#forever obsessed with how much she looks like how i draw her features

[lyriumsings]

Kataleya Fulminare Mercar

[sugume]

FAMILY AFFAIRS w/Jujutsu Kaisen

( TW ) stepcest, dark content, (step)daddy Nanami + Toji, (step)brothers Geto + Gojo, unprotected sex, riding, semi-public sex, cheating, Daddy kink, masturbation, breeding kink, baby trapping (Gojo’s), Gojo’s obsessed and kind of insane.  

Featuring: Geto Suguru, Nanami Kento, Toji Fushiguro, Gojo Satoru 

☾ GOJO SATORU 

“'Toru!” You scream as your stepbrother pounds into you from behind. You're holding into the edge of the hot tub as Satoru fucks you dumb. 

“Love this fuckin’ ass angel.” Satoru groans as he watches your ass recoil. He slaps your right cheek a few times before doing the same to the left. He looks back at your parents' house. It’s the middle of the night but he can’t help but wish that they’d wake up to your loud moans, that they’d come out screaming about how you too shouldn't be doing this.  

They knew better than to send Satoru away again. He would never leave you and if he had to sneak into his childhood home to fuck his girl--he would.  

“Louder Angel,” Satoru grips your hips and pounds into you harder. “Want everyone to hear you screaming and cumming onto my cock.” 

“Satoru! Love you s’much.” You slur, eyes rolling to the back of your head. Your arms give out as he continues to pound it you like there's no tomorrow, you fall on the edge of the hot tub, half of your body hangs out. Satoru doesn’t stop, too far gone. 

“M’gonna cum, gonna give you a baby, gonna make sure you’re never apart from me again!” Satoru pushes on your back. You grunt at the pain of being pushed into the hard, cold edge. 

“Gonna cum, gonna cum ‘Ro!” You scream into the night.  

“Come then baby, cum on your big brother’s cock while he fucks a baby into this sweet cunt.”  

☾ NANAMI KENTO 

“Quite sweetheart, mommy’s sleeping right behind me. Don’t wanna wake her up do you?” Your stepfather whispers in your ear as he pushes his thick cock into you. 

You have to hold a hand to your mouth to stop yourself from screaming. You shouldn't be doing this; all your mother has to do is wake up and look over her husband's shoulder to see her daughter being held down on his cock.  

“D-daddy.” You whisper, turning your head to look at him. He pushes the rest of his cock inside, stuffing you to the brim. You bite down on your bottom lip. 

“S’too much Daddy.” You cry out, Nanami covers your mouth with his in an attempt to get you to stop talking. It hardly works, you cry louder into his mouth as starts to move his cock in and out of you. 

“Feels s’good Daddy,” You moan into his mouth. “I love you.” 

“I love you too baby, but you gotta be quiet or else Daddy’s not gonna be able to fuck you anymore. He’s gonna be sent away and you’ll never see me again.” 

“No!” You choke. You didn't want your Daddy to be sent away. You wanted to stay with him forever. 

“Then be quite baby.” He grunts when you clench down hard around him.  He fucks you faster, stopping every few minutes when the bed starts to stake. You whine softly, closer and closer to cumming the more you think about your mother catching you. She’ll finally let Daddy be yours if she saw how much better you please him, all you would have to do is wake her up. 

But you don’t scream as Daddy fucks you to orgasm. You don’t moan when you feel him cumming deep inside you of and you don’t say a word when he tells you to go back to your own bed. Because you’re a good girl, and if Daddy said to be quiet, you’d be quiet. 

☾ GETO SUGURU 

“Sit up.” Your stepbrother whispers. You grab onto the driver's seat and stand best you can while also trying not to draw attention to your parents upfront.  

You were driving Suguru back to college, all his luggage and extra shit he was bringing were sitting in the other two seats, so you had no choice but to sit on your stepbrother's lap. You didn’t mind though. 

“Alright--sit back down.” Suguru grabs your hips and brings your down on his cock.  Your eyes widen and you gasp. Your thankful your parents like listening to the radio on full blast, you be mortified if they looked back to see you fucking the boy your supposed to call brother. 

“Fuck, you feel so fucking tight,” Suguru groans, grinding his hips into your ass. “Ride me baby, ride my fucking cock.” 

Still holding onto the driver's seat, you look down to make sure your skirt is covering you two before you arch up. Once you get to the tip of his cock you slide back down. “Sugu...” You moan at the feeling of being stretched.  

“Shush y/n, don’t want mommy and daddy to turn around and see you bouncing on your big brother's cock, do you?” Suguru whispers in your ear as he brings you back down on his cock. Your legs start to shake. 

You gasp and grind harder onto is cock before repeating the same movement. After a minute, your legs start to cramp from position you’re in. You fall back onto Suguru chest.  

“C’mon be a good girl and bounce on my cock—what you’re already tired after a few thrust—do I have to do everything?” Suguru grabs your hips and slams you up and down the entire length of his cock. You bite the inside of your cheeks, trying your hardest to keep the moans in. 

“Since you’re making big brother do everything, m’gonna cum in your cunt—no I don’t care about that—than take plan B when you get home!” 

☾ TOJI FUSHIGURO 

"How bad do you want it baby?” Toji watches from his place on the toilet as you trail your fingers down you to your pretty pussy 

“S’bad daddy, want you s’bad!” You whimper, bringing your other hand up to your slippery tits. You squeeze your nipples as you watch you stepdad fists his cock. You slip a finger into your pussy. It’s nothing compared to his bigger ones. 

“Look me in the eye and tell me what you’ve done to deserve it.” He grunts, spreading his thick, hairy thighs further apart. He reaches down with his free hand to play with his balls. 

“I’m a good girl, I always do what you say—please Daddy, I need you,” You whine, tearing up when he just leans back to stare at you with a bored expression. “Please, Daddy.” You whimper, staring at him with big doe eye. You sniffle. 

“Don’t fuckin’ cry, baby,” Toji sighs, he hates seeing his little girl cry. Toji stands and walks into the shower. He picks you just and you throw your arms around his neck “Hate makin’ my baby cry.” He grabs his cock and pushes the tip in. You whimper in her neck as he pushes you down. 

“Daddy.” You whimper in his neck.  

“Daddy’s gonna make you feel better baby.” He kisses your cheek. 

“Yea?” You whisper grabbing his jaw and kissing him on the stubble. 

“Yea, Daddy's gonna make you feel better—just want my baby to stop cryin'.” 

[the-main-daine]

Life Series Character Renders:

Featuring Martyn, Mumbo and Pearl

(I actually have quite a lot to say about two of these this time.)

Martyn:

Human.... ish. Hear me out on this one:

So Martyn has this fascinating background lore to the Life Series called Watcher/Eyes and Ears Lore. I'm quietly obsessed with this.

I love watching his lore streams after every series, and have come up with a few theories on my own: His thumbnails are always fully illustrated, so his character has a canon 'look' for every season, which I think is just, deeply cool.

But in his lore, there's also this space between SMPs, where the Watchers kind of... hold people until they can be used again. And since Martyn is the protagonist of the very cool story he's writing, I got it in my head that in this space between, Martyn isn't QUITE human. Maybe he was at one point.

Maybe he never was, I don't know.

But alongside all the cracks and stuff that have started to show up on his body; there's seams along the joints, and light shining within, as he starts to become more befitting as a vessel.

A vessel for what? No idea. I probably won't be drawing all those seams in any fanart comics of the series themselves - I imagine they get covered up when he's sent out into the world to interact with others in various SMPs - but I thought the idea was too cool not to draw at least once.

As a past winner, he gets his crown, and the burning eye of Mars by his name.

Mumbo:

Vampire Mumbo!

I know he doesn't have the grey streak in his life series skin but I love it too much I'm keeping it forever.

It makes him look so much more threatening and serious than he is.

Poor Mumbo. I was really rooting for you buddy. Better luck next series!

At least he still does damage with those End Crystals.

Pearl:

A lunar moth

As a winner, she gets her crown, and she gets her moon.

I'm not going to lie I want that lunar moth hoodie more than anything.

I had a lot of fun with Pearl: Her skin design is so simple (Well, maybe not this season, but usually) that it leaves so much room to interpret it. She's always going around with dogs, making her wolfish would've been really easy, but I think Moth suits her more.

There's a lot of mythology with moths being a little off kilter, mad, or leading people to madness that I think fits with Pearl's tendency to be a little bit of a loose canon, wild and unpredictable. Like a moth's flight patterns.

Red Hood Pearl had to put in an appearance here, especially with how it's sort of creeping to overtake her in Wild Life this season, and she just gets so earnestly threatening when she's on a red life despite still being all smiles and all laughs.

Unlike Gem or Cleo, I think there's an edge to Pearlie Pop on red that just reminds me of a horror monster, in the best, best, best way.

I haven't figured out heights but she's also the tallest.

[nausicaamusiclover20]

Can you please write James x pregnant reader? Like she’s showing pretty obviously, 6 months of something and although everyone tells her she got the “glow” she’s very insecure about her body and is worried he won’t find her sexually attractive. But James confessed that is obsessed with her body because of the baby, he just didn’t want to push her. Praise kink? Pregnancy kink? James telling her that he’ll keep her pregnant all the time, because she’s never been hotter ???

Awww, I love this type of request. I hope you like it❤

Sweet obsession

I gazed at my reflection in the mirror, tracing a hesitant hand over my rounded belly. At six months pregnant, I felt like a stranger in my own skin. My body had changed so much, each curve and softening edge a constant reminder of the new life growing inside me. Everyone kept saying I had the “glow,” but all I saw were the new insecurities blooming like wildflowers in my mind. I worried if James still found me attractive, if he could see the woman he fell in love with beneath the surface of my growing belly.

Just then, I heard footsteps behind me and turned to see James standing in the doorway, his presence filling the room with a comforting warmth. A slow, affectionate smile spread across his face, his eyes sparkling with love and admiration. “Hey, beautiful,” he said softly, his voice a soothing balm to my worries. As he crossed the room, I noticed how he seemed to radiate confidence and strength, an energy that always put me at ease.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked, taking my hand and squeezing it gently. There was concern etched into his features, and I could tell he sensed my unease.

I bit my lip, hesitating as I looked down at my belly, feeling the weight of my worries. “I… I just don’t feel like myself,” I finally admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. “I know people say I’m glowing, but sometimes… I worry you might not see me the same way. Not now.”

His laughter was soft, laced with disbelief, as he stepped closer, his hands lifting to cradle my face. “Oh, sweetheart… do you really think I wouldn’t find you attractive?” His words felt like a gentle caress, and I felt my breath hitch as he tilted my chin to look into his eyes. They were so full of love, warmth radiating from them like sunlight breaking through clouds. “How could you not see it?” he murmured, brushing his thumb lightly over my cheek, sending a shiver down my spine.

His gaze dropped to my belly, and he moved his hand down to rest over the curve. “You’re everything to me, love. Right here, carrying our child, you’re more beautiful than ever. I’m obsessed with you… with every single inch,” he confessed, his voice thick with emotion.

I felt heat rising in my cheeks, and before I could respond, he leaned down and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to my lips. The kiss was warm and inviting, igniting a spark deep within me. I melted against him, feeling the tension in my body dissolve with every gentle touch. His hand moved over the swell of my belly, fingers gliding reverently as if he were tracing the outline of our future together.

“You’re carrying our love, and that’s a beauty that can’t be matched,” he whispered, his breath warm against my skin. He kept his hands at my waist, drawing me close but maintaining a respectful distance. I could feel his heart beating steadily, matching the rhythm of my own as he gazed at me, his eyes reflecting an endless affection.

“If I could keep you like this forever, carrying our baby, full of us, I would,” he said, his voice low and laced with desire. “I’d keep you pregnant all the time if it meant I got to see you like this—so stunning, so entirely ours.”

A shiver ran through me at his words, every insecurity falling away, replaced by warmth and affection. His hands roamed over my body, exploring the changes with a reverence that left me breathless. He brushed his fingers over my belly, and the tender, possessive way he held me made my heart race.

“Every curve, every change… I wouldn’t trade a single one,” he murmured, his lips trailing soft kisses along my jawline, then down to my neck. The sensations flooded me, igniting a fire in my core, and I leaned into him, craving more of his touch. His kisses sent tingling warmth through my body, and I found myself yearning for more than just his words; I wanted his love in every possible way.

“And I mean it,” he whispered against my lips, his voice deepening with desire. “If I had it my way, I’d keep you like this, carrying our family, for as long as you’d let me. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, and I’d give anything to see you like this again and again.”

A thrill coursed through me at his confession, and I felt a smile breaking free on my lips. “You really think I’m beautiful?” I asked softly, searching his eyes for affirmation.

“Absolutely,” he replied without hesitation, his voice steady. “You have no idea how gorgeous you are, especially now. You’re like a goddess, and this baby? It just makes you shine even brighter.”

His sincerity ignited a warmth within me, and I felt a smile breaking free on my lips. “You’re really not just saying that to make me feel better?”

He shook his head, his expression earnest and filled with desire. “No, I mean it. You’re perfect to me, and I want to remind you of that every day. Seeing you like this, it drives me wild. The thought of you carrying our child—there’s nothing more beautiful in the world.”

A thrill of excitement coursed through me at his words, and I found myself pulling him closer, my hands tangling in his hair as I leaned up to capture his lips in another kiss. This one was filled with urgency and passion, a declaration of everything I felt for him. As our mouths moved together, I felt the heat between us grow, a magnetic pull that drew us together.

James deepened the kiss, his hands gripping my waist gently, pulling me close but still mindful of my pregnant belly. I could feel his heart racing, matching mine, and it fueled my desire further. “You’re incredible,” he breathed between kisses, his lips moving down to my neck, planting soft kisses along my collarbone.

I closed my eyes, surrendering to the sensations washing over me, the way his touch ignited every nerve ending in my body. “James…” I gasped softly, my fingers digging into his shoulders as I leaned back, offering him better access.

“Just feel this, love,” he murmured, his hands trailing over the swell of my belly again, his touch reverent. “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted. You’re my world, and I want to explore every part of you.”

With that, he kissed me again, his lips moving with a fervor that sent a thrill through me. My body responded instinctively, every touch igniting a fire that spread through my veins. I pulled him closer, feeling the warmth of his body against mine, and whispered, “I want that too.”

He pulled back slightly, his eyes searching mine for confirmation. “You’re sure?” he asked, his voice low and filled with desire. “Because I want to take my time with you. I want to savor every moment.”

“More than anything,” I replied, feeling emboldened by his love and the connection we shared.

“Then let’s take this slow,” he said, a playful smile gracing his lips. “I want to kiss every inch of you and remind you how beautiful you are. No rush. Just us.”

I felt a wave of relief wash over me at his gentle insistence, knowing that he respected my boundaries while also wanting to express his love. “I really appreciate that, James,” I said, a smile softening my features.

“You deserve to feel adored,” he replied, brushing my hair back from my face. “And I’ll never let you forget it.”

With that, he leaned in and captured my lips in a soft, lingering kiss. It was tender and full of promise, igniting a warmth deep within me that made me feel cherished and desired. I melted into him, my heart swelling as we shared this beautiful moment together, just the two of us and the love we were nurturing.

[svampira]

For Brooklyn and Elias, n.35, what inspired you to create them?

(Asking bc their designs are literally so cool. I would love some insight on that cause I am OBSESSED)

ask game (🥺)

Hiii ty for the question

This is interesting because out of all my ocs they're the ones where I'm less sure about where my inspo came from🤔 especially when it comes to Elias he very much developed as my art improved 👇 here's his earliest design (tw old art...)

By drawing him over and over and using blueish tints over my art all the time he got pinker and pinker and he ended up getting a design that's a little more sleek and cohesive. My main inspos for him were the vtmb toreador fledgling (because he used to be my toreador pc until i decided i liked him being a fledgling too much and changed it so he's the childe of the og toreador fledgling) and with time i ended up getting more and more inspired by other media, for example mahito from jjk, someone's nsfw oc that will go unnamed lmfao, and i started referencing irl people when drawing him to get a feel for proportions and to make his design more consistent. My main inspo is fernando lindez (though they rarely end up looking very alike) and what I try to replicate in Elias are his eye shape and his general facial proportions, i like how all of his features are close together in a way that feels kind of feminine and pretty.

