#fox tattoo lady

[mangled-wings]

Fox concept sketch (for totally real commission)

This is my original design done all by myself definitely not traced or copied from anywhere!!

Oh and that’ll be 1500$ just for looking at my commissions concept sketch I need another 2000 if you actually want and input!!!!

[ellieswr1d]

resting 😴

[talyayet474]

Megan Fox

[12ozstudios]

Trippy X-Files tattoo by Tami Rose.

[i-am-a-megalodon]

the whole tattogate thing is proof that the internet can unite people for good

[thatbloodymuggle]

MASTERMIND (i)

ONE- THE EQUINOX

SUMMARY: A child of light and dark, you are the Night Court’s best kept secret. After decades spent in hiding, you yearn to stretch your wings. But you quickly learn that freedom comes with a price, as you find yourself trying to outfox the fox in his own den.

PAIRING: eris vanserra x reader

WORD COUNT: 6.7k

SERIES MASTERLIST

WARNINGS: none for now

��There is no shot Rhys is a pillow princess,” Cassian snips through howls of laughter.

“Are you kidding me? Have you seen the way Feyre does every little thing for him? She wiped the crumbs off his face at dinner last night!” you counter in a fit of giggles.

Cassian shakes his head, the tendrils of hair tied back behind his head coming loose at the motion. Azriel sits beside him, arms crossed against his tattooed chest. It’s obvious to everyone in the room that, although the Spymaster tries his best to feign disinterest, he is highly amused by the subject matter of the argument. On the other hand, Morrigan, who lays leisurely on the couch across from the bickering pair, doesn’t even attempt to conceal her delight.

“I’m with my sister on this one. He follows her around like a puppy—he stares longingly out the window when she’s gone and wags his wings when she returns,” Mor quips.

You burst into another fit of laughter and clutch your stomach as you are reminded of your soreness from your training session the day before. 

“All the more reason he’s a munch, not a pillow princess,” Cassian barks back, his voice booming through the living room and down the hallways.

Nesta, who sits quietly in the corner and actually appeared disinterested in the discussion, perks up at Cassian’s words and gags at the thought of her sister in bed with her brother-in-law. 

“That’s enough,” Azriel interrupts before your rebuttal can roll off your tongue, “We should not be discussing what our High Lord and Lady do in the bedroom.”

“Oh, come on, Az, you can’t tell me you haven’t thought about it,” Cass rolls his eyes and yelps at the subsequent kick in his side from Nesta.

“Now that’s enough from you,” she snaps, cold eyes narrowed into slits, “And you should know better than to pick an argument with her. It’s a losing fight.”

Cassian glares at the way your lips curl into a feline smirk and your chest puffs out slightly with pride. 

“Little Miss Know-It-All isn’t right about everything,” he drawls with a playful glint in his eyes. 

“She most definitely is,” Mor giggles.

“Oh, come on. Az? A little help here?” the Illyrian general lulls his head towards his friend.

Azriel drums his fingers against the arm of the couch in thought before humming, “I’m with Little Miss Know-It-All.”

Cassian throws his head back with a groan as all the females in the room laugh at him. He is spared from further humiliation by the opening of the door. You are forced to stifle a giggle at the sight of Feyre at the doorway. Her brows cinch together as you and Mor share a knowing glance, mischief dancing in your identical eyes. Despite his irritation, the corners of Cassian’s lips twitch as he tries, and fails, to suppress a smile. 

“Something funny?” the High Lady quirks a brow with a hand on her hip.

The three of you shake your heads in unison, but refrain from laughter.

“It’s always you three,” Feyre grumbles before diverting her attention to the room full of her inner circle, “Rhys is back from his meeting with Eris. He’d like to call a brief meeting before dinner.”

The joyous atmosphere of the living room is dampened, as everyone is reminded of the looming threat of yet another war. This time, you have no problem wiping the smile from your face. An unspoken tension hangs over everyone as you follow Feyre out down the hallway and up the stairs of the House of Wind. Upon entering the meeting room, you immediately notice the frustration painted across your High Lord’s features—the tick of his jaw, his white-knuckled grip around his glass of wine. Eris must have really pissed him off, you think to yourself as you take your seat between Azriel and Mor. 

“The fox was even more irritating than usual, I presume?” Amren muses as she glides into the room last, the twin doors slamming shut behind her. She was always one for subtlety.

Rhys runs a hand over his face, “I was about five seconds away from wringing his neck,” he grunts. Everyone waits patiently for the High Lord to collect himself before continuing, “I think we should consider re-evaluating our alliance with Eris.”

“As much as I would love to be rid of him for good,” Feyre is the first to pipe up, “I don’t know if we are in the position to turn our backs on him if he is our only source of information on Beron’s inner-workings.”

“I’m beginning to wonder if he may be more trouble that his information is worth,” Rhys counters.

You catch Mor chewing on her bottom lip in thought out of the corner of your eye.

“Well how valuable has his information been thus far? Has he mentioned anything Az hasn’t found out on his own?” Cassian leans his elbows on the table.

All eyes turn towards the Spymaster.

Azriel sighs and his wings flex behind him, “I’ve heard next to nothing this week. They’ve put up heavy wards that even my shadows can’t get through,” he pauses before adding, “Perhaps precisely so my shadows can’t get through.”

Rhys inhales deeply through his nose to simmer his frustration.

“Well even if Eris is feeding you more than Az can pick up on, who’s to say we can trust anything the little cunt says?” Mor spits with a venomous edge to her words.

“So we must find out if he can be trusted,” Feyre interjects.

Rhys grunts, but doesn’t disagree, “And how do we do that?”

Silence envelopes the room as everyone ponders over their options. The House of Wind seems to sense their agitation and summons a glass of red wine in front of everyone’s seat. You sing praises in your head at the sight, and don’t hesitate to reach forward and lift the generously full glass to your lips.

“Why don’t we send in our reserve spy?” Cassian pipes up from the opposite end of the table.

You splutter at his words, sending wine dribbling down your chin. You hastily wipe it off and narrow your eyes into an icy glare as you hiss, “I told you to quit calling me that.”

Mor tenses beside you.

“Absolutely not. Her role works because no one knows who she is. As soon as Eris catches wind that we have a secret member of the inner circle, we can kiss any niceties he may offer goodbye. Besides, she’s never dealt with the politics of High Lords before,” Azriel is quick to counter Cassian’s suggestion.

Your lips dip into a frown, and you open your mouth to speak, but Cassian beats you to it.

“Then we ensure Eris doesn’t find out who she is. She already has contacts in the Autumn Court. She can pretend to go there on a business trip for her father and get close enough to Eris to catch his interest. Just close enough that she gains access to the Forest House, but not so close that she ends up wrapped up in Beron’s schemes,” Cassian speaks methodically as the gears turn in his head.

Mor’s grip around the stem of her wine glass tightens.

“She has a name,” you hiss at the two Illyrians, “And you may consider asking her what she thinks before bickering about it.”

The two males shut their mouths and turn to you expectantly. Feyre eyes Mor seated beside you. She can sense the annoyance radiating from her, and speaks softly, “What do you think, Y/N?”

All eyes flick towards you. Yet, you don’t so much as tremble, even under Amren’s scrutinizing gaze.

“I’m not opposed,” you speak slowly, cautious of your fuming half-sister, “But I don’t understand how you expect me to get Eris to take interest in me, let alone tell me anything useful.”

Rhys drums his fingers along the mahogany wood of the table, “We could prep you. I’ve seen the bastard with enough women to know what he gravitates towards.”

Mor’s thinly veiled patience seems to have run its course as she slams her wine glass down onto the table, red liquid sloshing over the edges, “You are not whoring my sister off to him.”

You subconsciously shrink into your seat.

“No one’s whoring her off,” Cassian speaks carefully, “She just needs to get close enough to prod him a little and snoop through the Forest House.”

“Could I not just take the wards down and then get out?” you offer your spell-cleaving abilities, searching for a compromise that could satisfy both parties.

Amren shakes her head tightly, “There’s no telling what Eris or Beron will do once they found out their wards have been breached. Not worth the gamble.”

“Don’t tell me you think this is a good idea now,” Mor seethes at the female across from her.

“It’s not our best idea,” Amren matches her icy glare, “But it’s the only one we have.”

Mor leans forward in her seat, her rosy lips curling into a snarl, “I will not stand idly by as you through my sister to the wolves.”

“Mor, please,” you speak softly as you place a hand on her knee. The tension in her shoulders eases slightly, but her jaw remains clenched. Your eyes scan over Rhys, who watches your exchange silently. You take a deep breathe, steadying yourself before speaking, “I think I can do it.”

“You think?” Amren challenges.

“I know,” you snap at the second-in-command.

Mor’s knee jerks against your hand and she bitterly grumbles, “I don’t like it.”

Rhys sighs and leans back into his seat at the head of the table. The lines have been drawn: Amren and Cassian versus Morrigan and Azirel. The High Lord cocks his head towards his mate, “I’ll defer the decision to you, Feyre darling.”

If it weren’t for the tension thick in the air, you would giggle at his words considering your earlier dispute with Cassian.

All eyes shift to the High Lady, who chews the inside of her cheek in thought. Her blue-grey gaze lands on you, “You’re confident you can do this?”

Subconsciously, your back straightens and your chin raises ever so slightly. You do your best to ignore your fuming half-sister in your peripheral as you steadily reply, “Yes.”

Feyre nods and glances towards her mate, “Then under the condition that she is adequately prepared before stepping foot anywhere near the Autumn Court, I’m in favor.”

Mor doesn’t hesitate to storm out of the room the moment Rhys calls the meeting adjourned. You rub your temples as you know you’ll be having a rather unpleasant conversation with her later about your decision. You are aware of her history with the Vanserra family; although she has never gone into details about the events, and you have never pushed her to do so, you have heard about what transpired centuries ago from Cassian. But that is a matter to be dealt with later. Everyone files out the room after Mor, leaving you, Azriel, and Rhys to hammer out the details of your new mission.

Your façade is carefully constructed. As the fabled Athena Ellesmere, you will be visiting the Autumn Court at the start of harvest season to set in motion tradings for a variety of goods. Under Rhys and Azriel’s instructions, you send letters to two of your previous contacts ahead of your impending arrival; one to Willow, the wife of a corn farmer, and one to Ginerva, a widowed herbalist. You tell them your stay will be longer than usual, as your father has tasked you with researching some new trade routes along the border. When the time comes, your research will give you the perfect excuse to request access to the Autumn Court library, and by proxy, the Forest House.

