spreads your legs and buries his head between your thighs. You cry out as he brutally sinks his teeth into your thigh, marking you and drawing your blood. He licks his lips with a groan, as if it were the sweetest nectar he'd ever tasted, and runs a finger over that new, sensitive wound, spreading your blood up your thigh and all the way up to where you were shamefully wet for him.

These sensations are even more intense than when you were dreaming. You don't know if it's because you now realise that this isn't just a dream and that he poses a real threat to you. You also feel... overwhelmed by emotions. Your desire is much greater, and for a moment it seems to you that your emotions are no longer really just yours...

You sigh as his tongue teases your soaked folds. You try to crush his head between your thighs, but that only seems to encourage him more. You moan as you feel his tongue reach parts of you that you didn’t think he could explore in this position.

Suddenly your hands are free. You pretend not to notice as he undoes the handcuffs on your hands. Your brain works at an incredible speed as you think about what you should do in this situation. Without your powers and weapons, you could do very little, chained to the bed.

He clearly wanted you to give yourself to him, to feel what he felt for you. You could play that game for a while—just until you got your powers back. Then maybe you could somehow escape from him again...

So instead of trying to strangle him, you dig your nails into the back of his head, pulling him closer to you with a soft moan.

He groans at the feeling of your hands on his head. He strokes your hips with his thumbs, drawing meaningless patterns. At least for you. Feyd unconsciously 'writes' various words in his language on your skin. Mainly: mine, wife, baroness, darling, etc.

He mumbles words against your cunt that you can't make out, but from the way he takes ragged breaths and grinds against the mattress beneath him, he's probably whispering hoarse curses in his native language.

You are so close to the edge that you no longer care who is between your legs. Well, at least as long as you are about to reach your blissful pleasure.

His fingers caress your aching core, teasing you as he gently slides the pad of his finger into your very empty pussy. But just as you’re about to reach your release, he pulls away from you, a wicked smirk on his lips as he does so.

"Delicious. Perhaps if you learn to respect your new husband, we can both enjoy this, my darling." He gets up from the bed. He licks his fingers, groaning in appreciation as he watches you closely.

You gasp, sweat dripping down your face as you try to understand why the hell you feel, in addition to immense frustration and anger, also... satisfaction and pride. You blink a few times, catching your breath as you look at him suspiciously.

"You'll see, I'll turn you into my beloved little wife…" He speaks in his native language, gently stroking your cheek and playing with your hair. You frown, unable to understand what he's saying.

You gasp as he suddenly turns and walks towards the entrance.

"Wait! You can't just leave me here like that!"

"Rethink your behaviour, honey. A good wife doesn't call her husband a psychopath. I'll see you in the morning. Sweet dreams, Y/N." You scream after him, throwing a pillow at him, but instead of hitting him, it bounces off the closed door behind him.

You groan in frustration, both at the loss of your orgasm and the fact that your ankles are still chained to the bed and you can't even go and grab a blanket to cover yourself with.

As you lie there, you wonder how you ended up here. He admitted to researching you, but how on earth did he manage to block your power? And why did your soulmate mark become a black tattoo again? What gave him the right to marry you when you were unconscious? And how the hell did he find out your name?

You realise you've grossly underestimated him. And now you have to pay the price. You sigh, closing your eyes and listening to your surroundings. The ring on your finger is a stark reminder of your defeat. Luckily, the war has only just begun. And this time, you'll play your cards a lot better.

[kaidatheghostdragon]

You know what mixture of AUs i havent seen here yet? Danny x Bruce with de-aged clones!

Bruce and danny are near the same age and meet pretty early in batman's career, maybe even before dick was adopted. Danny is a single dad of infant/toddler twins ellie and dante. (To make them young and at the same age, i imagine they were rescued after both taking serious damage and retreated to their cores, and remerged as newborns about the same time, but i also want to leave this open for others to flesh out.) Timeline-wise, that would probably make them somewhere around jason or tim's age.

So now we have an au where the bat kids are collected into a stable home where bruce and danny are also raising ellie and dante. Bruce is much closer to WFA characterization right from the get-go because danny would whip him into shape.

Tim probably gets adopted because one of the phantoms sniff him out, either living alone in the neighboring mansion, or following the bats and ghosts on patrol.

Talia either stole bruce's (and/or danny's) dna or drugged bruce (it didnt work on danny) to create damian. If bruce was drugged, danny is on a warpath and might even find and rescue damian at a much younger age.

Jason's timeline is the most difficult to predict, and i will forever simp halfa jason, so he's gotta die no matter what changes. I dont think that's terribly difficult because the joker specifically targeted him to lure him out (assuming i understand canon correctly - also this is definitely true in the UtRH animated movie canon). If jason isnt interested in finding his biomom in this au, joker will just find a different bait. Would be cool if danny is able to track down jason's ghost during the six-month down time and brings him home, and a potential point of angst if he revives without his memories as a ghost (and is lost for a while before danny tracks him down again.)

(Danny probably doesn't have the no-killing rule like bruce, so he'd have no qualms killing the joker and detaining/destroying his ghost. If not danny, then jazz would. Bruce conveniently looks the other way.)

Batman mythology in this universe is inexorably linked to phantom mythology. They both help each other out with vigilante stuff. Danny's team (sam/tucker/val/jazz) visit often and are considered aunts/uncle to the batkids. Batfam is highly liminal because they are part of danny's fraid. They might even develop liminal powers, if that's your kind of headcanon.

Danny may or may not be ghost king, but i like the idea that he's the crown prince and wont be coronated for several more decades. He's got time and all the resources that position affords him. Danny still gets hounded by the observants, but the batkids have made a game of pranking the annoying eyeballs.

Danny is a founding member of the justice league and of jld (the rest of his team might be as well). Batman is much more knowledgeable of the supernatural because of danny. I like the idea of constantine being more terrified of phantom than batman. He still gets called on for advice because he's the demonology and magic expert, while danny specializes more in ghosts and Realms technology.

Ellie and dante are not allowed to join the vigilante scene until they turn 12 (they managed to argue it down from 14), but because of their powers (and potentially retaining memories and experience) there are numerous occasions before then that they functioned as a sort of vigilante retrevial unit - zooming out and retrieving anyone who was injured or otherwise hit their emergency beacon and bringing them straight back to the cave. They might have even done this once or twice during justice league emergencies.

I'll leave their vigilante identities open to discussion, but im partial toward a really old drawing i remember seeing here on tumblr, someone designed a pink batsuit for ellie with exaggerated bat ears, and a sort of glider cloak that attached to her belt or her wrists to disguise her flight as gliding. (If someone knows the post im talking about, please leave a link so the artist can be credited!)

As for danny's old team...

Jazz works at arkham, helping to reform the place and causing many of batman's rogues to reform a bit earlier. She is the expert called in by the justice league to formulate ways to both detain and to help various rogues globally. She especially likes the flash because of the friendly attitude he has towards his own rogues.

Sam is a humanitarian. If she has plant powers, she's using them to establish food stability in poorer nations, helping the people there become more self-sustaining, as well as providing relief for disaster-stricken areas whose farms need to be completely rebuilt and regrown. Jazz introduces her to poison ivy, and the two end up joined at the hip, helping to reform ivy much earlier. (Would it be weird to make this au have sam x ivy and jazz x harley?)

Valerie probably stays in Amity Park to be its designated hero since danny moved out. If the fentons are good, she works alongside them as the fentons also develop tech for the justice league. If they arent, im gonna assume theyre the reason dante and ellie got de-aged, danny absconded with their cores to keep them safe, and the rest of team phantom descended on the fenton parents like hungry wolves. When the dust settled, valerie and her dad were left in charge of protecting amity and with ownership of fentonworks.