When it comes to Brooklyn instead my inspos are more clear though her design kind of came naturally with me just messing around while practising how to paint darker skin tones. She is also a vtmb fledgling redesign (this time the malkavian one) and one of their clan stereotypes is that they usually get heterochromia. I didn't like the idea of just giving her different eye colors (though that's what ended up happening LMAO) and i looked into like. Pretty pictures of eye trauma😭 examples down here nothing graphic imo

This is not exactly what i had in mind at the time but it's similar so. Just kind of randomly evolved into her whole eye being white as i messed up painting. When it comes to her general design I wanted an excuse to draw lots of fun hairstyles without going against vtm canon (vampires are stuck w the same appearance forever) and whenever I design characters i like to steer kind of minimalistic, so i often end up with making the eyes and hair the same colours because I dont want them to get too busy or overwhelming. I can't even point out specific inspos for her because it's just a very common trope (tempest, yue from atla, 5000 different ocs) but when it comes to irl influences i was inspired by Anok Yai because I'd seen her in an interview and fell in love with her + a lot of other dark skin black super models. That's the main thing with brooklyn she has to give supermodel and very put together which kind of contrasts with her personality being. Completely unhinged. Anyways I don't really reference her much anymore because Brooke's features just kind of fit very nicely with my same face syndrome but here's Anok Yai for fun ^^

[cidbillie]

i'm posting this stupid video just for posterity. i didn't make this, but my character, sids, is featured in it. she was my persona and a parody of myself. my real name is cid. i kindly ask that no one ever call me "sids" again.

the read-more is going to be long. i just want to finally put my story out there, even if it doesn't go anywhere.

my friend lionessjenna or nenna / jennabee made it. it was very popular at the time it was made. if you were wondering what happened to lionessjenna, last i heard about her she was making money off of drawing anime cp. sorry to everyone who idolized her at the time. i don't know what she's doing now or if she's changed. i can only say i recommend not looking into her.

we all made fun videos like this with our characters and developed a following. my character sids in particular became a fan favorite and she was usually the butt of the jokes we made. i was 14 when we began making stuff together. 4chan would inevitably find this video and also developed an obsession for sids. they made sids the "queen of /jp/" for a time and drew a bunch of p*rn of her. they drew a bunch of p*rn... of me, essentially. when i was 16. you can still find it, too. the p*rn... i wouldn't mind if that was gone forever. i will not be saving it for posterity. lol

then they doxxed me, made fake accounts pretending to be me, and both of my friends featured in this video would leave me to date those abusers. i never realized at the time how deeply this would hurt me.

and for the record, i don't talk to the third girl, and i won't mention her by name, but i still love her with all my heart. she was a positive force in my life, despite everything. on my old tumblr, i think i still follow her. nenna (this is what people called her at the time) however was 7 years older than the both of us, and put us both in a very dangerous situation with this video. then she went on to draw cp. i'm mentioning her if only to warn people about the dangers about being friends with adults online, and idolizing random people online.

i will say this, though. we were all traumatized kids, and the internet put too much power in our hands. i forgive both of them, and i hope they're both doing well. it's been probably over ten years since i last heard anything regarding nenna, and i'm not friends with anyone anymore who would still be in that friend circle. nenna, i know i aired out your dirty laundry, but i only did so under your old username. i have no intent of finding who you are now and bringing it all to light. i'm only posting this video as a way for me to heal from it and move on. (and ftr if you find anyone under a similar name, that still may not be her. it's been a really long time. please just leave nenna alone. i want to assume she's doing better)

i deleted everything because of this video. i didn't want to be known anymore.

but now i do. i want to be known for me and not just a parody of myself. i'm trying to create again, and i have a story i want to write that i have been working on based on my experiences growing up as a very-micro-celebrity online. i feel like i'm overstating my "success" at the time, but that was kind of what it felt like to me.

but it's hard, you know? revisiting trauma is never easy. but because of this video, i lost my drive to create. i lost so many things i cared about. i lost the ability to be myself. you can probably assume considering i spent my childhood online that i didn't have a great home life either. i won't get into that.

i revisted this video because someone on youtube was kind enough to repost it after all three of us inevitably deleted our accounts, and i've been recounting my trauma in therapy. the comments all ask where weve been off to. most of them only mention jenna, because while i took a step away from the limelight after the doxxing, she continued to make videos after the /jp/ raid and gained a huge following with a bunch of big original youtube animators at the time.

i want to say i was never a perfect person, and when you live your entire childhood on the internet, your mistakes never really go away. i don't think i ever did anything atrocious or evil, but i still had my problems, and i'm sure there are plenty of people that are still out in the world who would be glad to share.

but right now, this is a plea for help, i suppose. a plea for peace. i just want to move on. i've become recently disabled, and i was forced to leave my career because i can't walk. because of this and therapy, i've been trying to make a return to creating. i loved creating. it still makes me happy to see people comment on old videos asking where i am today. i never respond to them, but knowing i haven't been forgotten is what's giving me the strength right now to type all of this.

it's very likely no one will see this post. it's very likely this will be buried in the ocean of posts that make up the entire internet. but right now it feels like deadweight in my lifeboat, and i need to get it out.

"why post this video if you don't want to known for it?" and the answer to that is... i don't know. there are a lot of internet events that happened in my life where someone else got to write the story behind it. i guess i just wanted to write mine. i wanted it out there. i wanted to be known.

[stepswowdsen]

Magi and KHR: Rambles

2024

2022

【マギ】 漢服（ハンフ）を着るジュダル

【Magi】 Judar wearing hanfu 🖤❤️🐈‍⬛

マギ15周年おめでとう～！！💗🫶

Happy 15th anniversary to Magi~!! 💗🫶

Rambles

I started the sketch as Kuroha actually (It doesn't help that they have similar~ish hairstyles and expression vibes LMAO), but then the eyes looked more like Judar cuz of the rings, so I changed it to Judar

This bangs ngl~~

Also I'm glad I improved a LOT from 2022 omg

I'll refine later and make this less scribbly when I post this on main

I looove the expressions and eyes in this one hehe

KHR and Magi's Anniversary

In terms of characters, story, writing quality, themes, and art, Magi is my favourite manga ever. For me, KHR and Magi forever hold a special place in my heart as my forever no. 1 favourite series.

Happy 20th anniversary to KHR~~!! 💗🫶

Lots of series are celebrating its anniversary this year. DGM's 20th Anniversary is also this year!

I might as well make this a KHR + Magi ramble post then~~

I'd say both KHR and Magi are very important to me because KHR was the reason why I started drawing (almost) every day in the first place and Amano's style was the foundation/main inspiration for my art style... And it still shows in my art style. While Magi is the manga I fell in love with for its story, art, writing, and characters.

I expect DunMeshi to join that list and become very important to me!

How I got into KHR

One of the craziest things is knowing that some of my mutuals/friends found out about KHR cuz of me because of how niche it is

Katekyo Hitman Reborn (KHR) is a shounen that starts off as a slice of life that eventually turns into a battle shounen.

KHR is still SUPER popular in EA fandom spaces (niche popular) and considered a shounen classic, but it's WAY more niche in EN speaking fandoms. Its popularity peaked during the anime's run from 2006 - 2010. The manga ran from 2004 to 2012.

I first found out about KHR cuz of my older cousin who had it as one of her fave animes… I was curious about it cuz she had a KHR Ani Future arc wallscroll and she started talking to me about it cuz she loved GokuTsuna.

I immediately became obsessed with Hibari ☺️ I don't think I'd EVER been obsessed with a chara like that up until that point. I was 11.

Hibari is very important and personal to me as my first no. 1 fave ever, but I don't talk about him as much cuz I focus on the XanLena ship

I was 11 when I first watched KHR (I started binge reading the KHR manga at the same time while watching the anime during the Varia arc)

And when Hibari became my first big fave I was obsessed with I started drawing like every day cuz of KHR and the HibaLena ship

Amano's art improvement in KHR

(Featuring my top 3 meow meow mf faves: Hibari, Mukuro, Xanxus)

TYL = 10 Years Later (Future arc versions)

Hibari and Xanxus are my tied no. 1 fave KHR characters, and Mukuro is in 2nd place. The rest of my faves are mainly Varia and Vongola characters

Amano's art improvement is insane. She has really gorgeous inking and detailed clothing folds, hair, and accessories. I love her shiny looking inking sm

KHR and Amano's art style was the foundation for my art style and it shows in the way I draw the face and eyes for masc charas even now (sharper facial features & eyes)

Like, I first started drawing cuz of Beyblade Metal (LMAO) 😭 but KHR was what jumpstarted me to start drawing almost everyday.

In 2016, I did a reread of the KHR manga (Battle of the Rainbow arc), and that's when Xanxus became one of my top fave KHR charas.

Source: KHR: Vol. 39 Cover of Xanxus, and BIKOSi @ Neka (Chinese version of Picrew)

That is when I first created the KHR: Varia AU, where Selena (my KHR OC), joins the Varia (the Vongola Family's independent assassination squad, led by Xanxus), as one of their assassins.

Coming up with AUs became my specialty and I was really falling for the concept of Selena being around the Varia, a chaotic dysfunctional found family.

I think XanLena has the most interesting tension so it's my personal fave Selena ship (though ofc I still love 5YL+ HibaLena)

The only thing that's surprising is that Xanxus wasn't one of my top faves prior to my 2016 reread of KHR 😭 He is SUCH a Sen-core meow meow mf…

Xanxus' role as a major arc antagonist, his character context, and his character's emotional tragedy makes him super interesting.

But I've always liked him as a chara. I'm glad my tastes evolved sm over the years~ I have all sorts of meow meow mfs who're all varied in their designs & charas🫡

The constant with my main masc faves is that they're all Meow meow mfs. And if not that then some other Sen-core trope

Happy 8th year anniversary to XanLena ❤️💜

I need to draw more of them btw. I first created my KHR: Varia AU (*) and the XanLena ship in 2016~~

(*) = My lighthearted slice of life AU where Selena joins the Varia as one of their assassins and eventually becomes Xanxus' S/O

I really need to refine these... I started drawing the Selena one recently so I need to refine the rest

I'm planning on redrawing the last Xanxus one

[r-f-m-writes]

OMG I'm so excited you have a tumblr with asks!

I found you on Ao3 via pretty dead animals and I have been completely obsessed, I literaly scream every time you update XD

Its the best original work i've read in a year, the OW space on archive has been so dead lately its so good to see writing that isn't complete shit lol

You're super talented and i'm so looking forward to all your new works

back to what I came here to ask, do you have any fan casts for Linette and Logan? Like any actors who you would want to play them or models you think look like them ect

I love Linette so much i want to put a face to her!

Hi!

Thank you so much for your kind words. I am thrilled you have enjoyed Pretty, Dead Animals so much!

I can't speak to the state of the Original Work pool on Ao3 as I have only been using it for about a year and, prior to uploading my own works, had never been in any fandoms or had any reason to go on the site.

I have to confess I used to be a real "published books are the only real books" author snob.

The positive reception to PDA has been overwhelming, I am so grateful to everyone who has left Kudos and Comments and Bookmarked my work! It really means the world, so thank you from the bottom of my heart.

To answer your Ask about the appearances of Lin and Logan, I've attached some images to help you visualize the pair. Obviously these aren't exactly how I imagine them in my head, but they're close enough that I feel comfortable prescribing them to my readers, lets say as 'lookalikes'.

For Logan, I've chosen American actor David Corenswet. He's objectively very handsome, but there's something extremely off-putting about his face that makes me immediately uneasy, it's almost uncanny in it's effect.

Nothing against the guy, it really isn't his fault he has a face that looks like you asked an artist to draw Henry Cavill from (foggy) memory, lmafo.

In the case of Linette, I'm referencing an Australian model named Samantha Harris. She's beyond striking and has features that make me think of Mother Earth, like something that has lived for thousands of years and will go on living long after the end of existence. She's so perfect it almost makes her painful to look at, there isn't a single aspect of her face that doesn't catch your attention which is exactly the sort of appearance I visualized Linette to have.

There has to be a reason Logan sees her and instantly becomes obsessed. I personally can't subscribe to the "she was plain to the point of being lowkey-ugly but this super hot ripped dude was just SO into her" thing that some dark romance authors like to lean towards, it's just too unrealistic and always takes me out of the story.

Additionally, I felt like it was important that Linette be significantly more attractive than Logan (again, no offense David Corenswet) because there had to be a part of her that was objectively out of his reach otherwise his resorting to kidnapping her wouldn't make much sense; why not just go up and ask her out for coffee like a normal person? Logan had to feel some huge insecurity in order to take the course of action that he does, him being much less attractive than Linette seemed like a believable catalyst for me.

Please drop any more asks you have straight into my inbox, this is such a fun topic for me - I could talk about these two forever!

Thanks for your ask,

~P

[rainieclown]

DEADLY OBSESSION

michael myers x reader - chapter one: new neighbours

you've been in the haddonfield memorial hospital for what felt like forever with ptsd from a robbery gone wrong when a new patient gets thrown in next to you. he's quiet, perfect company if it weren't for the high security around him.

tags: medication, hospital settings, this is before michael gets out of the hospital, orphan! reader btw, it's spoken about more in detail in the fic, michael being a mute for a while, he does speak in this tho, smut, first times, michael being inexperienced, creampie, biting/marking, big dick michael energy, hymen ripping btw

warnings: ptsd themes, therapy, mentions of murder and depression, eventual smut, loss of virginity, mild blood, slight breeding kink on michael's end

a quick note!

if anything related to the ptsd the reader experiences is incorrect/wrong please let me know so i can correct it and learn! i am researching this so i can to write it with the accuracy it deserves<3

three sharp knocks wake you from your nightmare, you sigh at the sight of the ceiling of your hospital room. bland, the room is so incredibly bland. "y/n, medication time!" the nurse that takes main care for you chirps happily through the door, and you let out a wheeze as you sit up and pull on a shirt. "coming." you say, voice monotone and small. opening the door, you see the nurse with a tray, but what does capture your eye is the guards standing by a door nearby. "miss burnham, what's going on there?" you quirk a brow, taking your sertraline from miss burnham as well as the glass of water. "oh it's just a new patient, don't worry." the nurse brushes your question off with a kind smile as she takes the now empty glass back. "come on, breakfast then art therapy!" she beams, gesturing for you to follow her. you glance at the door again, before leaving with miss burnham.

breakfast is bland too, no sugar in the porridge, no fruit, no juice. it's so distastefully bland that you want to push it away but you don't want to get told off for not eating by mrs finch who was the more strict nurse that worked on supervision in the more social places, most of the time anyway. miss burnham sits across from you, reading over your schedule from her clipboard. "so, after art therapy is your free period, what do you want to do then?" she asks, looking up at you. "can we watch a movie with the others?" you ask softly, and miss burnham's eyes brighten. "you want to socialise today?" she beams and you sigh, taking a sip of water. "sure." you say softly, glancing around the cafeteria. "that's amazing, that will make outstanding progress!" she smiles, resting her cold hand on yours but pulls away when you flinch. "sorry, i forget." she says softly, but you sigh. "it's alright." you say, spotting a scruffy teen who looked to be the same age as you being directed to an empty table.

miss burnham hums and turns to see what you're looking at. "oh, that's mr myers, he's your new neighbour." she says when she turns back to you. "he looks interesting." you say, observing the cuffs on his wrist. myers plops down at the table, ignoring the bowl they put in front of him. "hmm, stay away from him. he seems to be under high security." miss burnham says, turning back to look at myers. the boy's eyes flicker to yours and your breath hitches, a sense of mild panic rising in your throat. "if you're done, we can go to the yellow room to do some painting with doctor piers." burnham says softly, pulling your attention back to her. "sure.." you mumble, and follow her out the door, past myers who watches you the whole way.

doctor piers is a happy man who greets you loudly. you don't like his suffocating energy, so miss burnham sits you down in your quiet corner and gives you your sketchbook. you sit quietly and draw things from your childhood, things that make you happy, all while miss burnham actually colours in a colouring page with the pencils you use. you felt peaceful with her by your side, she was like your big sister considering she was close to your age. "ooh, i like him." miss burnham smiles, tapping her nail next to the rough sketch of snufkin from the moomins. "thanks..." you reply quietly, letting the nurse push the pencils to you so you can colour him in.

for once, you don't feel alone... don't feel isolated with your thoughts and bad memories. miss burnham is your safe place, your new family. "so, y/n. are you interested in anyone in particular that you want to befriend?" miss burnham asks, the scratching of her pencil on paper stopping as she leans forward as if the two of you were gossiping about crushes. "not really... just think it's good to try and ease myself back into being around people other than you." you shrug, putting the green pencil down to pick up a yellow one. "that's still good. do you want to try and finish the drawing of him." she asks, flipping the page carefully to the recreation of that fateful night. your breath hitches as you stare at the charcoal drawing of the man standing over your mother. "what else do you remember, if there's anything else?" burnham asks, watching you carefully.

it comes back in waves, it was supposed to be a robbery, your family was in the wrong place at the wrong time, the blood spatter, the ornament that was used as a weapon dripping with the red substance. tears fill your eyes as you let out a shuddery breath. "no." you say firmly, wanting to push the book away. "are you sure, you haven't drawn any facial features for him.. it will help the investigation a lot." your nurse reminds you, and your hand tightens on the pencil. "i don't want to!" you snap, getting up abruptly, chair screeching back. "okay, okay. deep breaths." burnham stands too, fighting the urge to gently rub your arm soothingly. "i don't want to think about it." you hiss, storming off. nurse burnham calls after you, and doctor piers looks up to see you making a run for it. "y/n, wait!" he tries, but you swerve him and run out the door.

nurse burnham can't keep up in her high heels, and you outrun her easily, making your way to your room after losing her. you're alone again, and you catch sight of myers, sat in his room just as alone as you are. the guard is talking to doctor loomis, a man who gives you the creeps. seeing an opportunity to get past, you slip into your room quickly, once again isolating yourself. in his own room, michael had spotted you through the glass on his door, and he walks up, peering into your room as best he can. "hey! back up, myers." the guard bangs his door, now without loomis's presence, but michael doesn't move. he's unfazed by the guard's aggressive nature. the noise spooked you, you looked like a deer in headlights as you stare back at him.

you seem... disturbed by something, and that upsets michael. the feeling in his chest, to grab you and hide you from the world grows at the look in your eye. michael's hand finds the door, and he yoinks it open once the guard unlocked it in an attempt to push him back into his cell. "hey! what're you-?" he cuts the guard off, knocking the man out easily. his body hits the floor as michael opens your door easily. you gasp, back hitting the corner of your wall as you tried to make yourself as small as possible. "please, don't hurt me! i didn't do anything!" you yell, and michael shakes his head as he closes your door. "leave me alone." you repeat the three words like a prayer, voice quieter as your hands grip your hair with stress. "i'm not going to hurt you." michael rasps painfully, shocked at how deep his voice had gotten in comparison to the last time he spoke.

his words don't seem to get through to you, and he grows mildly annoyed. eventually, michael sits next to you and pulls you into a tight hug, hoping it would help as he had no idea what to do. you yelp in surprise, breathing slowing with confusion as you look up at the brunette with furrowed brows. "i-.. what..?" you stumble for words, but michael doesn't say anything, his empty eyes observing you. "thank you..." you mumble, once you calm down, and michael nods. "what's your name..?" you ask quietly, and michael continues to stare before answering.