To his part, Azriel presents all the information he has been able to collect over the years on the Autumn Court: a map of the Forest House with each room labelled, a list of employees within Beron’s inner circle, and a list of empty residences positioned conveniently between the main town and the Forest House. You study the layout of the Forest House diligently, tracing your finger along each twist and turn of the long hallways. You pay particular attention to areas surrounding Eris’s personal chambers and office. The Spymaster lists off items you should keep an eye out for if you are successful in gaining entry to the Forest House: correspondences with other High Lords, meeting notes, any information pertaining to the Night Court and Velaris.

Most importantly, Rhys and Azriel warn many times through your meeting, you are to stay far, far away from Beron. You are there to spy on Eris, and Eris alone. While any information you can gather on Beron will be welcome, you are not to interact with him directly. Females are not treated with the same respect in the Autumn Court as they are in the safety of Velaris. And if anything goes awry, you will be under his jurisdiction.

As the conversation shifts to the man of the hour, you can surmise one thing: Eris Vanserra is a fox. Sly and cunning, with a sharp wit and an even sharper tongue. A predator. He enjoys the hunt more than the catch itself. If you want to ensnare the fox in your trap, you will need to play a convincing game of hard to get; hard enough to keep him chasing, but not so hard that he deems the grapes sour and moves to a different branch.

The fox is a far cry from any of your previous expeditions. You should feel on edge; nervous, anxious about what is to come. But you can’t kindle the flicker of excitement in your gut at the prospect of outfoxing the fox himself.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Please check in with Rhys daily. Even if you don’t find anything. And don’t forget the tunnel escape routes Az showed you if something goes awry,” Mor rambles on as she fiddles with the buttons of your cloak.

You roll your eyes with an exaggerated sigh, “Anything else, Mother Mor?”

She flicks your forehead, and you scrunch your brows with a yelp at the assault. 

“Don’t fret, dear Morrigan. Our little Spymaster-in-training has got this,” Cassian ruffles your hair with a grin. 

You swat his hand away and turn to him with a glare, “I said quit calling me—”

“That’s enough, you two,” Feyre interjects before you can bicker with the Illyrian fool.

You hike your bag onto your shoulder and smooth down the emerald-green dress underneath your heavy cloak. The wrinkles in the fabric instantly return as Mor throws her arms around you, sending you stumbling backwards.

“Be careful,” she whispers into your neck.

You fight the urge to roll your eyes, and instead return her embrace. 

“It’s just a month. I’ll be fine. Promise,” you give her a reassuring squeeze before squirming out of her tight grip.

“I’d suggest you leave now before Mor changes her mind,” Rhys speaks lowly into your ear. You don’t need to turn to see the smirk plastered on his face.

With one last adjustment to your clothes, carefully crafted to blend seamlessly into the Autumn Court, you turn towards your misfit family. An impish smile tugs at your lips as you wave at them.

“Don’t miss me too much. And Nesta, please keep your pet in check for me. Sometimes all he needs is a good yank on his leash.”

You don’t stick around to hear Cassian’s protests as the air around you twists and folds. You hold your bag tightly as you winnow one, two, three steps. With each step, you take in the chance in scenery. The beating sun of Day, snow-capped mountains of Winter, and finally the unmistakable kaleidoscope of Autumn. Your grip on your bag loosens slightly as you marvel at the latticework of red, brown, gold, and green. This isn’t your first time in the Autumn Court—in fact, it must be your fifth visit at this point. But the colorwork, reminiscent of the stained-glass windows in the Dawn Court libraries, never ceases to amaze you. Twigs crunch under your feet as you walk leisurely through the expansive forest. You suck in a deep breath, taking in the delicious smell of pine, before winnowing once more.

This time, you hit your mark. About 10 yards in front of you sits a quaint little cabin. Smoke steadily blows out from the chimney on the roof, and you smile to yourself at the sight. Ginerva must have prepared a fire prior to your arrival—a welcome gift, of sorts. You dig out the key in the pocket of your coat, which the herbalist had sent you the day prior following your payment for one month’s rent.

A sweet cedar smell invades your senses as you swing the cabin door open. The hinges creak loudly, indicative of a desperate need for oil. You take in the small space as you set your bag down on the wooden floor. A fire burns brightly in the fireplace in the corner, contained by some sort of enchantment. Directly across from the flames is a modest bed, slightly larger than a twin. A smile tugs at your lips as you picture Azriel or Cassian trying to sleep on it with their ginormous Illyrian wings. On the other side of the cabin is a small kitchenette, stocked with all the pots, pans, and utensils you could possibly need. You swing the door shut behind you, and relish in the warmth the fire brings—a stark contrast from the brisk autumn winds outside. Despite the scattered cracks in the wall and the sheer layer of dust covering the floor, the cabin has a certain rustic charm. After spending so many years confined within the same book-lined walls, you never fail to appreciate such changes in scenery. 

You set to work unpacking your bag, charmed to fit more than it should hold. The clothes Amren and Mor have packed for you are a mixture of warm oranges, reds, and greens—a far cry from your typical Night Court attire. A sharp knock snaps you from your task at hand. You plaster a kind smile on your face as you swing the door open.

Ginerva is the epitome of a typical Autumn Court inhabitant. Her hair is tied back in an intricate braid, its copper hue a beautiful compliment to her piercing green eyes. A constellation of freckles are dotted across her pale skin, lifted by the wide grin on her lips.

“Athena!”

The herbalist doesn’t give you a chance to reply as she envelopes you in a warm embrace. Your gut churns as the reality that you are now in Athena Ellesmere’s skin, not your own, settles in. Still, you return her gesture with a laugh. 

“It’s good to see you again, Ginerva,” you pull back from her with a soft smile, “I can’t thank you enough for arranging this for me.”

The female brushes off any flattery, “Please, don’t thank me. I’m merely appreciative to have your company for a short while. It does tend to get lonely around here with Ambrose gone.”

You suppress the frown that twitches at your lips at the thought of her deceased husband. You had the displeasure of meeting him twice before the war against Hybern claimed his pitiful life. Just as Ginerva was the epitome of an Autumn Court female, so was Ambrose the epitome of an Autumn Court male: pompous with a vicious temper. 

“I can only imagine,” you reply, voice dripping with faux remorse, “How has business been at the shop?”

Her juniper eyes brighten and a rosy hue spreads across her pale cheeks, “Oh, it’s been wonderful! I’ve just restocked a new barley tea which works wonders for joint pains. My customers can’t seem to get enough of it!”

That could surely come in handy after your brutal hours in the ring with Cassian. You make a mental note to purchase a stock of it before the end of your trip.

“That’s wonderful to hear. I’ll have to swing by once I’m settled in,” you grin.

“Please do,” Ginerva smiles, “I hate to cut my visit short, but I must get going to re-open the shop. Will I see you at the equinox celebration tonight?”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you swiftly reply, your cheeks beginning to ache from your calculated smile.

Your head dips into a kind nod as Ginerva departs with a wave over her shoulder. The door shuts, leaving you to the comfort of your temporary home once more. The twisting in your gut returns as you continue unpacking your belongings. It shouldn’t bother you—the seamless weaving of lies and deceit. You have been playing the role of Athena Ellesmere for decades now. But this trip is different; longer, yes, but it’s more personal. You feel a guilt you have never felt before manipulating others into trusting a person who doesn’t exist. 

The once comforting aroma of the cabin begins to grow suffocating, and you decide a walk of the premises is needed. You slip on a pair of boots and drape your cloak over your shoulders as protection from the biting autumn wind before heading out into the forest. Although the breeze in Velaris is soft and comforting, you can’t help but revel in the slightly more sinister wind that nips at your nose as you wander in the direction of the Forest House. You have frequented the Autumn Court several times now, but have never approached the grand estate, let alone entered it. With sentries littered at every entrance, it is impossible to breach. No enemies approach Beron’s home without his knowledge, and none leave without his permission. That is, with the exception of the Autumnal Equinox.

Although the falling leaves of autumn preside year-round within the court, the equinox marks the official start of autumn in Prythian, and for Autumn Court inhabitants, the beginning of harvest season. Celebrated since the country was divided into the seven courts, it is a tradition which spans centuries of High Lords. For one night each year, the High Lord opens the gates of the Forest House to his citizens, and indulges them in music, wine, and dancing until the early hours of the morning. 

You have never attended an Autumnal Equinox celebration, but you have read extensively about it. You have read extensively about a lot of things, for that matter; but have experienced so few.

As you make your way through the woods, your eyes land on the Forest House peeking through the trees. It is absolutely breath-taking. One hundred books couldn’t do the moss-covered shingles and centuries-old red brick justice. A bitter taste floods your mouth at the thought; the reality that in your 70 years of existence, you’ve seen so little of the world. You love your home in Velaris, and your little misfit family. And yet, you can’t help but dream of another reality in which you free from any obligation, free to move as you please, free to never settle down. You suppose that this must be the price for immortality.

Rather than dwindling into an existential crisis, you collect your thoughts and begin your scaling of the Forest House perimeter. Images of Azriel’s carefully detailed maps swim through your mind as you study each window. The fabled story of Athena Ellesmere rolls off your tongue as the colorful leaves crunch under your feet. And for a few short hours, you find yourself lost in the beauty of a small piece of what the world beyond Velaris has to offer.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You didn’t think it possible, but somehow the Forest House is even more magnificent up close than what you caught glimpse of from behind the rolling hills. The golden archway beckoning citizens inside its premises is full of intricate details, nearly invisible to the naked eye. Red leafed decorations are so bright they seem to reflect the stars in the night sky above. Vibrant green ivy snakes and twists along the cobblestone walls of the courtyard, tying the whole scene together. 

It is surely a sight for sore eyes. But as are you.

The silk of your ruby red dress pools at your feet and flows like a blood river with each step. The expensive material hugs your hips, but does not constrict them, accentuating your figure. A deep plunging neckline and open back expose just enough skin to leave any male wanting more. Your hair is pulled back in a tasteful updo with a few tendrils loose to shape your face, highlighting your natural beauty. And to top it all off, a deep, red lipstick. You look regal. 

If Cassian could see you now, he’d never again call you Bookworm. 

As you enter the center of the courtyard, you take in the joyful scene before you. A band of enchanted instruments play a lively tune as faeries dance and sing, the sweet smell of cinnamon filling the air. 

But you have a job to do.

You imagine Azriel’s voice in your head as you survey the perimeter of the courtyard, making note of each potential exit. Your eyes scan the crowd for any potential threats. Once you come up empty, you take a step forward towards the middle. You hold your chin high, and move with an elegance that does your elegant gown justice.

