#i cooked so hard

[astro-can]

locked in and made a mafia au for the rich kids of class 1-a

[seokminfilm]

those big brown eyes | lee seokmin

pairing: lee seokmin x reader

warnings: intended lowercase (omg lyr is trying something new), non-idol au, boyfriend!seokmin, kissing, fluff, pet names ('baby'), reader is a sucker for seokmin's big brown doe eyes (who wouldn't be)

now playing: golden hour, jvke requested by: my sweetie pookie @realmofclouds

shuffling through the house after finishing your cleaning spree in the kitchen, you peak your head in the living room, smiling as you see your boyfriend sitting on the couch, scrolling on his phone without a care in the world.

"what do you want for dinner?" you ask, approaching your boyfriend as he looks up from the screen, a smile on his handsome, pointed features as his horn-rimmed glasses catch the light and wink at you.

"whatever you want, baby. i'm very hungry, so i'm not picky." seokmin muses, and you nod, looking down at him as he reaches for his phone again.

seokmin's hair had changed—it was shorter now, cut neatly, but still brushed across his forehead in the cutest way possible. the familar checkered hoodie you had bought him to wear wasn't too tight, but was compressing just enough to show his muscles straining as he stretched like a tired cat. those horn-rimmed glasses—damn those things—sat on seokmin's sharp nose neatly, pretty, sparkling brown eyes and equally pretty, long eyelashes sitting under their rims.

oh, did your boyfriend look like an angel from heaven.

"seokmin, you're so very pretty," you say out of the blue, and seokmin looks up at you, phone froze in his hands as his cheeks start to heat up. "you are too, baby."

"no, minnie, i wanna focus on your face right now, okay?" you say, hands flying to his warming face as seokmin pauses. his eyes are cloudy, but focused just enough to where he could see the little imperfections on your face that he had memorized from the first time he kissed you.

seokmin stares up at you with those big, sparkling, dark brown eyes of his—they wink in the sunset, a testament to his gaze locked onto you. without thinking, your hand pulls away to trace one singular finger across your favorite features of his—the sharp slope of his strong nose, the small beauty mark that graced his cheek and nose, the soft curve of his upper lip.

even his long eyelashes and curve of his strong cheekbones scream at you, taunting you and whispering nothing but "kiss him" over and over again.

"the voices are telling me to kiss you." you whisper, and seokmin almost breaks eye contact, eyes welling up with tears as he fights back from the laughter that erupts from him just seconds later.

"i was going to ask if the voices were good or bad, but they're telling you to kiss me, so they're probably good." seokmin says, voice deep and calming as you lean down, breath fanning over seokmin's face as you bring a hand under his chin.

"i think i'll listen to them." you smile gently, and seokmin doesn't stop you, brown eyes still shimmering as he sweetly whispers, "don't let me stop you, baby."

his lips feel like sparks on yours, and you nearly loose your footing as his hand snakes around your waist before he pulls you down, bringing you to fall on the couch lightly, his legs spread to make room for you in the middle.

seokmin's hands are warm, and his slender fingers graze your back in just the perfect way—your skin tickles with goosebumps as your lips continue to mesh with his, and once you pull away, both you and him are floored.

"that was amazing." you whisper, shocked by seokmin's ministrations, even if you started the kissing session. seokmin smiles at you, pure joy lighting up his face as his hands are still on your waist.

"and you're amazing, so of course i have to show it to you too, baby." seokmin gives you another soft peck on your lips, still burning from seokmin's breathtaking kiss.

"if you look at me with those big brown puppy eyes, i'll get nothing done," you muse, and seokmin looks up at you with those exact eyes, causing you to become flustered and finally get the urge to push yourself back up from in between seokmin's legs.

"okay, for real, i'm going to make dinner now." you say, and seokmin watches you as you go, phone back in his hand. "okay, baby."

"i'm leaving now, for real." you say again, eyes darting between the kitchen doorway and seokmin's frame. he smiles at you, knowing what you want, but pretends to play dumb and stand there.