"michael." he rasps, pointing at himself. "nice to meet you, michael. i'm y/n." you reply, eyes averting from his anxiously. michael sits with you as you start thinking. more intrusive thoughts break in, and you can't help the small whimper that escapes you as you rub your forehead. michael tilts his head, observing you. "sorry... it's just..." you sigh trying to find an explanation that didn't include what you thought of. "do you ever get intrusive thoughts?" you ask, finally looking at michael. the other teen nods, and you deflate with relief, he'd understand you. "they suck, don't they?" you chuckle half-heartedly, and michael shrugs. "oh, do they not bother you as much?"

he doesn't reply, and you nod slightly. "want me to show you around? i need to take my mind of things." you suggest, getting up and looking at the boy on your floor. michael seems to think for a moment before nodding and following you. you step over the guard carefully, and gesture for michael to follow you. the click-clacking of heels makes you grab the other teen's hand as you pull him around a corner. "shh! they'll be looking for me." you can't help but smile at the make-shift game of cat and mouse. it's been a while since you got to play games. michael blinks at you, letting you lead him around. "this is the rec room, it's the best room here. if you have a free period this is the best place to go. they let you watch anything they have." you smile, creaking the door open carefully.

doctor addison spots you and rushes over. "nurse burnham is looking for you." he whisper yells and you nod. "i'm showing the new guy around so shh!" you say, putting a finger up to your mouth. "it's good to see you getting out of your comfort zone. if i see her i'll tell her you're helping doctor loomis." he winks, and you smile slightly. "thanks addison." you say, pulling michael away from the room. "who's that?" michael's deep voice makes you jump. "oh, doctor addison? he's so cool, he'll give you snacks for after hours." you smile up at him, and michael notes the personality of the doctor. easy target to begin with. "you've seen the cafeteria so let's go to the gardens next." you say, peering around a corner carefully before ducking back, your back bumping into michael's chest. "my nurse is coming, quick, we can hide in here!" you whisper yell, pulling michael into doctor addison's office.

you close the door carefully, and michael observes the room. the decor is very vintage yet comfy, it suits the doctor quite well. you press your ear to the door carefully, listening as miss burnham speaks to doctor addison. you gasp as michael pulls you from the door, hand grasping your wrist. "are you alright?" you ask carefully, looking up at the brunette who didn't seem bothered. he shrugs, simply holding you near to him. your presence stirred something in him, and he didn't know if he should kill you or hold you closer. michael spots a candle stick, and his eyes dart from it to you.

michael lets out a silent breath as he decides on the latter, tugging you into his chest. your breath hitches as you hit his large frame, and your eyes come back to him. craning his head down, michael buries his face into the crook of your neck. you make a small noise, unsure of what to do as he takes in your scent. "uh... michael?" you furrow your brows, hands raised awkwardly as you didn't know where to put them. "shh." he hushes you, hands finding your hips. "what are you-?" your question is cut off by his lips grazing your neck, and it all clicks into place.

your body froze up, michael made a silent note of this. "i- uh.." you stammer as he continues to kiss your neck. "fuck, michael. we shouldn't do this." you say softly, glancing to the door. michael hushes you as his teeth nip your skin, he was testing the waters with you. your knees felt weak as your eyes fluttered shut. it had been so long since you had got to do anything like this, since you got to feel like a teenager. your hand find's michael's fluffy hair as you move his head closer to you.

taking the small success, michael sinks his teeth into your neck fully. the feelings in his chest explode as he finally marks you, suckling the dark bruise onto your skin. you whimper at the feeling, your other hand resting on his chest. eventually, his lips move again, and they find your jaw. you hum, letting him press closer to you as his lips kiss up your your own. when your lips meet, michael's inexperience really shows, he doesn't really know what to do so you take the lead.

eventually, his lips copy your movement as his hands tighten on your hips. you hum into his mouth, fingers gently stroking his scalp as you tilt your head to deepen the kiss. it felt right, and you didn't know why. eventually, when michael pulls away, you gaze into his eyes and notice the scar over his right one. "oh, what happened?" you ask, fingertips gently grazing over the scar on his eyes. upon closer look, his iris was paler than the other, and you guessed his vision was poor from the one eye. you're not able to get a closer look as michael kisses you again. you hands cup his face as you melt into him, lips moving against his fluently. michael moves with you, and you gasp as your lower back hits the desk in the room. the other teen's strong hands lift you and plop you down so you're sitting on the hard wood of the table.

your arms wrap around michael's neck to kiss him again, and he's happy that you're slowly beginning to show interest in him. you make a small noise as michael pulls your legs around his waist, standing between them with his pelvis pressing against yours. teasingly, you shuffle your hips against him as you kiss him again. michael growls softly, grinding into you as he grasps your thighs roughly to stop your movements. "i've never done this before." you admit, keeping him close as he hums. "me neither." he shrugs, kissing you again. you feel eased by michael's lack of experience, it felt like the two of you were experimenting together and that comforts you.

eventually, michael's fingers find the waistband of your pants and you whimper as he tugs them down easily. "no underwear?" he chuckles softly, and your cheeks heat up. "some of us don't have that luxury." you mumble, averting his gaze. "it's fine." he shrugs, fingers brushing over your slit. you gasp at the feeling of him spreading you open, and can't help but move your hips against his digits. his middle finger teases your wet hole, and you whine when he collects some of it to bring into his mouth. you feel slightly embarrassed as he suckles your pleasure off his finger with no shame before moving his hand back down to rub his fingers over your slit again.

your smaller hand finds his, and you guide his fingers to your clit with a small moan. catching your meaning, michael's rough fingers start rubbing small circles over your bud. you gasp, back arching into him as his fingertips stimulate you. "fuck, michael!" you whimper, hands grasping his shirt to pull him closer. he hums at your words, moving so his thumb abused your clit whilst his fingers slowly pushed your hole open. you whine as his fingers press into you, your hymen stretching uncomfortably. "michael, please- i need you." you whimper, letting him lay you back on the desk. removing his hand from you, he pulls down his own pants, erection springing free.

you freeze slightly at his size, unsure if he'll fit. michael notes your uneasiness as rubs your outer thighs softly. you smile nervously as his tip rubs against your cunt, your hands grasping his anxiously as he slowly pushes into you. you wail as his cock rips your hymen, and michael smiles as your blood slowly smears his cock. "it hurts!" you whimper, grabbing his arms tightly with discomfort. michael shushes you, and gives you small kisses until you stop whining. once you've settled around the intrusion and your pussy adjusts to his dick, you give him the nod to say that you're ready. michael slowly pushes in so that he's fully sheathed before pulling out half way. you whimper at the feeling, pleasure slowly overtaking the dull pain you still felt.

eventually, michael finds a medium pace in you, smiling as his cock bobs through the skin of your stomach. you whimper, holding michael's arms even tighter as he fucks into you. "oh fuck..!" you yelp as his tip protrudes from your abdomen. "sh." he replies quickly as your back arches off the table. "fuck, michael- oh!" you press your hand over your mouth to muffle your moans as he speeds up. eventually, his hand moves and starts rubbing fast circles on your clit. you gasp and keen loudly behind your palm as your thighs tremble around his hips. michael grips the flesh of your outer thighs tightly as he adjusts your legs towards you at an awkward angle. despite the weird position, you moan loudly as his cock pushes deeper into you, his tip kissing your womb.

michael hums at the feeling as his hand gets tired of stimulating you, so as a substitute, he brings his hand down onto your swollen bud harshly. you wail at the sting of his slap, pleasure rolling through your body. taking that as a good sign, michael waits before slapping your clit again harder. unexpectedly, you cum on his cock as you shudder and tremble under him. your cunt squeezes michael's cock tightly, preventing him from moving. the way your gummy walls grip him as you twitch around him is too much, so michael pushes into your womb so his cum filled you up.

you gasp at the feeling of his hot seed spilling into you, and michael seems to be loving it because when you come down from your high and loosen around him slightly, he's fucking his cum into you. you can't help but let out a small noise with every thrust, whimpering when michael stops, satisfied with how deep his cum had gone. your womb drinks up his seed nicely as you let michael grab your hands to pull you up into a sitting position. slumping against him, you nuzzle into his chest, your eyes becoming droopy with exhaustion. he grins at your sated state, pulling your pants up for you. once he is dressed as well, he picks you up carefully to bring you back to your room to rest.

michael ignores the nurses who try to stop him, marching past them as he carries your sleepy form to his room instead. he didn't know much, but he did know that only armed guards as well as doctor loomis were only allowed in his room for safety reasons and it was his best bet of keeping you with him. carefully opening his door, he closes it behind him with his foot and watches as the nurses stand anxiously peering through the window. he puts you down carefully on his bed, letting you settle as he sits down. his eyes find the nurses, one of them had left, probably to get security or doctor loomis. rolling his eyes, michael moves his attention back to you. you had already dozed off, and michael looks down to your stomach. the idea of you being swollen with his child excites him, a true marking. however, his hatred for children conflicts that, and he feels slightly frustrated.

three sharp knocks on the door can be heard, and michael lazily looks back over. doctor loomis is standing there, and he looks furious, but michael will stand his ground for you.

[dancingamongstdust]

Creepypasta Scenarios - First Meeting Part 2

Hoodie

The area where you lived had a ton of back alleyways that acted as shortcuts in a pinch. They were generally safe but you often got an uncomfortable feeling when using them so you preferred to take the busier roads if you could.

Unfortunately, when you had gone to leave work that day, you had spotted the customer who had been harassing you the entire day. It wasn’t anything creepy but it was over-the-top persistent and you weren’t in the mood to deal with it. You slipped out the backdoor as a result. At least you’d get home sooner.

For the most part, you didn’t encounter anything too suspicious and the light from the streets illuminated where you were going.

The large bins outside the grocer’s home indicated that you were getting close. You sped up and rubbed your eyes blearily.

Ahead of you, a dog was barking from inside one of the buildings. It was a pretty noisy animal and you began peering around to see what the source of its agitation was. Ironically, you ended up bumping directly into him.

“I’m sorry,” you apologised, rubbing your shoulder.

The guy was tall, wearing dark clothing and standing right in the shadows. You could have probably noticed him if you were a little more awake.

He turned and your breath caught.

His face was obscured by a dark mask with red features stitched onto it. His hoodie which originally seemed dark was now illuminated into a soft yellow or orange, stained with a dark substance.

“What are you doing here?” he asked. His voice crackled out, clearly coming through a voice changer of some kind.

“I – I was just taking a shortcut home. I live near here so I thought… I really didn’t mean to bump into you. I’m super tired.”

“Tired or not, you shouldn’t have seen me,” the guy said. “Do you have a phone or a camera?”

Slowly, you reached into your bag and pulled out your phone. “I don’t have any cash in my wallet –“

“I don’t want your money!” he snapped. “I’m not some petty thief, believe me, I have better things to do with me time. Unlock this.”

You did so and he went through it with a gloved hand. He didn’t have a weapon but something in your gut warned you to just go along with it. Nobody covered up everything, including their voice, when they were up to something good. This guy may not be a thief… but the alternative didn’t feel too much better.

He shoved your phone back at you. “Get out of here and don’t breathe a word of this to anybody. Consider yourself lucky that I’m in a good mood today.”

You swallowed nervously. “Thank you?”

“I’m serious,” he warned. “I can let you go just because you seem pathetic enough to not take this to the police but unless you want to catch a bullet in your back, you’ll keep quiet. My boss doesn’t like people getting involved with this nonsense.”

“A bullet?”

He didn’t answer and your heart thundered in your chest. Part of you wondered if he was going to kill you while you ran away but his attention seemed to have moved away from you. You hurried away, holding your breath the entire time. Every time you glanced over your shoulder, the guy remained unmoving.

When you reached your home, you locked the door tightly and slumped against it in exhaustion.

Homicidal Liu

The sunset was beautiful over the graveyard – the only beauty to an otherwise morbid place.

You stared at the purples and oranges dancing across the sky. The wreath pricked at your hands after a while and you stared down at it. Why did you still bother with bringing flowers? Hadn’t it been long enough? Still, you made your way down to the grave and placed them there, not even bothering to read the name on there.

Lately, your graveyard visits had becoming fewer and fewer. Time hadn’t been on your side recently and thus, your precious solitude had to suffer. You relished in the way that nobody really bothered you here.

An orange glow warned you when the streetlights came on. Perhaps you had been there for longer than you thought but this was to be your last visit.

Better to make it count.

Something caught in the wind made you raise your head. A piece of fabric was stuck in the nearby fence, identifiable as a scarf when you ventured closer.

You took it from the fence and looked around for its owner. Nobody was in view… maybe it had been blown off one of the graves? It did seem homemade.

Guessing, you began to place it on a grave when a voice startled you.

“I’m sorry to bother but I think you have my scarf?”

The man was standing far too close for you to have not seen him when you were glancing around but you blamed that on your night vision. He wore dark clothing and seemed awkward just to be speaking to you.

“Thank goodness,” you said. “I was just going to leave it on one of the graves because I didn’t know who it belonged to.”

He thanked you for it, wrapping it around the lower half of his face almost immediately. “That would be a waste,” he said. “Especially to leave it on this one. Thank you for grabbing it.”

A harsh wind blew through the graveyard, carrying with it the smell of an incoming storm. He grabbed his scarf just in time to prevent it from going flying away again.

“Seems like the weather is determined to steal it from you.”

“Far more powerful things have tried.”

You buried yourself further into your jacket and smiled. “I haven’t seen you around before, are you new in town or just coming to visit a new grave?”

“I’m not visiting a grave,” he admitted. “I just thought that this would be the way back to my house… I grew up in this town but only recently moved back and I’m already lost. It’s a little embarrassing if I’m honest.”

“Well, I like to know everybody,” you said. “What’s your name?”

“Su – I mean, Liu,” he said. “Liu. Sorry, I nearly gave you my surname.”

You laughed. “Oh that’s no problem. It’s nice to meet you but I really like your name. Is it Chinese?”

“I don’t know,” he said. He looked around and began walking away. “I really have to go. Thank you for getting my scarf and all that.”

“I’ll see you around,” you said with a wave.

It was only later when you realised how suspicious that entire interaction was. You had never seen Liu before in your life and he was just hanging around in the graveyard? He hadn’t seemed too creepy at least. Maybe you would see more of him in the coming days.

Jane the Killer

It wasn’t that you were unobservant or inattentive toward girls but nobody had really caught your eye until Jane.

She was stunning in a way that few people could ever match with dark hair that tumbled past her hips and soulful eyes. Her walk was always confident, her smile always perfect, and her attention always desirable. Your main regret about life was that you didn’t speak to her sooner – especially when you thought back on what happened not too long after your first meeting.

You organised with your friends to somehow bump into her but instead, you wound up getting treated for a pretty painful bruised hip. Your second plan didn’t work out either and your third never even left the drawing board.

“Just go up to her and say hi. Tell her that she’s beautiful,” your friend encouraged. “She’ll say thanks and then you’ll be able to talk to her.”

“That’s so boring though,” you said. “It’s not like something out of a romance novel.”

Your friend groaned and stood up. “Well, I’m going home. We have like three months left of high school and I’m not going to spend that time obsessing over how to speak to a girl. She’s literally a regular person.”

They were right and you knew that. No matter how you tried to set up a sweeping romance, it probably wouldn’t work out.

So you tried.

And you tried.

Two weeks later, you were about to give up on mimicking a romance novel and it appeared that your friend was thinking the same thing. She grabbed your arm and began to drag you somewhere, muttering about changing the topic. You had a vague idea of where you were going but you didn’t fight too much.

“What if she’s still dating that Woods boy?” you asked. “The older one.”

“They broke up after literally a month of dating. I don’t blame her – those Woods boys are pretty enough but the older one has something seriously wrong with him. And the younger one is always talking to himself…”

“I really don’t care about the Woods’,” you commented.

“No, you care about Jane who is honestly quite weird as well,” they said. “But that is going to be your problem and not mine.”

They dragged you directly up to her group. It wasn’t large – despite Jane’s beauty, she wasn’t incredibly popular due to her associations. Your friend wasn’t the only one who was a little scared of the Woods boys and Jane had hung out with them for quite a while.

“Hey,” your friend said before even letting you go. “You have no idea who we are but my friend here has a massive crush on you. Could you please just say hi so they can get it out of their system?”

You were sure that it was unhealthy to be as red as you were. It felt like your heart was about to leap from your chest.

Jane laughed, a soft and gentle sound. “I’m not really interested in a relationship,” she hummed. “But thank you. That’s very flattering.”

Somehow, your heart sped up still and you awkwardly rubbed your arm. “No problem?”

“Why don’t you join us for a little bit?” Jane offered. “Just because I don’t want to date anybody doesn’t mean that we can’t become friends. You look like my kind of person.”

You stumbled over your words but somehow, your conversation managed to go extremely well. Jane was brilliant in every possible way and you quickly grew attached to seeing her every day. That was why you mourned so greatly when she died.

Jason the Toymaker

The sun was so warm against your skin. You could stay there forever, stretched out on the grass and basking in the sunlight.

“It’s done,” your friend’s voice broke through your daydreaming

You opened your eyes and rolled over to see exactly what they had been working on for the entire trip. After realising the first few times that you weren’t going to get a reaction, you had decided to wait for them to finish working before you tried to have a conversation.

“I didn’t know you could draw,” you said. “That’s amazing.”

The hyper-realistic man was sketched to perfection with a top hat, a fur coat, and a small mouse sitting on his left shoulder. It felt like his eyes could piece into your soul.

“Who is that?” you asked them.

They stared blankly at the image and shook their head. “I don’t know,” they said. “He’s been in my dreams for so long. I think it has something to do with my amnesia. Maybe I knew him once before.”

“He’s a little intimidating,” you said. “I could imagine him to be a ringleader in a circus that’s like a secret cult. Maybe he’s why you lost your memory.”

“Maybe…” they said, tapping the picture. They suddenly shoved it into your chest and stood up. “You keep that. I don’t want it anywhere near me. I need to go talk to my parents.”

You watched them race out of the park in confusion. The man in the picture stared up at you with haunting eyes.

Folding it in half so it didn’t freak you out, you stood and dusted off your clothing. Maybe it would be best if you headed home. It was getting late either way.

Later on, you’d call your friend and check up on them.

About 10 minutes away from your house, the feeling of being watched snuck up on you. It hung heavily around your shoulders like a cloak. You glanced around but saw nobody.

Still, you didn’t feel comfortable leading whoever was following you back to your house. You made a point of walking amongst large crowds and headed for the police station.

They were watching you the whole way.

You sped up. A few people bumped into you and you apologised as best as you could. Your grip on the picture was getting tighter enough for you to tear it. The later it got, the fewer people were on the streets and so you were pretty much alone when you bumped into him.

It took you a few seconds to recognise the man from the drawing.

If you thought his drawn eyes were captivating, they had nothing on his real ones which glowed with an almost ethereal light.

“You’re him,” you breathed.

He stared at you, smile falling from his face in confusion. “Who?”

You shakily held out the drawing and he yanked it from your hands. “My friend drew that,” you explained. “They said that its of somebody from their past. They have amnesia you see.”

He was unmoving as he studied the picture. You began feeling a little uncomfortable and then his gaze snapped to you. “Is that so?” he asked.

You nodded and took a small step away from him. “Maybe you should go and talk to them? See –“ you swallowed nervously. “See if you can help them remember?”

“No need,” he said, dropping the paper on the ground. “Who are you?”

Your name came out as little more than a soft whisper. Something about the entire scenario made you uneasy. His appearance was too unnatural.

A gust of wind came by, picking up the drawing and whipping it away. You watched it go and when you looked back down, his eyes were locked on you.

“Such a pity,” he said. “You would have been the perfect doll.”

Wearily, you took a step backwards. His words made your stomach churn uneasily. “What are you talking about?”

He smiled. It was kind and warm but it only made you more nervous. His eyes looked like they had almost changed colour; shifted a shade darker than previously. “Thinking aloud my dear,” he said.

“About dolls?” you asked.

He tilted his head a little towards you. “I’m going to have to bid you goodbye. It seems I have other matters to attend to.” He brushed past you, stopping briefly when directly next to you. “Consider yourself lucky.”

He was gone before you could even spin around to face him.

Jeff the Killer

Pausing the song, you removed your earphones as quietly as possible and placed them down on your desk. According to the blinking numbers on your phone screen, it was nearing 2 AM. Far too late for anybody to make an excess of noise.

You listened closely. The music had been too loud for you to hear anything and you almost brushed the strange noise off as your sleep-deprived imagination. Until something squeaked like shoe soles on tiles.