Tucker is a freelance hacker slash tech expert, and will kit out any vigilante's tech and security free of charge. His unique blend of magitech is very difficult to counter, making it all-the-more sought after. He probably helped set oracle up and maybe even trained/mentored barb to some extent.

There are lots of other potential changes, but ill stop here.

[mondaymelon]

— 𝗵𝗶𝘀. ♥

໒꒱ || :feat~ diluc, venti, xiao, abyss!aether x gn!reader ໒꒱ || cw: this wasn't supposed to be yandere... but it morphed into one. (WAS SUPPOSED TO HAVE SOFT XIAO AND EVERYTHING... mb) ໒꒱ || ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ (open!) : @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @achlysis, @swivy123, @solxima

⤷ how they make you theirs. ♥

A heart-shaped box of chocolates and a fresh bouquet of red roses? There's no doubt it's DILUC who's left them on your doorstep.

It's not uncommon for the stoic man to find it difficult to express his emotions... and often, the redhead feels as if you aren't aware of how much he adores you.

Ah, but then again... his affection for you is much more intense than he'd like to admit, so perhaps it's for the better that you remain unaware.

That said, it can't hurt to leave a couple of gifts for you, right? Presents are a thing that are meant to make one happy, and whenever you're happy, so is he. Anything from sweets to flowers, possibly even a handful of jewels or a pendant... leaving them for you is the least he can do to make sure you know how loved you are.

Or perhaps... "love" isn't exactly the suitable word to describe the expanse of emotions he experiences whenever he sees you... after all, how could a mere four letters explain such a feeling that seemed to consume him, devour him whole?

But that aside, if you happen to confront him about the matter, softly thanking him with a faint tint to your cheeks... be careful, he might not be able to hold back his feelings any longer! As soon as you excuse yourself, Diluc mutters into the air, one gloved hand tentatively covering his mouth, his face flushed beyond belief.

"Ah, next time, should I gift you the severed hand of anyone who dares touch what is mine?" ♥

What should've been just one drink with VENTI has turned to two, to three, to...

It's almost laughable, how the drunken bard has practically attached himself to your arm, clinging to you what seems to be rather loosely - yet the moment you try to weasel out of his grasp, his arms tighten around yours.

You can see by his dazed expression and the way a drunken flush has descended across his face that he's far from sober... and you're quite sure that you aren't better off yourself. Sensing his gaze, you turn as the male begins to speak, his words hopelessly slurred together.

"Hey hey, why do you keep trying to... escape...?" He pouts as he leans closer to you, pressing his face against your arm. "I...I'm not that unbearable, am I?"

"Eh? No... it's just a little hot in here... and you're too close. Back up a bit, would you?"

"Don't wanna." Did he usually act like this, or was his current state just making him all the more clingy? You supposed it didn't really matter, but the room did seem quite warm, especially with how Venti's heat mixed with yours... oh, were you blushing? Was that what it was?

Perhaps that would explain the way there's this odd thumping in your ears... is that your heart's own rhythm? Ah, no, it must just be the alcohol taking its toll.

"Hehe," Venti's voice somehow rings crystal clear amidst your foggy senses. "You're quite cute when you're like this, you know~" Since when had you leaned into his arms? He speaks some more, but his next words are barely heard by your ears:

"It makes me want to lock you up so that only I will be able to lay eyes on you... a beautiful dove that is mine." ♥

There was something about you that seemed to draw XIAO in, a something that seemed to enrapture him.

And that fact, in and of itself, frustrated him. To feel so attached to something as fleeting as a mortal? Mortals, whose life could be vanquished like one blowing out a candle?

Ah, perhaps "frustrated" wasn't quite the word for it. After all, an angered someone wouldn't monitor your every move, would they? ...But he's doing this for your own good - at least, that's what he tells himself. Humans are fragile, more than anything, so he'll take the matter of your life into his hands and make sure you won't ever get hurt! He's truly being the benevolent adeptus, isn't he?

Oh, but now you seem worried, all of a sudden. You're trembling in his arms, weakly telling him about how you can always feel someone's gaze on you - how you're scared, how you... need him?

Fuck, he can't control the twisted smile that makes its way onto his face. You've admitted it, haven't you? You can't live without him.

And that's exactly what he wants.

To be beside you every waking second, to own your gaze, to own you... yes, he needs you as much as you need him.

As you curl up in his arms, basking in his quiet warmth as you slowly drift into sleep, his voice emits the quietest whispers.

"Don't worry, love. As long as I'm here, you won't ever need to worry about anyone. Your gaze, your attention... it's all mine." ♥

He had already traveled these lands once, and AETHER's once vibrant world had grown gray... except...

Oh, but then you appeared. An anomaly, but a welcome one nonetheless.

Yes, you were something stunning.

In this dead realm, you were alive. Alive in the way you looked at him and alive in the way your eyes seemed to light up at the sight of him. It's something that starts off small - that is, his feelings for you. For the time being, delightfully innocent. Yet those emotions would only begin to swallow him whole, to consume him, bind him into a pit of no escape.

When had these affections grown so dire?

Perhaps he had merely turned a blind eye. He is well aware of how his heart longs for you, how his mind has grown clouded with nothing but thoughts of you, how he wants you to be his, and his only... ah, but was that truly such a selfish thing to hope for? Surely not. After all, in such a place he resided in - where all would heed to his beck and call... surely he could have you, right?

"My prince, is something wrong? You've been acting distant all morning." You trail after him as he attends to his work, eyes full of concern.

He turns, slowly. "Why are you so hesitant to call me by my name?"

"Oh, but I could never..." You shake your head at the thought.

His eyes narrow as he takes two swift steps forward, grabbing your chin in his hand and forcing it upwards. "Then take it as an order. Say my name."

"...Aether."

It sounds so perfect on your tongue.

"Ah, that's it. Let my name grace your lips, and don't you dare let it go. After all, and I'll make sure of it... You're mine." ♥

(a/n) boo bitches im back &lt;;33

[ofloveandstardust]

A/N: I saw that Cain and Abel aren't like present in the show and I know they're technically Adam and Eve's kids, but let me have this please— I just wanna gush about this since it's been invading my mind.

cw: fem!reader (no pronouns, but reader is called wife/mama/mommy/mother)

Imagine: Being Adam's wife and having two sons with him.

I can definitely see him being excited over having sons. Like, hell yeah! But but but also— I have this feeling in my gut that he'd be okay with being a girl dad, sooo after having your sons he's just like "Wifey, Sugartits, Babycakes—" Any nickname under the sun until you finally ask him what he wants and he just says he wants a daughter.

You can't tell me he didn't name Abel— and 💀 It's even funnier since Abel does have a little more resemblance of his father than Cain does. Cain was named by you and looks more like you. However, you can say his attitude is similar to Adam's. I can see them both having Adam's eyes when thinking up of how they'd look, but I'm leaving things up in the air. Just for this, because I think it'd be neat, the boys are twins. Cain is the older twin while Abel is the younger one.

Cain is kind of a menace...but still a good kid. He always pulls that "Because I'm the oldest" card with Abel and if he ever whacked his brother and he started crying, Cain immediately does that thing where the sibling just panics and stops them from crying or else he's getting in trouble with mama and papa. He teases his younger brother, but will get upset if anyone tries to bully Abel. Oh, but the biggest menace he is towards? Adam. Cain doesn't hate his dad at all. No, he just prefers you more and lowkey is a mama's boy. Adam can have Mr. Perfect (Abel), but he at least has mama.

Then Adam just straight up has beef with his own son 💀 Because Cain takes up your time and he swears the little shit is taunting him when you're not looking. Cain comes up when you and Adam are kissing or anything like that, holding his hands up like, "I want Mama's kisses too... 🥺" You can't resist because that's your baby and he's so adorable. There's this stare down between Adam and Cain...meanwhile Abel, being the good bean that he is, waddles towards you all and goes, "Mama! Papa! Look what I drew! :D" and it's just a sweet little drawing of him, his brother, you and Adam.