You ignore the lingering gazes of onlooking males as you weave through the crowd and help yourself to a goblet of wine. You have never tasted anything quite like it—a sweet undertone of crisp apple and nutmeg. You nonchalantly scan the crowd, this time searching for a head of flaming, crimson hair. The task, however, proves to be difficult, as nearly every head is red.

 An ominous shiver crawls up your spine as you sense an unwanted presence lingering behind you. You try to ignore the male breathing down your neck and sip your wine, but to no avail.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing here alone?” your nose scrunches at the sour scent of liquor on his breath.

His threatening stance disturbs you, but you are prepared for this.

You glamour a glittering, diamond ring onto your left hand and raise it in a delicate gesture, not bothering to meet his eye.

“Waiting for my husband,” you swiftly reply.

His drunken grumblings barely reach your ear as your eyes lock in on your target.

You know what Eris Vanserra looks like; Rhys has shown you through his own eyes. But you aren’t quite prepared for how, for lack of a better word, stunning the man across the crowd truly is. 

His towering stature exudes power. The first few buttons of his emerald silken shirt are undone, leaving the top of his chest exposed. You can’t help but ogle at the way the silver chain around his neck falls gracefully down his radiant, almost golden, skin. The sharpness of his chiseled jaw slices through the air; a stark contrast to the soft texture of his wind-swept, crimson hair. A golden wreath sits flawlessly on top, its shine reflecting the moonlight above. It takes everything in you not to gawk at his beauty.

You down the rest of your wine, willing the alcohol to give you the confidence you need, before refilling your goblet. You stalk through the crowd, all the while keeping your eyes locked on him. You lean against a red brick wall about 20 yards behind the male he is speaking to—directly in his line of view. You wait patiently, allowing yourself to indulge in his regal beauty. Finally, his chin dips to the side. 

The roaring sound of music and screaming faeries washes away as his amber eyes flick towards yours. Your heart thumps as you hold his curious gaze, your own inquisitive one unwavering. A feline smile curls onto your face and you slowly, teasingly, raise your goblet of wine to your red lips. Eris’s eyes narrow ever so slightly as he studies your movements. You cock a brow in response as you take a sip of the dark liquid. A venomous smirk tugs at his lips, and your heart leaps into your throat at the playful glint in his eyes.

Just as quickly as it appears, he vanishes.

You catch sight of his golden wreath weaving through the crowd, and swiftly push yourself from the wall. With a deep breath, you will yourself into the shadows (a gift bestowed upon you by your unknowing father), and glide in the opposite direction. You stop a few yards away, and smirk as you spot Eris approach your previous spot on the wall. His brows furrow as he looks around in confusion. You wait patiently for his eyes to find yours again. The burning bonfire flickers in his irises, highlighting the unmistakable glint of mischief. He swiftly moves in your direction, and you slip away into the shadows once more, careful to conceal your Night Court power. Again, you stop a small distance away. You repeat your vanishing act a few more times, slowly luring the fox away from the center of the party and into your snare. Once you reach the outskirt of the courtyard, you will yourself completely from the shadows and set into a casual strut. You can feel his presence approaching, and your heart thrums in anticipation.

“Where are you flying off to, Little Bird?” 

His warm voice crackles like the flames of the bonfire.

You shiver as his warm breath fans over your neck, his aroma of sandalwood and cranberry dizzying.

“Maybe I’m stretching my wings,” you muse, “Or maybe I’m luring the fox from the safety of his den.”

Your knees buckle as his lips graze the shell of your ear with a smile, “I quite like pretty things with sharp tongues.”

Your lips part and goosebumps erupt along your skin. His charm is alluring, but you are prepared for this. So, you swiftly spin the face him. His golden wreath nearly scrapes the tip of your nose as he lazily raises his head, but you resist the instinct to step back. All air leaves your body as he rises to his full height. His amber eyes bear into yours, and you are suddenly aware of just how much of your skin is exposed. 

“I think you underestimate just how sharp my tongue can be,” you purr as you raise the wine still in your hand to your lips.

Eris watches intently as your lips wrap around the rim and you tip back the goblet. You allow a droplet to leak from the side and spill down the curve of your lips. As you lower the goblet from your face, his ring-clad hand darts out and catches the red drop. His thumb rubs gently along your chin, his warm touch igniting a fire in your gut. His soft grips tightens ever so slightly as he tilts your face upwards before removing his hand. Your lips part as he sucks his wine-covered thumb into his mouth, his cheeks hollowing at the motion. 

“Good?” the airiness of your voice betrays you.

“Delicious,” he sings.

He is taunting you—circling his prey, preparing to pounce. 

“A bit too sweet for my taste,” you hum and blindly set the goblet down on the low cobblestone wall beside you, “And I think my wings are adequately stretched.”

The crimson silk of your dress ripples as you turn swiftly on your heel and saunter back towards the party. A playful smirk dances on your lips as you feel Eris’s gaze on your swinging hips. His powerful aura trails behind you. He allows you to lead through the crowd, giving you a fleeting semblance of control, before his strong hand wraps around your wrist in a commanding grip.

You swallow down a gasp as he abruptly spins you around and pulls your chest flush against his. He has a direct view of the curve of your breasts down the deep cut of your dress; but his luminous eyes don’t waver from yours. He intertwines his right hand with yours so that your palms touch, while his left finds solace in the dip of your waist. Despite your best efforts, you are unable to will away the deep flush creeping up your neck as he moves you gracefully along the floor in a waltz to the beat of the music.

“I’m not familiar with the customs of the Autumn Court, you tease, “But where I come from it is impolite to steal a dance from a female without her permission.”

He ignores you and twirls you around before pulling you close again, “And where is it that you flew from, Little Bird?”

You hum nonchalantly, “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

His chest rumbles with laughter, sending a shiver down your spine. His head dips down so that his lips are millimeters from your ear as he whispers, “I’ve seen your eyes before.” Your heart skips a beat—you hadn’t even considered the possibility that he might recognize your similarity to Morrigan. But the tension in your shoulders eases as he continues, “Did the Mother send you from my dreams?”

You mimic his gesture and raise your lips to his ear before replying, “From your nightmares, actually.”

“Little Bird knows how to play,” Eris muses. He rises to his full height once again before spinning your body so your back is flush against his chest, your feet moving with his in a gentle sway to the strings of the orchestra, “Does she have a name?”

“She does,” you retort simply.

He knows your game. And he’s willing to play.

“It seems only fair you indulge me with yours, seeing as you know mine,” he probes.

Your face warms as he moves your bodies closer to the blazing bonfire.

“Who’s to say I know your name?” you tease in a lilted voice.

His hands trail down your body at an agonizingly slow pace before landing on your waist, pulling you impossibly closer.

“Everyone knows my name, darling,” molasses drips from his lips as his voice tickles your neck.

You reply coolly, “Vanity working on a weak hand produces every sort of mischief.”

A humorless laugh escapes from his lips, and you jolt as his fingers dig tightly into your waist, “I can assure you my hand is many things, but weak is not one of them.” His right hand leaves your waist, and you gulp as it wraps around your throat. He doesn’t squeeze—but his grip is just strong enough to prove his point. “What can I do to get the canary to sing?”

You spin around to face him and lace your right hand with his left once more. Your gentle sways become brisker as the tempo of the violins accelerates. 

“My name for a question,” you cock a brow.

“Indulge me.”

His gaze shifts from your eyes to your intertwined hands as your fingers dance along his, gently slipping one of his rings off. You roll it teasingly between your fingers before slipping it onto your thumb.

“Athena,” you finally relent with a coy smile.

A pleasured hum rumbles in his throat as he rolls the ring around your thumb, “Fitting name, Little Bird. Though I think you’re better suited as a canary than an owl.”

Pure, unbridled desire clouds your eyes as Eris raises your thumb to his mouth and nips it tauntingly.

“Do intelligent females scare you?” you muse, pushing your thumb against his bottom teeth.

A sinister grin curls onto his lips as you trail your ring-clad thumb down, over his bottom lip and to his chin, before retreating to its place in his hand.

“They terrify me,” he purrs before twirling you in time with the crescendo of the orchestra.

“My question,” you state simply as your playful eyes meet his again.

“Shoot.”

His Adam’s apple bobs as you trail your right hand from his shoulder to the nape of his neck, stroking your fingers gently through his scarlet locks. Your gaze shifts from his amber eyes to the walls of the Forest House behind him.

“What do you guard inside your henhouse, Fox?”

Your heart thumps wildly in your chest as the words leave your lips. A dark look glazes over his eyes, sending a wave of instant regret crashing over you. Have you said too much? Pushed too far?

His grip on your hand tightens and he lowers his lips to your ear once more. But this time, they don’t graze. His teeth sink into your earlobe, and he tugs hard enough to elicit a wince; a warning.

“I indulge your question, but I didn’t promise an answer,” Eris drawls. He presses a kiss to your ear before whispering, “Be careful, Little Bird. If you fly too close, you might just get burned.”

Cauldron, save you. Your knees buckle and an involuntary moan escapes you as he trails his lips down your neck. Your eyes flutter shut as you crane your neck to the side, giving yourself fully to him. He ghosts open-mouthed kisses along your sensitive skin and your nails dig into the nape of his neck, pulling him impossibly closer. He nips at the junction of your collarbone and you gasp, your eyes shooting wide open.

The twinkling stars above blink down at you and a wave of panic rushes in.

Rhys’s words from earlier sing in your ears: Don’t get too close.

Eris senses the rapid uptick of your pounding heart. He hums against your skin and drags the tip of his nose up your shoulder, along your neck, and finally to your chin. His lips ghost over yours as he breathes, “Change of heart, Little Bird?”

This time when you look into his amber eyes, the playfulness, the mischief, the humor, is all gone. You are looking into the eyes of a predator, seconds away from closing in on its kill. You gulp and pray that your mask of apathy hasn’t slipped. 

“Patience is bitter, but its fruit is sweet.” 

A wide grin takes over his face, but the predator within him lurks. Still, he hums in understanding and leans away, “I see. But I must warn you that my patience is notoriously thin.”

A swift movement in your peripheral captures your attention. You look past Eris’s shoulder and catch sight of a tall male stalking towards you—one of his brothers, you deduce from his flaming red hair and regal posture. A sense of relief rushes over you, as you plot your escape for the evening.

Your plaster on a sickly-sweet smile and raise your lips to his cheek, giving the Autumn Court heir a chaste kiss.

“’Till we meet again, Eris Vanserra,” you whisper.

He nearly groans at the way his name rolls off your tongue, but his brows furrow as the meaning of your words sinks in. He turns his head towards your line of sight, and you use the opportunity to swiftly slip away. You don’t stick around to hear his conversation with his brother. Instead, you will yourself to slip back into the shadows. A rush of adrenaline surges through you as you make your escape. 