In retrospect, you should have immediately called 911 but you didn’t want to sound a false alarm.

The light switch was thankfully directly outside your room. The hall illuminated most of the house when they were on and it steeled your nerves. Your roommate’s door was open, allowing you to confirm their sleeping state, curled up in their bed amongst the piles of mess. They had had to move to the spare room due to a faulty window earlier in the day and had clearly given up sorting items.

You glanced into the apartment’s other rooms before heading to the kitchen. There was nothing odd. The scuttling when you entered the kitchen just suggested that your neighbour’s rat infestation may be migrating.

Making a mental note to call the exterminator, you turned to switch off the kitchen light.

Something slammed into you, forcing your back to collide with a wall. A hand covered your mouth and the overwhelming scent of blood and decay invaded your nose. Something cold and sharp pressed against your neck.

“Shut up and stay still,” the man snarled at you. “I don’t think anybody will appreciate you getting blood in the kitchen.”

Your heart leapt into your throat and your body stilled. The man in front of you was terrifying. His skin pale and mutilated. Eyes far too wide for a normal person and dancing with an insanity that sent chills down your spine.

And his mouth… a bloody smile carved across his face, stretching halfway to his ears.

He studied your face carefully and his expression twisted. “You’re not the right one,” he snapped. The knife moved away from your neck, so he could point with it. “I had this all planned and yet when I came into that room, I found it empty. Why?”

Even if he hadn’t been holding your mouth shut, you doubted you would have been able to formulate an answer. The pounding heartbeat in your ears was nearly blocking out his voice.

He lightly tapped your cheek with his knife. “Not that it matters,” he said. “I’ll just have to adapt my original plan. You’re not the right target but I’m a huge fan of collateral damage.”

A small whimper escaped you and tears welled at your eyes. You didn’t want to die.

“Don’t blubber!” he ordered. “View it as a good thing. You’ll be all over the news. Another victim of Jeff the Killer. Hell, you might even be added to a Wikipedia page or something.”

You could recall that name from the news. Often followed by a lengthy list of deaths and the police chief begging for any information about the murderer.

Jeff stared at you for a long minute before he pressed the knife’s blade to your throat and moved his hand away from your mouth. “Scream and I will remove your vocal cords,” he threatened. “Who are you?”

It took several deep breaths and a flicker of impatience in his expression to give you the ability to talk again. You stammered out your full name as quickly as you possibly could.

He rolled his eyes and tilted the knife so it scratched your skin. A sticky and warm substance ran down your throat in small droplets. “Pathetic.”

“Sorry,” you whispered on instinct. “Please don’t kill me.”

“Why not?” he asked. “You ruined my earlier plans to take out my original target by interrupting me before I could find them. Why shouldn’t I settle for you instead?”

You didn’t have an answer.

He took the blade away from your throat. “If you call the police and report what happened here tonight, I will slice you into little pieces.”

It was almost twenty minutes after he left before you regained any movement in your body. You slumped into a heap on the kitchen floor and started sobbing.

Kagekao

Things had been going missing around your house.

Initially, you had thought it was just due to you forgetting where you’d plopped things because it was simple things. Drinks that vanished, keys turning up on the opposite side of the house, and random spills that you didn’t remember making.

But then it started getting weirder still.

You would make food and pack it away, knowing that you would eat it later, and find it gone. Picture frames disappeared, never to be seen again. Your rug half-unraveled during the night and you found it in a pile the next morning. A candle in your bathroom fell over and, somehow, the curtains on the other side of the house had caught alight.

It was suspicious, to say the very least. You began to think that you had some kind of intruder – once, the news reported that a woman found a homeless man living in her attic and eating her food when she wasn’t looking.

So you went out and bought cameras, setting them up throughout your house.

For two weeks, they caught nothing until one of them ended up breaking. You went to get it repaired and the company managed to recover what it had last seen. Which was nothing on your first glance.

But you were soon to realise, that was only because you had been looking at the floor.

While you were rewatching when you got home, you noticed something. The window was sitting wide open and the camera’s angle only allowed you to see half of it. Right toward the end of the feed, a gloved hand appeared on the side of the window and a slight shadow indicated something climbing through.

So you got reinforced windows and made sure that none were open unless you were in the room.

Things still continued happening.

You were beginning to get really annoyed by this. It was tempting to go to the police and let them just handle it but that was going to be a lot of effort that you really didn’t care for. You didn’t feel like you were in much danger. Nothing had happened in your bedroom.

Your next plan was to set up a trap of some kind. With a hidden camera set up, you made extra food and left it on the counter to see if something happened.

The next day, you watched as a plastic toy of some kind was thrown directly into the plate from somewhere off-camera, breaking it and leaving an absolute mess everywhere.

Still not considering it to be anything dangerous, you just cleaned up the mess and loudly cursed out anybody who was listening. You stalked the house after that, searching every nook and cranny with a bat in hand. The final place was the closet in your bedroom and you peered in, expecting nothing.

When you turned around though, you spotted something sitting in the corner of the room.

It was humanoid with arms twisted into awkward positions and a mask on its face. Half the mask was black and the other white, both sides bearing an unnaturally smiling expression. The creature cackled when you saw it and scuttled out of the door, stuck to the roof the entire time.

A second passed.

Then another.

You pinched your arm hard and waited to wake up. Surely there was no way… I mean, why would… humans didn’t generally crawl along the ceiling? Well, you were quite sure they never did that. You must have been imagining it.

A second laugh corrected you on that.

You swallowed thickly, walked over to your door as calmly as possible and locked it. Then you took out your phone and finally called the police.

Kate the Chaser

The day when Kate was sent away remained very clear in your mind. It was a moment that brought extremely change to your life, mixing up your friend group and sending you in a different direction.

The years has passed and you had never gotten over your best friend. They said that she had lost her mind and you knew it was true. All those games investigating the woods and ghost hunting must have put a toll on her mind. Sometimes, you blamed yourself for all the pranks and you knew that Lauren had similar doubts.

And now she was back.

Lauren and you hadn’t remained close, the entire situation feeling too real with one another. Your greeting was stilted but neither of you wanted to be the first to approach the house.

“Do you think that she remembers us?” Lauren asked.

“If she didn’t then her mom wouldn’t have invited us over,” you said.

You stood in complete silence, staring up at the house. Would you even recognise Kate? The last time that you had seen her was when you were both young children and her face remained at that age in your memories.

Eventually, you gained your confidence before Lauren and you walked over, knocking on the door before anxiety could find you.

Kate answered the door and you forgot why you had ever been nervous.

Time had slimmed her face and shortened her hair. Her eyes were still a gentle brown and the cockiness had faded from her smile, but it was recognisable from your nostalgia. It made you feel warm and known – an aura that you had missed without even realising it.

“Hi,” you greeted.

Kate pulled you into a tight hug and you returned it, clutching at her tightly as though she could slip through your fingers. It really had been too long and when you moved away, she held onto Lauren with the same enthusiasm.

“How have you been?” she asked. “You have to tell me everything.”

The three of you spent the rest of the afternoon having tea and just talking about the world at large. Kate didn’t have many stories from the hospital – she claimed it was because the place had been extremely boring and neither of you pushed to find out more about it. Honestly, it was more comfortable to act as though she had simply moved away.

Lauren had to leave first and you were going to go with her but Kate had looked so down that you remained just a little longer. That was when things got weird.

“I’ve missed music a lot,” Kate sighed.

“Did they not allow you to listen to music?”

She grimaced. “No, they did but often I couldn’t hear it over the static. Its mostly gone away now but it came back last night… it fills my brain and all that I can think of is a way to make the pain stop.”

The colour drained from your face as you stared at her. You didn’t know much about what happened to her but you had thought she would be okay now.

Realising it, Kate hurried to reassure you, “I really have recovered,” she said. “My hallucinations have faded and my medication keeps my emotions in check. You really don’t have to be scared of me.”

You stared down at your cup awkwardly. “I’m not scared of you,” you reassured her. “You’ve never done anything to me.”

She nodded. “It will be alright, you’ll see. I’m ready to get back to a normal life with my friends and not have to worry about that ghost stuff ever again.”

Laughing Jack

It was on your leg…

The glare you fixed the small child with could wilt plants. It didn’t care though and merely clutched at your clothing with a happy smile. “Come play with me?” it asked. “I can introduce you to all my friends!”

“How old is she again?” you grumbled at your friend.

Your friend laughed and ruffled their cousin’s hair. “I had an imaginary friend when I was 10. She’s only 6, she’s still at the stage where they’re a big deal.”

The child was oblivious to your conversation and reached out her arms. “Come on. The parents are being boring. I have candy that my friend gave me. We can share it.”

“I agreed to come along to your family get together to keep you company,” you said to your friend. “You know I don’t like children. Babysitting really isn’t my forte.”

All you received for your complaining was laughter.

By the time you had the 4th teddy bear had been introduced, you were done. Why did one kid have so many toys?

“Now which one of your friends gives you candy?” your friend asked. “Because if it’s from Princess, I don’t think it’s edible. What if she secretly puts glitter in it?”

Expected to play along, you sighed. “Unless it’s glitter from rainbows because then it’s got magic powers and allows you to fly.”

The child liked your thumb-sucked statement because she jumped up in excitement. “I don’t get it from Princess. Jack gives it to me! But if Princess can make me fly, I want to have that kind of candy instead!”

“Which one’s Jack again?” you asked, eyeing the line of toys.

“He’s not here right now,” the child said, biting her inner cheek. She turned in a circle. “Sometimes he hides in the cupboard though!” She ran over to her cupboard and pulled the doors open. “I don’t think – OW!”

She reeled backwards, clutching her cheek. Both you and your friend immediately jumped up and ran over to her. A tiny slice mark ran across the side of her face. It wasn’t anything serious, but she was sobbing as though it would kill her. You presumed a small edge on one of the boxes in the cupboard had been the cause.

“Do you want me to take you to mom, so she can kiss it better?” your friend asked. “Your new best friend can wait here and make sure all your toys are safe.”

The child nodded, and she got led out of the room. You rolled your eyes at the sensitivity and reached into the cupboard to push the box out of the way. A clawed hand reached out of nowhere and grabbed your wrist tightly.

Before you could even shout, it lifted you off the ground by your arm and a second hand had wrapped around your mouth.

The monster’s body appeared out of the closet.

It was a clown. Easily 7ft tall and comprised of monochrome colours with a sharp, pointed nose and long, greasy hair. Its black lips spread into a smile, revealing pointed teeth and a sickeningly sweet breath.

You writhed against its grip, trying to scream or do anything but it was insanely strong, and it just laughed at your efforts.

“How mean,” it purred, leaning in close to your face. “You ask who I am and then, when I appear to you, you insult my appearance. Awful etiquette. Your parents should be concerned about how rude you are to strangers.”

You strained your memory to think about what you had been doing before it grabbed you but the adrenaline was clouding your mind. What had you asked? You struggled more with the lack of memories.

The clown shook its head. “I haven’t revealed myself to somebody so old in a long time. You should be flattered but instead you choose to try and kick me. This is why I don’t do this. Children are far more polite.”

He released you suddenly and you landed hard on the ground. It winked and disappeared, right as your friend and her cousin returned.

“You met Jack!” the child shouted excitedly, pointing to the candy lying next to you.

You shoved it away from you as quickly as possible.

[pingutats]

For the “ways to say i love you” prompts, 43 please!

thank you for the request! from this list, prompt 43: "I picked these for you."

warnings: none! this is just fluff!

word count: 1.8k

.                               .                           .                               .                           .

This is definitely Harry’s domain.

Y/N hugs her shoulders as she stands in her bedroom-turned-dressing-room, staring at the rack of expensive clothes that have been left for her. Through the door, she can hear the noise of the crew bustling around her living room. This house has, of course, been the site of many Harry-hosted parties that had packed in a lot more people than there are present here today — despite that, this smaller group is threatening to become overwhelming for her.

She’s doing this for Harry. A couple of months ago, he was approached by AnOther Magazine to do a big feature with them — a kind of sequel to the one that he did when they were still called Another Man — and he’s been pouring his heart and soul into it since then. It feels like every single day, he’s been off chatting with a writer or meeting with the creative director. He dragged boxes out of storage to rifle through for mementos of his life as a solo artist last week. Y/N knows that some of their friends have been interviewed to talk about Harry. She’s pretty sure Stevie Nicks is one of them.

The centrepiece, though, is a photoshoot more intimate than he’s ever shared before. In the same way that the shoot set in his hometown years ago illustrated where he came from before he rocketed to stardom, this one will reveal who he is underneath all the make-up and glamour of fame.

Harry as he exists in private: in his home, with his girl, sharing this image of himself for the very first time.

Y/N was apprehensive at first — hell, Harry was too — but they’ve discussed it at length. He’s always been a private man, but his ethos is that honesty is integral to his art. He sings in detail about her in his music and puts that into the world with minimal censoring. This magazine feature, at its core, is just another artistic venture. He doesn’t want to hold back. When she understood it like that, it was easy for her to agree.

Her conviction that this is an important thing to do for Harry doesn’t stop the nerves, though. She’s never been a model, or even remotely a figure of interest beyond her connection to Harry. It’s his limelight that she’s stepping into. She can’t help but feel nervous about it.

The first outfit she’s wearing is a boldly patterned dress, custom-made by Gucci at Harry’s request. This isn’t the first time she’s wearing something this expensive (there are no compromises on fashion when you’re with Harry) but it still makes her feel like a fish out of water. She holds the hanger at arms-length for a moment, vaguely anxious that she might have put on weight since the fitting and it won’t fit her anymore, then carefully slips it off. She steps into it gingerly and shrugs it over her shoulders, then reaches behind her to pull the zip up as far as she can reach. She stands in front of the mirror and looks at her reflection, frowning.

Her make-up, which was done earlier, is colourful and dramatic. The point of this home shoot is to show the dichotomy between Harry’s celebrity persona and his private life, illustrated through the elaborate costuming inside their relatively normal home. She doesn’t recognise herself in it.

There’s a knock at the door, startling her out of her thoughts. She whips around, back straightening. “What is it?”

“Can I come in?” It’s Harry’s voice, and just those four short words in his gentle tone are enough to dissolve some of her anxiety.

She takes a deep breath, steadying herself into a calmer headspace. “Yeah,” she answers.

He opens the door discreetly and slips inside, careful not to reveal her to the people in the living room while she’s not properly dressed. She appreciates his caution. Although he’s apparently comfortable enough to walk around near-strangers half-naked—he’s only wearing his boxers right now—she definitely isn’t.

“Everything alright, darling?” he asks. Every step that brings him closer puts her more at ease. She’s always been an anxious person, but he’s like a drug to her. From the very first time they met, he’s been the person she feels most natural with. They just work. Things feel right with him.

She smiles at him. It’s a weak stretch of her lips, but a smile nonetheless. “Yeah. Can you zip me up, please?”

“Of course.”

She turns back around to face the mirror and reaches behind her head to pull her hair out of his way. His fingers are warm against bare skin of her back, finding the zipper and dragging it up, his knuckles brushing against her skin more than is probably necessary. He fixes the way the straps sit over her shoulders with the same attention to detail that she’s seen his stylists give for him a hundred times before. His lip is tucked between his teeth as he does so, glancing from the mirror back to her, his face the image of concentration.

Finally satisfied, he takes a step back and rakes his gaze up and down her figure. “Y’look gorgeous.”

She shrugs, staring at herself. “Thanks, H.”

“I mean it.” He plants a kiss on her cheek, holding her by the waist as they look at each other through their reflections. “Pretty dress for a pretty girl.”

Heat rises in her face and she drops her gaze to the floor. “Now you’re doing too much.”

He shakes his head. “‘M not. Promise I’m not.”

She hums, appraising their reflection with a frown. Even in his underwear, Harry is Harry, and she… She feels like she’s playing dress up in someone else’s wardrobe, dipping her toes into someone else’s life. Harry is at ease in a place like this but she certainly isn’t.

Harry seems to sense this. “Something the matter?” he asks her gently.

“No, just —“ she wrings her hands in front of her, searching for the words. “I don’t feel like me.”

He furrows his brow. “I know what you mean. ’S weird when you do all this—” he flutters his hand around the room, at the rack of clothes and towards the door where they can hear someone giving directions to shift the couch slightly to the left “—just to get a photo done. And I know you’re not used to it.” He squeezes her waist gently. “But you look beautiful. Just like you always do.”

She can’t suppress a small smile at that, bumping her head against Harry’s shoulder with a quietly mouthed, “Thank you.”

He turns his head to kiss her hair, then releases his grip on her waist and moves over to the rack of clothes. “But did y’see…” He bends down to pick up a plastic container marked Look 1 from the shelf at the bottom. He opens it up to reveal various pieces of jewellery inside, and delicately picks out a couple pieces with nimble fingers. “I picked these for you.”

They’re her earrings. More specifically, they’re the earrings that he gave her for their first anniversary. A couple of dangling pearls—he’d bought them during his obsession with the gems. They’re a sweet memento of that time of their lives, of the honeymoon phase that felt like it lasted forever, that never really fizzled out even to this day. They’re her favourites.

She realises her mouth has dropped open. “When did you sneak those in?” she asks.

He shrugs, smirking. “I have my ways. I’m sneaky.” He returns to his previous position standing behind her, nudging her hair behind her ear with his knuckles. “May I?”

She nods, trying not to shiver as his fingers brush against her ears.

“There we go,” he says, stepping back. “Is that a bit better?”

The girl in the mirror looks familiar now. Despite the make-up and the dress, she can see herself. The same face, framed by the same earrings, that has accompanied Harry through all sorts of days and nights. Today is just another one of those things. Something they’re doing, together, and isn’t that all she wants, for them to do everything together?

Being with Harry is a dream she never wants to wake up from. They’ve built a paradise together and now they get to share a tiny part of it with the world—not for the world to share in it, but to see just how beautiful it is.

There’s a little part of Y/N that hopes it makes the rest of the world jealous. They should be, she thinks.

“It’s perfect, H,” she tells him, glancing over her shoulder so she looks at his real face, not just his reflection. “Honestly. Thank you.”

“No need to thank me.” He looks proud of himself—his eyes are shining and his dimples are on display as he looks her up and down once more. “It’s all you.”

Y/N mirrors him, her gaze travelling down his body. She bites her lip.

Harry seems to remember suddenly that he’s only in his underwear—his hands fly to cover his thinly-clothed privates and he looks at her, his mouth open in a sly grin. “This is not the time,” he scolds, his shoulders shaking as he suppresses laughter.

Y/N rolls her eyes, grabbing him by the shoulder and pushing him to turn around. “Go get dressed, you dork.”

.                               .                           .                               .                           .