Speaking of Abel, he's a good boi. Cain calls him Mr. Perfect sometimes because Abel has some natural talent. He's especially good with music, much to Adam's delight. Still, he looks up to his brother and despite Cain's jealousy, they do get along nicely. They have this little game where they're building their own city and decide over several elements of it. Abel somehow always brings sheep into the mix, but his brother isn't complaining.

Abel doesn't play favorites and says he loves you and Adam equally. He always wants to make sure the two of you are present at the same time when showing his accomplishments or what he's found. Speaking of which, he has special interests that last for a while until he moves on to another one or some just last a very long time. An example would be sheep, as mentioned before. He even has a lamb plushie (I can see him watching Lamb Chop's Play Along and loving the show). Cain knows how precious this little lamb is to Abel and will raise chaos if it ever gets lost or stolen (he calls the plush "The Chosen").

Here's a funny little thing: the boys not recognizing Adam in the mask he wears. From the day they were born, they always saw their father without his mask and have grown used to seeing his actual face. One day, they ask you where he was and you tell them it's work related but he'll be back to teach them some new songs. Just imagine Adam coming back, calling out that he's home, which cause the boys to rush up to him. Then they just stop because... "Mama, who's this stranger in our house!?" Abel literally starts crying— saying this isn't papa. Meanwhile Cain's mind immediately says violence is the answer (thanks, Adam). You have to calm both boys down and explain to them about the mask.

Flight lessons are stressful. It all started when Cain began jumping off of the furniture and escalated to him jumping off the bunk bed (because it'd be adorable for them to have bunk beds). So, it seems like it was time to show the boys how to use their wings. It's harder than it looks. Abel isn't okay with jumping off from anywhere unless Cain is going to jump with him. Fine with his brother because he enjoys doing this. Eventually, they're able to fly and it's a joy! They can fly around Heaven with you and Adam and it's absolutely adorable.

Cain and Abel have different ways to refer to you and Adam. Cain calls Adam 'dad' or 'papa' but does call him 'father' when he's upset or serious. Meanwhile, he calls you 'mama', 'mommy', or 'mom' (mom is more frequent when around others or strangers) and it's rare when he calls you mother. Abel just calls you two mama and papa. He'll only use mother and father if he's around people he doesn't know or meeting for the first time.

I have more thoughts about these little beans such as how they are around Lute (#1 and only Babysitter), Emily (Abel affectionately calls her Auntie Em), Sera and possibly Lucifer and Charlie (because you can't tell me Adam would not brag about having kids 💀). Like, I can see Cain being brutally honest when he first sees Lucifer because he's that type of kid. Will 100% make a comment about the man's height. There's also the fact that both boys are into music like their father. Abel once asked, "So if that's Queen, then who's the King?" when Adam tells them about Queen. Also, I can very much see Cain getting into gardening. If you want more of these then let me know!

[charliedawn]

Hey I was wondering how do you think the slashers would react if they're s/o was wearing a piece of their clothing or mask (for the masked ones)? Honestly I think if Michael found his s/o wearing (or even touching...) His mask that's a killable offense right there lmao.

Jason Voorhees:

Jason was asleep when you took his mask. When he woke up and didn't find it—he started panicking.

He made a mess out of his bedroom in a desperate attempt to find it and locked his door so that nobody could come in.

You frowned as you found the door locked and knocked on the door.

"Jason ? Are you alright ?"

He wasn't.

He hesitated to open the door, but you then slid his mask back to him through the door.

"I'm sorry. I just wanted to surprise you."

He understood what had happened and opened the door a little to look at you. You seemed genuinely sorry and he finally opened the door for you to come in.

Jason wears the mask for a reason. He is insecure to the extreme. It's the only way for him to hide himself and if it had been anyone else than you ?

...That person would have been dead and buried.

Brahms Heelshire:

Brahms actually woke up when you were looking at yourself in the mirror with his mask on.

He seemed stunned for a moment before he silently got out of bed to stand next to you.

Once you saw him in the mirror, you turned around. You were ready to apologize, but then saw the way he was looking at you.

He wasn't angry. Far from it. He just stared at you and smiled before slowly removing the mask from your face.

He then put it back on his and took a deep breath—as if smelling it. He then hummed appreciatively and wrapped his arms around you.

"...Brahms' mask smells good now." He whispered and held you closer.

…

Well—that backfired.

Vincent Sinclair:

Panic. Immediate and irreversible panic.

Unlike Brahms or Jason, Vince is deeply ashamed of his face. It isn't about being insecure or having a couple of scars. He is TERRIFIED of his own reflection.

Vincent used to be attached to Bo. Being twins at birth, it made him feel as if there was someone out there who understood him.

But, the mask is a mark of shame—the constant reminder that that connection is severed. And he feels ugly because of it. Because he was disfigured from the operation—while Bo wasn't.

They are different now, when there were supposed to be one and the same.

Plus, he’s only got one mask. It took time to make as he had to get Bo to agree to mould a mask with his face.

So, he would get mad. He would also be pretty physical about getting it back.

He COULD hurt you.

Do not steal his mask, unless you are absolutely sure and asked permission beforehand.

Michael Myers:

...You have a death wish. There is no other possible explanation.

Michael values his mask more than anything in this world.

He hides his face for a reason. It became a part of him over time and he HATES when people see his true face.

So, do not steal his mask.

But, I don’t think you’d be able to anyway.

Michael almost never takes it off and if anyone tried to take his mask away ? Wrists would get crushed. Just saying.

Freddy Krueger:

"If you take the hat, sweetheart…Be ready to face the consequences."

Freddy LOVES his hats (Yes. Plural. He’s got a full drawer of them in his room)

He counts them all before going to bed and when he saw that one of them was missing, he was ready to track the person down and draw blood.

But, when he understood you were the little thief, he smirked and simply closed the door behind him. He then sat down and grinned mischievously at you.

"Looks good on ya. But since you stole it…How about you offer me a show as compensation, hmm ?" *pats his lap and smirks*

Sleazy lil’ goblin to the end.

Pennywise:

If by some MIRACLE, you managed to get Pennywise’s gloves…He’d be furious. Pennywise hates touching people and his gloves are like a second skin to him.

Pennywise *appears behind you and screeches*: "GIVE THEM BACK THIS INSTANT, YOU STUPID HUMAN !"

Pennywise is usually pretty chill. So, for him to get really mad ? Yeah…No stealing the clown’s gloves. Never.

Bo Sinclair:

Bo's cap is his own way of hiding his insecurity. He has a scar at the back of his ear from the operation to separate him from Vince.

He doesn’t like people looking at it, so he wears that cap all the time.

One day, you decided to remove it while he was sleeping, and he grabbed your wrist before you could run away with it.

He then smirked and tutted playfully.

"Careful, darls. You take my cap, I take your life."

You knew he was only kidding, but there was also a little bit of a warning in his eyes.

He likes his cap. It’s the only thing he got left from his dad and his tolerance is zero. So, do not try to steal his cap, or ask first. He would allow you to wear it eventually, but still…Bo is not someone to be messed with.

[mcrslover]

MCR quotes for anyone who needs them:

"Kids would say they were going to kill themselves then they heard our music... it's our mission"

- Mikey Way.

...

"Reasons why mcr is good for you

juradsleigh:

Feeling like a rad vampire? Listen to bullets

Feeling angry? Listen to 3 cheers

Feeling sad? Listen to black parade

Feeling colourful and happy? Listen to danger days

Feeling like breaking up your band? Listen to death never stop you"

...

"This is for every kid out there... That dyed their hair a fucked up colour and can't get a job. They got a tattoo on their neck like Frank, and can't get a job. That does this because they fuckin' love this. This song is for every kid in the audience- even if you don't have fucked up hair or tattoos-every kid on stage, this song's about us, this song's about you, it's called The Kids From Yesterday."