"okay. bye now." you say, and after a few minutes of standing at the door pitifully, seokmin stands up, chuckling as he walks to you and extends his hand.

"now, let us cook." seokmin smiles jokingly, and you can't help but laugh, leading your boyfriend into the kitchen with butterflies in your stomach.

[which-qsmp-egg-would]

Reduce Reuse Recycle

It is finally time for Tequilla's backstory! This has been a story long in the making. It's nearly as old as him! I have been ITCHING for the chance to share this with all of you so I really hope you enjoy this fic.

PLEASE KEEP IN MIND THAT THIS FIC CONTAINS POTENTIALLY TRIGGERING MATERIAL. For the sake of anyone wishing to go into this with absolutely no spoilers however, I will be putting the content warnings into the ALT text of the following picture. I hope you all enjoy :)

Click on the alt for content warnings!

---

There's something pressing in on him, building pressure in his ears and a burning in his lungs. Light shimmers above him, endlessly drifting farther and farther away and he descends into the darkness below. 

He reaches a hand out to the light. ‘No. This can't be it.’

A hand reaches for him, reaches, brushing against his cold claws.

His burning, panicked lungs force him to breathe, to try and recognize the figure above him. He sees blue, pink, brown, gold. blue, pink, brown, gold. And then…

—

“Momma!”

The little orange dragon giggles as he bounds up to his mom. Sharp claws tug at her large skirt. He woke up bright and early to come visit her gazebo, up on the hill that overlooks their little nook of the island. She glows against the warm tones of the sunrise where she sits on her wooden chair overlooking the ocean. Her pink dress compliments the sky as her curly brown hair compliments his own, framed by her curled horns and long ears.

She laughs with him, lifting him up into her arms. The golden bands on her wrists brush coldly on the underside of his arms. “Hello my little peanut, good morning darling.” She kisses his nose, and he kisses hers in return. “You just keep growing don't you baby? Pretty soon I won't be able to hold you like this anymore.”

Tequilla squirms and giggles as she hoists him onto her lap.

Momma laughs, squishing his face. “You look so much like me these days, peanut.” She pokes his face, intentionally getting a laugh from him. “But who gave you these freckles! Do you have another parent I don't know about? Where is he?” She feigns searching around the area. 

He bats her hands from his face. “M-omma!” he laughs.

“Alright, alright. Tell me peanut, what brings you up here this morning? I can tell by that look in your eye you've got something to tell me.”

“Bea-ch today.” He says, pointing towards the ocean. 

“Oh,” She scratches the back of her neck. “Today is beach day? Are you sure?”

Tequilla nods. “You a-and dad said- said.”

She strokes his hair and sighs. “That's true, we did promise you beach time after the last time.” She draws her communicator from a pocket in her dress and opens it, looking through the list. “Dad and Pipi are still asleep, do you want to wait for them? You know how much your Pipi loves the beach trips.”

Tequilla presses his hand against his mouth and furrows his brows. Dad wouldn't go into the water because of his leg. And Pipi is really protective of him in the water. And he really wants to go right now.

“Now please.” He finally says. His wings readjust as he wiggles.

“Alright,” she sighs, closing her communicator. “Your Mom is awake so let's go get her first, okay? We can grab the beach towels from the pool deck and your clothes too.” She picks Tequilla up again, out of her lap and onto the wooden floor where she can hear his claws click.

He holds onto her dress as they cross the rope bridge that connects her gazebo and the roof of his house. It sways slightly in the wind and movement of their bodies. His tail flicks and vibrates excitedly.

They descend the stairs, past Tequilla's bedroom, and onto the deck of the second floor. He scoops up his and his Momma's beach towels from by the pool as she walks around the corner and up to the large garden plot where his Mom sleeps. There are large lumps of dirt where she likes to fall asleep, amongst stones and small plants beginning to sprout.

She knocks on the wooden frame of the plot, calling out to the dirt covered lump in the middle. “Good morning Belladonna~” She sings, “Up and at ‘em, Tequilla wants to go to the beach and I need you to help him get dressed.”

