#glowing green dog dude

[nickpeppermint]

Cerberus, the guardian of Hades 🐺💚

[honeekyuu]

squeeze. [sakusa kiyoomi x reader]

two. the devil.

previous. || masterlist. || next.

a/n. this au has me on my knees.

[playlists]. satin black || brews abridged || vibes

warnings: SAKUSA MOTHERFUCKING KIYOOMI.

✗ !!! minors do not interact !!! ✗

✗ !!! ignore timestamps !!! ✗

“Just come on-”

“Dude,” Hinata coughs, waving his hand in front of his face. “I can’t see shit.”

You roll your eyes, dragging him into Satin Black by the wrist. Cigarette smoke clouds your vision and stings at your eyes, but the dark glow of the tattoo shop makes it impossible to see, anyway. You’d started to get used to it over the last few weeks, but it’s still an assault on your senses every time. You blink it away, squinting into the hazy room.

The tattoo artists – the polite-looking one and the angry guard dog one – are standing at one of the mirrors. Akaashi Keiji and Iwaizumi Hajime, based on your interactions on Twitter today. You stop at the counter, watching them and barely noticing when Hinata stumbles into you from behind.

Akaashi’s shirtless in the mirror, a cigarette dangling between his lips and his eyes squinting down at the art on his own body, as though he’s examining intensely for imperfections. His jeans are slung low on his hips – you see that the dark trail of hair under his navel is flanked on both sides by symmetrical hip tattoos, the black ink stark on his pale skin. 

Iwaizumi is behind him, head bent and cigarette shedding ashes onto the floor as he digs a tattoo gun into Akaashi’s spine. He’s wearing an old muscle shirt with cigarette holes in it, tattooed biceps flexing every few seconds as he works and his frown deep with concentration. There’s a large outline on Akaashi’s back, the lines purple and thin and spanning the entirety of his upper back and curling over the tops of his shoulders. Half of it is filled in, pale blues and greens splashed over his left shoulder blade and Iwaizumi’s gun pressing a cyan color into his spine. Akaashi looks to be in absolutely no pain, his gaze empty as he mumbles something plainly to the other artist. Iwaizumi lifts his head and plucks the cigarette from his own mouth, another cloud of smoke filling the room as he stares down at Akaashi’s back and grumbles a response. 

The interaction is entirely inaudible, the grating guitar of “Crazy Bitch” screaming in your ears. Hinata has both ears plugged with his fingers, and he leans in close to yell to you.

“This is that one Buckcherry song you like!”

It catches both tattoo artists’ attention, and you have no idea how they’d heard your friend.

Cyan eyes find yours in the mirror – cyan like the ink being drilled into his back – and Iwaizumi’s angry gaze is whipping around to you and Hinata at the counter, the cigarette flickering with light and then shedding between his fingers.

“The fuck do you know about Buckcherry?” he barks, and you’re amazed you’d caught it. Hinata jumps beside you, and you feel him shuffle closer.

“Nothing! Uh-Sir?”

Iwaizumi finds that funny, it seems. His eyebrows lift, and you hear him snort quietly as he gives Hinata the once-over, but your eyes are trapped by Akaashi’s. 

The polite-looking one, who doesn’t look so polite now that you really look at him. 

He stares back emptily for a moment, and then – when he sees that you won’t break eye contact first – he smirks, the cigarette looking dainty in a smile that dangerous. 

“Suna,” he says quietly, and you wonder if there’s some black magic in the shop that makes hearing possible through the music. “Your favorite customer’s here.”

You only realize that the curtain across the room is closed when it flies open. Suna emerges on a rolling chair, shirtless with black sunglasses sitting on his nose. You wonder wryly if he knows it’s already dark in the shop without them. 

He’s clearly with a client, because he’s got black latex gloves on and a pair of forceps his right hand, but when he sees you, you get the feeling he couldn’t care less.

“I was wondering when I’d see you, sweetheart.” His smile is wicked, and you wonder, not for the first time, if he’s as harmless and stupid as he seems online.

He sets the clamp down and stands from the chair just as the song is changing, and that black magic idea becomes that much more convincing – haunting vocals ring in the shop, layered under a bass-y beat and quick rap, and the way Suna strips his hands of that black latex while smiling at you feels oddly like you’re being lured in by a siren that knows exactly what it’s doing.

His head twitches in Hinata’s direction, and you watch two tattooed fingers lift the glasses off his face as he stares down at your friend with lifted brows.

“You old enough to be in here?” he says with a smirk as he approaches. Hinata only leans toward you again, his arm hooking with yours.

“Is that the piercer?” he asks in a whisper. Suna’s face splits in a shit-eating grin, his double lip piercings spreading under the light when he presses his hips against the counter.

“Yeah. That’s the piercer,” the man says, his voice low and close. And then he flicks his gaze to you, and green eyes pin you to your spot. “Finally gonna let me pierce you, baby?”

You swallow and shake your head, clearing it. “I’m here about-”

“About the music,” he says, head tilted to look down at you. “I know. What’s wrong – you don’t like Saliva? It’s one of his favorites.”

You furrow your brows, frowning up at him. “Who?”

There’s silence, and then Suna’s grin is widening, face twisting into something terrible and manic.

“Oh,” he breathes, excitement making him lean ever closer. “You haven’t met him yet."

Oh.

Suna pulls out his phone and types out a quick message – you watch the black outline of a heart that sits on his thumb fly across the screen, and you remember to steel yourself despite the nerves. You’d come here for a reason.

Suna’s eyes find yours again. “I fixed that for you.”

“Fixed what-”

The door directly across the shop from you is wrenched open, and your gaze goes right over Suna’s shoulder. The man that comes out of that room walks in time with the echoing, ethereal vocals ringing throughout the shop.

Black Docs blend into black jeans, ripped at the knees and following lean legs that go on for miles. A black t-shirt that’s form-fitting and snug around tattooed biceps, every inch of those arms covered an ink, down to fingernails stained with black polish. Septum and industrial piercings glint under the single overhead light as he passes under it, and two ink black moles peek out from under the ink black hair that hangs over two ink black eyes.

Jesus Christ.

He’s in front of you before you can put together that you’ve been staring up into his eyes for too long.

“Can I help you?” His voice isn’t welcoming, it’s deep and rough and irritated. You wonder when the devil made hell so hot.

“Uh-” You swallow, and Hinata’s elbow digs into your side, urging you. “The music-”

The devil sneers, and your brain whispers a quiet ‘thank you’ in response. “You’re really interrupting my piercer for this? He’s with a client.”

You blink. You remember the devil has a name. He’s just a man, and you’d be damned before you fold for him.

I’d rather he fold me in-

“Maybe your piercer should be professional and not forget he has a client, then. He wouldn’t be standing here right now.”

You see Akaashi and Iwaizumi turn over their shoulders to stare. They’d gone back to tattooing Akaashi’s back, but the gun switches off now, Iwaizumi’s eyebrows high on his forehead as he stares in amusement. Akaashi crosses his arms, watching with a quiet, unnerving smirk. 

The devil–Sakusa Kiyoomi– leans down, planting his hands on the counter and leveling you with a glare that makes you shiver. “Is that all you can come up with?”

You drop your gaze, able to match anyone else’s but not his. Not his. 

Your eyes land on his marked fingers, and you notice a piercing on his right hand that slices through his middle finger, between the second and third knuckles. Suna has the same one, now that you’re looking.

“‘s cute,” you mumble, nodding your head toward it. You lift your eyes to Sakusa’s, slapping a disinterested smile on your face. “Boyfriends?”

He stares back evenly, unfazed. “Brothers.”

You need this man like you need air.

“Do you need something,” he starts, voice cutting through every thought flying around your head. “Or are you just here to waste my time?”

The haze of him crashes down over you, and you remind yourself who you’re talking to. 

It works. 

“If my wine glasses start shattering, you can expect a bill from me,” you say, crossing your arms in irritation. He only lifts his brows, looking at you like you’re stupid.

“How about you just move your wine glasses away from the wall?”

You bristle, leaning forward and planting your hands on the counter, too. Hinata’s hand slips from your arm, and he gasps quietly, whispering your name. You don’t hear it, too busy getting in Sakusa’s face.

He looks briefly surprised to see you come so close, and his eyes flick down to your mouth before finding your gaze again. You smile politely, knowing he’ll see it for the insult it is.

“How about you just turn your music down?”

He smiles back, leaning closer, and you swear you can smell his shampoo. 

“How about you just fuck off?”

You blink, eyes going wide. He’d said it with saccharine, but it stings across your skin like a slap to the face. You furrow your brows, hatred burning in you, but he’s sliding his eyes to the man beside you, looking at Hinata for the first time.

He gives the ginger a once-over, and then he slides his gaze back to yours, slow and purposeful and magnifying the whisper he lets out, breath fanning over your mouth.

“And get your little brother out of my fucking shop.”

He’s gone before you’re ready to let him leave, the door to his office slamming so hard that the windows behind you rattle.

You stare at it blankly, listening to Suna’s low whistle and Akaashi’s mocking snicker. Iwaizumi just shakes his head, visible in your periphery, and the tattoo gun starts up again. The song changes. Hinata tugs on your elbow, the words ‘let’s just go back’ said low in your ear.

You’re going to ruin him.

taglist = [open]

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@bookskeepers @choerry-picking @siheez @introvertsince2003 @eggyrocks

@atrashsith @beckixwsm @kakeru-eem @atsumusc0ck @seroh

@reignsaway @a-little-pebbl @bakingcuriosity @dondoncool @corvid007

@asthmaticcchoeee @liliumaraneae @savemebrazilhinata @whydoyoucare866

@dailyakira @atomickidpeanut @sandwhitches @dailyakira @moucheslove

@softpia @strawbebbielu  @erinwillxoxo @myhyunniebun @kokoblep

@thiisisntlovely  @viscoolreal  @m3lonss 

she put my hand up on her throat and told me // squeeze that shiiii-

squeeze [ghostemane].

[ghostlyglimmer]

The Fun Zone Part 9

The arcade lights were flickering away, the faint smell of popcorn and hot dogs filled the air, as Danny was trying to untangle a roll of tickets that had jammed in one of the machines. Jason was holed up in the back office, probably grumbling about something or other.

Danny had just managed to free the tickets when the door swung open, and a delivery guy walked in holding a stack of pizza boxes.

“Uh, hey,” Danny called out from behind the counter. “I didn’t order pizza.”

The delivery guy squinted at the receipt. “This says it’s for… Red Hood?”

Danny blinked. “What?”

Just as the delivery guy set the stack of pizzas on the counter, Jason stomped out of the office, looking suspicious as always.

“What’s going on out here?” Jason barked.

Danny gestured to the pizzas. “Apparently, you ordered enough pizza to feed an army.”

Jason frowned, snatching the receipt. His eyes scanned it, and he growled. “This isn’t mine.”

Danny crossed his arms. “You sure? Because I could totally see you stress-eating five large pizzas.”

Jason shot him a glare. “It’s a prank.”

“Who pranks someone with pizza?” Danny asked, opening one of the boxes. “Wait, is that pineapple?”

Jason groaned. “Yeah, it’s definitely a prank. Only one person would send me this crap.”

Before Danny could ask who, the lights in the arcade dimmed, and a voice echoed through the speakers.

“Riddle me this, Hood… What’s cheesy, circular, and utterly ridiculous?”

Danny froze. “Please tell me that’s not who I think it is.”

Jason sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s Riddler.”

Sure enough, the Riddler himself walked through the door, wearing his signature green suit and holding a microphone connected to… something. Probably something bad.

“Edward,” Jason growled. “You’ve got five seconds to explain before I throw you out.”

Riddler smirked, gesturing dramatically. “Isn’t it obvious? I’ve come to challenge you! A battle of wits, right here in this… delightful establishment.”

Danny snorted. “Delightful? Dude, a kid threw up in the ball pit this morning.”

Riddler waved him off. “Minor details. Now, Hood, if you’re so clever, let’s see if you can solve my pizza-themed riddles! If you win, I’ll leave. If not, this whole place gets… a little toasty.”

Jason looked at Danny. “Can we just punch him now?”

Danny shrugged. “I mean, I’d kind of like to see where this is going.”

 

Riddler set up a little podium next to the skee-ball machines, pulling out flashcards covered in—what else—riddles. The first one was so easy it was almost insulting.

“What has toppings but isn’t a hat?” Riddler read with a flourish.

Jason stared at him. “Are you serious?”