- Gerard Way.

...

"Stop covering your children's eyes.

Everything is fucked up and pretending it's not won't make it any better. I'm tired of people praying for a change when it's up to them to get off their asses and make a change."

- Frank Iero.

...

"I spent most of my time in the back of the class, just drawing. My goal was to not get noticed in school, because spent so long not being noticed anyway or being treated as if I were invisible that I started to like it.

I've learned that it's actually not very lonely... It's like, you have less friends but the friends you have count more. I met a lot of people that weren't outsiders, or they were very popular, and they have a lot of friends but I don't know if they're the kinds of friends you would call up at 3 am to help you out or talk about being depressed."

- Gerard Way.

...

"Promise me, when MCR's gone, you'll do what it takes to survive. You're strong enough to do it without us."

- Gerard Way.

...

"All your quirks and all your problems, even your depressions, and your failures that's.. that's what makes you, you."

- Gerard Way.

...

"If you or someone you know is severely depressed you need to fucking talk to someone! Your mom, someone in school, I don't give a fuck! Because suicide is fucking bullshit."

- Gerard Way.

...

"Being happy doesn't mean that everything is perfect. It means that you've decided to look beyond the imperfections."

- Gerard Way.

...

"Nothing is worth hurting yourself over, nothing is worth taking your life over"

- Gerard Way.

...

"If we never play another show again, just keep yourself alive."

- Gerard Way.

...

"We're outsiders, we're the kids who didn't get dates for the prom, we're the kids who were confused, who didn't fit in with the cliques, who weren't part of the in-crowd.

Growing up can be a very frightening and confusing time, and I think people look at us and see it's okay to be different. They see that there is a way other than what they're being offered. That you can stand out, that you can be creative, that you can be yourself."

- Gerard Way.

...

"gerard-hey:

I love MCR so much it's like they have a song for every situation. Feeling sad? Listen to The Lights Behind Your Eyes. Feeling frustrated? Listen to I'm Not Okay. Feeling Energetic? Listen to Na Na Na. Feeling like you wanna kick some ass? Listen to Destroya.

Feeling rebellious? Listen to Teenagers. Feel like you wanna break up your band? Listen to Fake Your Death."

...

"The difference we want to make is, number one, to let these kids know that they're not alone, that they're actually not that messed up, and that they can do whatever they want they can express themselves in any way they want without being persecuted or called a faggot or some kind of racist thing. Really just get people to get over their stuff so they can live."

- Gerard Way.

...

"Whatever happens to you, no matter what, l'm always fucking there for you... Don't forget that. I don't give a shit if your boyfriend dumps you. If your girlfriend dumps you. If you're working a shitty job or can't get through school. If you can't get through a fucking Harry Potter book, there's nothing worth dying over. There's nothing worth taking your life over. I will always fucking be there."

- Gerard Way.

...

"If you come to an MCR show, you're probably a little fucked up, and that's okay because we're just as fucked up as you. It's us against the world. And it's great because there's thousands of us in one place."

- Gerard Way.

...

"Someone doesn't like you? Fuck it.

Having a bad day? Fuck it. Didn't get that job, or that grade, or that promotion you wanted? Fuck it. Fighting with your lover? Fuck it. Feel fat today? Fuck it. Losing control of everything and everyone? Fuck it.

What matters now won't matter soon; the truly important thing is that you are alive, and that you have the capacity to do absolutely anything with this beautiful, crazy coincidence of being on this earth. Just stick your middle fingers in the air and think, 'Damn, I have it good."

- Gerard Way.

...

"You're going to come across a lot of shitty bands, and a lot of shitty people. And if anyone of those people call your names because of what you look like, or bedause they don't accept you for who you are. I want you to look right at that mother fucker, stick up your middle finger and scream

"FUCK YOU!!"

- Gerard Way.

...

"Real revenge is making something of yourself."

- Gerard Way.

❤️🖤❤️🖤

[meo-eiru]

What's ur inspo for art? ur art style is so cute... any art advice?? Jajsjdkkaka, I understand if u wanna gatekeep 👁👁

I meant to answer this several days ago but couldn't find it in the sea of asks welp

Anyway as I mentioned before we don't gatekeep art related stuff in this household, artists help other artists.

Honestly it's hard to name an inspo but I do have artists I look up to a lot (this might be a bit long)

Kanisuke, you guys might be familiar with her, she's the artist of the upcoming yandere inside game Yandere Town. I know it's not out yet but I'm actually obsessed with this game and have even translated all the character intros (they are a bit old atp so there might be some mistakes) and actually if you see a Yandere Town related post high chance it's from me. Not only her art but I love her writing style as well.

Hakuri-sensei, their manga Sachi iro no One Room is definitely one of my biggest inspirations. I love the relationship between Sachi and her "captor" and it's the only manga I actually cried my eyes out while reading.

Tayu-sensei, all of their work for Yuugen Romantica (one of my fav drama cd series) are breathtaking and they've also developed even more since then, their current works are just so stunning and I love studying the way they draw hair

Shirahama-sensei, she👏is👏a👏queen👏 honestly I don't have much to say, go read Witch Hat Atelier it's an artistic masterpiece and a giant love letter to art itself

Furumi-sensei, another queen! She's the artist of my favorite Fate Grand Order character Ashiya Douman. I've even bough her art books before, honestly she is just so talented. I don't know what she was drinking when she came up with Douman but I need some of it

Usagi Routo-sense, another fgo artist AND JUST LOOK AT HOW INCREDIBLE THEY ARE AT USING COLORS LIKE??? HOW??? Their art is like cocain for my eyes I could look at them for hours

AU, one more fgo artist and oh my god guys this person right here is one of my biggest inspirations just look at their drawings. I'm not kidding I actually spent hours just inspecting how they shade outfits. I'd sacrifice my soul just to get a chance to watch them draw live

☝︎ FAN, an Ashiya Douman fanartist and god guys the comics they draw!!! They are the cause of some of my current biggest fetishes ngl

Oyo-sensei, an fgo artist and is also the main artist of 18trip. They have such a clean art style that's very pleasing to the eye. I especially love the reference sheets they draw.

Shibatora-sensei, she is the artist of my FAVORITE drama cd series Shinai naru Thanatos and my overall favorite yandere character from any fiction Seo Eito. Honestly if you know me irl probably the first thing you'd mention about me would be my chronic Shinai naru Thanatos addiction because based on what everyone says I start speaking about it within 2 weeks of meeting someone new.

ORKA, the artist of A Stepmother's Marchen. Anyone who knows that manhwa probably knows why she's on this list, her art has so much soul and passion in it, literally every single panel looks like a painting and it makes me want to cry just looking at it

82 Pigeon, an incredible incredible Korean artist, I think they also give art lessons? I really tried to get them but couldn't figure out how. They also have a youtube channel and I learn a lot just by watching their speedpaints

[kedreeva]

You're sort of one of the kindest people i know on tumblr, so. um. i had a question.

how do i deal with it all?

right of the bat i will tell you i am a minor and my parents are zionists, so i have no income of my own or anything i could donate. everytime i post a single fundraiser that reaches my inbox and is vetted, i get 4-5 new fundraising asks for palestine.

most of them are unvetted, but i keep thinking that if i can't donate i should at least have faith in people and reblog the fundraisers even if they're unvetted, possibly that they're actually new and need as much help we can give, however, there's a possibility they are scams, and i don't want to draw away the attention vetted fundraisers might get.

how do you decide where to help out and how to live with your decision?