There's stillness for a moment.

Then the mound begins to shift.

Slowly, a head of star leaves emerges from the dirt, large black-purple berries like buns on the sides of her head stand out against the green. She stretches, soil falling from her thin arms and chest. Her flower tail emerges last, shaking itself free of debris. She squints at the two of them, backlit by the ever rising sun.

“Doll. Sprout.” She nods to each of them.

“G-good mor-ning Mom.” Tequilla grins.

“Good morning Donnie.” Doll says, far more focused on their egg than the nightshade dryad in front of her.

The dryad lifts herself from her soil bed, running a hand between her leaves as she opens up the chest tucked just behind the plot. “So I'll get the kid dressed while you grab everything else, yeah?” She shrugs on a well worn, light weight white dress like a dandelion from the chest.

“Mmhm!” Tequilla answers, “Momma s-said tha-at I get to go to the beach.”

“Oh, so we're finally doing that? I thought that Doll and Gin would never let you leave the nook again after-”

Doll clears her throat, glaring at her co-parent with a silent ‘not here.’. She takes the beach towels from Tequilla and ruffles his hair, careful to not catch his horn. “I'm going to get everything ready at my gazebo. I'll meet you at the front door.”

She disappears around the corner with a huff, dress swaying.

The dryad pokes Tequilla. “They have me dress you because I'm the only one that can fit through your little door frame, did you know that, kid?”

Tequilla nods, feeling his tail wrap around his leg anxiously.

Donnie glances at it, and rests a hand on his face. “Don't worry about it sprout, it doesn't bother me any.” Her own flower tail subconsciously wraps itself around his.

She places her hand on his back as she leads him to his bedroom, up the stairs and through a door too small for a man but just big enough for a child. She tells him to pick out whatever outfit he wants, just as long as it is beach appropriate. The last thing they need is for him to burn his scales again or get caught by a particularly curious catfish. He emerges from the closet several times, each time showing off a different outfit as Donnie vetoes parts of the previous one. Eventually, he decides on an olive green shirt paired with dark blue swim trunks.

They pass Papa’s room as they go down the stairs, walking quietly as they listen to his snores through the locked door.

Doll is waiting just outside the front door, tapping her foot impatiently, arms full of everything they'll need for the beach trip. She had changed out of her large poofy pink lolita dress, and into… essentially the same thing, but shorter with even more frills that cover her from hips to mid thigh. The top of the swimsuit is also decorated with ruffles, and Donnie notes just how low cut the front is. In the center around her waist, of course, is Doll's signature bow. All to hide the problem, of course.

The dryad whistles, clearly trying to get a rise out of the hybrid. “Looking fancy, princess.” Tequilla bounces out from behind Donnie and hugs his mother tightly.

“You l-l-look pretty, momma!” He beams.

“Aw, thank you peanut. I'm sure that if Donnie could swim,” She glares at her, smiling in a devilish way that really makes Donnie remember she has horns, “She would have an even prettier swimsuit.”

Donnie huffs, readjusting her dandelion dress. “It's salt water,” she says pointedly, “Do you have any idea what that does to my leaves?” Her tail flicks in annoyance.

“Hence, the umbrella.” Doll rolls her shoulder, making the rainbow umbrella propped against it bounce. “You'll get to stay on the beach while I have fun with my egg.”

She readies a retort, but is interrupted by a very frustrated child voicing his displeasure by silently tugging on their skirts.

Doll immediately pivots, her voice taking on a much softer and more motherly edge than the voice she uses talking to Belladonna. “I'm sorry peanut, were we ignoring you? Here, take the towels and we'll start walking to the beach if you're ready.” She lets Tequilla lead the way, the egg walking triumphantly in front of them like a general. Donnie grumbles, annoyed at how quickly Doll forgot about her, yet follows closely behind anyway.

–

Doll is already wincing by the time they finish the short walk to the beach.