“Answer!” Riddler barked.

“A pizza,” Jason deadpanned.

“Correct,” Riddler said, looking annoyed. “Alright, try this one: What’s full of dough but never spends money?”

“Still pizza,” Jason replied.

Danny, leaning against the counter with a slice in hand, raised a hand. “Hey, I know this one! Also pizza.”

Riddler’s eye twitched. “Fine! Let’s make things more… interesting.”

He pressed a button on his microphone, and suddenly the claw machine started glowing ominously. The stuffed animals inside began vibrating like they were about to come alive.

Danny blinked. “Did you just weaponize the claw machine?”

Jason sighed. “Of course he did.”

“Careful, Hood!” Riddler taunted. “If you don’t solve my next riddle, these adorable plushies will be your undoing!”

Danny raised an eyebrow. “You realize that makes no sense, right?”

“Silence!” Riddler yelled. “Here’s the final riddle: What’s served hot, sliced, and about to make you look foolish?”

Jason growled, grabbing one of the pizza boxes and hurling it at Riddler. The box smacked him in the face, sending the microphone flying.

Danny burst out laughing as Riddler stumbled back, tripping over a skee-ball machine. Jason grabbed the microphone and crushed it in his hand, deactivating the claw machine just as it started spitting out glowing tokens.

Riddler groaned from the floor. “You… brute!”

Jason loomed over him. “Next time you pull something like this, I’m shoving you into the ball pit.”

“Not the ball pit!” Riddler cried, scrambling to his feet. He dashed out the door, muttering something about uncultured vigilantes.

Danny sat on the counter, still laughing as Jason glared at the stack of pizzas. “So… do we eat these, or is there some kind of Gotham protocol for prank food?”

Jason sighed, grabbing a slice. “I’m not letting this go to waste.”

Danny grinned. “You want the pineapple? It’s your favorite, right?”

Jason threw a napkin at him. “Shut up, Fenton.”

Danny leaned back, watching as Jason took a bite. “You know, I think this is the best night we’ve ever had here.”

Jason gave him a flat look. “Remind me to fire you.”

Danny just laughed, grabbing another slice. “You’d miss me.”

And, for once, Jason didn’t argue.

[buttahpie]

Thank you for tagging me @glowing-gold ! Delighted to participate

Favorite Movie: I have soooo many. Dirty Dancing (i wanna write a McLennon au of this), Howls moving castle, all of the lord of the rings movies (extended editions obviously), a knights tale, surf’s up

Favorite TV Show: I don’t watch a lot of tv. But I’ve always loved Friends and Glee, and as of recent Ted Lasso as been an obsession

Favorite Musical Artists: I listen to SO much music and so many different artists. Kind of fond of the Beatles. Just a little. All of their solo careers (but esp. Paul’s), David Bowie, Fleetwood Mac, I LOVE Jeff Buckley, Hozier (I write all my smut to hozier). Aretha Franklin, Wings, Marvin Gaye, Kirk Franklin, Billy Joel, Frank Ocean, The Stones, lots of Michael Jackson and i listen to a TON of musicals. I love musicals. Hadestown, Something Rotten, Hairspray, anything by Sondheim. I also LOVE twenty one pilots and have seen them live four times.

Favorite Color: Green, but a deep, emerald green

Favorite Season: Summer 100% I have an affinity for all seasons, truly. But long days, warm nights, late sunsets, crisp mornings. I live in a cold climate so summers never exceed extreme temperatures. I just love the summer months.

Favorite Book: I’m terrible and don’t read nearly enough books. I spend all my time reading plays (for my degree) and fan fic. I wished I read more real books, but I honestly would much rather read fan fiction. Oops. I literally only read acting books, but my favorite one of those is An Actor Prepares by Stanislavsky, if you care.

Do you have any Funko Pops? I did in high school but not anymore. I hate junk (oops) and anything that takes up shelf space isn’t worth it unless its a book or record.

Do you play any instruments? Yes! Many actually. My main instrument is actually the bass, both double and electric but my specialty is bluegrass and folk playing! I also play a little piano, and have experience with the little stringed instruments of the world: Ukulele, Mandolin, I even have a Banjo-lele.

Do you have any pets? No :( I lost my childhood dog just last year and miss her. I take care of my best friends little dog a lot, though (aptly named toto)

Do you read or write fan fiction? All day every day. Literally. In all my free time I write fan fic, and every night before I go to bed and every commute to work I read fan fic. Mostly Beatles fan fic, although I just started reading All the Young Dudes for the first time and I am HOOKED. Wolfstar BRAINROT. I love fan fic, and I am pretty open about my love of it with my irls.

What song(s) have you had on repeat recently? ‘You Send Me’ (both the Aretha Franklin and Sam Cooke versions), Changes (David Bowie), Revolution (Kirk Franklin), I listen to ‘Lover You Should Have Come Over’ by Jeff Buckley every single day of my life. The Beatles are always playing around me. Recently I’ve been listening to a lot of Let it Be (1970).

Yay! Loved answering these. Tagging @johangeorghohman @cocaineskinny909 @tauruscats @i-am-the-oyster

[vthewriter1121]

The Great burden

Chapter 1: The Sun and the Moon

"Gods... Powerful beings half of the critters of the Eclipse Kingdom believe in. For those who bask in the region, believe in… A god of sorts. The prototype. Books full of prophets of two critters, a child of the sun and a child of the moon, will join in marriage," a figure said to the group of children lying in the grass.

"Ewww, marriage where they kiss and hold and stuff," a yellow chicken kid yelled.

"Awww, I think it's rather nice," one whispered to the child that shouted.

"Quiet now, children, I'm not done. Ahem… Ah, now they will lead the kingdom into a period of peace, but things will stand in the way of their happiness," the teacher explained.

"OH OH isn't the child of the moon the prince of the kingdom?" one of the other children asked.

"Correct!" the teacher replied.

"But how will you know if you are the child of the sun or moon?" the yellow chicken questioned.

"They say that a certain necklace that the palace holds, that they will shine upon touch," the teacher replied.

"So the necklace with the moon glowed when the prince touched it?" the bunny child asked.

"Correct!" the teacher exclaimed.

"Oh, I hope I'm the sun to his moon," said the red bear child. The whole class giggled with a bell going off in the distance.

"Alrighty class, looks like our day has come to a close. Remember your assignment, and I will talk to everyone more tomorrow!" All of the children quickly got up from where they were sitting and grouped up to go home. All except one, the new child from out of the kingdom. The teacher sees him staring off in the distance at all the kids running off. She walks over to where he's sitting down and crouches to his level.

“You alright, Dogday? You had a big day today! How are you feeling?” she questioned the child with floppy ears and a shy smile.

“I'm alright, Mrs. Delight. I just never heard of anything like that before. I'm not one for religion, but that story would be a nice fairytale!” the child explained. Mrs. Delight giggled at his reply.

“I guess so! Now now, It’s after hours. Why don't you go home now, and we can chat all about it tomorrow?” she offered the child a hand up and a small smile. He slowly grabbed her hand and stood with her. Brushing off some dirt, he smiled and waved her off as he slowly started walking away with his tail wagging.

“He’s got a spark, huh… I have a feeling he's going to do great things,” Mrs. Delight said quietly to herself as she placed a hand on her hip.

_________________________________________________________

Eight years later…

"Hey, you gotta keep up, dude," the all grown-up chicken shouted to the dog man, who was walking a bit far back from him.

“Haha, hey, you're running too fast… whoa,” the dog chuckled as he finally caught up to the chicken. He slightly bumped his shoulder. Then seeing a group of critters surrounding the school, they both quickly glanced at each other then at the crowd.

"What the heck is happening?" the chicken exclaimed. They closely walked side by side, entering the mass of critters. Some of them were critters they had never seen before. The dog scanned the crowd until he saw two familiar faces of his friends. He brushed past other critters, dragging the chicken with him, and submerged himself in the crowd to finally reach his friends.

"Bobby! Hoppy!" he happily greeted his friends with a wide smile on his face.

“Oh! Dogday! Hello you too KFC!” said the green rabbit dressed in her sports attire with her tennis hat on her head.

“Dogday! Kicken!” the bear said happily as she swayed in her pink and white dress, then smiled brightly at all of them.

“Hey, do either of you know what the heck is happening?” Kicken asked both of them, readjusting his sleeves on his biker jacket. Bobby stims with excitement at his question.

“The prince is here!!!!” she burst out with excitement. Hoppy placed a hand on Bobby’s back as if to tell her to calm down, knowing there were a lot of critters around. This statement intrigued Dogday’s interest as his ears perked up hearing this.

“Yeah, apparently he wants to attend high school for his last year,” Hoppy explained, sighing knowing it's gonna be crazy, before Bobby butted in with.

“I have a feeling he’s looking for the child of the sun, his partner, the love of his life!!!!” she squealed, clearly fangirling, but some critters around the group shot the girl weird looks. Hoppy looked around at the group of critters around bobby ,and shot them a mean look Kicken then laughed . Dogday wondered to himself why this school, and why now, glancing at the faces of his friends. They were all chatting with Bobby she was telling them more info about the prince. With Hoppy and Kicken laughing with each other about how much Bobby knows about this subject.

Then they heard the loudspeaker go off and heard a voice ringing throughout the school's property. “Today is just a regular day now everyone goes to class, and if you don't attend our school, please kindly escort yourself off the property!!!!” A booming voice that the students recognized as their teacher Mrs. Delight. Loud discourse from the critters surrounding the group could be heard, and the crowd around the school slowly dispersed. As Dogday observed the looks on people's faces, feeding into his desire on why so many people were interested in the prince's whereabouts and how he acted as a critter. His mind zoned out with so many thoughts until he heard.

“Dude, DogDay? Are you coming, the path is clear, and I don’t know about you, but I don't wanna be lectured by Mrs. Delight again. Last time was so uncool…” Kicken waved his hand Dogday’s way, telling him to walk. The dog chuckled as the group walked into the building.

Critters scurried to their designated classes throughout the buildings. As some leaned against the wall talking to their friends and or partners, whispers about the prince caught the attention of the dog, who slowly walked through the hall. Critters gave a quick glance to Dogday ,and he just smiled back.

“SHIT” Hoppy shouted suddenly realized she had homework and forgot her whole backpack. Kicken laughed at her situation.

“I thought you were on top of things, Judy Hopps?” he teased her as he nudged her arm,and she shot him a look. As they slowly approached the classroom they were all assigned to. Dogday pulled in front of the group so he could hold the classroom door for them all as he did every morning. But as he tried to grab the door handle, Bobby quickly grabbed it for him.

“Nah, this time let me, Dogday,” she smiled. He barked out a quick thanks and headed inside. Then he paused in the doorway, and his eyes meeting with a pair of yellow moonlike eyes staring at him. His gaze captured a cat boy who was sitting in the window seat with a moon gem on his forehead and a crescent moon amulet necklace. He was wearing royal attire..., but what was even more shocking was the critters he was hanging out with. They were sitting at a group of desks: a unicorn, a pig, and an elephant. Two of them were sporting royal attire, and one of them was wearing casual clothes with an apron.

“Ah, Dogday, just the dog I've been wanting to see!” rang a voice at the front of the classroom. There stood his teacher Mrs. Delight as she just got done writing something on the chalkboard. She turned around and gave him a huge smile as she waved him over. Dogday finally walked through the door frame, walking over to Mrs. Delight. The other critter crew walked closely behind Dogday as they tried to listen in.

“Hello Mrs. Delight, Good Morning! Is there a reason you need me?” he questioned with a slight tilt of the head.

“Yes, I’m sure you are well aware of the current situation at the moment. Yes, we have a new student, and yes it’s the prince,” she explained with a smile. “But he brought some friends from inside the castle with him. So I trust you with keeping them happy and feeling welcomed?” she asked him gently. Dogday rapidly nodded his head as his tail started wagging, knowing he liked making friends. Mrs. Delight nodded and giggled at his behavior as she clapped her hands together.

“Alright, I’ve arranged your table group with them. So for now, you will be sitting with them. Now that's all I have for you for now. So hurry to your seat before everyone starts shoveling in,” she gently patted his back. By the time Dogday turned back around, all of his friends were setting in their assigned table groups. Then he gently searched back at the cat boy's table group with his eyes and slowly made his way to the corner table group. As he approached, he felt all eyes on him, including those enchanting moon-shaped eyes. He stopped in the only open spot at the table . The cat boy raised a brow and tilted his head.