I have a policy that when it comes to asks (or messages) that solicit money or other actions (like boosting posts) I don't respond to or even publish asks that come from anyone that has never spoken to me before that moment, and that's a policy that has been in place for many years now, and is unlikely to change largely because the majority of asks/messages that are requesting money or to visit a blog post/their blog/their website are scams (or more often several years ago, led to virus infections on your computer!). My blog is, as it has stated at the top for over ten years now, a personal blog, not a fundraising/signal boosting/vetting blog for spreading donations- there ARE blogs like that, and people can choose to interact with those blogs or not, but my blog isn't the place for it and that's a hard boundary I enforce for my own well being. Tumblr is my place to rest and recover, however I see fit to do that.

A random ask to my inbox asking for money, regardless of what it is for, is (in my view) equivalent to a cold call from a stranger soliciting money. It's not about faith in people, it's not about right or wrong, it's not about can or can't. This is my home, and I don't answer the phone to unknown numbers. I will help friends/family/people I know personally (or parasocially, if I like them or recognize them), obviously, but that's a bit of a different horse.

As for how I decide where to help out, if I have the ability (funds, spoons, time etc), I will seek out information on the best place to donate that can do the most with the money to help the person/people/cause that I want to help. It's the Food Pantry Equation: I could spend $5 on groceries at retail price to donate, and maybe get enough for 1 meal for 1 person (though in this fuckoff capitalist hellscape, I'm not sure $5 would even buy a whole meal), or I could give $5 directly to a Food Pantry organization, who buys in bulk and knows where to get stuff cheap, so that my $5 can help five people or ten people or whatever. I also do my best to participate in fandom events that raise money for good causes; stuff like the fanworks charity auction I helped run to donate to a wolf sanctuary, or stuff like Fandom Trumps Hate (another charity fanworks auction event). Those kind of events are generally open about where the donations go to, and have done research into organizations to ensure the gathered money goes to good charities.

Like with the above, however, it's different if I know the person. If my neighbor comes and asks for a cup of sugar or my friend needs help moving or whatever, I'm gonna give them what they need without the middleman because we have that relationship already established. Donating $5 to a food pantry would probably help more people by numbers, but helping my neighbors and friends and family etc builds community in a way giving $5 to a random stranger on the phone soliciting money cannot, and even in a way donating $5 (or $5 worth of food) to a Food Pantry cannot. It's also usually a matter of one and done, as well as semi-transactional the way any relationship is a give and take; I can give my neighbor some sugar, and down the road they can return the favor the next time I'm in need of help. I help my friends move and I know whether or not I ever move, myself, that they would do the same for me if they're able. You can't say this about a random ask on the Internet and you likely won't ever be able to say it for most charities unless you somehow end up in their exact area of expertise. So it's different.

I feel like you should also learn about Tim Wong, the guy who basically single-handedly repopulated the Pipevine Swallowtail butterfly out in California. The lesson his story can and should teach is that... sometimes it can do more good for the world to care Very Much about one specific thing, and put your heart and soul into it, than it does to spread a little bit of care over a lot of things.

So, I guess what I mean to say here is... don't feel guilty about what you cannot do. There's no guilt in that. When you are ready and able to help, you can always go and look for a good way to do so (and what you end up helping may not always be the thing you think it will be), but you don't need to feel pressured by telemarketers or charity donation calls from strangers while you're trying to eat dinner. Especially if they don't even know who you are, either.

[seresinhangmanjake]

The One I Want: Part 7

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x plus size!reader

Summary: You’re new in town and some guy named Jake is about to be your roommate. Being skeptical of new people keeps you lonely and uninterested in any entanglements, but Jake is desperate to change that.

Notes/Warnings: traumatic past, trust issues, cursing, very likely typos

Words: 3262

The One I Want Masterlist

Jake Seresin is a puzzle whose pieces, as you have come to see, are already slotted together. You learned tonight that a few of those pieces are worn from being picked at, but they don’t impede his ability to be complete. Jake is beautiful and smart with a well-built confidence and a certain quality that, with enough time, makes you want to open yourself up to him. Everything about him goes together. It all works. Those pieces make Jake the man he is, in all of his perfection. So being in his presence, you want to be who he wants you to be. You want to be just as put together. But you’re not sure you’re strong enough for that. 

“You can trust me,” he says, your hands still clasped together. You glance down at those hands, wondering when exactly he wove his fingers with yours. “I’ll share first if that’ll make it any easier.”

Eyes flicking up, you take in the intensity of the pair staring back at you—the depth within them, the swelling pupils that are pushing the green into a thin ring and drawing you in. They’re too honest, and it hits you like a ton of bricks.

Has anyone else ever looked at you this way? You think the closest instance you can recall involves the man you’d naively fallen in love with who lived in the first town you’d moved to on your own. But his look was a hidden lie discovered far too late. 

You suppose there was a fraction of Jake’s honesty in Millie’s eyes when she expressed her thoughts and told her story so openly. She would probably be willing to attempt understanding you if you offered it. 

You know you’re reaching, though. Trying to grasp at something that isn’t all there to prove that the way Jake is looking at you now is nothing unique. That it’s not special. That he doesn’t make your heart pound or your stomach flutter or cause a tingle to creep up your spine.

But when you consider telling him the truth of your history, you already sense the shame you’ve been living with for years preparing to double in force. And how can you allow that? You don’t need anything else weighing you down. You can’t possibly handle more. Certainly not from him. 

You tear your eyes away from his and aren’t shocked to find that that’s exactly what it feels like—a tear. A tearing that holds so much resistance you can practically hear the slow rip that severs the connection. 

“It’s not that easy,” you whisper.

“It can be,” he says, fingers tightening around yours. “You know how much I want to know you.”

The closing of your throat doesn’t allow you to swallow. An invisible hand is wrapped around your neck, blocking your oxygen, fogging your vision with unwanted tears. Your lip quivers all on its own.

Jake reaches out, lightly pressing his thumb to that lip as if he could stop its trembling. 

Then you shake your head and his thumb disappears. 

Standing, you try to step away, but his hand, still tangled with yours, stops you. You think he’s doing it on purpose, refusing to let you leave until he gets what he wants, but when you look at his face, it’s blank. His eyes stare ahead, the corners of his mouth are turned downward, and he doesn’t seem to feel you prying open his fingers to free your hand. 

His arm drops and slides into his lap, and you take that as a sign to retreat to your bedroom. 

You’re not quite through the door when you hear, “I wish you felt like you could trust me.” His voice is as defeated as his facial expression had shown. Low, dark, raspy. “Whatever it is, it's not going to change how I see you.”

You want to believe him so badly. So much so that, without any effort, you could let it consume you. But you can’t bet on his words. So you close your door the rest of the way. 

—

You’ve thought about him for a week straight, and each of those thoughts has scribbled their way into the notebook you’d sort of kind of—would deny it if anyone asked—stolen from the shop. 

But your little notes on Jake you don’t allow to blend with the chaotic notes of your past. He gets his own pages with words written in neater script. There’s not a single smudge of ink from your hand rubbing the paper in a rush to get your memories down before you forget some of their details. Not a single splotch of liquid black from a pen pressed too harshly onto the paper. No holes from that pen tracing the same words over and over in a fit of dampened anger. Like Jake, your notes on him are neat, and beautiful, and perfect in appearance. 

What they contain, however, is something different: bunches of sentences warring with one another as you try to decide what you’re going to do next. You live with him. You see him every day. You’ll have to interact, which means you’ll have to get over this hump. The only problem is that it may not be a hump Jake wants to get over.

In the months you’ve known him, you’ve never seen him the way he was that night last week. So much was crammed into a couple of hours and it provided you with a fresh image of him—not an image that changed, exactly, but simply an image that developed a new layer. And you liked having that layer of his visible, until it became clear that the spotlight was turning to you so you may develop another layer as well. 

Stepping out of that light meant plenty to you—you knew the message you were sending, even though you felt resistance from every part of you screaming to stay put—but it did more to Jake than you imagined, and that realization came in the form of Jake not speaking to over the past weeks worth of mornings, not smiling, not waiting for you so you could share breakfast. He’s gone before your alarm goes off. 