The suit that Harry wears is made out of the same material as Y/N’s dress, bright and bold colours. The photographer is accomodating of her nerves as he has them sit on the couch. The window is wide open to allow the natural light to illuminate their faces, and the Y/N can feel the warmth of the sun on her face. The sky is a brilliant blue. It’s a perfect day.

“Okay, look this way,” the photographer tells her, drawing her attention from the window to the camera. “A little closer, Harry.”

Harry shifts over, his thigh pressing against hers. His hand comes to rest on her knee, then lifts suddenly as if he’s remembered something. “Hang on a minute,” he says to the photographer, holding up a finger.

He twists around to face Y/N and carefully sweeps her hair back over her shoulder, tucking it behind her ear to ensure the pearl earring is on clear display. She smiles at him, which he returns in a quick unspoken exchange of gratitude and care.

“Alright,” Harry says, settling back to face the photographer. His hand finds Y/N’s and he squeezes it. “We’re good.”

The camera clicks and the flash goes off. Their hands remain joined on Harry’s lap.

.                               .                           .                               .                           .

hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, a reblog & any kind of message would be really appreciated. i'm open to any requests, from the prompt list linked above or from your own imagination, which you can send here. all my other writing is linked on my masterlist. have a lovely day!

[chifuyusfingers]

Im obsessed with ur coloring in the boys tattoos works!! Could you do the reverse? Where they color in yours? With whoever u want!

~Tokyo revengers members Coloring Their S/O Tattoos.~

Mikey | Draken | Baji | Chifuyu

{Heya! I didn't put much into it but I hope you like it! And thank you though!}

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

M i k e y

You had no hesitation letting him color your tattoos. “Have fun, babe.” You pinched your cheek and relaxed under the big tree you were both sitting under. Today you had thrown all your plans away just to be with mikey all day.

The wings on your forearm was now stained in hues of purple and green with accents of yellow. “So, besides today, how have you been lately?” Your gaze swayed from him to the inside of your eyelids as you were drifting to sleep slowly. “Okay, I suppose. School is annoying.” He laughed and your heart twinged with love.

You chuckled and looked down at your arm. "Mikey you done?" All you could hear was just a "hm".

“Let’s just rest for a little bit I'm tired.” You pushed the markers into the grass and your arm wrapped itself around his waist as you pulled him down and into your side. Mikey couldn’t fight it as his ear was filled with the sound of your mellowing heartbeat. Your fingers danced in his hair till you knew he was fast asleep.

You stayed awake just looking at his angelic features as the sight of your multi-colored arm shifted your focus. It was so meaningless to him but you loved it as you knew that it came from his heart and mind.