“Hello to you all! I’m Dogday. I'm basically gonna be your student guide to everything at this school! So if you have any questions about the school or any critter or homework, I can answer mostly anything for you,” he said kindly as he smiled at all of them. The elephant carefully pulled out the chair in front of Dogday and gestured for him to sit. Dogday smiled at him and gently took a seat. The elephant turned to him and gestured to himself.

“Hello, My name is Bubba… Bubba Bubbaphant. I’m the Prince's Royal adviser, and personal assistant. The unicorn's name is Crafty, and the pig's name is Picky. And the prince, his name is-” Bubba Paused as the prince put a paw on Bubba's shoulder as if saying let me.

“My name is Catnap. Please, there is no need to call me anything but that.” A gentle and soothing voice erupted from the cat as he also finger spelled his name in Sign language.

“I don’t wish to make a fuss. I may be the child of the moon, but I want to lead a fun life outside the castle. Only the prototype can know what goes on inside the castle,” he gently explained to the dog boy . As Dogday settled into his seat, he couldn't shake the curiosity swirling within him like a whirlpool. The presence of Catnap, the prince, and his electric entourage stirred up a myriad of questions in his mind. What was life like inside the castle walls? How did the prince envision his time at the school? And most intriguingly, what secrets lay hidden behind those enigmatic moon-shaped eyes? 

Before he knew it he lost track of the other students filling into the classroom ,and the bell rang to commence classes to start. The classroom buzzed with a subdued energy as Mrs. Delight began her lesson. Dogday's attention, however, kept drifting back to Catnap and his companions. Picky, the pig, seemed to be engrossed in the lesson. Crafty, the unicorn, appeared lost in thought, occasionally scribbling doodles on a notepad that Dogday couldn't quite make out from his angle. Bubba, the gentle giant of an elephant, exuded an air of serene wisdom, his eyes betraying a depth of experience beyond his years. Why was he even in high school here with the prince? He looks so bored with the lesson almost if he knows everything.

As the lesson progressed, Dogday found himself stealing glances at Catnap, who seemed to be listening intently, his expression a mask of serene concentration. There was an aura of quiet authority about him, tempered by a palpable sense of humility that belied his royal status. Dogday couldn't help but admire the prince's composure, especially in the face of the whispered rumors and sidelong glances that seemed to follow him wherever he went.

When the bell finally rang, signaling the end of the lesson, Dogday found himself torn between the familiar comfort of his friends and the magnetic pull of Catnap and his companions. With a quick nod to his friends sitting on the other side of the room , he gathered his things and walked on to the other side of the table where Catnap was sitting . As a small conversation took over the table they were sitting at a small voice pierced through it all.  

"Hey, um, Catnap, right?" Dogday ventured, trying to keep his tone casual despite the flutter of nerves in his chest. Bubba ,and Picky look at the Dog with curious intent as Crafty sketches on her notepad in front of her. Catnap looked up from his notes, his moon-shaped eyes meeting Dogday's gaze with a faint glimmer of curiosity.

 "Yes, that's correct. And you must be Dogday, our esteemed student guide," he replied, a hint of amusement tugging at the corners of his mouth .Dogday felt a rush of warmth at Catnap's words, his tail wagging involuntarily at the praise.

 "Yeah, that's me!..... So, uh.., welcome to the school, I guess. If you ever need anything, just let me know. I'm here to help," he said, hoping he sounded more confident than he felt. Catnap inclined his head in acknowledgment, a small smile playing across his lips.

 "Thank you, Dogday. Your hospitality is greatly appreciated. I have a feeling we'll get along just fine," he said, his voice carrying a note of genuine warmth as he slowly gathered his notebook. Dogday stood there nervous for what he wanted to blurt out.

“Would you ,and your group… want to hang out with me and my friends? I promise they are chill ,and charming bunch of critters” The Dog suggested and tilted his head to the side. Feeling nauseous for asking such a question. Millions of things rang through his head before he realized he's been staring at at the cat. Zoning out on those moon-like eyes he has. Catnap’s eyes softened by his suggestion. Never really having an outside group of friends with no royal blood or attachment to himself. He found himself surprised ,and thankful.Catnap regarded Dogday with a thoughtful expression, his moon-shaped eyes glinting with a hint of curiosity. After a moment of contemplation, he nodded slowly.

"I appreciate the offer, Dogday. It would be a welcome change of pace to spend time with you ,and your group," Catnap replied, his voice carrying a genuine warmth. With response Dogday's eyes flashed for a second almost as bright as the sun. Catnap smiled at the thought of his attitude.

Bubba, Picky, and Crafty exchanged glances, silently communicating with each other before nodding in agreement. Dogday couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement at the prospect of introducing his friends to Catnap and his companions.

"Great! How about we meet up at lunch then? There's a nice spot on this hill we usually go to when we eat lunch. There is this big tree provides a lot of shade too! ," Dogday suggested eagerly, his tail wagging with anticipation .Catnap smiled softly, and chuckled a spark of curiosity dancing in his eyes.

 "That sounds lovely. Sounds quite fun too." he agreed before gathering his belongings and rising from his seat. Dogday couldn't shake the feeling of excitement coursing through him. Meeting the prince and his friends had opened up a whole new world of possibilities.

“So Catnap what period do you have next?”

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

Heya guys this is v got locked out of my other account but here is the first chapter of my story rewritten an whole so hope you enjoy!!!

[prest0allay]

Dude. DUDE. Your art is so epic I love every frame of it--

Like!! the Lyrics!! Go so well!! "Better than I ever did" FITS. Joel had Gem's back and Gem had his and their relationship was so wholesome and healthy-- so much so that??? He didn't die??? Like-- for 4 episodes??? Where did that come from? (It was Gem. It was because of Gem)

YESS!!!! Joel using the teleportation power was my absolute favorite part of the episode. I don't think anyone was able to use their powers more effectively than he did at that moment. It was basically a 5 v. 1 (including skizz + martin) and he survived!!! Also the detail on this frame is so epic!! Impulse dying in the back, etho watching in horror, Cleo and pearl angrily chasing him while Scott is just confused?? EPIC. And Joel??? Grinning like a madman??? Because he was having fun even as he came so close to dying like 10 separate occasions??? DUDE. "Feeling like a little kid" WORKS

AHHHHHH- DUDE. I'm so devastatingly relieved that Joel wasn't there when Gem died because I would've fallen apart to see his live reaction but like-- this is almost sadder ;-; HIS FAMILY!!! DIED WHEN HE WASN'T THERE!!! AND HE WAS LEFT WITH NO ONE (but grian) like-- that just breaks me. They were there for each other every step of the way and he was steps away from her during her final moments-- not to witness it nor to save her. ahhhh- I'm dead.

(also I found it so fitting that the second she died the wild cards ended. Almost like the watchers recognized that they didn't need them anymore)

AHHHHH- JOEL REFLECTING ON HIS PAST SELF IS SO CRAZY. The redness around him?? The dogs?? The fact that his current self is surrounded by green? He didn't turn red until the end. He won by going against what he had been for 5 seasons before and won. And the red eye? symbolizing that his murderous tendencies were still there, waiting and ready to emerge when he decided to use them? So amazing.

AHHHHHHHHHH THE LAST FRAME IS SO BEAUTIFUL. The night sky?? the comet??? The GREEN glow around him with that tired but victorious smile on his face? So beautiful. You're amazing.

Anyways I am also so normal about this. Thank you for the impecable Joel content :3 it is so. so delicious.

Thank you for the amazing paragraph. I'm fighting my inner demons cause my ego is inflating thanks to all the sweet (and feral) notes I'm getting.

I like how you noticed the red eye, for me it was more like this time He's in control and not going mad. Fun fact about the 3rd pic, despite going "I'm still standing" I drew Joel sitting cause he's humbled and genuenly scarred that he's going to mess up again, since he lost Gem, the one person who helped him with his anger. But she's still there in spirit (the green headband on his wrist) all the way till the end.

I chose the song since his win for me is a celebration of becoming a better person :>

[thegatorsgoose]

Dove

My headcanon (?) of what Danny from Wayne's Haunted Mansion by @tathartiel would look like as a vigilante

I love this fic to bits and as everything I love I overthink about it, and I started thinking about what he would look like if he became a vigilante with the batfam. (considering Bruce’s track record, and Danny’s need to help, I feel like it’s inevitable lmao)

It’s mostly just a slightly tweaked version of his hazmat suit + a white clockwork style cloak. I made sure to add a lot of armor around the knees, shoulders, elbows and knuckles and not much else because id imagine like black bat, he doesn’t run in there like the others, instead waiting all sneaky like for the perfect moment to jump out of the shadows.

The mask was originally just the top part, which is shaped like the bat symbol if you couldn’t tell, but then I realized this Danny has a very noticeable scar on his mouth and I’m not about to pull a Jason Todd and have a major definable feature just hanging out (seriously dude cover your hair) so I added the bottom part as well. It does detach tho! So he can eat bat burger with the fam afterwards:) the eyes of the mask are either black or ecto green, which Danny controls by feeding ectoplasm into it. I saw someone do something similar in a fic but I don’t remember which one, but I thought it was cool. I also added it cus Dannys a ghost, he likes causing mischief and spooking people, it’s in his blood! And seeing two glowing green eyes appear out of nowhere in the shadows is very spooky.

Also we got service dog/guard dog Cujo, the best boy, and Nightwing congratulating Dove on his first patrol! “Good job on your first patrol, spooky!”(My handwriting is trash I would have fixed it up but eh). Why give him a scythe, you ask? Well, why not? In reality I doubt he’d use one in this fic but also he has an extremely rich and specialized family, if no one in the fam can teach him then they could easily higher someone. So why no :P

I definitely intend to color this, but I’m to lazy and tired rn and I just wanted to share cus this design has been plaguing me for a while. Luckily the sketchs turned out good enough to post 👍 I hope.

(Edit, posted a little comic of him)

[acourtofmishapandmistakes]

Reluctant Arms and Baby Charms

Summary: In response to a comment by @b7717 on one of my posts, I was inspired to write a scene depicting the complicated yet evolving relationship between Amren and baby Nyx. Here, Nyx makes a daring attempt to finally win over his Auntie Amren.

Content Warning: None, just baby fluff

Amren perched regally in an oversized armchair tucked into the shadowy corner of the sitting room. The room was awash in the soft glow of evening; golden light spilled across rich mahogany bookshelves and glinted off delicate glassware, casting long, dancing shadows. This was the families normal routine for their Thursday night dinners.

Across from her, Nesta found refuge against Cassian’s broad side, her body curled into his protective embrace on the plush, sage-green couch. Cassian, his voice a low rumble of amusement, was deep in conversation with Azriel, who lounged in an adjacent wingback chair. With a casual grace, Azriel swirled a glass of amber whiskey, his dark eyes lighting up with laughter at some jest from Cassian.

To the side, on a sprawling, plush rug that dominated the floor, Elain and Feyre created a softer tableau. They sat encircled by a flurry of colorful cushions, their attention devoted entirely to the animated babblings of ten-month-old Nyx. Feyre’s laughter, bright and musical, punctuated the air as Nyx attempted his earnest, albeit wobbly, first steps.

Nearby, Rhysand stood by a towering bookshelf lined with well-worn leather spines. In his hand, he swirled a glass of dark liquid, his posture relaxed against the cool, stucco wall. His gaze, however, was only on his wife and son. 

Amren idly swirled her glass of wine, her movements detached and mechanical. Meanwhile, Feyre gently coaxed Nyx onto his unsteady legs, supporting him under his tiny armpits. "Come on, baby boy," she whispered, her voice a tender murmur. Her face lit up with a radiant smile as Nyx cooed, reaching out to tenderly touch his mother's face.

The dinner conversation earlier had bubbled with excitement over Nyx’s recent milestone—pulling himself up to stand while in Rhys's office. Amren, however, found herself drifting away from the animated chatter about the boy's achievements. While she recognized the deep affection that enfolded the family, Amren's own sensibilities were far removed from such domestic warmth. She was not one to revel in the sticky, noisy presence of infants. To her, children were a disturbance, often leaving a trail of havoc on a woman’s physique and serenity. Observing Feyre, now slightly rounder and visibly more worn from motherhood, only cemented Amren’s resolve to remain detached. She preferred her life orderly and unencumbered—precisely the opposite of what she viewed as the chaos of child-rearing.