It isn’t until you are far past the golden gates of the Forest House that the reality of what just happened sinks in. You gasp for air as your heart thunders in your chest. You steady yourself against a large tree, sinking your nails into the bark until the splintering pain stabilizes you. As you retract your nails from the trunk, a glimmer catches your eye. The shining silver of Eris’s ring, still sitting snugly around your thumb, seems to wink at you. You roll it around with your index finger, and a faint smile ghosts over your lips. Pride burrows in your chest as you push off the tree and begin your trek back to your temporary home.

Although the night didn’t go quite as you had envisioned it, you have the fox right where you want him. 

And he is none the wiser.

[proxykiwi]

this is such a pretty game. I'm already in love with our pet chtulu black cloud thingy. What a dork.

The Last Case of Benedict Fox

[foone]

If your wife was president what would you be the First?

Good question. But the cheat answer is "I wouldn't be."

See the First Lady is a job, not just a title. She's the hostess for the White House. She plans the various social events, the dinners and the parties and such. I don't want to do that shit. (I'm an anxious nerd with autism, how many parties do you think I've been to, let alone planned?)

And there's precedent for this: there's been First Ladies where she wasn't the wife of the president, because either the president was a bachelor/widower or because she wasn't up to the task for illness or other reasons. So it's been sisters, daughters, and even nieces.

So I think my wife would pick her sister-in-law (my sister) to be the First Lady. She's nice and outgoing and funny, so she'd be a great hostess for the White House. She could put on some sweet parties.

(Although I imagine there'd be a minor fox news scandal as she greatly increases the average number of tattoos per First Lady. but it's the 90s, so who cares, that news story will be gone in a week)

Anyway to actually answer your question, I think the best answer would be to use "Host". I'd be First Host.

[alyakthedorklord]

Welcome to Danny’s Part 2

People have been asking for more of this ^^ so here you go, have a really long word vomit of stuff i think is funny

(IM NOT WRITING THIS FIC GDI I HAVE ENOUGH WIP’S!)

Danny’s restaurant is ALSO manned by-

Tucker, who will fix your tech for free, has tattoos of hieroglyphics and lines of code that shift around when he gets busy.

Sam, who makes an express line for veggie orders. If you try to order meat from sam all the potted plants start trembling.

Jazz, who has a special booth in the back and Magically makes people dump their deepest secrets to her in streamlined Liminal Powers Therapy. (It’s a bit weird but hey the people she targets feel better so whatevs.)

Dani, who shares pictures from tourist traps she's visited, though there’s also some REALLY WEIRD pics of alternate realities and cult shenanigans mixed in. Some of the older patrons are concerned. She’s a little too young to do all this alone- actually, how old is she? Her father looks like he’s in his early twenties…

Dan, who is working here while “on parole” and often loudly argues with Danny about it.

“I don’t want to work in your stupid shop, Dad!”

Dan is two whole feet taller than danny and three times as wide i will not be taking constructive criticism. He’s a whole silver fox. There are some ladies who have a crush on him and they’re really concerned if he’s legal bc danny is younger than them how is Dan his child-

“Dan, how old are you?”

“I don’t know, like, a hundred sixty something?”

(Lady turns to look at Danny, who shrugs and smiles.) “time dilation. What a world we live in. Dan, kiddo, can you get some more napkins from the back?”

“Ugh, fine, dad.”

The first villain Danny ACTUALLY fights isn’t the Joker. It’s Condiment King. Dan runs away from him, which is already weird bc guy is MASSIVE, and the condiment king chases him bc YES SOMEONE FINALLY FEARS HIM PROPERLY.

Danny bursts out of the shop in righteous fatherly fury and beats the snot out of him. Everyones is confused bc… what? Dan is massive? Why is he scared? Why is the twink beating the snot out of condiment king?

“Dan had a traumatic experience with Burger Sauce.” Danny explains, glaring down at the rouge at his feet. He kicks him, growls, “Don’t mess with my kid.” And walks back inside.

No one asks, bc this is gotham. Asking is rude, and also it lessens the Mystery that is Danny’s. No one knows how the kids came into existence. No one knows, before someone from out of town (metropolis, ugh) asks about the sign.

The sign outside the shop says:

Welcome to Danny’s!

Do no harm and no harm shall befall you.

Start nothing and nothing will be ended.

We have baseball bats and fists and a mean swing.

This establishment does not serve- guys in white (suits), Vlad, Transphobes, Vlad, Clowns, VLAD.

Do not ask for the secret menu. If you can get it, Danny will offer it.

(Don’t scare the other customers, please.)

When asked who Vlad is, bc he’s banned three times, Danny just kind of sighs.

“He’s my kid's other parent. He’s an obsessive creep who completely ignores Danielle because she’s a girl, rolling in money but won’t pay his child support. You know how it is.”

Several goons ask what he looks like so they can keep an eye out. Dani happily tells them “look at Dan, take away Dad’s features, then convert 30% of his height and weight into smarminess.”

It's an effective description. Vlad gets full body tackled the moment he enters the neighborhood. Danny gives the goons free fudge (family recipe, one of the restaurants signatures)

One of the reasons Danny’s is so popular is bc its open 24/7. (Unless its one of those weird times where all the doors are locked and if you look through the window blinds theres nothing but a starry void.) One of the reasons Danny’s is so weird is bc Danny is ALWAYS behind the counter. Always. Round the clock. He doesn’t sleep, eat, anything. Some people swear he has a twin he swaps out with (clones).

Sometimes, after a really difficult customer, Danny will let out a really long sigh and mutter “time out” before glitching into a new position, with a new shirt and combed hair. No one mentions it.

Theres a deal that’s just, “beat danny in a fight you eat for free.”

The deal extends to both Dan and Dani as well. Even if you lose you get fudge as a reward for courage.

No one ever wins.

One time, a couple brought their kid, recently discharged from the hospital. Danny comes over to them and grins. “Hey, kiddo! Bet you gave your parents a scare, huh? Pulled through in the end. That means you get the secret menu!”

Parents: hey wtf?

Danny, handing over a perfectly normal menu: 😀

Kid: “ooh mommy look at the glowy stars!”

Parents: !?!?!?

Danny: 😁

Old man Dave, whose heart has stopped like three times now: “Oh don’t worry about that, prices are the same and it will help your kid feel much better. Danny’s just a little weird.”

After all, it’s not just full ghosts that get the menu. If you’ve been dead, heart stopped, soul out of body before being popped back into place, then you get it. There’s actually a pretty high number of people who get it, bc this is Gotham. People get resuscitated after rogue attacks. The ecto actually helps stabilize their soul after getting jerked between life and death so rudely.

The secret menu that they’re given is just a normal menu, scribbled over top with an ecto pen, invisible to non-secret menu havers. Different “ecto-levels” to choose from, and three extra dishes. There’s also instructions to get into the “back room” for those who can’t go intangible, though it comes with a disclaimer “not for the faint of heart.”

There’s also a small note at the bottom- “do not share food.”

Anyways, as per original post. Tim herds Joker into Danny’s radar bc he Cannot Deal Right Now. He salutes Danny, who waves back, grinning like he didn’t just come at the Clown Prince of Crime like a feral badger on crack cocaine. “Heya, Red Robin! You want a coffee?”

“Please.” Tim sighs. “You’re the best, Danny.”

Jason looks between tim and the shop danny just vanished into. “Uh, what?”

“Danny doesn’t like clowns.” Tim explains. “Or condiment king. They get close, Danny takes them out.”

Jason is incredibly confused, bc he just came back from an out of town mission, but this place is right on the edge of his territory and he should definitely know about it. He asks tim, who just shrugs.

“That shop is weird. It’s like a grocery store at 3am. I stumbled in there after a rough night and Danny just whipped me up the best coffee i've ever had. Still can’t find their website. I swear it’s bigger on the inside and the door keeps swapping from one side of that fire hydrant to the other.”

Danny comes out and passes Tim a massive coffee cup. “Come back and talk shop with tucker, okay? You’re welcome any time. Both of you, actually.”

He gives Jason a weird look and then goes back inside.

Jason, who is a little concerned that the reverence tim has is more than his average weird worship of coffee (it's just that good) goes back the next day in civvies.

He gets offered the secret menu, danny does the eye thing, Jason retreats to look at the secret menu. Unsure of what just happened, he texts tim.

Jason: Why was i given a “secret menu”

Tim: WTF WHAT DID YOU DO TO GET THAT

Jason: IDK THATS WHY IM TEXTING YOU

tim: I'VE BEEN GOING FOR MONTHS I’M A LOYAL PATRON WHAT DO YOU HAVE THAT I DONT

Jason: the secret menu apparently (image)

Tim: …thats just the normal menu???

Jason: no? It looks like a kid went ham with a neon green marker tf?

Duke: you know this is the family chat right?

Steph: order the waffles

Jason: you order the waffles. Wtf is an ecto-level.

Jason asks for what danny recommends, Danny immediately gives him a milkshake and tells him it's on the house bc he “looks rough.”

Jason is kind if offended, bc he actually got a decent sleep- but then he tries it and its like.

Oh.

Now. Between the stink Tim is making, and the sudden worship that Jason has of this shops milkshakes, the BatFamily is now Curious and will Investigate.

Are the milkshakes really that good?

The full force of the Wayne Family™ isn’t exactly subtle, so they go in twos and threes over the course of a week.

Damian gets offered the secret menu, and is also directed towards Sam’s express vegetarian line. Danny just Knew. Damian accuses Tim and/or Jason of pulling a prank on him, but they both swear up and down they didn’t say anything.

Both Steph (i think? Did she fake her death or actually die idk) and Cass get the secret menu, and they keep trying to ask Tim what certain things on the menu mean. Tim Cannot See what they’re talking about. He’s starting to get frustrated. Is it some sort of magic spell?

Tim takes Kon to Danny’s. (Is it a date? A test date on a low-stakes investigation? Maybe.) Danny, who is really starting to enjoy messing with Tim, gleefully offers Kon the secret menu, and Tim the normal one. Tim bangs his head on the table.

Dick doesn’t get a secret menu, but he does notice a couple disappear through the wall. He’s almost certain he’s seen them before, but it will be a while before he remembers Kitty and Johnny from his early Robin Days.

Duke is also not offered a secret menu, but he can see the writing anyways. He can also see that some of the patrons have weird auras, and what on EARTH is up with Danny himself? He tries to ignore it, up until Steph gets him to order one of the specials off Cass’s (secret) menu. And Danny just kind of sharpens, the air going cold.

“I didn’t give you that menu. Just because you can read it, doesn’t mean you want it. Order off the right menu, please.”