It only took you ten hours to notice the void that formed in your chest from missing him around you. After ten hours—most of which you spent trying to sleep—you felt awful in more ways than one. Not only were you exhausted and absorbing your dislike of his absence that first morning, but Jake, despite his hurt state, continues to take care of you. 

Those breakfasts he doesn’t wait around to share with you are still available, already made up on a plate with saran wrap keeping them safe in the fridge. The post-its he sticks to the coffee pot to inform you of said breakfasts never fail to have a small smiley face drawn in the corner. And to be fair, he does speak to you a little, but unless it seems to be a matter of life or death, which you haven’t been able to manage, his answers are clipped. Even then, it could be that those short answers are the best he can do for himself rather than anything he is doing for your benefit. With how much Jake talks in general, and with how lively you are used to seeing him, maybe he can’t be one-hundred percent silent no matter how much he wants to. 

Regardless of what it really is, the tension has grown thicker by the day.

These days are not ones you want to morph into routine. You can’t watch them settle and solidify when you crave him and what he adds to your new life to this degree. Which means you have to figure yourself out. Not all of you—that will take some time—but enough of you that you can approach Jake and take the chance to be honest with him. His offer to exchange stories shows that it is not just you who needs it, but Jake as well. 

That is what has prompted you to bring your notebook to work over the last seven days. And the more time you spend writing your notes, the more you release from your damaged soul, and the more good things about Jake start piling up. His faults are underwhelming and overshadowed, and all it confirms is that you want him back. So you decide that when he picks you up from work, something you never expected him to continue doing considering your current relationship, you’re going to break the silence by asking for another chance. 

—

When Rooster’s truck pulls up to the store, Millie is leaning halfway out the passenger side window, one hand waving your way, the other arm bracing her precarious position. A moment later, her elbow slips on the sill and she lurches forward with a sharp yelp. Looking past her, you can see Rooster reach over the center console and wrap his arm around her waist to pull her back to safety. 

“Babe, please,” he groans. “You’re stressing me out.”

She glances at him over her shoulder. “Oh, you hush. I’ve never fallen.”

“Yet,” he emphasizes. “I’d like it if my girlfriend stayed alive. I've got plans that involve you.”

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head, Darlin’. You know my hips will save me from making it all the way out the window.” 

Rooster only rolls his eyes in response before unwrapping his arm and giving her ass a light smack. 

Millie looks back at you, her grin wide and displaying a row of straight, white teeth. “Hey, honey. Workin’ hard or hardly workin’?”

“You can only work so hard here,” you say with a weak chuckle. “Where’s Jake? Is he okay?”

You want that answer as much as you don’t. You pray he’s fine and safe, but then it means the tension that hasn’t dwindled the slightest has finally become too much for him. Though you’d rather he avoid you than be injured or ill, it hurts no less. Right as you devise a plan to bring the two of you back together, he pulls further away.

“Oh, he’s um…” Millie bites her lip.

“Staying on base tonight,” Rooster says, leaning back to meet your eyes over Millie’s shoulder. “He went in to get some extra work done and thought it would be easier.”

If the lie weren’t so terribly obvious, Rooster’s face would’ve betrayed him. The man is not a master of deception. He can’t pull it off. You suppose that bodes well for Millie, if he would ever dare tell her an untruth. Not that you can imagine a situation where he would. 

Millie’s nerves wipe from her face at her boyfriend’s explanation, and you almost snort from how cute they are. They operate as their own little team, supporting and backing their partner up to keep the other from falling. Whether they succeed in their mission, like trying to convince you Jake is busy, is another thing. 

Your little red-headed friend transforms back into her giddy self. “Right, so he asked us to come get ya,” she says with a wink.

Now that, you do believe. Jake may not want to see you, but he wouldn’t leave you stranded. And as disappointing as it is to see Rooster’s truck instead of the one you perfer, you know it’s not enough to convince you to give up on your end goal. With your plan thwarted, you only gain more time to figure out exactly how you’re going to bring up what you want to tell Jake.

—

You’ve decided Sundays are the best days. Sundays are easy days. They are days set aside for relaxing, where you can spend twenty-four hours in your home with only a robe wrapped around your body and not be judged. Many stores are closed on Sundays, the gift shop included, and most people don’t work, Jake included. And Jake Seresin, though not the type to sit around, does allow himself the mornings of Sundays to be what he would normally consider lazy. 

When you first moved in, you didn’t love this habit of his. Knowing no one but him and knowing no place but the apartment meant you didn’t do anything or see anyone else. He had you locked in with him for at least three hours before he met his team at the gym, and he took those three hours very seriously. Most of their minutes he dedicated to being around ta you,lking to you, asking you questions—anything you did, he was there to do it with you. And while it once bugged you a bit, it eventually grew on you. He grew on you. You stopped caring about how he spent his Sunday mornings because your routine and his melded into a comfortable place, and you've had no intentions of disrupting that—until now. 

After forgoing sleep to spend the entire night thinking about Jake, you’re sure you look like hell when you step out of your room and into the living room where he sits. You didn’t think to check yourself in the mirror, and Jake doesn’t acknowledge you in favor of reading his book to confirm or deny your likely-ragged state. 

You don’t care how you look, though. 

You care about pushing yourself forward. 

“Jake?” 

His hum is dismissive, but you don’t hold it against him. You understand his feelings too well, and you accept them. When he was so vulnerable and raw—when he told you something he’d not told even his closest friends—you denied him the same courtesy, and that decision hurt him. He aches. You still see it on his face and in his movements. The way his fingers gripped the book and his shoulders tensed the moment you entered the room. How he pulled his bottom lip inward and trapped it between his teeth and has yet to let it go. 

He’s trying to hide the discomfort your presence causes, and he is doing so well that, as someone with plenty of experience, you’re almost proud. But the act unravels completely when you say, “I trust you.”

His head slowly rises. Then, closing the book and setting it aside, Jake stands from his spot on the couch, brow pinched as if he had not heard you correctly. “What did you say?”

“I trust you,” you repeat. 

One hand settles on his hip as the other goes through his hair. He squeezes his eyes shut in a two-second long blink as if trying to snap himself awake. Lips part, perhaps to say something, anything, but then they seal again. 

Before you lose your nerve, you inhale, exhale, and with a single nod, mutter to yourself a final, “I trust him.” 

Then you spew out everything you’ve kept inside—everything you’ve kept away from him. 

“My parents left me,” you say aloud for the very first time. You try to hold them back, but tears accompany that statement, gathering in the corners of your eyes. “Dad first, when I was nine. Mom when I was fourteen. They left and I don’t know where they are, and I don’t really care, but they disappeared and it…it messed me up. It left me lost, and I learned to let people hurt me because no one showed me anything else. I let people treat me however they want, which most often means attacking the insecure parts of me. I let them call me names and look at me in ways that strip me of my dignity, and I can’t stop it. I don’t stop them.

“When I can’t take it anymore, I leave wherever I am,” you say before pausing to catch your breath. 

Jake doesn’t take the opportunity to speak. He stands there, staring, listening, waiting for you to offer him more. 

“You weren’t that far off at the diner when you said I was trying to live in every beach town for two months before moving on to the next. They haven’t all been beach towns, but there have been many of them and I never stay for long,” you admit. “The minute I have the means, I go. I graduated high school by myself and left my hometown, fell in love with an asshole in the second town and left, got a job at a bar whose drunks found me an easy target, so I left again, and it’s been the same everywhere I’ve landed, again and again and again. People break me down so I find someplace new. You are—” You cut yourself off to reconsider your words, “This is my eleventh new place.” One of those tears breaks free to slide down your cheek. “And I don’t know how long I’m going to last here, but I already hate the thought of leaving.”