Feyre gently turned Nyx so he faced his Aunt Elain, who was eagerly extending her arms toward him, a stuffed linen bat—his favorite toy—clutched in her hands. "You can do it, Nyx, come on sweet boy!" Elain cooed encouragingly.

Nyx responded with a series of cheerful, unintelligible babbles. "Oh yeah?" Feyre chuckled, engaging playfully with her son. "That's very interesting." Rhys, overhearing the exchange, let out a soft chuckle. When Nyx emitted another joyful burst of sounds, Cassian jumped in with a teasing grin, "Whoa, let’s not use that kind of language, dude!"

Amren watched the scene unfold with a mixture of bemusement and detachment. She could never quite grasp why the adults indulged in such earnest conversations with Nyx as if he could grasp their words. To her, Nyx was akin to a household pet—endearing perhaps, but fundamentally incapable of meaningful interaction. The distinction, however, was clear: Amren found the company of cats or dogs decidedly more preferable.

Elain jiggled the doll enticingly, and Nyx stretched his chubby little hands toward it as Feyre gradually released her gentle hold. "Come on, Nyx, come to Auntie Elain," Elain coaxed softly. Nyx hesitated, glancing over his shoulder back at Feyre.

"No, no, not mama, go to Elain," Feyre encouraged, guiding his attention forward.

Nesta rose from her place beside Cassian and joined Elain, both aunts reaching out invitingly. 

"Look, baby, it’s your Auntie Nesta!" Feyre announced, her voice bright with excitement. "Go to your aunties!" She urged him on.

At the sight of his aunts' animated expressions, Nyx's face broke into a wide, gummy smile. The room filled with the soft chorus of coos and delighted squeals. Nyx wobbled on his unsteady legs, swaying slightly as Elain and Nesta leaned in, their faces alight with anticipation.

With a sudden giggle, Nyx's balance gave way, and he toppled back into his mother’s waiting arms. Feyre enveloped him in a warm embrace and planted a playful raspberry on his cheeks, eliciting an even louder giggle from him.

"You silly boy, that’s your mama, not your aunties," Feyre chuckled, her voice bubbling with affection as she held him close.

Amren managed a tentative smile as Azriel met her eyes. Both shared a similar detachment from the exuberant affections showered upon the new babe. While it was evident they cared about him, neither harbored much interest in the typical rituals of feeding, holding, or babe-watching.

Nesta rose from the floor. “Cass, we should get going. We have an early morning tomorrow.”

Cassian got up from the couch and moved to stand behind Nesta, wrapping his arms around her shoulders in a protective embrace and pressing a gentle kiss into her hair.

Elain also stood, stretching slightly. “I should head out too. I’m helping at the farmer's market on Saturday, and they want to meet with me tomorrow about a booth assignment.”

“That’s wonderful,” Feyre replied, her voice warm even as Nyx tugged at a strand of her hair, his small fingers gripping tightly. She winced slightly before freeing herself from his enthusiastic grasp.

Elain bent down to give Nyx a playful tickle on his stomach. “Bye baby boy,” she said, grabbing his bare foot and pressing a kiss onto it.

Nyx, feeling the confines of his mother's arms too restricting, began to fuss and squawk, eager to crawl towards his abandoned toy. Feyre set him down, and he quickly scooted across the floor, grasping the bat and immediately sucking on its wing.

From her vantage point, Amren watched, her expression turning to one of slight disgust at the copious amounts of drool Nyx managed to produce. 

As Feyre and her sisters exited the sitting room, trailed by Rhys and Cassian in deep conversation, the atmosphere shifted. Suddenly, it was just Nyx, Azriel, and Amren left—an unlikely trio, each not entirely at ease with the others. Amren contemplated leaving, yet she hesitated, recalling Feyre's promise of a new jigsaw puzzle featuring a painting of herself and Varian that she was eager to acquire.

Nyx, oblivious to the subtle tension, babbled joyfully, waving his stuffed bat energetically above his head. In an overzealous flutter, he released it, sending it sailing across the room to land at Amren's feet. She looked down at the soggy, forlorn toy with a hint of dismay. Nyx, realizing his toy had escaped his grasp, let out a groan of displeasure and began searching for it. Spotting the toy near Amren, his gaze shifted upward, locking eyes with her.

With a faint sigh, Amren nudged the toy back toward Nyx using her foot. Her movement was reluctant but gentle, a small concession to the innocent expectations of a child, even as she maintained her composed detachment.

Nyx flipped onto his stomach and, with a burst of determination, scooted over to the nearest coffee table. Sitting up, he grabbed the edge and pulled himself to his feet. Both Azriel and Amren exchanged nervous glances, unsure of their roles in this sudden display of infantile agility.

As Nyx clung to the table, he glanced back at Amren and flashed her a toothless grin before taking a tentative step forward. Amren's eyes widened in surprise as he cautiously moved along the edge of the table, his small fingers clinging for balance. Suddenly, with a daring little laugh, Nyx released the table and tottered forward unaided, making four shaky steps toward Amren.

Without hesitation, Amren set her wine glass aside and knelt down, extending the soggy bat toy toward him. Nyx's wobbly approach continued until he was close enough to dismiss the toy, instead opting to bury his chubby hands into Amren's cheeks and gaze deeply into her eyes. Overcome by an unfamiliar rush of affection, Amren pulled him close, their foreheads touching.

Azriel, witnessing the scene with astonishment, called out loudly for Feyre and Rhys. The parents rushed back into the room, their questions halting as they caught sight of Amren embracing their son, who stood confidently on his own. Feyre wasn’t sure if she was more taken aback by her son walking, or by Amren willingly touching him.

"He, he walked to her," Azriel managed to announce, his voice tinged with disbelief.

Feyre whipped her head around. "He did what?"

"He—Nyx walked. All on his own, to Amren," Azriel repeated, his arms gesturing wildly toward the pair still on the floor. Nyx, content within Amren's embrace, finally accepted the bat and nestled into her lap.

With a careful adjustment, Amren scooped Nyx up, securing him comfortably in her lap as she reclaimed her seat in the oversized chair. Once settled, she casually picked up her wine glass, swirling the contents before taking a final sip.

The roomful of astonished adults watched, still processing the unexpected turn of events. Amren, feeling their eyes on her, looked up coolly. "What?" She queried nonchalantly. "He's chosen his favorite," she remarked, a hint of a smile playing at her lips as she carefully set the glass down.

Rhys chuckled, "Cassian is going to lose his shit when he finds out about this."

Nyx, ever the adventurous little one, leaned forward a bit too eagerly and nearly tumbled out of Amren's lap. With swift reflexes, Amren caught him by the back of his shirt and pulled him safely back against her. She then wrapped one arm securely around his midsection, holding him close to ensure he wouldn’t take another unexpected dive. This gesture, protective and almost instinctual, surprised even Amren herself.

[maybe-im-dark]

Rocket Raccoon headcanons

-even as a cybernetically enhanced raccoon, he still is a raccoon so while his eyesight is better than that of the rest of his kind it's still lacks in some ways. While he got excellent night vision, he can not tell the different shades of colors and sometimes confuses blue with green for example. He is also slightly near sighted and has trouble reading small writing and can barely read handwritten stuff

-speaking of his eyes: They reflect light in darkness like most nocturnal animals! This nearly scared the shit out of Peter, when he went to the bathroom one night, turned on the flashlight and was met with a pair of green glowing orbs down the hall. "What the fuck, Rocket?! Dude, i almost pissed myself!"

-he can eat anything! He is not above eating the leftovers of his fellow guardians and sometimes even will dig out fruit and vegetable skins out of the trash, complaining how anyone could throw this away. One time Peter played a mean prank on him by giving him a bowl of Cosmos dog kibble and telling him it's cereal. After watching Rocket delightfully dig in, he burst out in laughter declaring him a trash panda once more

-on rare occasions he gets so angry, that his primal instincts take over and he becomes absolutely feral! He will hiss, bark and growl and destroy things by ripping them apart with his teeth and claws

-sometimes after a battle the implants in his joints and spine hurt from being over used by running and fighting and he has to walk on all fours for some time to ease the pain. He mostly just curls up alone in some corner though, afraid of being laughed at because this is just another animal thing

-he loves swimming. One time the Guardians went to a planet that has lots of lakes and they decided to go for a swim and Rocket had so much fun, splashing the others and finding some discarded parts to make new inventions out of

[seraphims-wing]

Fourth of July

a/n: in honor of AB/AP hitting its ten year anniversary, my brain decided to cook this up. i honestly haven't written TimKon before but the plot bunny hit at 1am and I crunched this out.

The song just fit Tim post Bruce's death perfectly and I couldn't help myself

tags: references to major character death, a small dash of fluff, but mostly angst

Enjoy!

“Cloning Process #76 Complete. Status: Failure to align protein linkages. Would you like to proceed again?”

The tinny computerized voice spoke up, catching Tim’s attention from the notes he had been scribbling. His eyes were wide as he let out a shaky breath, his hands tightening into fists.

The words on the papers strewn across the table seemed to blur. He didn’t even register the teardrops that stained the pages, stacks of failed attempts and notes all haphazardly scattered around him.

Tim slumped to the ground, his head falling back to rest on one of the desk’s legs as he let out a shuddered sigh. The red glow of the clock on the other side of the room showed it was well past 3am. He squinted at it and frowned, normally he’d be out on patrol by now.

Not anymore.

Dick could handle it. After all, he had his brand new Robin with him.

His heart stung at the reminder, the feeling gnawing at him. The bitter and jagged remarks he had thrown that night in the cave were full of anger and resentment. He said so much— and yet he felt like he said nothing at all. He grimaced at the thought of Damian running rampant around as Robin, of Dick donning the cowl every night instead of their father.

God he missed them.

He missed when Dick who would take him out for chili dogs late at night after patrol, or when he’d grin at him while they parkoured across rooftops. He missed when Bruce would awkwardly ask how his hobbies were going or when he would ask for his input on a case. He even missed when Alfred would scold him about how messy his room was or bake him his favorite cookies when he knew Tim was upset.

It had all happened too fast. First Steph, then Bart, then Kon, then Bruce—

He let out another shaky sigh as he opened his eyes and stared at the eerie green liquid in the tube. He was nearly at the end of his rope trying to find Bruce, with the League, with everyone. When Ra’s had approached him with the CADMUS files he had nearly thrown them out.

‘A show of good faith,’ the man had said.

Maybe at another point in his life Tim would have told Ra’s to shove it, but after one too many late nights of failed attempts at finding Bruce in the timestream, he found himself skimming over them.

Then the skimming became reading, and then researching, and next thing he knew he was in this stupid basement desperately trying to get his friend back.

He knew it wasn’t the best coping mechanism— not that he’s had any good role models since going around punching criminals wasn’t really psychologist certified.

But if he could just get him back. Maybe things— maybe things would be better.

He didn’t even realize he had drifted off to sleep, the exhaustion catching up with him.

“Y’know, maybe I’d be more willing to celebrate our country if we didn’t have an egotistical maniac running it,” Tim commented, perched on the top of the Kent’s barn. Kon sat next to him, both dressed in their civilian clothes.

Kon snorted, “Still have no idea how Lex got elected.”

Tim raised an eyebrow and glanced at him, “Wait, so does that mean you’re like… technically First Son or something like that?”

Kon thought for a second before shrugging. “I guess?” he replied, before raising an eyebrow suggestively, “Why, you into it?”

Tim rolled his eyes at the smug smirk that had risen on Kon’s face, “No, I hate snobby rich kids.”

Kon let out a laugh, nudging him, “Dude, you literally are one.”

“Exactly.”

A boom sounded in the distance. Instinctively, Tim tensed but he felt his shoulder’s relax as Kon’s hand settled on his thigh. He let out a sigh, “Sorry— in Gotham that usually means something else.” He glanced out towards where the soft lights of Smallville could be seen in the distance, fireworks lighting up the night sky in bursts.

Tim felt Kon shift closer, and instinctively leaned against him, watching the colorful display.

“I think the last time I saw fireworks was at Disney World,” he mumbled quietly.

“Well this isn’t Disney level, but we do alright,” Kon replied with a chuckle, “Sorry our small town isn’t fancy enough for you,” he teased.

Tim rolled his eyes and met Kon’s gaze, “You know I didn’t mean it like that.”

He noticed Kon’s expression softening as he met Tim’s gaze, “I know,” he replied quietly as he grinned warmly at him.