Duke, freaked the hell out by the Biblically Accurate Horror that Danny is shifting into, orders off the right menu and apologizes.

“Oh, it’s alright!” Danny flips back to cheerful in seconds. “It’s just that it wouldn’t be completely healthy for you to eat it, even if you are part immortal.”

Duke bluescreens.

Alright, somethings definitely going on.

Tim and Jason both order the same thing- an oreo milkshake, one off the secret menu, one off the normal menu. Jason confirms the one from the normal menu does not taste the same and isn’t as good. Tim cannot confirm the other way around, because Jason nearly punches him when he attempts to taste it.

They take samples home, analyze them, and go over anecdotes from other patrons, trying to figure out what makes Danny’s so weird. What makes Kon, Cass, Jason, and Damian different?

Wait a second. Kon, Cass, Jason, Damian. The ones that died and came back to life.

It’s around this time that Dick remembers where he’s seen Kitty and Johnny before. Lovers from two houses, both alike in (in)dignity, had a romeo-and-juliet-esque escapade across Gotham, ending in high speed chase with Kitty’s gangster father and a fatal motorcycle accident. Both are dead. Both are in Danny’s.

Danny’s has something to do with death.

Having heard a couple stories about food of the dead, they notify Bruce (who is very concerned as to what exactly his children have been putting in their mouths) and then call in the magic users of the justice league.

It’s a mess. Dan calls Constantine a whore. Deadman and Secret (i think thats Tim’s ghost friend?) get abducted to the backroom. Dani clocks Capt. Marvel as another kid who looks older than he actually is, with magic powers, and his showing him her REALLY interesting travel photos. Zatanna is like “this place needs an exorcism” and danny just goes “ma’am please don’t exorcize my customers.”

Tag list (if you saw me attempt this before no you didn’t)

@nappinginhell @apointlessbox @thegatorsgoose @chaos-n-kindness @mimilikey @phoenixdemonqueen @treepainting @sjrose1216 @akikkobara @malice-of-the-sunrise @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit @randomkiddoscrewingaround @call-me-strega @blankliferain @somera-rubina @wordsgohere95 @rukiaai @mirellacoco @stargazing-bookwyrm @bathildaburp @littlefeather345

[aritsukemo]

Utterly Devoted To You | Furina De Fontaine

Furina De Fontaine x Familiar GN!Reader

Warnings: Reader's just a bit obsessed with Furina/loves her just a bit too much to be considered healthy. Furina has a breakdown. Reader is implied to be a Kitsune Fox like Yae Miko and has, like, ceremonial tattoos ( although they're barely mentioned ) all over their body! Author has not played through Furina's Story Quest yet!

A/N: Here's the winner of the poll I started like last week! ..I have no idea how to end fics 😭 Sorry if it's awkward or anything. I literally haven't touch this draft since like last year when I posted it as an abandoned wip..

Knocks vibrate throughout the apartment. They start off soft with an intermittent rhythm only to become loud and incessant after a while without acknowledgement. The owner of the apartment—who had been so rudely awoken by the noise—arose from her bed with a sour look on her face. Her heterochromic, ocean-like eyes burning with fire as she scans her room for her slippers.

"Coming, coming! Gosh.." She shouts in a rather grumpy manner when the knocking continued. Understandably so. It was the middle of the night and someone, who clearly has no mind for other peoples' sleep, was banging on her door like some madman. Anyone in her shoes would've been furious.

Honestly, do people have no respect these days? To just disrupt someone's sleep without a care in the world.. What could possibly be so important?

After finally finding her slippers, Furina practically stomped out of her room, down her stairs, and up to her door. She was planning on giving whoever was on the other side a piece of her mind for waking her up and then go back to bed when she cooled down. As the door swings open and Furina is met with the perpetrator, however, all her anger is washed away like a seashell against a water current.

There, standing before her with their fluffy ears twitching eagerly atop their head and pastries in hand, was the Hydro Archon's—Furina's former companion—you.

"You finally answered, my lady!" You chirped, "I'm so glad! Hehe..~! For a second there I thought I had the wrong address!"

She was at a lost for words. Why were you here? And why did you seem so happy? After everything came to light and Fontaine found out she was a sham, she was sure she'd never see you again..

So why in the world are you standing at her doorstep?

"Y/n.." She mumbled out in disbelief, but you seemed rather pleased nonetheless. Your name always sounded so lovely whenever it came from her lips.

"May I come in, my lady?" You ask after a while of her staring at you as if she'd seen a ghost, "If not, I don't mind standing here."

"Oh! Uh- No! Come in!" What is she saying? She should be showing you away, not welcoming you in! "Sit wherever you'd like!" She continues anyway, stepping aside.

Obviously pleased, a sharp smile graces your face and you walked in without hesitation, marveling in awe at her home as if it was made of gold or something.

"This place is so cute! You've decorated well, my lady!" You praise and she has to resist visibly cringing in response to your praise. In all honesty, her place wasn't much to look at. In fact, the place was quite barren since she hadn't gotten around to decorating it yet.

"Thank you.." She forces out, avoiding your piercing gaze as it falls on her. She turns on her heel, showing her back to you as she slowly, hesitantly closes the door.

"So..uhm, what brings you here at this hour?" She finally asks after taking her sweet time locking her door before turning to you—silently gulping when she, once again, locks eyes with your slitted ones. Your eyes were always so intimidating to her even when she was playing house..

Or maybe she's only thinking that to spare the slither of ego she still has.

"I wanted to see you, of course!" You gleefully say. You looked so happy—so excited to see her again and here she stands, surprised, looking almost petrified at the sight of you..

She can barely force a smile onto her faces, but she manages. She almost positive of how crinkled it probably looks, but it'll have to do for now, "I see..so that's your reason.. Well, you've seen me now so you can go and—" "I stopped by Café Lutece earlier today."

"I ran my errands super early so that I had the time to get your favorite cake," A small sigh leaves your lips as you continue, "Unfortunately, by the time I got there all sixteen slices had already been sold out.. I should've expected that, though. After all, my lady has great taste in dessert so it's no wonder they always sell so fast."

You shake your head—your ears wiggling a tad as a result of your attempt at physically clearing your head, "Anyways I'm sorry I couldn't get your favorite cake, but I bought everything else you see here to make up for my blunder so I hope this can earn your forgiveness."

While you spoke, Furina's eyes darted downwards, eyeing the plethora of small boxes in your hand which she's only, somehow, now noticing. She stared at it until it grew so close that she went cross-eyed from the proximity and you dumped the heap of sweets into her arms.

She staggered for a moment as the newfound weight immediately swayed and she reach with one hand to catch the boxes that threatened to slip through her grasp and splatter all over the floor. It was only after she managed to steady herself that her eyes widened at the realization of the mere size of the pile.

This variety of sweets isn't at all small. There were so many that even she would take at least a few days to get through.. Just how much time and money did it take you to get all of this for her? Furina's heart sinks at the mere thought of you spending even a dime on her..

"H- Hey, how much was all of this exactly?" The question hesitantly—almost fearfully—escapes her. Your ears perk up and your rambling comes to an abrupt stop. Nevertheless, your face easily gives away how you feel towards the question; genuine confusion.

"Why the sudden ask, my lady? Whenever I used to buy you sweets before, you'd never care to ask about the prices.."

"Well, you of all people know that I'm not..y'know.." She couldn't even get the words out. To put it simply, the mere thought of the incident made her shudder from the shame of it all. In fact, everything was so embarrassing to think about that it makes her want to lock herself in this home for five hundred years. Not that she could live that long anymore, thank the archons above..

"Ah, I see.." You say, and for a second, sheepish relief washes over Furina like a nice, but cold morning shower as she thought you had connected the dots to what she couldn't bring herself to voice out loud.

She sighs, that awkward smile returning albeit a little smoother now, "Thank you for your—" "You can't possibly enjoy your sweets without your usual bubble bath and milk tea!"

Her smile crinkles again.

"I- No.. That's not—" "I apologize for my forgetfulness, my lady," Your ears press flat against your head like a sad little kitten.

"It seems our time apart has taken a toll on me.. I'll get to it right away to make up for my slip up," And you speed past her and up the stairs as if this was your home and you had walked the halls of it a bajillion times over. Furina could only reach her hand out to you as if wanting to grab you but couldn't, 'lest she wanted a heaping, sticky mess on her floors. She failed to call after you as well which ultimately left her standing there with her mouth agape longer than it should've been.

What..just happened? More importantly, why did she just let it happen? Yes, she has fallen from godhood, but has she lost her nerve as well? She could've ended this as quickly as it started by simply telling you to leave so why didn't she do just that?

All she had to do was tell you to leave and she could've truly put everything behind her. So why was she unable to do just that?

"My lady! Your bath is ready!" She hears your cheery yell from the top of the stairs. As if put under some spell, her previous thought is crushed into dust and blown away from her mind and out of her ears, replaced by a much simpler task; to take a nice, soothing bath that you had oh so graciously prepared for her.

Her feet move as if under a trance, her slippers treading across the wooden flooring and leaving small plaps and squeaks in their wake as she goes about setting the mountain of sweets on her lackluster dining table and going up the stairs where she's met with your toothy grin—that wonderful smile that has been bestowed upon her for centuries—that tells so many of the stories you have shared together in earnest.

How could one possibly turn it away? At the very least, she certainly couldn't, even when she was playing god.

"Thank you, Y/n. I'll be out in a little while," Her mouth moves before her brain can even think to say something differently. Your smile remains, widens even, and she finds her body slouching—relaxing—at the sight.

"Very well. I'll be setting things up downstairs for when you return. Please call me if anything is not to your liking, my lady," And with that, you bow your head to her and make your swift exit.

Furina sighs. It happened again. Why? Has she seriously been put under some kind of incantation caused by a simple quirk of your lips? She finds herself scowering her mind for the answer to that question as she sheds herself of her night garments and nears the tub—which had been filled to the brim with bubbles that shouldn't have been possible as she hadn't went and bought anything for her baths, or for anything else, in fact.

She steps into the water and immediately drops herself in, allowing herself to be enveloped by the pleasant smells as the bubbles cling to her skin.

The water was just the right temperature. Not scorching, but not lukewarm either; just how she liked it. A delighted exhale flutters from her lips on instinct as her head falls against the rim of the tub.

What is she doing? Everything has changed, so why is she indulging in pleasures of the past, why is she letting you service her, and most importantly, why are you so eager to please her still? Was it beacuse, archons forbid, you were trying to pretend nothing happened at all as a way to still cling onto your previous life as a servant to an all-powering god? No matter the reason, she needs you to come from behind those curtain of lies you tell yourself and face reality.