It was him– perfect.

~~~

B a j i

“Y/n! ” Baji called as he stepped into the large house. “I believe she's in the gazebo or her office, Mr.” One of the worked associates greeted baji at the front door. He grabbed the bags from baji's arms as he started walking. He was off towards the back of the house to find his fiancee.

“Y/n-!” he called as he rounded the corner of the house and into the back yard. The gazebo was empty. He stopped and stared for a moment. He was sure that this is where she'd be.

“Up here, my love.” A voice said as he looked up to see Y/n at her office balcony. “Hey there” he waved as your eyes squinted in a smile. “How was your day out?” you asked as you brought your teacup up to your lips. “It was okay~I have something to show you!” he called and held up a small shopping bag in his large hand. “I’ll be right up!” he raced back into the house and up the stairs to where you already stood waiting for him in the doorway to your office.

“What’s so amazing that you found today?” your eyebrow raised and he opened the bag quickly. “But first-” You interrupted you as you grabbed his face gently and gave him a passionate kiss. “What’s this for?” he asked as he continued to stare at your face lovingly. “Just happy to see you is all.” You smiled.

“Now, show mee.” he motioned to one of his hands that was stuck in the bag he held. He was brought back to reality and pulled the plastic package out of the bag.

“…Markers?” you asked and your tone of voice made him laugh. “Not just any markers. They’re tattoo markers. They’re safe for the skin.” He corrected you and you rolled your eyes. “You’re still on this?” You asked with an amused expression. “Of course I am! This was the deal and my love for you is way too much so.” he said shoving them into your hands so you could inspect the box.

You read the back and you had to admit he was right.

“You said I could color your tattoos IF I found tattoo markers. Safe for the skin and everything!” You knew he did it and that you had to hold up your part of the deal. “Okay fine.” You sighed as you handed the package back. “Yay! Beautiful Thank you!” He jumped and laid a gentle kiss on your nose.

“We can do it later before dinner.” You agreed.

—-

“Finally! You take forever.” He sighed as you moved your sunglasses up your nose. The grass tickled your bare legs as baji sat next to you. “I couldn’t help it. Chifuyu that jackass didn’t want to hang up the phone.” he stood on his knees and moved behind you. His hands gently rubbed your shoulders as your head fell in an exasperated manner.

“I hate to burst your bubble, Y/n. But, I called you out here for the deal. Not a massage.” You whined as you flopped down on the grass, your t-shirt lifting on your back.

“If this stains, I will make sure to throw out all color in your life. Your life will be a dull kaleidoscope-” “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever you say, you big baby.” He laughed and opened his pouch full of the tattoo markers.

He lifted the back of your shirt more till the full picture was revealed. A dragon with demons following was the full picture- a dark reality…that he were going to make colorful. What can he do he loves your tattoos so much.

He sat on his lower back and got to work filling in the different parts of the dragon. Every once in awhile you would spasm and try to make him mess-up. Yet, with a slight tug on your hair, you would become limp and obedient again.

“I’m almost done.” Was the phrase that almost made you weep with joy. “Finally.” You let it slip and you felt a tug on your hair again. “Ow.” You rubbed your head. You could feel him draw and move the felt-tipped weapons on his back.

“Finished.” He cheered and grabbed his phone to take a picture. He showed it to you and ombre scaled decorated the dragon with the demon’s faces were colored red and blue. It looked nice. You saw a couple of smiley faces hidden in there and felt like everything looked complete.

“Okay, my turn now!” You yelled and grabbed his arm. You struggled and pulled him to the ground and grabbed the black marker that was in his hand. “Y/n, no.” he said strictly. “This wasn’t apart of the deal.” He expressed. “Excuse me? Sorry, I don’t speak Japanese.” Your english rambled off quickly from your tongue. He decided to just deal with it as you took your time drawing a mustache on his face along with random doodles you could think of.

You finally stopped your antics and took a picture with your phone to look at afterward. “You look so cute, look!” You pulled up the picture and shoved it in his face. “I look gross man!” He ridiculed but you wrapped him up in your arms quickly,

“My gross man.”

D r a k e n

You were on your period and hell you were pissed, your mood swings were just making the situation more shitty.

Draken on the other hand was just trying to help you but every now and then you'd snap at him for absolute no reason. "Oi, can you stop whining for once?"

He said with pretty much no emotion at all. And that's all it took for you to break down in tears.

Draken was taken aback, "babe hey, hey, I'm sorry I didn't mean it like that please stop crying- I". “Wanna play tic-tac-toe?” He asked and you looked around, surprised he was asking. “Um-” He didn’t wait for an answer and grabbed your legs– pulling you closer to where he sat.

Draken took the permanent markers out which was on the floor for god knows why. You wiped the rest of your tears and grabbed the orange marker out of his hand. He lifted the sleeve of his long shirt and created the grid in black ink. “Wanna go first?” He asked and you took the opportunity to land an 'X’ in the grid.

“Fine. You win this tournament. But, I know I’ll win next time.” You said laying back and closing his eyes.

The bottom of your shirt lifted and he could see the familiar black ink on your side. “Stop staring at me like that, pervert. I have rights.” You pulled your shirt down and he let a laugh rip through your chest.

“Chill. I was just looking at your tattoo.” He said and you shrugged. “What about 'em?” You asked as his eyes closed once more. “Nothing. Just looking,” he sighed, “I wanted to be a tattoo artist before all of this.” One eye peeked open and you looked suspiciously at his figure. “Are you any good?"

Draken just chuckled at your question.

~~

“Give me one!” You lifted the side of your shirt and waited patiently.

He shrugged, finding nothing else better to do. You already had black ink staining your skin so he decided to add on. It was another simple dragon but it fit your character and personality perfectly.

Time seemed to slow as you tried to take a sneak peek of the masterpiece he were currently working on. You planned to take a picture later and get it done, yet, it would have to be in secret.

All of a sudden, the bedroom door popped open. “Welcome back to Earth.” Mikey greeted. He capped the marker and helped you up.

"Why are you here" You asked while getting up, "Rude Y/n Chan, I'm still gonna answer your question though POLITELY, Ken-chin called us here so that we can go on a short trip or something to make your day better. Right ken-chin". Mikey looked over at draken, "Right whatever, can we go now?" He looked over at you for your response and all you did was kissed his neck because of your damn height and tagged along behind Mikey.

“Woah. You got a new tattoo?” Hina said as she lifted up your shirt and you shooed her hands away.

“Eventually.”

C h i f u y u

"I GONNA THROW UP ON YOU WITH ALL MY MIGHT IF YOU TRY TO GET NEAR MY TATTOOS MISTER " You exclaimed loudly as he started following you like a lost puppy around the kitchen, where you were busy making your 'grilled cheese'.

"Babe C'mom little color won't hurt and it's not like I'm trying to bite your tattoos off-". " See, there you said it, you're exactly gonna bite my tattoos off" Chifuyu sighed having enough of your nothings, he suddenly back hugged you, you can feel his large hands wrapped around your hip.

"What do you think you're doing?". You asked as you turned around to see his face,

"If you're not gonna let me color your tattoos then I prefer to stick with you like a koala, and you sure as hell know I ain't letting go." Chifuyu said and you eventually gave up because you knew nothing will change even if you don't agree with fuyu.

So now here you are sitting on chifuyu's lap as he continued to color the wallflower on your shoulder. "You done?". "Hold on a minute babe it's almost over, -All done" Chifuyu replied.

You sat up and started making your way to the mirror to see what he actually did " Y/N!!! Wait" chifuyu voice said and you turned around to see your boyfriend running over to you.

"Wha-", before you could finish your sentence he lifted you up and threw you over his shoulder. "The actual fuck chifuyu, what did you do! PUT ME DOWN YOU ASS"

"It's just better if you don't see it ya know, and I'll make sure you don't see it until I leave" Chifuyu chuckled quietly as he continued making his way to your bedroom.

-------------------------------_-----_-------------------------------------

[sineala]

Tony Stark and Arthuriana

Coming to you by special request, a very long post about 616 Tony's interest in Arthuriana, with a focus on all of Tony's run-ins with Morgan le Fay!

I feel like I should disclaim the extent of my knowledge here, which is that I still haven't managed to read anywhere near every issue of Iron Man -- at least, not yet, anyway -- so I'm just going by the things I know I've read, and Morgan le Fay's Marvel wiki entry is frustratingly under-cited, so it's very possible I've missed something relevant, but I'm pretty sure I've got the big stuff down. My other disclaimer here is that I'm not as big an Arthurian nerd as Tony is, which is to say that most of my familiarity comes from modern retellings -- T. H. White's The Once and Future King, Marion Zimmer Bradley's The Mists of Avalon, Mary Stewart's The Crystal Cave, Rosemary Sutcliff's Sword at Sunset -- and not so much the usual classic sources on the Matter of Britain, though I've read bits and pieces of them.

(This is because I wanted to read versions of them that were as close to the original as possible but so far have not ended up finishing any of them because, well, that's hard. So I've never read the Mabinogion because I do not know Welsh. I've got the Norton Critical Edition of Malory's Le Morte d'Arthur, which is probably the best student edition if you're looking for something without modernized spellings, as I was. I've also got -- well, okay, it's my wife's but I'm borrowing it -- a relatively recent Boydell & Brewer edition (ed. Reeve, tr. Wright) of Geoffrey of Monmouth's Historia Regum Britanniae (History of the Kings of Britain), which is, you guessed it, in Latin with a facing English translation. I haven't gotten very far in it because, in case you didn't know this about Latin texts, the beginning is pretty much always the hardest, so I gave up and read some Plautus adaptations instead. Anyway, if for some reason you too want to read Geoffrey of Monmouth in the original Latin I'd recommend that one, but I can't recommend any particular English translations because I've never read one by itself. I bet you didn't think you'd be getting Latin prose recommendations in this post. I mean, maybe you did; it is me, after all.)

Okay. Right. King Arthur. Here we go.

We've got:

Flashbacks to Tony's childhood in late Iron Man volume 1

A brief discussion of Morgan's origin story and Avengers #187

Iron Man vol 1 #149-150: Doomquest

What If vol 1 #33: What if Iron Man was trapped in the time of King Arthur?

Iron Man vol 1 #249-250: Recurring Knightmare

Iron Man: Legacy of Doom #1-4

Avengers vol 3 #1-4: The Morgan Conquest

Civil War: The Confession

Mighty Avengers vol 1 #9-11: Time Is On No One's Side

In terms of universe-internal chronology, we know from Iron Man #287, from 1992, that Tony has been a fan of King Arthur since childhood. This is an issue of a fandom-favorite arc which features Tony having a lot of childhood flashbacks, including the famous "Stark men are made of iron" line (in #286) that for some reason MCU fandom decided it loved; I mean, seriously, I've seen that quoted in way more MCU fic than 616 fic. But slightly later, in #287, we get an entire page devoted to Tony's love of King Arthur.

The narration reads: "Over the next few years, I learned as my father intended. Discipline of body. Strength of character. But in what free time I was allowed, I worked my way through the school's library. At thirteen, I discovered Mallory [sic], who showed me a whole new world. A world of dedication to a cause greater than oneself. Of chivalry and honor. And the fantastic deeds -- of armored heroes."

The art shows Tony as a child sitting under a tree, reading a book labeled Mort D'Arthur by Mallory [sic] -- no, don't ask me why nobody at Marvel checked how to spell either the name of the book or its author -- and daydreaming of King Arthur, the Sword in the Stone, knights, et cetera. Just in case you somehow missed the extremely blatant hint that we are meant to understand that Tony's knight obsession heavily influenced him becoming Iron Man as an adult, we see one of his armors mixed in with all the drawings of knights. So, yes, canonically Tony is Iron Man at least partly because he's a giant King Arthur nerd, which I think is so very sweet. I love him. He's such a dork!

(This issue is currently in print in the Iron Man Epic Collection War Machine, should you need your own copy.)

This isn't actually the only reference to Tony as a King Arthur fanboy in this era of canon, either; a little later, in IM #298, we see that one of Tony's passwords is actually "Mallory." (Yeah, no, they still couldn't spell. But it's cute.)

But in terms of actual publication order, this is definitely not the first time we have seen in canon that Tony is into Arthuriana, as I'm sure you all know. I would assume, in fact, that giving Tony a childhood interest in Arthuriana is because Doomquest is one of the most beloved Iron Man story arcs of all time, and that all started at least a decade before IM #287 here was published.

The villain of Doomquest -- the one who isn't Doctor Doom, at least -- is Morgan le Fay. Yes, that Morgan le Fay. Yes, Arthur's evil half-sister Morgan le Fay. Yes, all of this King Arthur stuff is canonically real history on Earth-616. Morgan's first appearance in Marvel, per the wiki, was in Black Knight #1 (1955), which I have not read, and judging by the summary I feel like this is probably just supposed to be a straight-up comic retelling of Arthurian legends for kids; I don't think Marvel really had the whole Marvel Universe in mind as a concept in 1955, so I'm not sure this was meant to connect to anything else. I feel like this is another one of those instances of Marvel discovering that they can write comics about characters in the public domain for free -- like, I'm pretty sure that's how we also ended up with, like, Norse, Greek, and Roman mythology wedged into 616.

As far as I can tell from the wiki, the first time Morgan tangled with the Avengers (or indeed the larger 616 universe) in any way actually predated Doomquest -- it was in an early arc in Spider-Woman (#2-6) and then Avengers #187, which came out in 1979, actually right when Demon in a Bottle was happening over in Iron Man comics. If you read #187, Iron Man is not in it because he's off the team due to his drinking problem and also his accidentally murdering the Carnelian ambassador problem. So Wonder Man's filling in instead. This issue is part of Michelinie's rather sporadic Avengers run, which makes sense, I guess, considering where we see Morgan next.

Anyway, Avengers #187 is the classic issue where Wanda is possessed by Chthon, but what you may not remember from Chthon's backstory (I sure didn't!) is that he was summoned by Morgan le Fay because she was the first person who tried to wield the Darkhold to summon him. As you can imagine, this did not work out especially well for her and her followers and they had to seal Chthon away in Wundagore Mountain, which was where Wanda found him. (The Spider-Woman stuff is only slightly earlier and also appears to be about Morgan and the Darkhold; the Darkhold is not one of the areas of 616 canon I am especially conversant with, alas. It's on my to-read list.)

Doomquest, as you probably know, was a classic Iron Man two-parter in Layton & Michelinie's first Iron Man run that set up Tony and Doom as rivals; Doomquest itself was IM #149-150, in 1981, and then in their second IM run they came back and did a sequel in 1989, Recurring Knightmare (IM #249-250), and then the much later four-part sequel to that was the 2008 miniseries Iron Man: Legacy of Doom, which was also by Layton & Michelinie but generally does not seem to be as popular as the first two parts. They've all been reprinted, if you're looking for copies; I have a Doomquest hardcover that collects the first four issues and then a separate Legacy of Doom hardcover. Currently in the Iron Man Epic Collection line there's a volume called Doom, which confusingly only collects the 249-250 part of the storyline (as well as surrounding issues), because for some reason the first Layton & Michelinie run isn't in Epics yet but the second one is. So the beginning of Doomquest isn't currently in print, as far as I can tell. I'm sure you can find it anyway.

So what's Doomquest about? Okay, so you remember how Doctor Doom's mother's soul is stuck in hell for all eternity? Well, Doom's obviously interested in getting her back, and the strategy he has embarked on is to try to team up with other powerful magicians who can help him out, and he thinks Morgan le Fay would be a good choice, for, uh, his quest. Doom's quest. A Doomquest, if you will. (If you've ever read Doctor Strange & Doctor Doom: Triumph & Torment, you're familiar with the part where he later ends up waylaying Strange for this and they go to hell together. And if you haven't read Triumph & Torment, you really should, because it's amazing.)

So Doom is off to his time machine to go team up with Morgan le Fay and Tony thinks Doom is up to something -- Doom has been stealing components for his time machine from a lot of people, including Tony -- and he follows him and it turns out one of Doom's lackeys has a grudge and wants to trap Doom in the past forever, and Tony gets caught up in it. Now they're both in Camelot. Surprise! #149 is actually all setup; they don't get to Camelot until #150.

IM #150 begins with Doom and Tony thrown back into the past; there's a fandom-famous splash page of them locked in combat, only to realize that they have found themselves in Camelot.

They are then discovered by knights; Doom would very much like to attack them, but Tony, who naturally would be happy to LARP Camelot forever, persuades him to play nice. Also Doom thinks Iron Man is only Tony's bodyguard so he keeps referring to him as "lackey," much to Tony's annoyance. Somehow everyone thinks they're sorcerers. Can't imagine why. The knights take them to meet King Arthur himself, and Tony has clearly had his introduction all ready to go, as he introduces himself in a timeline-appropriate manner, says he's here to apprehend Doom, and demonstrates his "magic" by levitating Arthur's throne. Doom's response is essentially "I'm the king of Latveria," which is, y'know, also valid. So they're guests at Camelot for the night while Arthur figures out what to do with them.

We then have a page devoted to Tony alone in his room, musing sadly about how alien he feels, how he doesn't know if he'll ever get home, how he could never fit in here without his beloved technology. Then a Sexy Lady shows up to keep him company for the night, and he decides maybe it's not all bad. Thanks, Marvel. I guess they can't all be winners.

Doom is using his evening much more productively; he compels one of the servants to tell him where Morgan's castle is, because he's still interested in having that team-up. Then he jets off. Literally. He has a jetpack.

The next morning Arthur's like "one of you is still here and one of you has punched a hole through the castle wall and flown off to join Morgan so I guess I know which of you is more trustworthy." He then explains to Tony who Morgan is, because Tony professes ignorance, because clearly we had not yet retconned in Tony's love of Arthuriana. Tony offers to go fight Doom and Morgan with Arthur; meanwhile, Morgan and Doom have teamed up and Morgan has offered to help get Doom's mother out of hell if he commands her undead armies against Arthur because for Reasons she can't command them herself anymore. So that's a thing that happens.

So, yes, it's Tony and Arthur versus Doom and Morgan. Fight fight fight!

Tony tries Doom first but then decides to hunt Morgan down, and in the ensuing fight we get what I think is Tony's first ever "I hate magic," a complaint that we all know he still makes even to this day.

Anyway, Tony freezes a dragon with Freon (mmm, technology) and Morgan gets upset and disappears, so the battle comes to an end, and of course Doom is extremely mad at Tony because he blames Tony for Morgan not sticking around to save Doom's mom, because I guess Doom trusted her to keep her word? Weird. (Like I said, for the next chapter of Doom saving his mother, go read Triumph & Torment.)

Doom says if he and Tony work together, the components in both of their armors can send them both home. So Tony has to trust Doom. Which he does, because he really has no other choice. They build a time machine and Tony makes Doom agree to a 24-hour truce when they get back, so they can both get home. So it all works out okay, and they end up in the present, and Doom tells him, ominously, that they will meet again. Okay, then. That concludes the original Doomquest. It's fun! You can see why fandom likes it.

So that's all well and good, but you might have noticed that Tony's ability to get home hinged on Doom actually being trustworthy. And Doom was. But what if Doom hadn't been? What if he'd just stranded Tony in Camelot forever As you may have surmised from the form of that question, that is in fact a question Marvel asked themselves, because, yes, there's a What If about this! What If v1 #33 is "What if Iron Man was trapped in the time of King Arthur?"

The divergence point from canon, as you can probably guess, is the very end of Doomquest. Instead of Doom bringing Tony home, he deceives him and leaves him in Camelot. And since Tony cannibalized a lot of the tech from his armor to make the time machine, he doesn't have a way to go home.

This is not a story where Tony comes up with a way to go home after all. He really doesn't get to go home. But instead of drowning his sorrows in mead -- because, remember, Demon in a Bottle has already happened and Tony is sober now -- he decides he might as well just play the hand he's dealt. So with what's left of his armor, he defeats some enemies that Morgan rounds up to send against Camelot. And for his services, he's knighted. He is now Sir Anthony.

Tony acknowledges that he is both living the dream and would also like very, very much to go home.

He does end up having some fun in Camelot; it's not all miserable. But he obviously doesn't want to be there.

So if you're at all familiar with King Arthur, you know how this goes, right? Arthur fights Mordred and Mordred kills him. And that does happen in this version. Except Tony is right there, and with his dying words, Arthur asks Tony to rule Camelot... and Tony agrees.

So, yes, Tony Stark becomes king of the Britons after Arthur's death and he never goes home again. The end. Man, I love What Ifs.

Heading back to main 616 continuity, there is still more of this arc to go. The original Doomquest was only two issues, yes, but it was popular enough that Layton & Michelinie did a sequel a hundred issues later, in their second run of Iron Man, and that's Iron Man #249-250, Recurring Knightmare. (In the intervening issues were Denny O'Neil's IM run, specifically the second drinking arc (#160-200), and then Layton & Michelinie came back and most famously gave us Armor Wars (#225-232). I would have to say that Armor Wars is definitely the standout fandom-favorite arc of their second IM run; for their first one, I think a lot of people would have a hard time choosing between Doomquest and Demon.) But anyway, yes. Recurring Knightmare.

Recurring Knightmare is... well, the best way I can describe it is "a trip." It is definitely a sequel to Doomquest, and it is also definitely not a sequel you  would ever have expected to see for Doomquest.

Much like #149, #249 is pretty much just setup. Fun setup, but the big action is in the next issue. We open with Doom in Latveria, on his throne, pondering which of his servants he should have disintegrated. Anyway, he's just hanging out there when a mysterious object appears. In California, Tony is suited up and entertaining the crowd at a mall opening when the same object also appears! He takes it to his lab. Please note that this is after the Kathy Dare incident, so Tony is still recovering and is walking with a cane. Doom sees on the news that Iron Man has found the same object, which cannot be carbon-dated, and he shows up at Tony's house. He criticizes Tony's taste in art.

Anyway, Doom basically orders Tony to work with him. Tony refuses, and then Doom sends some robots to attempt to steal Tony's version of the object because he thinks if he has them both he will be powerful. Doom manages to steal it, and when he puts the pieces together, both he and Tony disappear.

So where do they go, you might ask? Camelot?

Not exactly. The future! There is a great callback to the Doomquest splash page.

It turns out they are in London in 2093. Merlin brought them there. Tony still hates magic. And in the future, King Arthur is still there, except he is now a child, because he has been reborn. But he does remember Tony from Doomquest, at which point Tony kneels. Doom, of course, is not impressed. He asks why they have been brought to the future.

The answer is that things are going wrong in the future. If you do not personally remember United States politics in the 1980s, I need you to google the words "Strategic Defense Initiative" right now. I'll wait.

Back with me? Okay, so this is a future where Reagan's Star Wars program actually happened the way he wanted it to, and the satellites are still hanging around the Earth in the future and messing everything up, and Arthur and Merlin need Tony and Doom's help to stop them. Doom once again flies away with his jetpack, of course.

Tony is game to help, but he's not in an armor that can stay in space for long. This is when Merlin takes him and Arthur to the mall and Tony manages to get everything to upgrade his armor at Radio Shack. You see what I meant about this issue being weird.

Tony is out in space trying to disarm the SDI platform, which is where he runs into his future descendant, Andros Stark, who is in armor you will probably recognize from Iron Man 2020. He is referred to as "the resurrected spawn of Iron Man 2020" so I assume he's actually directly related to Arno rather than a direct descendant of Tony; Wiki confirms that Arno is his grandfather. This is all from way before Arno was contemporaneous with Tony in canon. Anyway, he's fighting Tony.

Oh, by the way, Future Doom exists. Future Doom would like to rule this future Earth and for some reason Andros would like to help him. Meanwhile, Present Doom finds out from Merlin that he can't leave except by magic and he can't leave without Tony, so he is reluctantly on Tony's side.

They need help from the Lady of the Lake, except the lake has been paved over and is now a parking lot. Merlin makes the lake come back and then of course they get Excalibur. Arthur is a kid, so he can't wield a longsword; Doom assumes he's going to take it because he is basically a king, and he's pretty grumpy when the sword picks Tony. Tony then uses Excalibur to destroy the space lasers, and I bet that is a sentence you never thought you would read. It's pretty cool. Tony concludes that magic has its good points. Tony stops Andros and Doom stops, uh, himself, and the world is saved and they get to go home. Also, Doom finds out Tony is Iron Man, but when Merlin sends them back he conveniently erases their memories, so neither of them remember anything about this and Tony's secret is still safe. And that's the sequel to Doomquest.

And if you think that's weird, wait until you see Legacy of Doom.

Iron Man: Legacy of Doom is a four-issue miniseries from 2008, also by Layton and Michelinie. Even though it's from 2008, it's set during a much more classic time in Iron Man, continuing on from where we left off in this Doomquest saga. We start with a framing story in 2008. Tony, who has Extremis now, is busy scrapping some of his older armors and reviewing his logs when he suddenly remembers that there was a whole thing with Doom that happened that he seems to have forgotten about until right now. So the whole thing is narrated by Tony in flashback.