Tim felt his chest flutter at the sight, the colors of the fireworks lighting up Kon’s tanned skin. Kon’s hand reached up and brushed against his cheek, his thumb grazing his skin. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest as Kon leaned in—

“ —Fuck!” Tim yelled as his head had slammed back into the deck’s metal leg. The sound of his phone’s ringtone echoed through the basement. He let out a groan, blindly trying to grab his phone from the desk.

He saw the strings of messages, his assistant frantically spamming him.

“Fuck,” he said again, in a resigned tone. He had overslept and missed another investor’s meeting. Pushing himself off the ground, he started to collect himself. He nearly stumbled, stabilizing himself with the desk. He let out a shuddered sigh as he sifted through his memories, the dream making his heart tighten in his chest.

He glanced at the photos of Kon that were scattered across the files, asleep in a tube— peaceful. But that wasn’t his Kon. That was before they found him, before the Young Justice, before their friendship, before…

His Kon was opinionated and snarky. He wouldn’t take anyone’s shit and he had a smile so blinding it was almost annoying. His Kon was passionate, and kind. He was brash but he was bright— brighter than a burning sun or firework lighting up the sky.

“Computer?” Tim asked softly, walking towards the tube and resting his hand against the cold glass.

He just wanted him back.

“ Initiate Attempt #77.”

[fountainpenguin]

"No one lives forever~ Let's have a party; there's a full moon in the sky! It's the hour of the wolf and I don't wanna die..." (x)

---

New Dog's Life chapter today! ~ 3rd Life series fan-season

Chapter 35 - “Incendiary (BigB, Skizz, Etho, Scott)”

❤️ Read on AO3

💛 Start from Chapter 1

💚 More Pixels Imperfect fics

---

BigB visits a tipsy Scar. Skizz does paperwork. Etho sobs on the floor. Scott gets something to eat.

(First 1,000 words under the cut)

---

T-rated descriptions of BigB discussing cuddles with Ren

---

bigbst4tz2 - Moth (Ex-Illusioner)

Status: Increasingly concerned

City inspector, private investigator, and town crier

🖤  🧡  💚

This is getting intense. It's pinching at his hearts. I need a better observation post. Thank Beef for the card shop, though- and its rooftop bar. It's not exactly a night of snuggling and macaroni, but Pearl's whisper over comm gave him a good excuse to duck out. He likes Ren. But Ren's… a lot. It's charming to see him playing with the young fox hybrids. Jimmy's presence helped soak some energy too; it's easier, see, to handle Ren in small doses or with a bigger group. But it's nice to stretch. He needs time with his own thoughts now and then.

BigB lands in a fwump of wings. Not many people are up here tonight. Yeah, card games don't tend to be an instinct programmed into mob behavior. This place will be busier come new moon night. Three people sit at the barstools, talking to someone that BigB barely glanced at. They look heavily modded. No full moon pulls for them. Scar's here too. After what he glimpsed when Scar was on the floor with Scott, he'd be more surprised if he wasn't. Didn't Martyn crash through his roof? Yikes.

"Mind if I join you?" he asks over his shoulder. Scar looks up. He's drinking alone tonight. Again, don't blame him. Heavier than usual for him, isn't it? Raw binary code sparkles in his shot glass. Scar's eyes glint off-green, all dim and hazy. His soul traits haven't sprung up, though his form seems to be a little loose around the shoulders.

"Hello, BigB! No, not at all- pull up a seat if you'd like. What's the word on the streets these days?"

BigB's antennae twitch forward. He climbs on top of a short block stack at the edge of the roof- the corner spot where the fence post railing connects. Yeah, this will work. It's easier to sit on than the posts themselves and he gets a decent view of Headquarters. Scar's just two tables over, within prox chat distance. BigB gets himself situated, flapping out his wings. He cracks open the eyespots to soak in as much area as he can. "Well… Impulse and Tango got some farms approved. They're only authorized to run it for short periods of time and they're on trial to prove they can follow through with the ethics requirements, but we might get renewable iron rolling in pretty soon. Dude, that would be a game-changer."

"Oh, really?" Scar takes another sip of his drink. His vex wings flutter at his shoulders. BigB doesn't need to turn around to see that. "You know, I've always wondered why we have glowing iron golems in this dimension, but not glowing iron. It really makes you think. What a quad- quandary."

"Hmm… I guess because it's a programmed drop, not a literal part of their body."

"True!"

What a day. One of the longest ones he's experienced in a while, seeing as he had check-in work in the morning, a full two weeks of recording, and city inspection work when he went offline. BigB yawns, thrumming his wings. But Pearl asked him to keep an eye on Scott, and Scott's definitely up to something. He snuck out a window. This should be interesting.

"BigB?"

"What?"

"Do you think Grian would like me more if I was a worm?"

He rolls one of his eyespots, trying not to show expression otherwise. "I'm sure Grian likes you fine." If this is some jab at soulmates and Double Life, it's not one he's up for tonight. Though that thought does wiggle beneath his exoskeleton and bite at every heart.

I bet Ren would like me more if I were a giant world-eating worm.

Maybe he would've been into that in a way he wasn't into a soft and fluffy moth who loitered in the corners of his eyes, following instructions instead of bossing him around. And as he thinks that, he pinches his brow and rubs up and down. Ren checked every box when they were soulmates. He flirted and flounced and nuzzled while living at Box…

… but Ren's into things that BigB was never going to be able to give him, like fangs and drool and razor-sharp claws. He embraced the roleplay. Pretended there was something there. They were cuddling shirtless every night. Even carroting sometimes, foreheads pressed and mouths soft as they huffed against each other's necks. Hands sliding, fingers tracing spiracles they could both feel, even though they were only legitimate on BigB's skin. Arms wrapped around each other. Backs arched as they whispered and chased that little lip of lust and trust.

"Oh no," Scar says softly, mostly to his drink. "He might not recognize me if I'm a worm. Do you think Cub still would?" Cub loves me, Scar adds in his mind. BigB can hear that, like he can hear everything, because of the way Scar's throat constricts on individual words. It's subtle, but he can. Because BigB always listens, and he picks up everything.

He flicks an antenna, but otherwise ignores this, lost in his own thoughts and the cold hand resting on his face. It's almost not fair, you know… how everyone in Double Life got paired with someone they could learn to love. Maybe had loved in the past. And he and Ren had golden history, twirling around each other like a moth chasing flames in 3rd Life and Last Life too.

But loving Ren is a loser's game from the start, if you aren't someone like Martyn who was born with spiny wings and lashing tail and fangs and drool and claws. Ren's a performer and very good when guiding partners through a rush of carrots, but he was never going to fall in love with BigB the way BigB tried to fall in love with him.

It's not like he didn't try. He cuddled too. He responded with what felt like enthusiasm every time Ren pulled him in, licking his cheeks and running hands down his sides. Pulling him down on the bed and into his arms. Day after day, week after week, he mirrored the motions and fell in love. Even when he knew it wasn't real. When he lay his head on Ren's rising, falling chest and gazed up at his sleepy, bristle-covered face.

Ren's such a rugged and handsome man, honestly. He loves working in the dirt. Maybe it's a dog thing. Maybe he just likes plants and tiny creatures in the soil. He's got the muscles of someone who rolls huge boulders aside just to take a peek at ants and worms. Maybe a fungus.

And he's beautiful, and he loves so much, and it's all too much sometimes (because it isn't real). So with wings whispering at his back… BigB rested his cheek and curled his fingers, biting bare skin, and asked him for the truth.

"If I mod in some ears and fangs and maybe a tail, would that do something for you?"

[Full chapter on AO3 - Link at top]

[shyphonics]

Salad Days Chapter 5: We Are The One

This chapter is certified 18+™ for smut and light mental health crisis (we've all been there... right?)

I'm sorry if I'm rusty lol. Also, I made a tag list! Let me know if you want in :) this is looking like it's gonna be pretty long.

one | two | three | four

It’s your turn for soundcheck now, and… Jesus, you’re actually nervous. It’s been forever since you’ve been nervous.

You’ve played The Strike every week for about a year now, slowly creeping your way from dead Monday shows, to decent Thursday shows, to electric weekend shows.

You’ve worked your ass off to move from the merch table spot in the dark, at the edge of the dance floor, to one of the spots under the lights and the AC unit.

You know every person here, at least by face, and they know you. Either from the band or the bar. Except for Rodrick and his friends, that is.

You’ve never headlined before, though, and something about your first time is making you shaky.

So, here you stand, face to face with yourself in the bathroom mirror. Jessica, your lead guitar, is against the wall, cool as can be in her vinyl pants. She blows out a long puff of smoke, and fluffs out her short, green hair with one hand.

“We’re gonna be fine. It’s like any other night.”

But it’s not like any other night, not to you.

Is it Rodrick? Are you trying to impress him? That’d be really fucking stupid. You don’t do what you do to impress people.

That, and you’re pretty sure he’d be impressed no matter what you do.

But…

You don't quite know what's happening to you, whether it's how good he’d looked on stage, or the feelings that overcame you when that douchebag sucker-punched him.

Maybe it's a combination of both.

On stage, he'd been sexy and self-assured. Playing those drums like it was nothing. Making your heart flutter with a wink and a smile, like you were a dumb lovestruck teenager at her first concert again.

After that guy had hit him… he got vulnerable. He'd looked so sad, defeated almost. Hurt, not just physically, but emotionally. It made you wonder if those two had a history. It made you want to latch onto him and make him all better.

It seems like Rodrick, whether he’s aware of it or not, knows just where to hit to take down your walls.

“We gotta go,” Maureen pops her head into the restroom.

You push your little emotional breakthrough back in and take a deep breath.

This isn't the time for that.

You climb the side steps, as you have a hundred times, and start fighting audio cables until everything looks right.

Pink cord goes from amp to overdrive pedal. Black cord goes from tuning pedal to bass.

Fuck. Is that even right? You don’t know anymore.

Low notes come from your amp, and you breathe a sigh of relief.

Everyone else is all set up, and you look around. It’s time.

Soundcheck is quick. Too quick. You adjust your setlist with your foot, and stretch out your fingers.

Eddie pushes his glasses up and gives you a thumbs up.

You just gotta start, and then you’ll be fine.

“Hey fuckers!” Your voice comes out more powerful than you'd expected, “We’re The Shrieks!”

The crowd comes alive. Deep breaths.

The lights are up, the crowd is buzzing and you- wow. You're glowing. You look so confident and fucking cool, all lit up in gold stage lights.

Rodrick watches as you and your bandmates give each other a nod.

A note rings out. A second. A third. A fourth.

The song explodes, and Rodrick’s mouth falls open. You’re hopping, and shaking your hair out, really hyping yourself up.

Then you open your lips. Rodrick is enamored. No high school crush he ever had could compare to how he feels right now. He gives in to the movement of the crowd, and it feels like being in the ocean. Bodies all moving as one.

There’s a smile on his face that just won’t go away. He’s never been to a show quite like this.

He holds on to the front of the stage just to watch you, taking in the absolute power you’re giving off. Trying his best to read your lips and hear every word.

I am the one who brings you the future

I am the one who buries your past

A new species, I come from the ruins

I am the one that was made to last

We are not Jesus (Christ!)

Oh, no, we are not fascist (pigs!)

Oh, no we are not capitalist (industrialists!)

Oh, no, we are not communists

We are the one

We are the one

We are the one

We are the one

The party’s still going, even after everyone has shuffled out and the doors are locked. Mike has commandeered the sound booth and is playing “some shit from the good old days.”

You're up in the storage loft above the stage, wrapping up cables and boxing up mics. You close a tackle box full of neatly rolled cords and notice Rodrick down by the stage.

You sit and just watch him for a minute, trying to figure out if your bathroom mirror crisis was just pre-show jitters.

He looks like he's looking for you, craning his neck around and slowly spinning in place.

He's just such a dork.

You’re not sure if you can even be snarky with him anymore.

It's been a really long time since you had a crush on someone. Especially one like this. You're used to being in control, giving no more of yourself than you want to. For all you know, when you get down there, you'll be giggling like an idiot at his mercy.

Pull yourself together.

“I love this song,” you drop down from the storage loft, hopping off the stage, landing in front of Rodrick. Trying to play it cool.

He jumps when you appear, a smile spreading across his face.

“You were amazing.” He sighs.

“Back at you,” you restrain yourself from grinning.

You're still buzzing with adrenaline, and it spurs you on to try something. You step forward, and clasp your arms behind his neck.