She needs to get you to wake up and smell the roses, otherwise neither you or her will be able to truly move on from your former lives..

Before she knew it, her mind had completely swallowed her and time had passed with her mindlessly soaking in the tub. By the time she realized it, the water had cooled to that lukewarm temperture she had such a strong distaste for, and all the bubbles had just about dispersed.

This was all proof of how much time had passed, but even with all of that, all she managed to accomplish was nearly fall asleep. And, when she was finally brought to the realization of that fact, she sat up and pulled herself out of the tub against her better judgement.

In the time it took her to dress herself in her new sleepwear—which was not much different from her previous garments—she had once again worked up the courage to try again. Deciding that when she goes downstairs, she'll set it to you straight, no hard feelings!

With that sudden confidence rising in her like a tidlewave and ultimately exuding from her being, she waltzed down the stairs. She swishes as she walks and passes through her living room, her mouth already open to say the first thing on her mind as she enters the kitchen..

..Only for that confidence to shatter like a glass mirror when her eyes lands on the spread of pastries you brought her splayed out in a neat assortment across her dining room table with you standing before it with that god-gifted smile of yours.

"My lady, you've returned!" You cross the small distance between you two quickly, your tattooed hands cupping around her bare ones. Trapping her in place and blocking her view from anything else other than the gorgeous swirl of your hues.

"It took some time, but I managed to set the table with all the desserts! I set it from the sweetest pastries to the more tone down ones just how you taught me!" As you spoke, you guided her to the table and set her down at the head, the only place you deemed worthy of her, "I also made your milk tea with extra honey and topped it with a swirl of vanilla cream just how I remembered it!"

Furina, now sat, was staring in a daze. Her face looked rather shocked, or I guess horrified and overwhelmed would be a more accurate description. It was an odd display. One that didn't escape your feline eyes.

"My lady.." You called and she jumps. Yes, she jumps at the mere call of your courteous title to her.

So you call her again, "My lady," You repeat. She doesn't jump this time and it has you believing that her startling reaction before was unrelated or simply your eyes playing tricks on you. It had to be, right? Surely it wasn't for a reason as ridiculous as she feared or was upset with you or something, right? Right.

"Do you not like the spread I prepared?" You asked softly, as if the mere thought had saddened you to a near breakdown, "Is this not satisfactory..?"

"No!" She yelped out like an automatic response. As if you were the former god and she was the servant. As if she was programmed to have some kind of auto pilot that will say anything to make a smile return to your marked face, "No, no! Heh.. E- Everything's fine! I mean-! Uh..i-it's excellent! Thank you!"

Your smile doesn't return and her anxiety turns into full-blown panic. Her mind kicks into overdrive as she thought, "Say something! Say something!" over and over and over again.

She has to say something to appease you. To put you at ease. You deserve that much after the embarrassment that was caused by her downfall. You deserve to be at peace after fighting tooth and nail to defend her in that trial. You deserve to smile after so long of appeasing and bending to this false god's every ridiculous whim!

"My lady," Her breathing stutters. She blinks, awestruck at the sudden lapse from reality, and it's only after that shock leaves her veins that she finally realizes how damp her cheeks had suddenly became and how blurry her vision had gotten.

She had started crying..right before you of all people. By the time that fact finally dawned on her, you had already pushed her chair back to make room for yourself at her feet and were wiping them away with a cloth..

"I- Y/n, I'm so.. I'm sorry.. I- I can't—" Pathetic. It truly was such a pathetic character she was protraying right now. Surely anyone in Fontaine- No, in all of Teyvat would agree if they saw her right now..

But you weren't anyone. At the face of her crystalline tears cascading down her face, you gently patted the cloth in your hand across her cheek and used your other hand to wipe the other side, fingers bent as you made the necessary precautions as to not nick her beautiful skin with your pointy nails.

"It's okay, my lady. Please don't apologize," You cooed, "And please, don't shed tears over me. I don't deserve such the honor."

You're right. You don't deserve her tears. You deserve so, so much more. You deserve to be covered in riches. To be spoiled and praised from Mondstadt to Snezhnaya. Not anything she has put you through..

"..After everything was over, I spent days in turmoil and anger. I lashed out at Monsieur Neuvilette, the Traveler, everyone and anyone who I thought was to blame for stripping you of your title and making you cry like this," You admitted, "Despite that, everyone still respected me and gave me the time to come to grips with reality..with you and your centuries-long lie."

She chokes, her hand coming up to cover her mouth only to immediately hide her entire face behind her hands; a futile attempt to hide herself from you.

She told a lie to the nation. She was aware of it and had come to live with that for so long. So why is it that she seemed to break down at you simply restating the obvious? Why is it that she couldn't bare the thought of you viewing her any differently than before when she was just fine with everyone else doing so?

..And why is it that you even wasted your time coming here and serving her like old times if you did view her in a different light like everyone else? Was this a way to mock her of her past performance? Was it because you were trying to get back at her for lying to your face and use you as some stage prop?

Apparently—surprisingly—it was none of that.

"In that time I spent locked away from the world and resenting it with all my being, my thoughts ran back to you in search of comfort. My mind took me back to the night you took me in and gave me the prestigious title as your familiar.. The day you gave me a purpose other than to hate the world so much that my flames of hatred would one day brun everything in Teyvat to ash.. I remember every feeling that coursed through my veins that night and it made me realize—"

"Stop!" She mustered up the strength to scream, "Stop.." She repeated, that strength having promptly left her and leaving her with nothing but mere crumbs of intensity to speak with, "Please..don't say anymore.. I don't want to hear it.."

"Why not, my lady?" You questioned as you used your strength to pry her hands away from her face as you waited for a response, which she gave eventually with her previous ferocity returning. ..Unfortunately, her weeps had made her fiery words come out damp, jumbled, and shaky..

"It's because I don't deserve it! I- I- I don't deserve your loyalty-! I don't deserve you or anything you give me! Not after.. N- Not after.. Not after all that I did! I— I.." Like blowing steam from a train, she quickly ran out of gas and was left puffing, sputtering, and whimpering like some novice actress who had forgotten her lines during the most emotional part of a play.

..But despite that, you still sat and watched her nonetheless. You listened and took in her every hiccup and blubber like some diehard fan. And, when her sorry performance came to an end, you even blessed her with the gift of your warm embrace.

You stayed like that, letting her sniffle and sob into your shoulder until her tears dried up and her throat was too raw to snivel out nonesense. It was a courtesy she didn't deserve yet you granted her regardless..

"After I had come to peace with eerything that had happened, I went to Palais Mermonia and talked to Monsieur Neuvilette where we both agreed that I should step down from my position as the Hydro Archon's Familiar and assistant of the ludex," You confessed, and you can tell by her sudden stiffness and that ghost of a gasp she let out that she was surprised. You found it such a cute reaction.

You knew that she wanted to question you, ridicule you—something that would make you realize how dumb that decision was, but after bleeding on stage, her throat was so sore that even the simplest of words felt like knives. You'll admit that you're partially thankful of that, especially since that meant you would be spared of any distateful words for a little while, especially after the words you said next..

"I love you, my lady," You told her, "I love you more than anything in this world and in a way a familiar shouldn't dare to feel about their master; that's what I realized during my break from the world. During the time I spent away from you.."

"I realized that not having you in my life would be more painful than any death sentence or punishment, and because of that, I grew selfish and I acted on my own..so.." You pull away and the remnants of her tears chase after you—an action she has to resist letting her entire body mimic. She watches you, her mismatch eyes widening like a desert platter when you bend your head until it makes contact with your crossed arms on her lap; a sight that would remind one of a devout follower pleading with their god.

"..Will you forgive my selfishness, allow me to indulge in this feeling, and pursue my desires?" You asked her in such a sweet tone that her heart—that had been clouded and choked by unease and trepidation—was coated in this sugary, tooth-rotting wisp that sent her heart into this feeling of sickening bliss..

And as a silent thank you for relieving her chest of the heavy feeling, she decided to put on her cracked mask and step back onto the ruined stage for just a moment and ask you in a quivering tone, "And what are those desires exactly?"

"To be by your side again," You replied immediately, "I showed you that I can still serve a be useful to you and it doesn't matter what I'd be to you either! Just allow me to bask in your presence for the rest of your mortal days, my lady. I'd do anything for that pleasure.."

"You shouldn't," Her voice was cracking so much that a broken mirror had paled in comparison. It hurt so much to speak right now, but she forced herself to talk anyways, just for you, "You're so much greater than me.."

"Not anymore," You retorted, looking up at her, "Now, I'm just a regular civilain of Fontaine just like you. I have no power, no status, nothing.. I gave all of that up without a second thought for you and I'd do it a million times over if you so wished."

She chuckled. Yes, chuckled at your words. There was no humor to be found, though, as she was she couldn't believe how ironic and absurd this all was; a formerly reserved kitsune who once bore a heart of stone and was incapable of understanding, feeling, or sympathize with the feelings and well being of those around them, who despised the world for merely existing in their presence..was now begging to be by her so that they could essentially experience internal bliss everyday for the next century if they're lucky.

She chuckled again at herself, this time out of disbelief of herself and how hot her face was getting because of that irony.

She truly was a horrible person. A liar. A fraud..and yet, you kneeled at her knees and begged her to allow you to spend the rest of your life—which she will no longer be able to live to see the end of—with her. It was such an insane ending to this play, one that would surely turn off many of the audience members—but she didn't mind it as much as she thought she would.

"Such a stubborn fox you are," She says as she ever so gently caresses the fluffy ear atop your head, feeling them twitch from sensitivity under her touch, "..But I suppose I'm mostly to blame for your behavior. After all, I taught you everything except how to give up when the situation calls for it.." She sighs.

"I..suppose that I wouldn't mind some company from a fellow civilain of Fontaine.." She croaked rather bashfully and your entire demeanor perked up.

"Thank you, my—!" "Before anything's set in stone though," She withdraws her hand to hold it up, further telling you to halt your celebration. You freeze as prompted and after seeing you do so, Furina finally continues..

"I have one last request—er, command to make to you," She says and you slowly nod along to her every word like a puppy patiently waiting for their next instruction.

Whatever she asked, you already told yourself you'd do, without question. If she wanted one hundred boxes of pastries by the time she woke up tommorow, you'd jump to it. If she asked you to stand on the top of the Opera Epiclese and profess to the world how much you loved and cherished her, you'd gladly adhere! Anything for her!

"You can't refer to me by 'my lady' from this point on."

..Huh? You blinked. She wanted you to..do that? Of all the things to ask for..and she wishes to discard the title she has earned and that you've been referring to her as for literal centuries?