Tony's in space fixing a satellite when a hologram of Doom shows up and summons him to Latveria. It's not really clear why Doom needs Tony's help in particular here, but Doom tells Tony that he's discovered that Mephisto would like to bring about the end of the world, which Doom finds, and I quote, "presumptive." So Doom has his Time Cube, and with it he takes Tony to hell.

(Yes, I promise this is relevant to Doomquest. There will be some Arthuriana shortly.)

Doom brings Tony to Mephisto, and it turns out it's a setup! Doom trades Tony for an item he wants from Mephisto, leaves, and Tony's going to be trapped in hell forever! Oh no! (I mean, he's not. But it's quite a cliffhanger.)

At the beginning of issue #2, we find out what the Arthurian connection is, which is that we learned that after the events of Doomquest, Morgan had been granted sanctuary by Mephisto in exchange for a shard of Excalibur that she had somehow stolen. Doom still wants Morgan's help with some magic -- he doesn't mention what it is here, but he says he needs someone of Pendragon blood, and that'd be her -- so he traded Tony to Mephisto in exchange for, I'm guessing, Morgan and the Excalibur shard.

I have probably mentioned this elsewhere, but Legacy of Doom #2 is one of my favorite issues of Iron Man ever, solely because of the next scene. We return to Tony in hell. Howard Stark is also in hell, and he is now a demon, and Tony has to fight him. Mephisto brings popcorn and watches. This is the one time in canon when Tony actually confronts his father, and okay, yes, it's a fistfight in hell and Howard is a demon, but that's comics for you. Howard spends several pages insulting Tony -- specifically insulting his masculinity, but that's a whole other essay -- until he finally insults Maria too, and that's when Tony fights back, because his mother taught him to be good. Honestly if you're a Tony fan I'd recommend this issue just for that scene.

Anyway, we go back to the Doom and Morgan plot, and Morgan casts the spell Doom wanted, which was fusing the Excalibur shard with Doom's armor. Then Doom sends her back to Camelot rather than hell, because he's still mad that she never helped him get his mom out of hell like she said she would.

Tony freezes Howard with Freon -- yes, the same trick he pulled on the dragon back in Doomquest -- and tells him, "You're no father of mine." It is immensely satisfying.

(I had been going to mention that I thought it was a shame that neither canon nor fandom seems to have really engaged with this confrontation, and I know canon never believes in narrative closure but fandom sure does -- and then, anyway, it occurred to me that since the framing story of Tony remembering this is set when Tony has Extremis, there's a very good chance that he no longer remembers remembering it. Goddammit, Marvel.)

(If I got to retcon one canon thing about Tony, I think "the entirety of World's Most Wanted" is up there. I mean, okay, a lot of things are up there, but WMW is definitely on the shortlist.)

Okay. Tony has now engineered his way out of hell, and he's back with Doom in Latveria. Doom has Excalibur. Doom would very much like to fight him. While wielding Excalibur. You get the sense that this is going to be bad. Another cliffhanger!

Legacy of Doom #3 opens with Tony destroying Doom's lab to buy time and running away from Doom and Excalibur. I should probably mention that Doom still doesn't know Tony is Iron Man (anymore), so he thinks he is dealing only with Iron Man, Tony Stark's lackey. Meanwhile, some scientists at SI think there's something weird going on with space. Meanwhile meanwhile, Tony is in a forest taking a breather when a mysterious old man walks up to him.

It's Merlin! Surprise! Merlin wants Tony's help to stop Doom from doing whatever he's doing with Excalibur. The sword makes you invincible and the scabbard makes you invulnerable, so Merlin sends Tony to Scotland on a fetch quest for the scabbard. Doom has now magically sent the sword in search of the scabbard, so the sword flies away to meet it and Doom follows. Turns out the thing that's wrong with space is a thing that's going to hit Earth at the exact place Tony and Doom are. What a coincidence! So Tony and Doom get trapped in a stone circle and fight some stone warriors and then Tony ends up with the scabbard. And by "ends up with," I mean it fuses to his armor. Next issue!

Legacy of Doom #4 is when things really, really get weird. A giant demon made of eyes (???) appears, and this demon is apparently what Doom had been preparing to fight (because it's mad that Doom stole one of its spellbooks), and now he can't, because the sword and the scabbard aren't together. Thanks, Shellhead.

That's when Merlin shows up and says all is not lost. They can defeat the demon... if they put the sword into the scabbard.

"But I'm the scabbard now!" Tony says, uncomprehending.

"Yes," Merlin says. "You are."

Then Tony gets it.

So, yes, Doom has to, um, penetrate Tony. With Excalibur. I love comics. I love comics so much.

So that's a thing that happens.

And then Tony flies off and, I guess, resolves to never, ever think about any of this again.

We head back to the framing story, in which Tony, now having remembered all of this, flies to Britain, buys the land the lake is on, and paves it over, presumably so it will be there for Merlin to bring back in Iron Man #250. The end.

Whew.

Okay, yeah, I know I didn't have to summarize the whole thing, but Legacy of Doom here really is one of my favorite Iron Man miniseries. And I just want to share the love. Please read it. It's great.

But the Arthuriana fun doesn't end there! In fact, now we get an Arthurian-themed arc that actually isn't in Iron Man comics. It's in Avengers! Iron Man is involved, though.

(There is also apparently a Morgan arc in Avengers #240. I actually haven't read it. It seems to be yet another Spider-Woman arc. I get the impression that this isn't really Arthuriana other than having Morgan in it fighting Jess, though, so it doesn't seem quite as relevant. Morgan also apparently has some appearances in FF, Journey into Mystery, and Marvel Team-Up, but those seem like more of just basic villainy. Also, probably not involving Tony.)

Kurt Busiek's 1998 Avengers run, volume 3, is in large part the kind of Avengers run that is a nostalgic love letter to older comics. Heroes are heroes and villains are villains and good triumphs over evil. The Avengers all live in the mansion and are BFFs. I love it. It does assume that you are already a fan of the Avengers, because it starts out by summoning pretty much everyone who has ever been an Avenger and is available to the mansion, and that is... a lot of people. Thirty-nine, by my count. Also, when the entire team is magically whisked away, we are treated to the following narration, as Steve disappears: "And Captain America's last thought, as the world goes white around him, and he with it -- is that Iron Man would hate this."

The narration doesn't tell you why Iron Man would hate this, or how Captain America would know that Iron Man hates this. This is not explained later on. But if you have read comics -- or if you have read the above summary of Doomquest -- you know that Tony is absolutely, one hundred percent, thinking, "I hate magic." And Steve knows it.

The reference is not relevant to the plot; if you don't get it, you'll be fine. But that's what I mean when I say this is a nostalgia run. There are definitely Easter eggs for people who have read a bunch of comics. Busiek does this a whole lot in his work -- there's a reason you can buy an annotated edition of Marvels -- and, yeah, it happens here too. Just know that there will be references you're not getting, if you're new to comics.

Anyway. So Busiek's run actually starts out with an Arthurian arc, #1-4, "The Morgan Conquest." The name is a dead giveaway. Yes, Morgan le Fay is back. Again. For once, Doom is not involved.

The Avengers are all back from their sojourn on Counter-Earth after fighting Onslaught -- don't worry about it -- and mysterious things are happening. There are a lot of monster attacks. So pretty much everyone who has ever been an Avenger is summoned to the mansion, at which point we learn from Thor about some mystical artifacts that are being stolen. (They are the Norn Stones and also the Twilight Sword. That sounds like something from a Zelda game, doesn't it?) The Avengers go to try to stop this, end up in Tintagel, and then they run into Mordred. He wants to capture Wanda, presumably for Magic Reasons. Morgan le Fay casts a spell on all of them, reshaping reality. Yes, all of them. Surprise!

So now all the Avengers are living in a medieval castle and/or town; Morgan is their queen, and thanks to the power of mind-control they are all basically living in Ye Olden Times. The Avengers are all some variety of knight, except for Wanda, who is chained up in the dungeon so Morgan can steal her magic and use it to fuel all this reality-warping.

Wanda calls for help, and that snaps Steve (Yeoman America!) out of the mind control (or altered reality or whatever you want to call it) pretty fast, because Steve's always been very good at resisting mind control, and then Steve promptly goes and snaps Clint out of it, because I guess Steve is also good at inspiring people to snap out of mind control. "Oh, man!" Clint says. "Not another alternate reality! Not again!" (I assume he's referring to Counter-Earth? Maybe?)

So Steve and Clint go around reassembling the Avengers and orienting them as to reality. They get Jan and Monica easily, but then Steve insists on trying to get Tony because, I guess, he likes Tony and would really like to hang around Tony, who is half-naked and asleep in his bedroom, and certainly I am reading nothing whatsoever into this. Clint tells Steve it's not going to work. Tony has historically been fairly susceptible to mind control; it was only pretty recently at this point that he'd been doing Kang's bidding in The Crossing. But the more serious impediment is that this is Tony Stark and he would obviously like to LARP being a knight forever and ever. Tony, therefore, does not believe Steve, and throws him and Clint out of his bedroom and into the barracks.

"Iron Man's a good guy, normally," Clint says. "But he's waaay too into his whole nobleman/lord of the manor trip. That spell musta hit him right where he lives!"

Clint speaks the truth, clearly.

Anyway, they go around and manage to make pretty much every Avenger in the room other than Tony snap out, and attempt to rebel against Morgan while Tony is stil fighting them because he is Still A Knight. There's a lot of punching, because some of the Avengers still aren't free; they weren't ones Steve found.

The day is saved when Wanda manages to channel Wonder Man and break free. This gives the Avengers a fighting chance against Morgan and the Avengers are all lending Wanda their power when Tony finally snaps out of it and is on the side of good. 

Then they take Morgan down, go home, and attempt to figure out which of these thirty-nine people should be on the active Avengers team. Hooray.

But that's not the end of Morgan le Fay showing up to screw around with Tony's life! There's more to come! Not much, but there is one that I know of, and at least one more memorable reference. 

(I haven't read all her appearances or anything, but one of them definitely involves Tony; I can't swear that he doesn't appear in any of the other books Morgan shows up in, but it'd be a cameo for him, because I only know of one more arc that she's in in a book that Tony stars in.)

In a few more years, we have now entered the part of Marvel Comics history where Brian Michael Bendis writes all the Avengers books at the same time for, like, seven years running. It was sure A Time. There were a lot of word bubbles.

And the thing about Bendis is, Bendis looooooves Doomquest. If you're familiar with the very end of his tenure at Marvel where he made Doom be Iron Man after Tony got knocked into a coma in Civil War II, you have probably figured out already that he likes Doom. But he also likes Doomquest, specifically.

I mean, if nothing else, the giant splash page in The Confession where Maleev redrew the climactic Doomquest fight while Bendis had Tony talk about how deeply meaningful to his understanding of the world this all was -- and how it allowed him to predict Civil War -- was probably a big clue, right?

As far as I am aware, Morgan le Fay makes exactly one more appearance in Tony's life. And that's in Mighty Avengers vol 1 #9-11. Only one of those issues is named, so I'm going to assume the arc is named after it: Time Is On No One's Side.

You remember Mighty Avengers, right? The deal with the Avengers books at the time was that after Bendis exploded the mansion and made the team disband in Avengers Disassembled, the main Avengers book was no longer called just Avengers. Instead, the main Avengers book was New Avengers, and that was the only Avengers book. Then Civil War happened, Steve got killed, and New Avengers became the book about what was left of the SHRA resistance (i.e., Steve's side) after the war. So about halfway through New Avengers, Mighty Avengers starts up, and Mighty Avengers is about an extremely fucked-up and grief-stricken Tony Stark trying to run the official government-sanctioned Avengers team, with Carol's help. This is the comic with the arc where Tony turned into naked girl Ultron. You remember.

So, anyway, there's this Mighty Avengers arc where Doom is Up To Something (there are symbiotes and a satellite involved) and somehow Tony and the Avengers end up in Latveria, punching Doom. Also, by the way, Doom is visiting Morgan in the past because he likes her. The Avengers attacking his castle made him have to come back to the present, so he's kind of cranky. And he fights Tony, and in the course of the fight, his time platform explodes and sends Doom and Tony and also the Sentry to... the past.

This is one of those times where you should definitely look up the comics if possible because the way the past is visually indicated here is that it's colored with halftone dots the way you would expect old comics to be colored, although they have modern shading and color palettes. It's very charmingly retro.

So the three of them are stuck in New York in the past, and naturally they would like to leave. There's one person in this time who has a time machine and it is, of course, Reed Richards. Doom and Tony have a lot of banter in this arc; I think it's entertaining.

Sentry has to be the one to break them all into the Baxter Building because of that power he has where no one will remember him. So they do that, travel forward in time, and end up in Latveria in the present again except Doom is gone and also things are currently exploding where they are.

Doom, of course, has made a side trip to visit Morgan again and he asks her to help him build an army, because I guess this is what their relationship is like. So the rest of the Avengers are captured by what look to me like Mindless Ones and are in a cave in magic bondage, because comics. Jess comments that at least they aren't naked, because she too is remembering that memorable New Avengers trip to the Savage Land. Doom threatens Carol in some creepy sexist ways and eventually it turns out that Tony and the Sentry are fine and everyone kicks Doom's ass. Business as usual.

And the last page of the arc is Morgan alone, wondering where Doom is. So technically Morgan and Tony don't come face to face here, but I think she counts as being at least partially responsible for ruining Tony's day here. And then Secret Invasion happens and Tony has a very, very bad day.

There are a few more Morgan appearances after this, but, as I said, I don't think any of them involve Tony. She shows up in Dark Avengers, apparently, which was one of the post-Civil War Avengers titles I didn't read, and I know that recently, on the X-Men side of things, she's been in Tini Howard's Excalibur one, which I have only read a little of. No Tony there. Just a lot of Morgan and Betsy Braddock and Brian Braddock and the Otherworld.

If you are interested in Morgan's other appearances, you might like this Marvel listicle that is Morgan le Fay's six most malicious acts. I pulled some of the Darkhold backstory from their discussion, but it's not really focused on Morgan and Tony.

So there you have it! That's everything I know about Tony's love for King Arthur and every run-in I know about that he's had with Morgan le Fay! One of two terrible people in Tony's life named Morgan! Actually, I don't think we've seen Morgan Stark in a while. I wonder if he's alive. There should be a Morgan & Morgan team-up. I should probably stop typing and post this.

The tl;dr point is that you should all read Doomquest and its sequels, especially Legacy of Doom. They're great!

[dreaminpetals]

could i request hcs for naib and Jjseph reacting to their gn s/o coming back from a match severely wounded? like broken bones or having been left to bleed out (i saw someone hc that bleeding out feels like actually dying and someone else hc that the surv is left in a comatose state while they recover from exsanguination and i RAN with it)

🔪 naib and joseph react to mortally wounded s/o . . . 🎞

tw: emetophobia and blood

NAIB SUBEDAR ;;

art credit

♡ jack had left you to bleed out after being rescued. he chased martha all the way across moonlit while you writhed in pain inches away from the rocket chair. it was so excruciating that you considered chairing yourself so you could seek medical help immediately, but your legs were broken. you couldn't move an inch.

♡ once you finally went comatose, you faded back to the manor and martha hopped into the dungeon, panicking when she saw the blood pooling below you.

♡ his foggy blades had ripped through everything you had and you weren't looking good. you were rushed to the emergency wing where emily tended to you. the doctor was thankful you were comatose, because if you were conscious the disinfectants she used were so strong you would have let out screams of agony that she could never forget.

♡ naib burst through the doors the moment he heard of your condition. he kicked a hole in the wall when he saw how many machines you were hooked up to.

♡ had he been there, he never would have let this happen. martha is young, inexperienced. she wouldn't have been willing to sacrifice herself for you either. naib would have broken all of his bones himself if it could save you from simply bruising one.

♡ the usually stoic naib was wracked with grief, hiccuping back sobs and clinging to your bandaged frame. emily's heart broke as she heard him mutter "don't go, please baby don't leave me," whenever your breathing would spike.

♡ naib is furious with himself and with everyone who let this happen to you. his fists shake his rage and he nearly bites the head off anyone who tries to speak to him.

♡ none of the other survivors can console him. when he does leave your room, his actions are frantic and his interactions with others are limited. naib has complete hope that you'll wake up and he doesn't want to miss it. also, as much as he doesn't want to admit, he wants to be the first thing you see when you rise.

♡ the doctor and mercenary grew quite close over their shared anguish for you. naib would take your vitals as you slept and help flush out your IVs when necessary. he has some experience with tending to wounded soldiers so he knows all about the proper procedures for you.

♡ however, he's never seen something like exsanguination before. he can't bear to see you be drained. naib has seen plenty of disturbing and life altering sights but he needs to step out of the room when his lover is undergoing such a process. it would traumatize him more than your status already has.

♡ he cries himself to sleep every night. the thought of losing you claws the breaths out of his throat. he pulls up a bed beside yours and stays stationed there all night, only leaving when necessary.

♡ your steady breaths in the dead of the night help to ease his nerves but he can't stay asleep for too long in case that breathing stops and he isn't able to save you again.

♡ on the day you're scheduled to wake up, naib prepares a feast and a bouquet for you. you receive several bouquets from your friends, but naib consulted emma for the best, most romantic flowers to choose.

♡ your eyes flutter open to the sight of naib jogging towards you, eyes as wide as saucers as his fingers run through his hair in disbelief. so overjoyed he can't form a single word. he peppers you with kisses and his hot tears drip onto your cheeks.

♡ the bags under his eyes are a sign that naib hasn't been boding well with your affliction. pull him into your chest, mindful of any tubes you may still be connected to, and let him rest there. speak every once in a while or card your fingers through his chestnut hair stained with sweat so he knows that you're still with him.

♡ when he wakes up to you smiling down at him, he knows things will be okay. of course he'll be extra protective of you, but this has taught him that you won't go down without a fight. it's a tad reassuring for the mercenary.

♡ once you're able to walk and fight again, naib never lets you play against jack again for good measure, and he never leaves your side during matches. it doesn't matter how many rescuers the team has, naib is staying. and he's not letting you out of his reach, never again.

JOSEPH DESAULNIERS ;;

art credit

♡ joseph knows what courting a survivor entails. you're going to be hurt by the people he lives with and there's nothing he can do about it. he warns everyone to be gentle with his s/o, but the photographer's words fall to deaf ears during grisly rank matches.

♡ this match was one of those. one where zero survivors made it past the exit gate and the feaster was left to triumph over his four victims.

♡ you had been left to bleed out after reaching your self heal limit. hastur's mighty tentacle whipped you stronger than usual, breaking your ribs and leaving you wheezing for air. the red waves of pain that pulsed through your body with every breath left you a bawling puddle on the ground, curling into a fetal position as you silently pleaded to a god that wasn't listening for the last kiter to be chaired already.

♡ mike was finally stuffed into a chair and flown back to the manor while you oozed into the ground and landed on the cold tiled floor of the manor with a thud. he gasped when he saw your condition and alerted emily right away.

♡ laying in the hospital bed, joseph teleported into the room with knitted brows and a green tint to his complexion. the sheen of bile on his chin told you he had thrown up before arriving.

♡ your approaching lover, screaming as he saw your eyes close, was the last thing you witnessed before passing out for days.

♡ as far as joseph knew, you were dead.

♡ for the second time in his life, he lost the most important person to him. he shrieked and whimpered out sobs that chilled emily to the bone. she had to explain right away that you were alive, only comatose, and you were expected to make it through.

♡ the photographer didn't believe her. he saw the bones sticking out of your torso and the blood staining your shirt, he wasn't blind. his lover was dead.

♡ emily had to politely usher him out of the room as she and aesop went to work on your body, draining the blood to restore you to your former glory. this has happened to survivors before and you were no exception.

♡ as they operated on you, joseph struggled to walk back to your room. he clung to the walls and tables lining the hallways of the manor but nothing could propel his legs to move. they felt like bricks, chaining him down to the cold tiles you collapsed on upon your doomed arrival.

♡ there isn't a shred of hope inside of joseph's body. he isn't an optimistic person, especially not when he saw his darling draw their final, ragged breath. you had the death rattle. the same rattle claude had in his final moments.

♡ he saw aesop approach your hospital room. joseph took this as a sign of your departure, when it really was emily asking for a second hand to improve your chances of survival. all the critical thinking skills leave joseph's body when you're in any sort of danger.

♡ for days he laid in your bed back in your bedroom and slept with your clothes until your scent drifted away, replaced with his musty one from not bathing. he didn't want to wash you off of him. there was a small fleck of your blood on his sleeve that he would cherish forever as a memento of you.

♡ just as he became obsessed with capturing people after claude's death, joseph was itching to claim some lives due to yours. firstly he was going to snap a picture of the barbaric feaster who dared to steal his love away from him, then the survivors in the match with you who could have saved you.

♡ his final photograph was going to be your gorgeous corpse so you could truly be preserved forever.

♡ dragging his camera equipment down the halls, he was promptly stopped by emily calling his name. she told him to come to the hospital wing to visit you.

♡ he was appalled that the doctor would dare to ask him to look at his dead lover while he was busy avenging them. joseph was moments away from trapping her in his camera world for all of eternity, pinning the woman down and reaching for his film, when she exclaimed that you were awake.

♡ he gripped his lens so hard it shattered and cut his hands.

♡ with a snap of his fingers, joseph teleported back to your bedside where you were eating a plain cheese sandwich, a bit groggy with a bedhead but awake.

♡ he thought he was hallucinating.

♡ but he wasn't.

♡ you perked up where you sat and he dashed into your arms, deep cries rumbling from his chest as his tears stained your gown. his nose was dripping with snot and he had an almost vacant stare on his face as he scanned your features. feeling down your body, his hands ghosted against some bloodstained bandages wrapped tightly against your torso. he could feel your heartbeat thrum beneath his fingertips. you were okay.

♡ you were okay.

♡ you were okay.

♡ joseph proposed to you and promised to murder any hunter who hurts you again. they all listen to him.

♡ though joseph's possessiveness and obsessiveness over you grew tenfold, you were never going to be hurt again and the thought lulled him to sleep every night as you snored in his arms. he was going to protect this innocent bundle sleeping with him until he drew his last breath.

[pheywards]

best friend can u write something about pope liking poetry or drawing it just suits him so much :((

anything but textbook

my first piece of writing please be nice :( anyways this is also my first request so i hope you like it! i’m so obsessed with the idea of pope being a poet and an artist, it’s such a sweet contrast to our little dorky coroner in the show.

pope heyward x fem!reader

word count: 723 sorry it’s short i’m out of practice

warnings: none? maybe one curse word, pope being insecure, and definitely not proofread

okay without further ado, the fic :)

pope was always known as the methodical one. everything to him was based on facts and statistics. his thing was always science, defined by strict boundaries with no room for interpretation. so really, it came as a surprise to all when he started journaling.

it started as little doodles in the margins of his notes, which turned into full scale drawings, which turned into poems and drabbles. pope started carrying around a small leather-bound notebook to scribble in whenever his thoughts started whirling like a bad riptide.

though pope was never the creative type, deep down he knew why he turned to poems and drawings to express his thoughts. after all, the way he felt by you was something outside of science. the way his heart skipped a beat whenever you laughed wasn't something explained in a textbook. the way his cheeks heated when you stretched out in your bikini on the pogue wasn‘t something he could solve with an equation or formula.

as embarrassing as it was to admit, most of the poems in his journal were written about your sparkling eyes and shining personality. pope heyward was falling head over heels for you and there was nothing he could do about it except pour all of his thoughts onto the yellow-tinged, wrinkled parchment of his notebook. everything written in there was incredibly personal. the poems bared the rawest parts of pope’s soul, and the drawings showed parts of himself he couldn’t explain with words.

so you can imagine pope’s horror when he saw jj casually laying on the hammock and flipping through it.

after pope managed to wrestle the notebook out of jj’s hands and worked through most of his panic, jj convinced him to actually sit down and talk. though most of the conversation consisted of jj relentlessly teasing pope, singing “pope and y/n sitting in a tree” until pope smacked him with the leather bound book, the blonde boy actually offered some pretty sage advice.