His eyes widen, but after some hesitation, he brings his hands to your waist. The two of you begin to sway, a little uncoordinated, to the music. You look up into his eyes. He looks nervous, but a small smile is beginning to form on his face.

Your giddiness starts to fade away, and you feel a little more in control of yourself.

“Did you go to your prom?” You ask.

“Hell no,” Rodrick scoffs, “Did you?”

“I didn't even graduate,” you laugh, “so no. But it explains why we're kinda bad at this.”

“I don't think we're that bad,” He attempts to spin you. You both break out in a fit of giggles as your back hits his chest and you recenter.

“I wanna do that, like, every weekend forever.” He sighs.

“That's not a hard ask. I can show you some of the other venues when I'm free. You guys will be working the circuit in no time.” You look up at him.

Rodrick’s smile is so genuine. He looks completely content.

The world disappears around you as you get lost in the song, swaying and spinning, staring into each other's eyes. You've never been so glad to have taken a chance on someone.

“How's your lip?” You ask.

“It's okay,”

“Does it hurt?”

“Not really.”

You hesitate, then lean upwards, testing the water.

He seems to be thinking the same thing, and he leans down to meet your lips.

The kiss is warm and familiar, all traces of awkwardness are gone. It feels like you know each other. He brings a hand up to cup your cheek and pulls away.

“So am I allowed to like you now?” His voice is lower than before. He holds you close to him, one arm tight across your lower back.

“You feel like you could pass a field sobriety test?” You smirk.

“Yeah?” Rodrick raises an eyebrow.

“Okay. You're allowed.”

He laughs, rolling his eyes, and leans in to kiss you again, but you both quickly turn to the sound of someone clearing their throat. It's one of his bandmates, the blonde one. He's avoiding looking at either of you.

“Hey, Rodrick, uh, you two…” He clears his throat again, “The other bands invited us out to eat, and we were gonna go… but it looks like you're busy.”

Rodrick blinks at you, “Are you gonna go?”

“Yeah, let's go. You should get some carbs in you. Soak up all that booze, or you're gonna have a bad morning.” You detach from him, and walk towards the back door.

Your car is parked right next to their van, and Rodrick looks like he's hesitating getting in with his friends. You roll your window down and raise your eyebrow at him.

“Do you… wanna ride with me?”

He looks surprised, “Can I?”

“Yeah, get in.” You lean over and pop the door open, butterflies swirling in your stomach.

He bounces into your passenger seat, beaming.

“You know where to go, right?” You shout into the van. Rodrick’s friends give you a thumbs up.

You roll the window up, and pull out of the parking lot.

Rodrick is drumming on his knees to a song playing in your car. You watch him out of the corner of your eye and smile a little. You think of the day you met him, all pent up energy and rock n roll, baby!

Big, dumb dog.

He moves a hand to your thigh and continues drumming the rhythm. You feel a blush creeping onto your cheeks. His eyes are locked on your thigh as it bounces to the beat.

You pull up outside the old Waffle House, and it looks like you're the first to make it.

“Let's wait,” you sigh, leaning back, turning up the music.

His hand stills on your thigh. You close your eyes, honestly exhausted from the show.

His hand moves upward to rest in the crook of your hip, and the corner of your mouth curls up. You turn your head to look at him.

“What're you doin’?”

“Nothing,” he says, trying to sound inconspicuous.

Rodrick’s heart is going a mile a minute. He'd been so confident back at the bar, but here, with you, just you, he’s freaking out a little.

He studies your face in the glow of an orange street light. Your eyes, the slope of your nose, the curve of your lips. He wants every feature burned into his memory forever. His hand is warm against your hip. You put your hand over his and he smiles.

“What, did you get scared or something?” You smirk.

“No…” Rodrick lies.

You kiss him again, and he melts into it. He slips one hand into the back of your hair and pulls you closer. You maneuver over the center console to get in his lap, and he breathes out deeply. The kiss gets messy, like all the energy of the night is coming out between your lips. Your hands are shaking. One rests on Rodrick’s shoulder, the other in his hair, and you make a noise as he bites your lip lightly.

“Sorry, is that okay?” He whispers.

You pull him in, and bite him back harder.

He groans, and his hold on your waist tightens.

He's snaking a hand under the hem of your shirt, when there's a tentative knock on the window. You pull away from each other.

“God dammit!” Rodrick pants.

It's Ward, with a hand over his mouth, feigning being scandalized.

“Oooooooh,” he taunts, when you're both out of the car, “I knew it.”

You roll your eyes, and keep the door open with your foot as the guys pour in. People from the show are everywhere, this is a decently common occurrence. You find a seat between your band and Rodrick’s at the bar. Maureen, your drummer, offers you a fist bump, and leans into your ear.

“He's cute,” she whispers, “did you drive here with him?”

You nod, suppressing a goofy grin.

“Do you think you're gonna…?”

You shrug.

“Up to him,” you whisper back.

The waitress, a blonde with a buzz cut and a face full of piercings, greets you by name, and asks, “Usual?”

Once your orders are in, Rodrick puts his hand securely on your thigh.

“Do you guys come here a lot?”

“Oh yeah, at least every weekend,” you lower your voice, “That's Jeanine, she's our regular. Then Martin and Rosie, who have worked here since the beginning of time. Then there's Carla. She's new. Last weekend, she and Martin were fighting because she kept getting orders wrong.”

He narrows his eyes and looks at each person you point at.

“Do you just come here to eavesdrop?” he asks quietly, suppressing a laugh.

“It's fascinating. Just watch.”

The two of you eat in silence and observe the inner workings of Waffle House.

Rodrick nudges you as Carla scrapes a plate into the trash, and Martin yells, Dammit, Carla! Chunked and covered! Not scattered!

Carla throws her apron to the floor and flips him off with both hands. Fuck you, old man!

“Oh shit,” you whisper.

“Damn,” Rodrick turns to look at you.

As your eyes meet, and the bell on the door jingles aggressively, you can't hold in your laughter anymore.

"He's such an asshole." Rodrick whispers, giggling in disbelief. Does every diner job just suck ass?

"I know, this Waffle House is under a dictatorship," you laugh

You both calm down, and end up just staring at each other.

“Rodrick, I don't wanna be too… forward, but…” you trail off.

His face goes blank.

“Do you wanna… get out of here? With me?”

Rodrick drops his fork, and snatches his tab off the counter.

“Yes,” his voice is feverish.

You follow behind him, and wave goodbye to everyone on your way out.

You'll absolutely get teased for this later on, but who gives a fuck?

Now, I've drunk a lot of wine and I'm feeling fine

Gotta race some cat to bed

Oh, is there concrete all around?

Or is it in my head?

Rodrick’s hands are on you the moment you shut your front door.

He backs you up against it, bringing his lips to yours once again. His lips creep down to your jaw, then your neck. Then he's on his knees, pushing the hem of your shirt up, kissing your stomach, your hip bones.

Your hands are in his hair, stroking and tugging.

“I don't know what it is about you,” Rodrick murmurs between kisses, “I just knew, I had to…”

“Me too,” you laugh a little, “I'm not usually this easy.”

He grins deviously up at you, undoing your bottoms.

“So you don't bring someone home like this after every show?” He gives your waist a little bite.

“No, god, no,” you chuckle, “this should be too fast, but something about this, you just feel right."

“Why me?” He pauses, looking up at you.

“You're just,” you look down at him. His dark doe eyes drill into yours, plump lips slightly open. You feel his hot breath on you, and it sends a shiver up your spine, “Jesus, you're just fucking hot. And you're not, like, an asshole about it. You could've taken any girl in that bar home tonight.”

“I wanted you,” his lips twitch, and without hesitation, he lifts you up, and sets you back down on your kitchen counter. He plants soft kisses on your thighs, and pauses to look up at you. It makes your head cloudy.

“Can I try something?” His voice is breathy.

You're still recovering from the shock of being lifted like that.

“Yeah,” you say, in slight disbelief, looking down at him.

He plants a kiss on your panties, and then removes them completely. You heartbeat skyrockets.

“I might be kinda bad, but… I've always wanted to try.”

You watch him gaze over your wetness. You truly cannot believe what's happening right now. He looks lustful, but focused, like he's trying to form a plan. Then without warning, he just dives in.

You hadn't expected much from him, but damn, he knows what he's doing. A shocked moan leaves your lips.

Your body feels electric as he snakes his tongue through your folds, finding all the places that make you whimper. He grunts, and you practically feel it reverberate through your whole body. You wrap your legs around his head and pull him closer. His tongue circles your clit and you throw your head back. His plush lips cover so much ground as he gives you a light suck.

“You sure you've never done this before?” Your weak voice teases him.

He pulls away with a pop, making you shudder.

“Nuh-uh,” he shakes his head, “I’ve just thought about it a lot.”

“Well, you're doing fucking great.”

He gives you a sly grin and goes back in.

Your back starts to arch as he flicks, and sucks, and swirls his tongue. Your moans mix with his soft grunts and you realize you're starting to come undone. You grab a handful of his hair and roll your hips.

“Keep going,” you gasp, “I-I’m…”

His eyes flick up to meet yours and that does it. Your body jolts, and you squeeze your eyes shut as an orgasm rattles through you, the counter cool against your body.

He slows his actions, and comes to rest on your thigh again.

When you're recovered, you sit up, and put your hands on his shoulders. You kiss him hard, tasting yourself, and feel a new arousal awaken in you.

“Was that really okay?” His eyes plead with you.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You pant, holding his face in your hands, and he looks bashful, “Best I've ever had.”

You hop down from the counter.

“Your turn.”

“Are you sure?” He stutters.

You take him by the hand, and lead him across the small apartment to your bed.

Rodrick’s breath is shaky as he leans against the edge.

“Take your shirt off,” you tell him, and he does.

His eyes are hazy with lust, and he grunts when you kiss him. You run your hands over his chest. The muscles in his core are tight, and you can feel his heartbeat. Hard and fast.

You kneel, and your hands find the tight bulge in his jeans. He bites his lip as you unbuckle his belt and free him from his boxers.

It's a good length, fairly weighty, and he groans when you take it in your hands. You look up into his eyes and lightly roll your tongue over the tip. His knees buckle, and he sits back on your bed. You chuckle and scoot closer, steadying yourself between his legs.

“So… safe to assume you've never done this either?”

You fit him further into your mouth, trying to wet as much as you can.

“One time… almost,” he says, labored, “we were in a car and the cops knocked on the window.”

“Fuckin’ pigs,” you shake your head, then take him in as far as you can get him.

He lets out a long, low noise. You grasp the rest of his length with your hand and pump lightly. His thigh shakes under your other hand as you swirl your tongue.

You catch his eye and come up for air, licking him from base to tip. His eyes roll back, and you laugh.

“Should I keep going, or is this gonna take you out of commission?” You tease.

“Please… keep going,” Rodrick breathes.

His mind is foggy as he feels himself enter your mouth again. He can't even process what he's feeling, all he knows is he never wants it to stop. He doesn't feel in control of his own body. His hands desperately search for a grip on your comforter as you bob your head.

He tries his best to focus, to keep his eyes on you, but he feels something in himself start to slip. He throws his head back and closes his eyes, barely keeping himself up on his elbows. His legs tremble as he feels himself hit your throat and he lets out a long moan.

Then your mouth is gone, and he opens his eyes, desperate for the feeling to come back.

You crawl on top of him and straddle him.

“Scoot back,” you murmur, and he obliges.

You lean down to kiss him, and his hands come to rest gently in your hair.

Something still feels weird in his head. He doesn't think he's drunk anymore, but even the low light of your apartment feels too bright. His ears are ringing, maybe still from the noise of the bar. He feels his heart start to beat out of his chest, and he holds on to you for dear life.

It feels like he's dreaming, but maybe as long as his hands are on you, he'll be okay.

You're saying something. The words don't quite reach him, but he nods anyway. Eager for something to pull him back into reality.

A little voice in the back of his head is hissing. He tries to blow it off, but it's persistent, fighting him.

You don't deserve this.

Fuck his stupid brain. He wants to be present with you. He wants to hold onto every little second of this, keep it forever. It feels like you're far, far away from him, even as he watches you take your shirt off and feels your hips, warm on his.

The ringing in his ears subsides a little as your lips touch his again.

“Let me know if you want to stop, you look a little overwhelmed.” You whisper.

“No,” Rodrick urges, “I never wanna stop,”

You laugh, and start to kiss a trail down his chest.