Done with your speech, you release a heavy breath.

When Jake looks away from you, it’s a bucket of ice water dumped over your head. Your heart crushes with the realization that you were right. Jake was wrong. Seeing you differently is not as difficult as you had hoped and he had promised. In fact, he doesn’t see you at all anymore because he won’t even give you a glance. You presented the reality that you are unloved and unwanted and explained exactly why that is, and now he has in his hand all of the reasons why others mistreat you, the ability to evaluate those reasons, and decide for himself if those reasons are valid. 

And in that moment, you know you are fucked. You’re about to be lost again. On your own, in the dark, with nothing to hold on to. Not that you didn’t anticipate this coming along eventually, but you would have liked to stick around a little longer. 

Through the blur of tears, you see Jake nod. That’s all. No words, no shift in facial expression; he nods to the floor rather than give you the respect of nodding to your face. He nods again, and then he looks up to meet your gaze. 

Jake’s hands fall from his hips, and in four strides he closes the space keeping you apart, cups your jaw in the heat of his palms, and plants his lips on yours. 

His kiss lands somewhere between hard and soft, between eager and restrained, between needy and downright desperate. And after adjusting to the shock he plunged you into, your mouth begins to move against his. 

Jake is warm, and cozy; he tastes like the one Splenda packet he puts in the oatmeal he occasionally has for breakfast, and it all makes your brain hum in a comfortable delight. You take from him all that he takes from you, and give to him all that he gives you, and in the process, accept that you truly want this and he wants this and that’s all that matters. You’re not working harder to please him than he is working to please you. You’re not thinking about what he will think when your lips separate. You’re not afraid of being a disappointment because were that the case, surely he would have released you by now. But he hasn’t released you. He holds on and pulls closer and doesn’t let go, not even when the kiss breaks.

Thumbs stroke your cheeks as your eyes slowly drag from his swollen lips to his nose to that mossy-green shade you’ve become attached to. There’s a hint of concern in his stare. But then you smile, so he smiles, and the concern fades. 

“Your turn,” you whisper.

---

tags: @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @oliviah-25 @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox @matisse556 @hardballoonlove @ssa-sadboi @lynnevanss @pono-pura-vida @tgmreader @amgluvsbooks @ravenhood2792 @djs8891 @shakespeareanwannabe @sailor-aviator @penguin876 @rogersbarnesxx @nani-kenobi @tgmavericklover @athenabarnes @emilyoflanternhill @wretchedmo @shanimallina87 @elite4cekalyma @buckysteveloki-me @shelbycillian @kissmethric3 @fox-bee926 @hangmandruigandmav @waltermis @fandom-life-12 @a-serene-place-to-be @bruher @cehenyne @tngrace @mamaskillerqueen @emma8895eb @benedictsvestcollection @blackwidownat2814 @himbos-on-ice @entertainmentgal8 @hookslove1592 @whoeverineedtobe @alwaysclassyeagle @chaytea06 @cherrycolas-things @turtle-in-a-tornado @have-a-nice-day-k @inkandarsenic @kidd3ath

[pinkrangermemes]

EPIC: The Musical

lyrics that absolutely fuck me up, feel free to change pronouns and such as needed

"A mission to kill someone's son, a foe who won't run, unlike anyone you have faced before."

"I'd rather bleed for you."

"This is the will of the gods."

"Don't make me do this."

"The blood on your hands is something you won't lose. All you can choose is whose."

"You're as old as he was when I left for war."

"How could I hurt you?"

"I'm just a man who's trying to go home."

"When does a man become a monster?"

"When does the reason become the blame?"

"Forgive me."

"We should try to find a way no one ends up dead."

"You can relax, my friend."

"Think of all that we have been through. We'll survive what we get into."

"This life is amazing when you greet it with open arms."

"I see in your face there is so much guilt inside your heart."

"Have you forgotten to turn off your heart? This is not you."

"Have you forgotten your purpose? Let me remind you."

"Don't forget that you're a warrior of a very special kind."

"Don't disappoint me."

"What gives you the right to deal a pain so deep?"

"Don't you know that pain you sow is pain you reap?"

"Your life now is in my hand."

"A trade, you see. Take from me like you took from me."

"You shall be the final man to die."

"It's just one life to take."

"When we kill him our journey's over."

"Captain?"

"You've hurt me enough."

"When I kill you, my pain is over."

"Mark my words now. This is not the end."

"Remember them."

"Who hurts you?"

"If nobody hurt you, be silent."

"He's still a threat until he's dead."

"Finish it."

"What good would killing do, when mercy is a skill more of this world could learn to use?"

"The blood we shed, it never dries."

"I am your darkest moment."

"I am the infamous _______!"

"This way, you won't disappoint me."

"This way, you won't waste my time."

"Unlike you, every time someone dies, I'm left to deal with the strain."

"I'll remind you, I saw you as a friend, but now we're done."

"This way, you won't plague my life."

"This way, you'll close the door and have your damn goodbye."

"Since you claim you're so much wiser, why's your life spent all alone?"

"You're alone!"

"This day, you sever your own head."

"This day, you lost it all. Consider this as my goodbye."

"Don't forget how dangerous the gods are."

"How much longer 'til your luck runs out?"

"You rely on wit, and people die on it."

"I still believe in goodness."

"Lead from the heart, and see what starts."

"And what will we do when it tears us apart?"

"You're like the brother I could never do without."

"How much longer 'til your strength takes leave?"

"I can't have you planting seeds of doubt."

"Keep your friends close and your enemies closer."

"Sometimes killing is a must."

"Friends turn into foes and rivalries."

"Never really know who you can trust."

"The end always justifies the means."

"So much has changed, but I'm the same."

"I'm left without a choice and without a doubt."

"Ruthlessness is mercy upon ourselves."

"You are the worst kind of good 'cause you're not even great."

"You are far too nice."

"Mercy has a price."

"Unlike you, I've got no mercy left to give."

"The line between naivete and hopefulness is almost invisible."

"What have you done?"

"I am your darkest moment, the monster that always draws near."

"Remember me."

"There's only so much left we can endure."

"Think of your past and your mistakes."

"No, I'm not a player. I'm a puppeteer."

"I can hardly sleep now, knowing everything we've done."

"It's a game of wits, but you don't have to play."

"A foe like ____ is not to be messed with."

"You could be hurt or you could beat her."

"I'll help you conquer her."

"Wouldn't you like your outcome preferred?"

"Don't thank me, friend, you very well may die."

"Did you do something to them?"

"I don't know who you are or why you're here, but let me make this one thing clear."

"I've got people to protect, friends I can't neglect, so now there is no turning back."

"Back at home my wife waits for me. She's my everything, my _____."

"Maybe showing one act of kindness leads to kinder souls down the road."

"This land confuses your mind."

"All I hear are screams every time I dare to close my eyes."

"I no longer dream, only nightmares of those who've died."

"Why would you let _____ live when ruthlessness is mercy?"

"I keep thinking of the infant from that night."

"____, when you come home, I'll be waiting."

"Even if you're the last thing I see, I'll be waiting."

"I took too long."

"I'll always love you."

"Your past is always close behind."

"I see a song of past romance."

"I see portrayals of betrayal and a brother's final stand."

"I see a man who gets to make it home alive, but it's no longer you."

"We've suffered and sailed through the toughest of Hells, now you tell us our efforts were nothing?"

"I see a wife with a man who is haunting. A man with a trail of bodies."

"How has everything been turned against us?"

"How did suffering become so endless?"

"Do I need to change?"

"What if I'm the monster?"

"What if I'm the problem that's been hiding all along?"

"If I became the monster, and threw that guilt away, would that make us stronger?"

"So what if I'm the monster lurking deep below?"

"If I gotta drop another infant from a wall in an instant so we all don't die, then I'll become the monster."