“you should just tell her, dude,” jj said, his eyes sparkling with sincerity.

pope shook his head. “no. no way. someone like y/n would never like me.”

jj scoffed. “and why would you think that?”

“because i’m…me!” pope sputtered. “i’m just nerdy, dorky pope and she‘s…..” glancing out at the dock where you and kie were sitting, weaving friendship bracelets out of cheap, colorful strings, pope sighed. “she’s perfect.”

just then, you turned to look at pope, and smiled so brightly at him that he felt lightheaded. “hey, pope!” you called, your voice floating to his ears like it was delivered personally by the angels. “you comin?”

pope swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. he managed to nod as jj snickered, eventually choking out a strangled, “yeah, in a minute!”

“bro, you’re so whipped,” jj chuckled.

pope buried his head in his hands. “i’m hopeless!” he groaned, a pit settling in his stomach.

“no you’re not.” jj shook his head. “you don’t see the way y/n looks at you. you’re the only one she smiles at like that.”

“really?” disbelief flitted across pope’s features.

“yeah, man,” jj affirmed, nodding. “so tell her.”

pope frowned slightly. “but…how?” a sigh passed through his full lips, the pit in his stomach growing heavier. “i’m so bad with words—what would i even say? anything i tell her will make me sound like an idiot and—“

“dude,” jj interrupted, stifling a laugh. “you don’t have to say anything.”

pope’s face contorted with confusion, and that was enough to spur jj on.

jj nodded to the brown leather book nestled neatly in pope’s lap. “what’s that thing all those smart people say? there’s a million words in a drawing—“

“a picture holds a thousand words,” pope finished, his frown morphing into a soft smile. “y’know, sometimes you do have really good ideas, j.”

jj smirked. “hell yeah i do.”

gripping the notebook firmly in his hands, pope was filled with a newfound confidence. he glanced at you again, admiring the way the sunset made your soft skin glow and the way your hair fluttered in the soft evening breeze.

pope has never been good with words or emotions anyway. handing something over to you? well that was as textbook as it could get. exactly pope’s style.

even if the way you made him feel was anything but textbook.

•

a/n: omg i hope y’all liked this…. it’s been forever since i posted writing so i hope it’s not shitty 😭 also i have no clue how to work the formatting on this app so lmk if this post is ugly LMAO

[angxlyxn]

preservation - aesop x f. reader

summary: Aesop wants to make sure that you stay as his, forever.

warnings: death, reader dies, minor gore (blood), asphyxiation/choking, obsessive behavior, usage of a syringe, death by use of pancuronium bromide.

a/n: identity v is unfortunately my current brainrot, so please take this.  i’m actually pretty proud of this piece and i hope you enjoy it too!

word count: ~4.6k

When you had first arrived at the manor, you had been seen by many as strange.  An oddity if you will, a disturbance in the otherwise monotonous and flat life that the others led.  You had stood upon the steps of the mansion, clutching a leather case between your clammy hand and knocking definitively on the door.  The oaken frame was soon flung open by a vivacious girl, her brown hair falling in locks about her face and tangling around her chin with a sort of carelessness.  She had introduced herself to you as Emma, and you had given her a curt nod in return.  You mumbled out your name, mindlessly letting your eyes drift about the meticulous architecture of the manor in disinterest, the girl’s lively rambles buzzing about and filtering through your previously vacant ears.  She soon had led you into the warmth of the building, a creeping feeling overtaking you as she tugged you towards the dining hall, where she said the others were waiting.  Your hands tightened around your skirt pocket, where the letter that brought you to this place was secured.  It had promised a large sum of money for your participation in some sort of “game”, of which the details were not included.  You, however, blindly jumped at the opportunity.  Lack of a spouse and job had left you nearly homeless, and you had become tired of being a scavenger, tired of having your life depend on whether or not an inn had vacancies.  So, the idea of a huge cash prize was everything to you.  

You remembered clearly the moment when you had been pulled into the dining room and hurriedly introduced by an overly excited Emma, the sea of survivors greeting you with looks varying from boredom to contempt.  One person, however, stood out to you as they looked on with an expression of interest, cold grey eyes analyzing your features and brows drawing together in thought.  You returned his stare, not as a challenge but simply out of curiosity.  Upon realizing that you were looking at him as well, he turned away from you, gently tucking the hem of his mask further over his thin nose.

A peculiar one, Aesop was.  He never did grow less reticent during your time together, always staying serious and stone-faced, yet easy to fluster.  A few survivors took advantage of his frightful nature, but most were too afraid of the embalmer to even spare a glance in his direction.

Which, he supposes, is where his infatuation with you began.  You were like him, in a way.  Generally avoided by most, with the exception of a few more social survivors, such as Kevin and Emma.  Luca, it seemed, had also taken a liking to you, and often would drag you along to keep him company.  Those were the times that Aesop hated the most.  He never minded much when Kevin would flirt, or when Emma would insist on you helping her with her gardening, because he knew that these were just patterns of behavior, and nothing personal.  Luca, however, was hard to read.  He was extroverted, yet private, and tried as he did, Aesop was never able to figure him out.  His motives were too jumbled to understand, his words always far too fast and convoluted.  And the amount of attention you seemed to divert to the young inventor was more than enough to bring forth the feelings of jealousy and disdain that seemed to occupy Aesop whenever someone spoke of or interacted with you.  

Despite these odd feelings, Aesop was disgusted by you.  The living repulsed him, and you weren’t supposed to be an exception to this rule.  He would hold back a flinch each time that you would breathe, the motion of your chest rising filling him with contempt both for you and himself.  He hated that he was so attached to a living thing such as you.  

You would be so much better off dead.  So much prettier with your eyes permanently closed, the gentle flush that usually occupied your cheeks drawn out from your skin.  

He knew that he had to resist these temptations of seeing you lifeless.  Aesop was a calculated man, but he seemed to have much less control when it came to you.  So, he decided that it would do him well to attempt to act as one usually would, and for a time he tried to fit himself into the social structure of the manor, at least more so than he usually did.

He tried to grow closer to you as someone usually would.  The male would dedicate part of his day to attempting to be social with you, although this usually just meant that he would sit near you in the library or join you by the fireplace.  Little to no words were exchanged between the two of you, and yet, he could not have wished for anything more.  During the time he spent with you, he was able to observe, able to familiarize himself with your behavior, your quirks, and your patterns.  He found immense satisfaction in watching as your expression would change as you read, taking great joy in the way that your brows would cinch together every so often.  Not to mention your other more intimate expressions.  It almost felt orgasmic to the male whenever the most lithe of smiles would spread across your cheeks.  Sometimes he would grow flustered just thinking about the gentle curve of your lips, or the way your tongue would protrude slightly in an ever so innocent way when you would grace him with that kind smile of yours.

This was enough to keep him content for a long time, but at some point, that changed.  He grew bored of just watching you, and longed for more.  He wished to feel you against him, to feel your steady breaths reverberate against his ribs.  He wanted to experience the sensation of you quivering against him, wanted to caress and tug your hair, wanted to wrap his hands around your pretty little neck and squeeze until you were begging and gasping for air.  He wanted to make it so you were completely at his mercy.

Unable to refuse him.  

Helpless.

But still he continued watching you, without your knowledge, of course.  He familiarized himself with your schedule, and found that Tuesdays were the days you were most often matched, while Sundays you always kept to yourself, not even sparing a glance at other survivors unless it’s warranted.  

Sunday was Aesop’s favorite day.  Sunday meant that he could observe you without being bothered or eavesdropped on himself, it meant that he could watch over you in an environment where pests, such as the likes of Luca and Emma, weren’t constantly flitting about you.  

Today was a Sunday, and Aesop was planning something special for you.

A bundle of storm clouds had gathered atop the manor. Rain had already drenched the wooden exterior of the building, and was now continuously pelting against the many window panes.  The sound of the storm resounded through the manor in a way that was reminiscent of a hum.  You presently were sitting inside of your room, clothed in a silk nightdress that was gifted to you by Miss Nightingale.  You didn’t have many proper clothes upon your arrival at the manor, neither had most other of the participants.  The majority of your wardrobe was provided for you by the woman herself, whom you had never seen.  

The dress itself was rather comfortable, and draped nicely over your body.  It reached the floor, the ruffled trim on it brushing against your feet periodically.  You had laid yourself across your bed, pulling the blankets adorning it up to your chest and drawing the bed curtains closed.  A book sat beside you on your bedside table, and yet you couldn’t be bothered with reading it.  You were too occupied with watching the rain outside, memorizing the patterns of the water as it fell down and clambered against the manor.  

A knock at the door brought you out of your dazed state.  You waited for a voice to precede the sound, but nothing came, and so you rose from your bed, reluctantly moving out from under the bundle of blankets and grabbing a dressing robe from your armoire.  You pulled it on, walking tiredly towards the door with an unconcerned expression and grasping the brass handle, pulling the hatch open to reveal the delicate frame of a man before you.

Aesop stood outside of your doorway, grasping his embalming kit and standing stock still, as though someone had forced a pole up his back.  

“Mr. Carl..” You said, voice breathy and calm as you pulled your robe further over your exposed clavicle.  He offered a curt nod in return, acknowledging you with a blink.  You noticed how his hands were shaking, quivering around the handle of his kit as he stood in front of you, his fingers obviously clamming up.  Perhaps he was nervous?  “Do you need something?”

He looked up at you with a frightened expression, and you were worried that you had said the wrong thing.  He looked back down, turning from your skeptical eyes and nodding profusely.

“Y-Y/n,” he began, gaze still casted downwards. “Would you mind...a-accompanying me to my room?  Th-There’s a bird that flew in, and I don’t know what to do about the thing.”  His voice shook as he spoke.  

You squinted at him.  It was raining outside.  Why had he propped open his window?  Why would he ask you for help?  Emma and Eli were both much more comfortable with animals than you, and the latter especially had a talent with birds.

“Do you want me to get Eli?  He’s much better with things like that,” you offered, your voice skeptical.  

He finally looked up to meet your eyes, his pupils dilating slightly.  

“No, I’d- I’d rather have you.  Help me, I mean,” he finished awkwardly.

You turned over his question in your mind, surveying the man’s frail appearance.  Aesop had never talked to you much, but you supposed he did have a habit of staying around you.  Sometimes you would find him following you places, and he never seemed to be more than a room away from you.  You knew very well the male’s nervous tendencies, as well as his difficulty with interacting with others.  Part of you felt sympathetic for him, but your place in the manor’s social structure wasn’t much different than his.  Still, you felt obligated to help him.  Not many other survivors, or hunters for that matter, acted too kindly towards Aesop.  If he had worked up the courage to ask you something, you might as well comply with his wishes.  He never asked much of anyone, so you supposed it was a rare occasion that you should indulge.

“Alright,” you said hesitantly.  He looked up at you, his eyes the most telling they had ever been.  His grey irises swirled with probably the closest thing to joy you had ever seen him express, mixed with a bit of shock.  You supposed the second part was warranted.  You weren’t particularly one for helping others around the manor, especially because of how selfish and cruel many of the survivors were.  You sure as hell weren’t going to help Freddy if all he would do is be stingy towards you, neither would you help Naib, who would just yell at you if you tried to assist him.  You couldn’t be too upset with him for his reactions, though.  You supposed you would do the same.  Your life before the manor, which was generally spent in poverty and isolation, had bestowed upon you the gift of independence, as well as a lack of selflessness.  You saw this as good.  Why help others if they have nothing to offer to you?  

You were only helping Aesop because...well...you supposed you enjoyed his company, however solitary the time you spent together would be.  And you supposed he had never asked for anything before…

And so you were off, following Aesop down the winding hallways of the manor.  He led you through sets of doors, each strikingly similar and equally as eerie as the next.  The clothed floor creaked beneath you as you walked, carpet growing indents in it each time either of you would take a step.  

After what felt like an eternity filled with nothing more than the sound of monotonous footsteps, you reached what you presumed to be the embalmer’s door.  It was a tall door, one that was crafted from mahogany and glazed to be a darker, more sultry color.  He hesitantly turned to face you, an unsure expression on his face as he gazed at you with distrust.  

“I…” He began, only to leave his sentence hanging.  

“You wanted me to shoo away the bird, right?”

Aesop tried not to panic as he looked at you.

Vulnerable you.

Standing outside of his room.

Once you were within the confines of his abode, he could do whatever he wished to you.  You were going to look so wonderful dead.

He wrapped a milky hand around the doorknob, pulling it open and letting you into his room.  He watched you with narrowed eyes as you walked through, observing your surroundings with a sort of careful skepticism.

You had a distinct feeling that something was wrong.  Aesop never allowed anyone into his quarters.  He never even let anyone see inside of his embalming kit.  He was excessively private.  This was strange.  And the feeling of eyes burning into your back was not helping with your nerves.

“Mr. C-Carl,” you said, shifting to face him.  “Where was the bird?”  Your words knocked him out of his unconscious stupor, and he shut his door behind him before pointing to a place near his clothing chest.  You turned around, walking towards it as he discreetly locked the door behind him.  

He watched you intently as you bent over, looking carefully through his meticulously organized room with part curiosity and part concern.  

“Aesop,” he corrected, his voice barely a whisper.  

You hummed in confusion, looking back to face him.  

“My name...please don’t be so formal.”  

Your eyes betrayed you as utter confusion seeped through your pupils.  Aesop had always been one for formalities, and he had always been perhaps the strictest about respect out of the group.  Only a few survivors called him by his first name, all of which did so without his permission.  This wasn’t like him.

By now you were certain that something was wrong.  However, you just nodded compliantly, still foolishly putting your trust in the male and shoving your suspicions down.  He was probably just trying to be nice.  

You breathed in a sigh, turning back to to corner and continuing to look for the bird.  There were no signs of one, and you grew increasingly irritated at the male for calling you as you came to the realization that there was probably no such thing in the first place.  Bringing a finger up to your temple, you muttered out once more.  

“Mr. Car-”  

“I told you to refer to me as Aesop.”

You felt a deep presence take its place near you as you stood stock still, the clarity of the young embalmer’s voice indicating that he was directly behind you.  Lurching upwards, you whipped around, an unintentionally accusatory expression on your face.  

“Please don’t...be so close to me.  I-  Why are you..” You couldn’t even finish your sentence, your discombobulated words drying up as he leaned into you, moving his face down to meet yours as you looked on with discomfort and shifted away from him as far as you could.  He just hummed in satisfaction, eyes narrowing as he observed the power he currently held over you, how you were bending away at the mere prospect of his touch.  Anyone else might have found this hurtful, but your actions just submerged Aesop into an unmistakable feeling of power, one that he faintly remembered from his time before the manor when he was still working as an apprentice.

He carefully reached out a hand, feelings of longing spreading through his fingertips as he drew them close to your face.  A slender digit traced up to your hairline, shifting some stray hairs aside.  You stood there, quivering.  

This was uncomfortable.  You had to go.  Even Aesop must know that this wasn’t normal.  Your eyes darted across the four walls of his room before falling on the door.  You spared him one more shaking glance before pushing him away from you, shoving the male to the side and sprinting towards your only viable exit.  You heard him stumble a bit behind you, the satisfaction of having stunned him motivating you to move faster.  You grasped a hand out, searching blindly for the doorknob in a less than futile attempt to let yourself out of the room.  You grabbed a hold of it, shaking wildly when it failed to click open.  

An unforeseen force grasped you by the back of your collar, pulling you backwards and eliciting a few chokes from you.  Your body collided with something soft behind you, the slim torso of the embalmer pressing up against yours in an uncomfortably heated manner.  His breathing was thick and shallow, as though he were struggling for air as he grasped you within his horribly depraved hands.  His arm slid around your middle, pulling you further into him as he breathed down your neck, heavy sighs falling against your skin and creating a sensation of chills within your shoulders.  

“Don’t run,” he said between heavy breaths, voice shaky and thick with something akin to arousal.  

Without warning, you were shoved against the cold wood of his desk, head banging against the surface as he wrapped his hands around your throat, his movements sharp and concise.  You yelped, only for the sound to come out as a series of gasps due to his inhuman grip on you.  You clawed your hands against his, eyes glazing over as you fought against the male.  He refused to let up on you, his mask itching down his face and revealing a sick half smile.  

You felt as though you were about to die. Correction: you were going to die.  But you were nothing if not a fighter.  You kicked your steadily numbing leg up, your unclothed foot colliding with his stomach.  He grimaced, his grip loosening noticeably for what must have been less than a second.  This moment, however, was enough to give you just the slightest bit of hope, and so you kept struggling. If he was going to kill you, you should at least like to go out fighting.  

A flash of clarity came to you as you shoved your hands towards his face, aiming for his eyes as your outstretched fingers came into contact with the male’s milky flesh.  He threw himself backwards, retracting his hands and hissing as he shaded his face from further assault.  

You took off, sprinting wildly towards the door and stumbling over your own feet as you tumbled away from your attacker, lunging once more and outstretching your hand.  Taking heed of your previous mistakes, your fingers slipped around the lock, releasing it before pulling the door open.  The hallway never had looked so inviting before as you jumped out into it, forcing yourself through the doorway and out into the hallway and screaming for someone to help and…

And no sound came from your lips.  In one swift motion, Aesop grabbed you back, his grip on your midsection suffocating.  He kicked the door closed, wrapping his arm around your chin in order to muffle the cries that were threatening to spill out of your mouth.  You kicked and struggled as he once again pulled you backwards, keeping one arm wrapped around your waist as he reached into the pocket of his jacket.  

“I wanted to try and make this as painless for you as I could, darling.  However, it appears that tried methods always work the best.  Choking is far too messy of death anyways, isn’t it?  I want the beginning of your new life with me to be as clean as possible, I want it to be something befitting of a person like you.”  You stopped moving, freezing up as he spoke out the word death.  “It’s a good thing I prepared for this, hm?”

You craned your head towards his mobile hand, spotting a syringe filled with a milky substance, the tip of it dripping slightly as he pushed the plunger forward and tested the liquid.  

“What?-”  You managed to spit out, gasping as you pulled against his restricting arm with all your worth.  

“Pancuronium bromide,” the male said, addressing your unspoken query.  “It’s a serum used in lethal injection.  It should be relatively painless, well- as painless as death can be.”  His voice was confident, firmer than you had ever heard it.  It was terrifying, how quickly he had switched from his customary anxious demeanor to this cold, almost professional persona.  

“No, Aesop please think about this!  I’ll- I don’t know what you want, money, or- or information or sex- but I’ll give it to you, please we can work this out, I just- Mr. Carl please!”

He paused before answering, his grip tightening even more as he began to speak.  “My love.  My beautiful, exquisite gem, my precious doll.  You really do not understand, do you?  This is the only way we can truly be together.  I cannot bear to be without you any longer, I can’t stand being without your presence.  Of course, the likes of you wouldn’t spend time with someone such as myself, so you must understand that this is just me ensuring that we can stay together, forever.”  He halted, letting his words hang heavy in the air. “I’m doing this because I love you.  This pain will be temporary, but my affections for you won’t ever let up.  I’ve never had even a concept of what love should be, but you’ve helped me to see that this is what it is, and you are the person who I have chosen to spend the rest of my time with.”  His voice grew gentler as he spoke, his tone reverent as he held you.  You grew numb at his words.  He truly was messed up, in more ways than one.  What he was describing was not love, it was obsession.  It was a cruel infatuation, one that, for some reason, had led to him feeling the need to kill you.  

“Aesop.  I- I promise I’ll be with you.  I- I love you!  I do..and I will continue to do so, but you must let me live.  I beg this of you, I just wish to spend time with you, I truly am o-obsessed with you, Mr. Carl.”  You felt him freeze up behind you at your feigned confession.  The promise of your affections had to be enough to convince him to not kill you, you were going to make sure of it.  No matter what, you were going to make it away from the embalmer, alive.  You would try anything, and eventually you would be-

“Doll,”  He began, his arm resuming its suffocating grip on your torso, the sudden pressure enough to make you draw your breath in as you fought for air.  “Please don’t be so formal.  I told you to call me Aesop”

A sharp pain spread through your neck, the feeling of a needle plunging into your skin barely registering in your mind as he held you, a low hum falling from his mouth as he held your quivering self.  He drained the syringe of the substance, pushing it further into your vein as he gazed down on you with eyes full of concentrated adoration.  He had killed before, but nothing had ever felt as satisfying as gripping your twitching body, holding onto your vulnerable form as the fluid began to spread through your bloodstream.  You shook against him as he laid you on his bed, silken sheets coming up to caress your steadily paling face.  

Nimble fingers removed the syringe, wiping the needle with a nearby cloth before setting both upon a bedside table.  His silver eyes drank in your form, pupils dilated as he ran his gaze over the red marks on your neck.  He couldn’t manage to resist a final temptation of his, reaching his hands out once more and wrapping them on top of the strips of pink skin.  He knew that the bromide would be enough to kill you, but he couldn’t deny that there was something satisfying about the power he felt as he had choked you before.  As so he gazed down at you, now too weak to struggle against his hold.  

His grip was what finally pushed you over the edge.  A deep breath reverberated through your lungs right as the life finally faded from your eyes, pupils glazing over and cornea becoming cloudy as you gazed forward with a sort of inanimate poise.  You were still, completely still.

Aesop was right.

You did look beautiful dead.

He kept his eyes on you, gazing at you distrustingly as he retrieved his embalming case, as though he was expecting you to spring back to life.  

He set it down beside you before moving your limp legs onto the bed, your body significantly heavier than it was before.  Such was one of the physical tolls of death.  

Hands subconsciously reached for a needle and thread, used normally for repairing ripped clothes and garments before burials.  It held a different purpose for you, though.  You were special, a newly immortalized doll, and one that should be treated as such.  He threaded the needle, gripping it between careful fingers before carefully lifting your eyelid and plunging it within the flesh that lay there.  He slowly sewed it to your bottom lid, a bit of blood spurting out, which he quickly wiped away with a previously pristine white cloth.  He moved on to your other eyes, repeating his same meticulous process.  A finger traced over your stitches, caressing them with a sort of gentleness that could only occupy one such as Aesop. He took another glance at your features, deciding that you needed to look at least a bit more lifelike.  Aesop hated the living, but he supposed you had always given him pleasure while alive.  He wanted to preserve his feelings, no matter what.  He plucked the corners of your mouth up into a smile before threading the string through your lips and cheeks, forcing your features into a permanent simper.  He tied off the string, appeased by the doll-like appearance that the stitches gave you.  He took out some blush, methodically spreading it upon your blanched cheeks and up near your nose, returning a bit of life into your body.  Your robe was soon pulled open, leaving you in only your nightgown.  You looked so soft, so vulnerable.  Aesop was pleased.

He caressed his hand against your cheeks before bending beneath his bed, drawing out an elongated wooden box that lay there.  He opened the top, revealing the plush white surface of the surrogate coffin.  He pushed himself up, more careful than ever as he placed you within the tomb, manually wrapping your hands over your chest.  You looked so peaceful, so utterly perfect, and you were going to stay as such.

Now you two would be bound forever, with him as your owner and you as his loving doll.  Such a relationship was born out of his pure love for you, his unadulterated affection that no one, not even yourself, could hinder for any longer.  This was a safer and more thorough solution, not to mention more desirable for Aesop.

He despised the living.

And so here you were, perfectly preserved for him.