He sighs into the feeling and closes his eyes.

The fuzz in his head isn't gone, though.

Yet.

It'll go away, he knows it.

He just needs to focus. On you, on how good you're making him feel.

On how good he'd made you feel, he's pretty damn proud of that.

Just stay in the moment.

Please, just stay in the moment.

And now I'm ready to close my eyes

And now I'm ready to close my mind

And now I'm ready to feel your hand

And lose my heart on the burning sand

And now I wanna be your dog

And now I wanna be your dog

And now I wanna be your dog

Well, c'mon

~

tag list: @crumpets-are-better-with-jam

[emeraldtimethief]

I've got a question about a particular design choice for your Dusknoir. What made you want to add the chains on him where those little grayish arm things are where his wrists would rest at? It seems like a pretty interesting design choice and I was curious why you opted to do that

Ohhhh thanks for the question :> And I'm really sorry for the rambles that are about to come ... Here we go.

A Little visual reference over here.

Okay so... It kind of happened naturally to be fair xD for starters every time I saw Dusknoirs design I thought the big things around his wrists kind of looked like cuffs? And after playing PMD It just got my gears turning. Because.

First of all the visuals... In true Ghost story fashion you are lost in the Frozen future and you hear the ominous rattle of chains from SOMEWHERE and you don't know where that's coming from and next thing you see is a glowing red eye and a ghost who's willing to murder. Sounds good in my head haha. Plus they can be quite the effective weapon for him to use xD

Aaaaand It just sounded so fitting too... For the dude at least. He looks so imponent and dignified but the poor man is just kind of shackled by the unfortunate circumstances he's in. He's so loyal to Dialga that he would do anything for her... Has done anything for her in fact. Done so much he can't even THINK about stopping because he's too far gone now. Plus I do believe part of his terror about not wanting to disappear no matter the cost was because he was so damn close to Dialga and her... Not being right in the head.

Like he didn't really want to drag hero and partner back to the past but he had done too much already to stop. Or probably spend his life as an attack dog when... Really it's obvious deep down he was desperate enough that one (1) green twink believing in him made him change ways.

That's to say, (sorry for the rant, god) that the boy has a lot of issues dragging him down and I like to represent that with the chains. The fear in the Frozen future, the guilt after... Dude needs therapy. The more stressed he is, the longer the chains are... And the other way around.

....... See this is why you don't ask me questions because I have xD Lots of thoughts

[william-solace-aaaaa]

@superherokisser sorry if it's not good, it's in it's early stages😅 I haven't even properly re-read it yet to make sure it makes sense bc I'm tired and it's pretty much 12am rn, the chapter is called "cursed birthdays" but I also might change that:) also srry if it's too short I'm just rlly sleep deprived and I'm abt to pass out🥲❤️ gotta copy n paste it into tumblr now. It's 1396 words.

@nico-di-angelo-aaaaa

@camstargone

Here:

A Cursed Birthday

I woke up this morning thinking all was well, and it was just another ordinary day, for me, anyway. But no. I don't even get one birthday of peace. It's always something every year. I mean, last year,  a bunch of rats ate the cake. The year before that, my hamster, Charles,  the magnificent, committed suicide.  And this year, I get sucked into a magical portal. Yay.

It was normal. Nothing happened the entire day, and I was sceptic, to be honest. But no. The one thing that couldn't have happened (due to its... well. Impossibleness) just had to happen. Thanks a lot, God. I swear I'm cursed or something.

It was around 8 pm by the time I finally let my guard down about my evil-birthday curse. I was walking my amazing dog, Ruby. She is this adorable black and white pitbull that puts any and all other dogs to shame. So naturally, I was showing her off... at 8pm, in winter. In my defence, I'm definitely not the smartest person I know. I mean, what lunatic would be out at 8 pm in winter, in the UK? Besides me, of course.

I was walking through the nearby park, like I usually do. But this time, something had caught my eye. The park was empty except for me and Ruby, but there was an object emitting some sort of blinding light. The kind that if you were to look at it for more than a few seconds, then when you would finally look away, you would have little dots dancing around your vision. When I picked it up, which I kind of see was a bad idea, it was like holding fire. I dropped the glowing thing, and Ruby started to bark at it, the burning feeling still prickling my hand. Then, right where the object had dropped, some sort of vortex had started to open, sucking me in. The last thing I remembered after that was falling.

Thankfully, the forest that I fell into had some pretty tall trees that cushioned my fall (not really). I angelicaly landed (crashed) onto the ground.'Ow! Damn it, who put trees here?' I yelled because it really really hurt. My body made this cracking sound, and my leg had bent in a super unnatural way. There was bone and a lot of blood. A lot. I blacked out (I don't know why, though)

When I woke up, I was on a bed in a sort of cabin-like room. There were 2 green sofas against the walls facing each other, with a little coffee table in the middle and a kitchen, in which I was in the middle of on a table, not a bed, which was probably why my back hurt like hell. There were two people in the kitchen, one baking some sort of bread and the other washing some dishes.

'Ow.' I winced as I tried sitting up. Pain shooted to my leg. 'Oh! You're awake.' Both people had turned around and were now looking at me. 'Your leg was pretty badly hurt. How did you manage to do that?' The girl said, looking at me with disapproval. She had long, blonde hair that looked so straight she wouldn't have to brush it for days, and it would still have zero knots in. Her green eyes seemed to dance like a flame. She wore a lovely white dress dotted with purple flowers and all sorts of jewellery. 'What?' I questioned, still not entirely sure of what was happening.

'I found you out in the forest. You were unconscious and badly hurt, so I took you and brought you here. We had to do something about your leg, though. Sorry.' She said, which confused me until I looked down.

'AHH!' I screamed. 'Calm down, it's not that big of a deal.' The man, a strong, muscular dude with dark skin adorned with freckles that looked to be in about his forties. 'Not that big of a deal!? My leg is gone!' I yelled. 'Where did it go? I had my leg this morning.' 'Now you dont.' He replied with a proud looking smile.

'Now I- where is my leg!' I demanded. I mean, who just takes people's legs off without asking? 'I told you we should have asked, dad.' The girl said to the man. 'Exactly! Thank you!' I said. 'You guys can't just take my leg!' I yelled, directing the words at the man. 'I'm Jericho, I prefer Eric though, since you didn't even ask before you chopped my leg off!' I said (cool name, I know). 'I'm Ariel, this is my dad, Sebastian.' She said. 'Well, Ariel, lovely to meet you.' I said, shaking her hand.

'I can make you a new leg, Jericho. No need to be a baby, now, is there?' He said with a grin on his face. Rude. Before I could say an awesome comeback, he started measuring my right leg (which was still there). After a while, he walked away to go make my new leg, letting me talk with Ariel. You could tell she was one of those really pretty girls who didn't try to be pretty.

'Soo... where is this because the last thing I remember is falling out of the sky.' I said, looking at her expectingly. 'This is Emaia. Also, what did you mean "falling out of the sky?"' She questioned, looking confused and tilting her head to the side. 'Well, I was just walking my dog, Ruby, and I kinda just fell, and there was this glow-y thing and- My dog! Ruby!' I yelled, standing up from my position on the sofa, forgetting about my leg and immediately falling to the floor. 'Ow.'

I'd forgotten all about Ruby! Did she fall through with me? Is she safe? A million things were going through my head, and I didn't even notice I was hyperventilating until Ariel's dad, Sebastian, had started to shake me lightly. I had managed to tuck myself into a weird looking ball against the couch because my left leg was, well, not there. After a long, long time of uneven breathing and being told everything would be okay, I finally was able to slow my breathing. 'Sorry.' I said. I mean, I just wasted these nice (ish) people's time. 'It's alright, love,' He said in the same soothing voice he had been using for the past 10ish minutes.'Ariel had been trying to calm you down for a while by the time I came back in here because I found you a leg that would match.

He went and got me the leg, and after him showing me take it on and off, he let me look in a mirror. Well... I looked like I had just fallen out of the sky. My dark hair was more matted than usual with a few leaves sticking out, a few cuts that would easily heal on my head from falling through branches, my new leg which was made out of a amazing-looking black metal and my clothes were covered in blood. While I was checking myself out, Ariel had explained what had happened before Seb had gotten there.

'Yeah, we are probably gonna have to find you some new clothes.' He said, patting me on the shoulder. "For now, you'll just have to borrow some of mine.' He said, Ariel going upstairs and grabbing me a pair of clothes that were 1000% too big. Man, he is bulky. The outfit looked like it came directly out of the 1900s, but still, I looked at amazing as always.

The prosthetic was really weird getting used to, but after three days, I was good enough not to trip every five seconds. I didn't want to wait any longer because I didn't want Ruby to be out there any longer. In my time staying, it wasn't that hard to figure out that I was nowhere near home. These guys didn't even know what Sonic the Hedgehog was!

Me and Ariel left to go look in the forest around where she found me, and Seb had to stay because he runs a bakery! (Who would've thought.) We left at 7, after having the best food I have ever eaten, except for the cake at my aunt Jessie's funeral. That was some good cake.

[itz-ps15]

Barbershop Trio QNA

The Barbershop Trio is the barbers of the BubbleTucky Barbershop and friends of Miss Jenny. Who says barbershops should have a quartet? These three make the perfect team!

Top left: Erica

Top Right: Kayden

Bottom: Devon

About them

Erica

The oldest of the Barbershop Trio, but the shortest. She is Kayden’s girlfriend and the most sweetest and kindest barber you’ll ever meet. Though she can be a bit shy and timid, she has a good personality. Erica loves styling hair and she would even play with Kayden’s hair to try different styles, and even her own hair. Erica is also a very understanding and patient barber, she loves helping her clients feel comfortable for their haircut! Her favorite colors are also teal and turquoise. Erica is also known to be an animal lover owning two bunnies, Gigi and Becky. She also got a cute puppy in a mix between a  Pomeranian and a Japanese Spitz from Kayden and she named her Marshmallow! Erica can be jumpy and hates horror movies. But other than that, she loves to play with Kayden’s hair and tie it in a ponytail like always. She always found brushing hair relaxing. And she also loves playing her flute when she’s not styling hair. 

Age: 21

Voice Actress: Kira Buckland

Kayden

Kayden is Erica’s boyfriend, he is 20 years old, but likes to tease his girlfriend since he’s taller. He’s a music lover and ver passionate about styling hair, cause he, Erica and Devon are barbers. His favorite color is green and his style is a casual exotic style. He acts very charming and flirts almost every time with Erica, but he is actually really smart and chill about his passion and personality. Kayden can get annoyed at Devon from time to time, but he always forgives and that’s what matters. But he is usually that one dude who’s always calm and chillaxing chill. He also grew up mostly with dogs, he loves them, especially his German Shepherd Jet and Brussels Griffon Eevie. He is also shown to be a good singer and guitar player. He sometime would sing playing his guitar while Erica plays her flute.

Voice Actor: Ray Chase

Devon

Devon is 19, making him the youngest of the group. He is mistaken for an emo, but he’s actually really kind and mature. But he is a bit clumsy, accident prone and a goofball. His favorite color is black, and his style is an artsy “Emo” style. Devon is really clumsy and likes dark emo and gothic aesthetics and styles. But he always puts his priorities and friends and family first. Devon also is a great artist, he loves to create different painting with his hair colors and often draws his ideas. He also has a Husky named Comet and a Half Maine Coon and Half Randall kitten named Zara. Devon is also shown to have a keen eye for drawing, he would sometimes do arts and crafts with coming up with new hair dyes and colors for the customers. A personal favorite of his is glow in the dark hair dye, and he made some as a spray.

Voice Actor: Johnny Yong Bosch(Power Rangers Adam and Giyu Tomioka. Slay!)

Erica is the oldest, 21 years old. She’s a barber at BubbleTucky Barbershop, but Kayden sometimes teases her for being short. She’s shy, understanding, kind, caring, an animal lover, smart, gentle, and patient. Her favorite color is teal, and her style is an artsy style. Kayden is her boyfriend.

They are all friends with Miss Jenny.

The Barber Trio also have pets.

Erica has two bunnies, Gigi and Becky. She also got a puppy from her boyfriend Kayden. The puppy she got was a mix between a Japanese Spitz and a Pomeranian, and her name is Marshmallow!

Kayden has 2 dogs, a German shepherd named Jet, and a Brussels Griffon named Eevie.Devon has a cat and dog. His cat’s name is Zara and his Husky’s name is Comet.