"B- But, my- Lady Furina—" "Ah, ah, ah.." She cut off, albeit as softly as a flower petal falling onto someone's hair, "No honorifics or titles. You may only call me by name."

It was a simple request in hindsight, but would you be able to abide by it? To you, it was as if she asked you to defeat the Traveler and Monsieur Neuviellete simultaneously in battle while both of your hands were tied..

But it seems your fair lady had no sympathy about doing this to you, "So? What about it? If you can't do something as simple as that, I can't grant you the wish of remaining at my side," She egged on, and that gave just the right push for you to say, "No! I- I can do that for you, easy!"

"Then? Go on. Say my name," And she stared at you with that expectant gaze that brought you back to the same old times she wanted nothing more than to bury. It surely was a twist to her character.

"F.. My.. Miss F- Furina," You stammered, and odd enough, your face grew hot at hearing her name coated in your tone and voice, "..Would it be too much to ask to stay by your side?" By that point, you couldn't continue staring in her eyes and found comfort in burying your face in her thighs.

"Hmph.. I suppose that's good enough. We can always work on it," She said, "And I suppose that it wouldn't be too much trouble of a request.."

It took a moment, but your joy overcame your embarrassment and you lifted your head once again, flashing her the widest, toothiest smile she's ever seen on your face. If anyone else were to behold this sight, they'd truly dedicate hours of their busy day to paint it..or at least simply marvel at the sight of it. Though, as fatuous as it was, she found herself almost uncomfortable at the thought of you showing this smile to anyone other than her.

"Moving on from all of that.. Tommorow I'll have to seek someone out to rennovate this place," She said and your head tilts, your ears leaning.

"Why?" You asked, and to that, she gave you an equally confused look.

"Well, first off you have nowhere to sleep. Surely you wouldn't be fine with sleeping on my couch for a century.."

"But can't I just share a bed with you?" You questioned, and you watched as Furina's entire face and body became redder than strawberry jam.

"Excuse me?!" She shouted, "W- What do you take me for? Some harlot surely to suggest such a thing!"

You merely laugh, both at her sudden flustered appearance and the nostalgia her yelling brings to you. It's a shame Furina didn't seem feel that same rush.

"What's so funny?!" She asked, her eyes following you sharply as you stood up.

"You are," You answered honestly before turning on your heel, "Now, it is late so we should get to bed! I'll clean everything up tommorow morning when I come down to make breakfast."

"What do you— Hey! Don't just waltz around my house as if it's yours! A- At least shower first before laying on my bed! I just washed those sheets! Hey, are you listening, Y/n?!"

Dividers were made by me, pictures used are from Pinterest, post formatting is inspired by @xxsabitoxx

[bambiilooza]

i just wanna say the reference to venus de milo in ur aphrodite design is literally genius omg??? anyways here are some tidbit thingies to help u design the rest of the god games dudes

ARES symbols: spear and helmet, dogs, vultures, venomous snakes, and boars

apparently theres a myth which states the reason he wears his helmet is because he’s ashamed of his feminine face but i cant find it so 🤷

HEPHAESTUS symbols: donkeys, guard dogs, cranes, hammer, anvil, a pair of tongs

he has a deformity in his right leg and usually wears a pileus (some greek hat)

APOLLO symbols: lyre, bows, ravens, crows, roe deer, swans, cicadas, hawks, foxes, mice, snakes, hyacinth or gladiolus flower

other than god of the sun he’s also god of poetry, healing, music, plagues, knowledge, order, prophecy, beauty, agriculture, and archery

also he apparently looks like a “beardless youth”

omg thank you!! both for the compliment and these ideas :D

i'm still working on them but these are my intial ideas.

ares

i haven't really included his animals in his appearance here. but i'm currently thinking of adding a boar insignia to the back of his armor

and yea i've read about his baby face and i love the idea he wears the helmet cuz it doesn't fit his image. it makes him weirdly endearing? he's kind of adorable in that sense.

also it's not fully shown in these sketches but whereas athena's armour would be more elegant and more sleek, ares' would be scratched and stained with blood. his cape isn't shown her but that would be ripped - wheras athena's would be pristine

hephaestus

i'm strugging with the hat but i'm rlly happy with his body. he doesn't have his mouth open here to see it but to ref donkies, he would have buck teeth! ofc i'm designing his hammer too, that's iconic.

and he would have clothes btw but i'm still figuring it out. idk if it's noticable here, but his chest is not symetrical.

i love how he's turning out sm

the orange will be paired with black and his clothes will reference lava in some way. i'm thinking of making his skin really dark but with bright orange markings.

like this lady

apollo

no font yellow rip

so the earings and necklace have the sun shape but lil music note bit on one of the rays. and there is a jewel in the middle of the circle to make it look like an eye to reference prophecies.

the hyacinths in the hair is temporary. i don't love it just by itself. i think it would look better if i kept this hairstyle but have a bun behind the hyacinths.

i think i achieved the beardless youth here. i've seen some good androgynous apollo designs so i wanted to put my own spin on it

also the sun tattoos/markings. artemis has moon ones so they match <3

also here's a very quick concept for his lyre. the ends make swan heads and there's sun symbol too ofc

[ellieswr1d]

beach days 🐚 🌊 ☀️

[allwaswell16]

[4 pics, 4 quotes, 4 iconic 1D fics]

Iconic Fics by... - LadyLondonderry -

[1]

When the moon finally reaches directly overhead (which Louis mostly notices because Niall grabs his hand and squeezes it like he’s trying to pop the eyes off a trout), Lady Oich swims up before them and recites the ceremonial vows, her mermaid tongue twisting the words into a haunting song about being bound for life to one’s lover. Louis shivers as the words wash over him, at the magnitude of their meaning. 

When she ends her speech, Louis suddenly realises he wishes badly that he wasn’t one of the best looking omegas here, because he really doesn’t want to be first. 

But then Lady Oich makes eye contact with him and raises her hand, and Louis’ heart nearly stops in his chest. She’s signalled that he’s first, and that his choosing begins now. 

[2]

He’s been up at the Help Desk for about half an hour when someone in a fireman uniform who is not Liam comes up to him.

This man, this not-Liam man, is probably the most attractive man Harry has ever seen. Did he say the other day that Liam was hot? That was a lie. No one could hold a candle to this perfect human specimen right in front of him. He’s got soft chestnut coloured hair that Harry would like to run his hands through, a bit of stubble that defines the set of his jaw, the cutest button nose Harry has ever seen, and the curve of his neck… This man cannot possibly be a mere human. Perhaps this Christmas is the second coming of Christ, because this man is compact perfection.

“Hello,” Perfection says when he reaches the counter.

Harry squeaks, and tries to cover it up with a cough.

“I’m Louis,” says Perfection. He sticks his hand out and… shit, is this what Liam felt like? What hand does Harry use? Which is the right one?

[3]

By the time Harry gets back to the office, Louis’ arrived and is sipping coffee from his signature fox mug. He waves at Harry. “You’re not dead!” 

“I’m not dead,” Harry agrees. “Just had to go rescue my roommate.”

“Ah,” says Louis. “Nick said you had one hour vomiting sickness.”

“That too,” Harry says. He sits down and goes back to his stack of plans that he had barely started copying. His head still hurts. He doesn’t want to have to go stand at the copier for the next hour fighting with it, so he takes the six that were successfully copied and brings them up on his screen, indexing and archiving them. 

The plans that Harry copies are supposed to have no paperclips, no staples, no sticky notes. 

The people who create these packets are what Mitch likes to call “incompetent nutters”.

On the wall behind him, Harry’s started a collection of sticky notes that he’s pulled out of the copier when the pages jam. He cuts them up to protect privacy information which makes them unique and wonky and wonderful. He takes a moment to flip through the six on his desk, and adds two to the collage; Please add blood and dissenting opinion. That’s satisfying at least. 

[4]

Now trying to distract himself from the faint salmon smell that seems to be growing stronger, Louis starts people-watching with a purpose. There’s a woman with a young child in her arms who has a stuffed bear in her arms, and all three of them are in matching blue dresses. The person now sitting opposite him has purple hair and earrings that hang past their shoulders in a tangle of tiny glinting beads. Louis wonders how often they get stuck on things. He can see what he thinks is a soulmate tattoo just below their jawline, something short. Good for them. 

There’s a man at the far end of the tube who is wearing a chunky oversized sweater, colourful knit squares patched together like a clown outfit made for winter. Louis isn’t sure, but he thinks it might be hideous. The guy is turned around, though, so he can only see the back of it. 

- answers below -

[1] Moon Dances Over

Louis knows that his tail is, frankly, stunning. His iridescent blue scales shimmer in even the slightest sunlight, and his fins have grown since he presented, delicate and almost transparent in their webbing.

He also knows that that means he’ll be one of the first to pick tonight, as the most beautiful omegas are blessed to pick their mates first. It’s considered a huge honour, since the guppies they’ll eventually birth will certainly be beautiful as well, bringing favour on the whole clan.

Louis has a stubborn streak, though. He’s always been rather a fan of mating for love, and there’s someone he’s had his eye on for a long time now.

[2] Frankincense-ational

Harry Styles works at the Hillsyde Library with his friend Zayn and best mate Niall. It’s December, which means Christmas, which should be the happiest month of the year…

Except Niall just broke up with his boyfriend, Zayn needs to let up on the rules a little, and the library is getting their fire alarm system replaced, which means that for the next few weeks there are going to be firemen patrolling the library ‘looking for fires’ while the system is down.

Harry almost hits one of them with his car right off the bat - and of course he’s the hot one.

Happy Christmas, here’s to many more.

A 2017 Advent Fic

[3] Give A Little Sing To The Singles

Harry Styles is an adult now, with a real adult job (and benefits! Whatever those are!). He spends his days at the copier. Copying things.

That being said, no one told Harry that being an adult came with a confusingly chaotic boss, a copier machine that would be hell-bent on ruining his life, and a coworker so good looking that Harry might just have to quit. After all, Christmas is coming and if their office doesn’t win the decorating contest, Louis has threatened to break several laws and kneecaps in retaliation.

Happy Christmas, here’s to many more.

[4] Things Unsaid

"That chunky oversized sweater is like a clown outfit made for winter."

It feels like time slows down.

Those words echo in his mind, familiar. Why are they familiar? The— the sweater he saw last week. The one with all the knit squares.

The train slows to a stop and Louis just— he doesn’t move. He feels frozen in place as people surge around him. Suddenly everyone is moving too fast and then just as suddenly the car is near empty, taking off again.

The man is gone.

His soulmate is gone.

Or, where you have a tattoo of the first thought your soulmate has when they see you.