"I'll become the monster."

[writingforatwistedworld]

Requests are open?? May I request Lilia and Malleus from the self aware au with a player who is an artist and draws them a lot?

Self-aware au

I do not take any responsibility for you reading this no matter which age group you are from!

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, obsession, death, murder, hypocrisy, fire, coma, unhealthy relationship, possessive behavior

Malleus Draconia/Lilia Vanrouge-Player is an artist who draws them a lot

Doesn't matter what kind of style and form of art you practice, you have a fan

Classical? Great! Realism? Wonderful! Stick-man-style? He put the picture in a golden frame (All hail the stick-man style!)

But if Malleus were to ever find out that said stick man is supposed to be him, well he would be over the moon

It was a totally normal day, a cat was choking up a hairball and some poor student fell off of his broom in flying class and was now stuck in a tree

But that is of no importance to us

What is of importance though is Malleus strolling down the path down to Ramshackle and seeing you sit on the stairs with paper and other drawing utensils

Completely normal. Peaceful even. Maybe a bit too peaceful

You see, if you hadn't been too absorbed into rubbing colored pigments into dead wood then you would have seen the tall black wall approaching you

A shadow falls over your shoulder and you scream

Is that... him? Why is the Overseer draw-oh

Malleus is metaphorically (more or less. Meh, he is probably this close to doing it also literally) frothing from his mouth after seeing himself in more than just one paper after the small stack stabilizing the paper you drew on slipped from your hands

Forgetting his manners he rips the paper from the ground, staring with eyes wide as plates onto the thinly pressed wood (granny is somewhere shaking her head)

Why would the Overseer, watcher over worlds, almighty ruler of everything, a god, draw him?

Coughing nervously you explained that you just are interested in are and liked to draw him

Later when he is back in Diasomnia Lilia is greeted with the sight of a tail-wagging Malleus (yes Malleus has a tail and I have no idea how he hides it)

“Lilia, the Overseer likes to draw me.”-moments before calamity struck and Malleus accidentally lit the dorm aflame from sheer joy

But... perhaps you shouldn't draw anyone else

Who knows? Maybe that person disappears for a while and just to be found in a deep coma (don't do it)

Whoa whoa whoa darling, let us not jump at him from nowhere with the fact that you like to draw him

After all, he is quite old and we don't know what his poor heart can still take

Now how about you tell him about your interest in art fir- ah... From your expression I take that it is too late for that

Indeed it is

One day you were just sitting there in Ramshackle, T-posing or whatever you do when you are not drawing

Remember that scene when Lilia was introduced to us? Well “How do you do fellow kids” over here just popped out of thin air

Now, that would have been nothing special if it wasn't for the stack of paper with his face on it on the table...

Lilia is staring, you are staring and the gargoyles are facepalming

Poor man has to take a seat all whilst you watch him with cold sweat running down your back

Suddenly Lilia isn't that “always energetic” guy but looks a lot more vulnerable

In Lilias mind however he is planning how to burn that one portrait of himself in the Draconia castle and replace it with your art

Or so he thought until he looked what else you drew

For goodness sake, someone call an ambulance! I think he is about to pass out!

If the situation wasn't already awkward enough for you (and euphoric for him) Lilia suddenly kneels down, saying something about being honored and him swearing to be forever loyal to you

Oh sweet summer child, how easily you told him “Oh thanks...” If only you knew what would follow...

You see, Lilia might have had seen a few too many heads being severed from their bodies but, oh well, all those students were a teeny tiny bit too close to you for his comfort

Suddenly there is an increase in missing students who get found in... uh... “not compatible with life” conditions

See? It's dangerous outside! Let him watch over you!

Says the person responsible for everything

You had shown your appreciation through your art, now it's his turn to show his

And what if a few students need to get hurt? (Yeah, “hurt”)

[nu1lst4rs]

doodled human designs for a few neutral aus! (pt.1)

(click for better quality)

can you tell i lost motivation... thank you to chandr for doing the last 3's lineart for me. legit couldn't get freshs colours to fit with the rest. eugh. its the best you're going to get out of us for these guys.

Nightmares gang, star sanses, neu au pt.2, extras

COLOUR, CLASSIC, PAPYRUS, EPIC and ANY REQUESTS will be in the next neu au post 3_^ so please please request me to draw neutral peoples... gonna open general requests in a separate post.

some hcs under the cut!

warning for alot... i mean.. alot of text..

> Ccino (he/they)

indian... ccino... mbghbgb. MAINLY BECAUSE I WAS EATING GULAB JAMUNS AND I WAS LIKE "huh this reminds me of ccino."

trans masc! you should be more surprised if someone wasn't trans at this point

just for individuality, i feel like he'd have cat features. toe beans, tail, but no ears. personal preference.

hopeless romantic. wants to fall in love so bad, like so bad. but doesn't have anyone to fall in love with.

his AU is a neutral where the player killed all bosses. because of this, ink had offered them a pocket AU with just their cafè. ccino still visits their old au from time to time, but otherwise lives in the cafè.

one of the youngest AU's/sanses, only a few hundred years old

> error (he/they/xe)

spanish + colombian

as a divergence from classic, he maintains a similar body shape. also the fact he eats nothing but chocolate.

^ similarly, his eye is covered by a star glitch. xe never equates this to the fact they were geno, and just see it as some weird cool glitch.

rocks an alliance with both NM and dream, so wears both the stars pin and gangs patch. he always choses the side of who benefits him the most in that moment. neither of the groups are happy about it, but see error as too valuable to deny.

has arthritis and bad joints. his strings usually dig into his fingers, causing scaring and pain. (bsp related: he gets taught how to relieve these pains by nms gang because they all have chronic pains of some kind)

taking strings from his eyes is PAINFUL. its basically his unraveled code and magic combined, glitching and stuttering.

illiterate. he cannot read anything but code.

brother of ink. annoying brothers that HATE eachother. but love eachother at the same time.

> cross (they/he)

spanish. it fits him. and its relatively canon.

cross is indecisive. they've jumped between nightmares gang and the stars several times, easily being swayed. as of my AU right now, they're with the stars.

they're colourblind! their AU was monochrome, and thats how they see everything. everything is just a shade of purple. he's never told people about it, but most people catch onto ir.

autism. cross has horrible sensory issues, and gets overwhelmed easily. also bad at social queues.

THIS MAN IS THE DEFINITION OF DOG POETRY. they would go on pinterest daily and cry about it.

is a great artist. ink taught him the basics when they were stuck in the void, so they built on it. they're really self conscious about it, and keep their sketchbook locked away tightly. (in their bedside drawer)

> reaper (he/him)

egytpian. i feel like he'd embody their idea of dying.

bird claws. bird wings. everything bird.

seen as a parental figure to dream and nightmare because of his extensive knowledge of the universe and balance n all that.

(THE GAY FLAG WAS A MISTAKE) he's bi. and loves his wife. (life)

aroace spec! completely ace, and demiromantic.

sorry guys i dont have the best hcs for him 💔

> geno (he/they)

spanish + colombian

needs a portable oxygen tube to breath. he can live without it, but its really painful to not have it.

some parts of his body are decomposed, while others are held together through determination. practically constant agony.

same reasoning as error for body shape.

> fresh (they/it)

parasite. its ass doesn't have a race nor nationality.

not the hotest with a few sanses. dream and nightmare don't like someone demeanour not being affected in the slightest by the amount of pain and agony they're in. error hates how the code overlaps and glitches. and overall they're just a bit crazy.

wears either heelies or rollerskates. refuses to EVER walk anywhere, and always rolls.

i don't got much for him.

eugh. i am so sorry if the hcs are lazy, i am not good hcing with aus im not familiar with. if anyone wants to input please do! i'd love to learn about them. <3 anyways i am sleeping because i need to stop staying up till 4am..