[spyvstailor]

Burn, Baby, Burn - Chapter One

@acapelladitty I wrote a Firefly and Baby Doll buddy comedy, with a dark edge to it. I dunno...it just sort of came out.

If this was salvation, why did it buzz so loud?

Green eyes fluttered closed as the cacophony of the angels sang around him, they blended with the buzzing until they became a low, droning tone. The music set the soundtrack for the orange glow that bathed a pale, weary face.

Pyromaniacs burn out, someone had once joked. Was it the Joker who said that? Even doped up on powerful anti-psychotics as he had been, the green haired man was hard to keep docile.

You're just a match.

Burning.

Burning...

Burning......

Burning.........

Out.

Ashes.

Only ashes and smoke.

“Hey, man, we gotta close up. You buying or what?”

They call me "hell"

They call me Stacey

They call me "her"

They call me Jane

The music of the angels choir morphed into something else entirely and the Fireball Whiskey neon sign blinked out as the man speaking with him pulled the metal bead cord. It clinked against the wall behind the sign, as the man turned to face him.

Garfield turned away, forgetting why he had even entered the liquor store. He wasn't supposed to drink on his meds.

He shuffled towards the door in his scuffed brown Oxfords.

At the door his reflection stopped him and he gazed back numbly at himself, dressed in what he assumed was a dead man's clothes, looking like an old man before his time.

It was probably the chino's that were too short, the argyle socks that showed in the span between the oxfords and the pant hems, and the knit cardigan over a button up that created the effect. The clothes were given to him by the Sister's of the Veil of Tears, and he was very certain they had robbed a corpse for them.

It didn't matter, the cardigan was warm and it was the heat he craved. The world was too cold.

“Dude go!” The man behind him shouted.

Garfield pushed open the door, shoving himself aside, and stepped out into the night.

He found his way to the only place he felt like he was accepted, which fucking sucked, because it was full of lowlife scum and high class whores, and every rogue that ever coloured Batman's bulletin.

The Iceberg Lounge was dim enough, and quiet enough, and classy enough that it wasn't a shit hole, it was just full of shit people.

But Ozzie was warm enough to him, and every now and then the other criminals of Gotham's underbelly would give him a respectful nod.

He was technically supposed to be there, it broke his parole, but it was either sit and rot in a dark booth there, or sit on the edge of his sagging, spring trap bed in his miserable hole in the wall halfway house apartment.

And Ozzie never forced him to pay a cover charge, though he did watch Garfield very carefully some nights through his office window, overlooking the dancefloor.

It was unspoken Garfield would take a stool at the bar if the place was packed.

The criminals in Gotham were an interesting breed. You had your popular clique, your Joker's and your Catwomen and your Two-Face's, but then at the far end of the spectrum were your pathetic losers, your Calendar Men, your Mr. Camera's, your fucking Captain Blimp's. The criminals that were so embarrassing, you felt second hand shame if you stood too close. They were real stinkers, fucking mouldy cheese on the charcuterie board that was Gotham City.

Every now and then you got a glimpse of the top dogs, the cream of the crop and it felt like a goddamned celebrity sighting.

Garfield fucking hated it, but then again his meds made him irritable and exhausted, which naturally lead to him being so tired of everyone's bullshit.

The Riddler built a fucking puzzle box inside an abandoned warehouse and trapped the Mayor's daughter in it?

Whoop-de-fucking-doo.

Poison Ivy infected half of the greater downtown area with a sex pollen that only infected adult men, and only enticed them to fuck trees?

Get fucking splintered assholes.

Oh, Freeze coated everything on the upper east side with ice?

Sarcastic applause, that's never been done before.

Maybe it was time to up his meds? He thought as he drank his soda pop like a fucking child and sat in his old man pants, thinking bitterly of the world like a teenager.

“Who the fuck let this kid in here?!” Someone shouted from the bar, grabbing Garfield's attention and he looked over and up to find a little girl sitting boldly at the bar, swinging her feet in her lovingly polished Mary Jane's.

“Get fucked asshole!” The child snapped at the bartender.

“You can't be in here, kid,” the bartender said. “Where's your parents?”

“Tag teaming your mom, pal,” the girl replied. “I had a rough goddamned day and I just want a gin, okay?”

“Get the fuck out of here! Where's Carson?! Carson! We got a kid in here!” The bartender called for the one armed bouncer. Carson had said he had lost the arm to a fight with Killer Croc, but damned if he wasn't made of harder stuff than to quit his job.

Garfield smiled to himself.

Carson knew and he knew, but the bartender was new since Garfield had been in Arkham.

The poor woman. She was 30 years old, but she small, maybe 4'8” with heels, if she could find ones small enough, and 75 pounds soaking wet. Her face was delicate, youthful for sure. It would be easy to take her for a 10 year old if you didn't look hard enough.

Carson wandered onto the scene with a grin. “It's fine. That's Baby Doll, she's good.”

“She's a fucking kid,” the bartender argued.

“Want me to show you the hair on my snatch, jackass?” Baby Doll demanded.

For the first time since he had gone maniac before Arkham, Garfield laughed, it wasn't just a chuckle, it was drop your head into your hands and muffle your belly laugh, kind of laughter.

He wasn't alone, half of the Iceberg were cutting up, laughing as the bartender turned bright red and sputtered, not knowing how to respond to a petite, 30 year old offering to whip out her puss just to prove she was at least a grown assed woman, despite the clothes that looked like she bought in the children's section.

Oh, the criminals in Gotham were fucked up. He mused as he dried a tear. He had only personally met Baby Doll once in passing, and that had been long, long before the mania, when he was just Garfield Lynns, pyrotechnics expert, working the silver screen dream of burning shit safely and dramatically, and she had just been Mary Louise Dahl, 'child' actor. She was a bit of a brat, but he didn't mind, she wasn't as bad as most actors.

After a considerate moment, he raked a hand through his hair and got to his feet, approaching the bar and the small woman sitting there. He eased down a couple of stools away from her and took a surreptitious look in her direction as she sipped her gin and tonic with the cherry in it.

“Get lost creep,” she murmured, not even breaking eye contact with her phone where it looked like she was playing some kind of game.

“I'm not...we met once before,” he began simply helping himself to a bar peanut and shelling it.

“And?” She demanded, still playing her game.

He moved a few stools closer to her and snacked on his peanut. “You know, if you want people to stop mistaking you for a kid, maybe you should stop dressing like a kid.”

“Great,” she muttered, “I'm getting fashion advice from my 90 year old grandpa.”

Garfield nodded and looked down at his cardigan and button up shirt. “Okay, fair point.”

With a sigh, she set her phone down and looked over at him. “You look like shit, Firefly.”

Startled that she knew who he was, he floundered for a moment, before recovering. “I'm, uh...heavily medicated.”

She glowered a little at him.

“I just...we met on set once, a long time ago. I was rigging the pyrotechnics for a firework scene on your show, Love That Baby? Remember?”

“No, I don't remember you yelling at me for standing too close to the rig,” she returned dryly.

He smiled only a little, pleased she remembered him. Not many people did when he wasn't burning their shit down.

Mary Louise smiled a little in return, but it was still coated with a heavy air of annoyance and she all but rolled her dark, almond eyes. “What do you want, techie?”

“I really don't know, maybe I just wanted to sit beside someone having a worse day than me,” he said.

They were quiet, both of them nursing their drinks, his soda pop having gone flat years ago.

“I have to wear kids clothes,” she finally admitted, brushing her raven black hair behind her ear, “because clothes in the adult section don't fit and I'm not rich enough to get my shit tailor made.”

He knew since her show was cancelled, since she had gone through the whole 'criminal of the week' like he did, that she had fallen from the starlit grace she had been accustomed to when she was actually younger. Back when she was a young twentysomething, playing a ten year old girl on an after school special type show, back when people adored her and her looking young enough to play the part without the union having to adhere to the rules of an actual child actor. She was in the same hole he had dug for himself, only Baby Doll was clawing at the sides of her hole, trying to find her way out and Garfield was thinking of getting a houseplant for his and settling into the earth to wait to die.

He took a long swig of his flat soda and tried hard not to gaze into the flickering flame of the tabletop candle burning on the bar near them and said, “I got my clothes from the homeless bin at the local church, I think someone died in them, so...that's what's going on here.”

“Gross,” Mary Louise said. “You're going to get like cholera or something. You know people shit themselves when they die.”

“Yeah,” he murmured into his soda. “What is cholera, anyways?”

“I don't know, like an old man disease,” she replied. “Why are you still bothering me?!”

At first Garfield thought she was yelling at him, but she was waving her hand irritably at the bartender.

“The talent needs space,” Garfield said to the man. As he glanced over at Mary Louise, he found her smiling a little proudly, that shine of being a star once more lighting up her face and he nodded firmly once at her as though he was agreeing silently that she was still the talent.

Mary Louise sighed. “Sorry I implied you're a pedo. Experience says only one kind of man approaches me at a bar.”

“I didn't...I just...” he faltered.

“I get it,” she said sincerely, gazing at her gin as though mesmerized by the drink. “Familiarity can be a comfort...”

Garfield gazed past her, eyes drawn to the candle flame flickering at the end of the bar, he watched the flame as it danced and pulsed, before closing his eyes tight and dropping his gaze to his own drink, his hands shaking.

“Can I get a whiskey, a double?” He asked the bartender without looking up from his flat soda.

The man nodded from his place a couple feet away.

Baby Doll downed her gin and set it on the bar hard, slamming the glass down. “And give me another one of those?”

Set light to this fucking night, Garfield thought as his whiskey arrived, watch the powder keg go off.

The rest of the night happened in flashes, between whiskey and a couple of shots of something Mary Louise had ordered for them, was colours and lights.

“You do it like this,” Mary Louise was explaining to him a new dance all the kids were doing as he drank deep from his glass of whatever it was he was drinking.

Laughter.

“You're paying for that,” Ozzie said as Garfield stood over a broken stool.

Falling down in the alley.

“Can you introduce me?” The Mad Hatter was asking, eyes looking past him to Mary Louise ordering more drinks at the bar.

A blink.

Putting the Mad Hatter into a headlock.

Laughter.

“No, the Charleston is more like this,” he shouted at Mary Louise over the noise of the dancefloor of some other club.

Falling down on the sidewalk, or was he being shoved down.

Holding Mary Louise back from beating the shit out of some lippy young woman who was shouting back at her, the words lost to the liquor.

Garfield tilting his head back to stop the blood from dribbling out of his broken nose.

“That's...that's not dabbing!” Mary Louise was laughing at him.

Music, so loud it vibrated in his ears.

“No! No that's...no you're thinking of the Deer Hunter!” He shouted.

Laughter.

A taxidermy fish?

“We should steal that orb!” Mary Louise was talking.

Someone falling down beside him on the pavement.

“...I'm sane, but I'm overwhelmed!” They belted into a microphone. “I'm lost but I'm hopeful, baby!”

Knocking over a stand of potato chips.

Wal-Mart?

“That's still not...no it's not...that isn't dabbing!”

Laughter.

“No, he's not! That's...you're just...it's a conspiracy theory! Bruce Wayne can't be Batman! Because he's rich and Batman is...a man who dresses like a bat!”

Falling down on the railway tracks.

“'Cuz I've got one hand in my pocket and the other one is giving a high five!”

Throwing a frozen crab into the bay.

“Okay, but then...which is the one with Robert DeNiro?”

Falling onto a couch.

Death.

His first thought when his eyes cracked open was that he wished for death. Afraid to move, knowing that what awaited him was pain and vomiting. So he lay as still as he could and suffered in silence as his head throbbed.

He needed water and a gun.

Outside the sun was mercilessly shining, the birds were chirping and the sounds of the city were so fucking annoying.

Garfield chanced a very, very slow turn of his head so he wasn't just staring up at the ceiling above him.

Thank God, he was home in his shitty fucking apartment.

His mouth tasted like a leprechaun shit in it with a hint of ash and he really, really needed water.

“Are you dead?” He asked the other presence he sensed in the room with him.

“Unfortunately no,” she muttered from behind his couch.

“Are you on the floor?”

“I think so.”

He grunted as he shifted into a position to get ready to move into a sitting position.

“You're younger,” he sighed giving up. “Get me some water.”

“Get fucked,” she replied weakly.

“Get grandpa some water,” he tried to sweeten her up with a joke.

She snorted. “Go back to sleep, if you sleep long enough it goes away.”

Sounded plausible, he closed his eyes again.