[hunnysnoops]

South Park Music HCs

What music I think the South Park characters would listen to.

Stan ✰ Kyle ✰ Kenny ✰ Cartman ✰ Wendy ✰ Bebe ✰ Heidi ✰ Tweek ✰ Craig ✰ Butters

With Spotify links!

Stan Marsh

Artists:

Radio Head

Siouxsie and the Banshees

Crywank

She Wants Revenge

System Of a Down

Slipknot

The Front Bottoms

Favourite Songs:

Atoma- Dark Tranquillity

Smokey Eyes- Lincoln

F.C.P.R.E.M.I.X- The Fall of Troy

Mr Grieves- Pixies

Misc:

Generally angsty

Gets embarrassed of his taste when he’s put on aux

He probably likes 90s dad rock

Whenever Stan listens to ‘System of a Down’ Cartman calls him ‘Syndrome of a Down’

Likes The Front Bottoms purely because he relates

Kyle Broflovski

Artists:

Dan Mangan

The Cure

Echo & the Bunnyman

Blur

Weezer

Billy Idol

Favourite Songs:

I Love You- Fontaines D.C.

Troubled Mind- Dan Mangan

The Killing Moon- Echo & the Bunnymen

Jumping Someone Else’s Train- The Cure

Candy- Paolo Nutini

Misc:

Cartman calls him a virgin for listening to Weezer

If he’s playing his music around you, he’ll sneak glances at you to see if you like it

Definitely has a poster for The Cure in his bedroom

Refuses to use Bluetooth headphones

Kenny McCormick

Artists:

Eminem

Outkast

Ini Kamoze

Car Seat Headrest

Cypress Hill

Limp Bizkit

Green Day

Favourite Songs:

Hits from the Bong- Cypress Hill

Sexy Drug- Falling in Reverse

Deadlines (Hostile)- Car Seat Headrest

Take A Look Around- Limp Bizkit

Misc:

Watches clips of Woodstock 99 on YouTube

Plays his music so loud that it spills through his headphones and gets weird looks for it

Listens to Taylor Swift and Sabrina Carpenter with his little sister

Eric Cartman

Kanye West

T-Pain

Lady Gaga (we all saw this coming)

Rihanna

Black Eyed Peas

Oliver Tree

Pitbull

Favourite Songs:

Church- T-Pain, Teddy Verseti

Meet Me Halfway- Black Eyed Peas

I Can’t Stop- Will Smith

Bury Me Alive- Oliver Tree

Happiness is a Butterfly- Lana Del Rey

Misc:

Strikes me as the type of guy who doesn’t really listen to music

Unironically likes Oliver Tree (His music and him as a person)

Rips on everyone for their music but won’t tell them who he listens to

Lip syncs to Wiz Khalifa while flexing in the mirror

Listens to T-Pain and Will Smith to make him feel tough

Prefers podcasts

Wendy Testaburger

Artists:

The Shins

Gwen Stefani

Hozier

Grizzly Bear

Nelly Furtado

Olivia Rodrigo

Elliot Smith

Favourite Songs:

Swan Upon Leda- Hozier

Lacy- Olivia Rodrigo

Stand By Me- Ben E.King

Vienna- Billy Joel

Pocketful of Sunshine- Natasha Bedingfield

Misc:

Thunder makes her think of stan so she skips it

Relates to Vienna and probably got a small tattoo for it after she graduated

Probably has an eclectic taste and loves 2010s pop

Lets everyone else play their music while she’s driving and never complains

Stares at her ceiling and listens to Elliot Smith when she’s sad

Gets ready listening to y2k pop songs

Bebe Stevens

Artists:

Jungle

Wild Belle

Dominic Fike

Kesha

Avril Lavigne

Justin Bieber (baby era)

MGMT

Favourite Songs:

Feet Don’t Fail Me Now- Joy Crookes

Back On 74- Jungle

Memory Box- Peter Cat Recording Co.

Keep You- Wild Belle

Beauty And A Beat- Justin Bieber, Nicki Minaj

Ur So Gay- Katy Perry

Misc:

Hates sad music, she’ll force herself to listen to USHER during a breakdown

Picky about her music, if someone plays a song she doesn’t like she’ll definitely skip it or complain until someone else does

Mentioned she liked Justin Bieber and then got in an argument with Cartman because of it

Never lets Clyde near the speaker

Screams Ur So Gay at the top of her lungs when it comes on

Heidi Turner

Artists:

Jack Johnson

Syd Matters

Daughter

Fleet Foxes

Rainbow Kitten Surprise

Noah Kahan

Of Monsters and Men

Favourite Songs:

Open Season- High Highs

To All of You- Syd Matters

Two Weeks- Grizzly Bear

Sitting, Waiting, Wishing- Jack Johnson

Sisyphus- Andrew Bird

Blue Ridge Mountains- Fleet Foxes

Misc:

Loves going for walks while she listens to music

Sends you songs that remind her of you

Listens to every song you send her and tells you what she likes about it

Hums when she has her headphones in without realising

Her and all of her friends love Noah Kahan

Tweek Tweak

Artists:

Billie Holiday

Billie Marten

Johann Sebastian Bach

Claude Debussy

Ludwig van Beethoven

Foals

Connie Francis

Favourite Songs:

Who’s Sorry Now- Connie Francis

Cello Suite No. 1 in G Minor- Johann Sebastian Bach

Méditation from Thaïs- Jules Massenet

Bad Apple- Billie Marten

The Lark Ascending- Ralph Vaughan Williams

Misc:

I actually think he would hater Hyper-Pop

Prefers slow/classical/instrumental songs

Listens to a lot of white noise, really specific ones like ‘Heavy Rain in Autumn Fairy Forest 9 hours’

Musical prodigy, plays piano and cello

Craig Tucker

Artists:

Nirvana

Hole

No Doubt

Foo Fighters

Pulp

Arcade Fire

Jeff Buckley

Favourite Songs:

Common People- Pulp

Malmo- Mook

Forget Her- Jeff Buckley

The Pretender-Foo Fighters

Dumb- Nirvana

Misc:

Made one playlist in eighth grade and never listens to anything else

Thinks Courtney Love killed Kurt Cobain

Hates TikTok music, like genuinely.

Somewhat of a gatekeeper

Butters Stotch

Artists:

She & Him

Blonde

Kate Bush

Dolly Parton

Regina Spector

The La’s

The Mama’s and the Papa’s

Favourite Songs:

You’ll Never Find Another Love Like Mine- Lou Rawls

In the Summertime- Mungo Jerry

Hey, Lucky Lady- Dolly Parton

The Tide is High- Blondie

Why Do You Let Me Stay Here- She & Him

Don’t Let The Good Life Pass You By- Cass Elliot

Clay Pigeons- Michael Cera

Misc:

Songs absentmindedly all the time, annoys the hell out of everyone

Quotes the songs he listens to

Developed choreography in middle school and still remembers it

Asks people if they’ve heard a super popular song that’s all over the radio and social media out of genuine curiosity

Anyways, that’s all I got for now. Re log or comment what you think they’d listen to bc I’m genuinely curious, thanks for reading!

Also it literally took hours to add all of those Spotify links so I hope you got something out of this! they wouldn’t let me add more than 100 :/

[bouncehousedemons]

Lore Drop

Thanks for the tag @freddie-foxs <3

Do you make your bed?

Not since getting the dog - she rakes everything into a nest, so it's pointless doing it.

Favourite number?

Quite like 7, 11 and 13 - not sure why.

What’s your job?

I work full time as a senior team leader for a large international marketing company. I also have side hustles as a freelance music journalist and a pet sitter.

If you could go back to school, would you?

Wouldn't mind a redo of university, just so I could go somewhere else and change my degree.

Can you parallel park?

Yes.

Do you think aliens are real?

I find it hard to believe we are alone in the universe, there has to be something else out there.

Can you drive a manual car?

Yes, it's considered normal to be able to drive manual where I live, and your insurance is more expensive if you only drive automatic, as you aren't considered to be able to drive properly!

What’s your guilty pleasure?

I don't feel guilt about pleasure; I'm not Catholic.

Tattoos?

I'd say around 40% of my body is covered in them.

Favourite colour?

Green, purple and black.

Do you like puzzles?

If I'm in the mood.

Any phobias?

No.

Favourite childhood sport?

I was pretty bangin' at rounders.

Do you talk to yourself?

Rarely. Usually do an out loud check list to myself before leaving the house - i.e. "phone, keys, poo bags" etc.

No pressure tags: @vampire-exgirlfriend @selfproclaimedunicorn @lady-morrigen @emilykaldwen @a-fall-of-stars

[catgrassplantdad]

tagged by @heymrspatel @gallawitchxx @kiinard @sgtmickeyslaughter @deedala

@energievie for this week's weekly tag wednesday! thanks cuties 🖤

name: jessie

age: 34

location: my living room. listening to my cat breathe loudly in her sleep lol

top sheet, yes or no? yes! i've never had a problem with them, like i don't get tangled in them or kick them down by my feet. but i also sleep like a corpse, so.

how many stuffed animals do you own? one! a platypus squishmallow

the names of your pets (and the explanations behind them): my cat has a human old lady name. because that is what she looks like to me. she actually started with a different name that sounds vaguely like it could be related to her current name, but in the first two years of her life i couldn't stop calling her this name so i decided to just stick with it full time.

favourite color: some days i prefer orange over green, some days it's the other way around.

any tattoos? yeah, i have ten.

how you transport your belongings (purse, tote, hands, pockets, etc.): a black leather backpack or just my pockets.

the last movie you watched: aliens

how long does it take you to get ready in the morning? i give myself a lot of time to get ready in the morning before work because i need to sit and have my coffee and my breakfast and sometimes write a little and just. take my time. exist. so like an hour a half. the actual process of getting showered and dressed is like 20-30 minutes.

favourite weather: either 55 and sunny or 80 and sunny. but also sometimes rain is really nice.

relationship status: i'm super married!

ice cream flavor of choice: mint chocolate chip, usually!

first fandom: ah, kind of spartacus? but really supernatural

how many books have you read this year? big ol' goose egg :( i've started a few but haven't finished any and i feel super shitty about it

first 4 words of your last notes app entry: "gift ideas for greg" lolololol

and finally, if you had to change your URL tomorrow, what would you change it to? maybe i'd go back to metalheadmickey but i really feel comfortable and at home with catgrassplantdad

tagging @howlinchickhowl @whatthebodygraspsnot @whatwouldmickeydo @gardenerian @rereadanon

@crossmydna @mmmichyyy @ardent-fox @softmick @thisdivorce

@sickness-health-all-that-shit @suzy-queued @too-schoolforcool if you feel like playing!