Tequilla runs ahead of them, flopping onto the wet sand with a thud. He wiggles, trying to bury himself into the beach like a desert lizard he saw once.

It takes her a moment to catch up to him, putting her luggage down gently in the sand before crouching in front of him. There's a smile on her face but her eyes are serious.

“Peanut, can you tell me the beach rules?” She prompts.

“N-no kicking ss-sand towards people,” he counts on his fingers as he recites them from memory. “No wan-dering away without supervision, no diving w-without pipi, a-and no venturing far.”

“And why do we not venture out too far?” She asks, brushing sand from his scales and hair.

“Because the beach ends quick.” he says carefully. They've told him this hundreds of times but her kid can be too adventurous for his own good sometimes. The beach itself is… safe, mostly. She scratches at her midriff absently. The area they usually go to is well scouted, with jutting rocks marking where the beach dips suddenly into the cold ocean floor far beneath. The beach is littered with shells and soft rocks from years of waves. Occasionally if they dig around they can find sea glass and small pieces of metal under the grains of sand. Tequilla loves to bring Gin here to dig with him.

“Momma?” Tequilla pulls on her golden bands. “Play?” He asks, pointing towards the ocean.

She glances at the salty expanse of water, and winces.

“I'm sorry baby,” she brushes his hair from his face as she speaks, “I'm still feeling tired from last time. But I'll be right here while you play, okay?” She and Tequilla glance at where she had put their stuff. Donnie sits on her now unfurled green beach towel, the large rainbow umbrella already open and propped up in the sand.

Her own beach towel is also laid out neatly under the umbrella.

“Make sure to stay in our line of sight, baby.” She calls out behind her as she stumbles towards the umbrella. Tequilla lets out an affirmative, excited baa in return, the sound of splashing water following immediately afterwards.

Doll collapses onto the towel with a huff of exhaustion. Pain pulls at her muscles and forces her to wince.

Donnie prods her side with her flower tail, brushing lightly against the slick fabric of the swimsuit. “Y'know, if you actually rested and stopped wearing your corset all the time that would probably heal a lot quicker.”

The hybrid lowers her head and glares at Donnie. “I don't know what you're talking about.” she growls.

She rolls her eyes at the clear display of aggression. “Well, it's pretty hard to not notice the swimsuit, princess. Your usual one is a lot more revealing. You're hiding your bandages. Did you even get Gin to check it out?”

Doll doesn't respond. She watches her son as he splashes water around with his wings.

Belladonna glances between her co-parent and her kid.

“You don't want the sprout to feel guilty, huh.” She doesn't even bother to frame it as a question.

“He has no reason to feel guilty, it's Aurelia's fault.”

Donnie groans. “Oh, cut the shit, none of us expected a shark to be there in the first place, don't blame this on the octopus.”

“She could have at least warned me that they're aggressive,” she pouts, “they weren't aggressive like THAT where I'm from.”

“Doll. You don't even remember where ‘where I'm from’ even is.” She says deadpan.

That finally makes her take her eyes off of Tequilla. 

“At least I wasn't dug out of the ground by some nutcases in lab coats and transplanted to a tropical island.” Doll leers. “Maybe if you were bigger than a bush they would have had a harder time kidnapping you.”

Donnie whips up to her feet, glaring down at Doll as her tail cracks like a whip behind her. “Well at least I didn't choose to come here willingly!”

Doll rises to her feet too, now towering over the much shorter dryad. “Well excuse me,” She stomps her foot in the sand, “I guess next time I'll know better than to trust a postcard that looks EXACTLY like my sister's handwriting. I'll anticipate that it's going to lead me to an island full of crazy people and murderous bears!” Her ears flick, face dark. Her ears and cheeks are flushed with emotion.

Donnie seethes at her. “Yeah, well… w…” she trails off, looking towards the ocean with a look of growing panic.

“Well what, what other insult do you have to sling at me?” Doll shouts.

“Doll.”

She groans in anger, eyes following the dryad's gaze. “What could possibly…” Her eyes go wide as ice floods her veins.

“Doll?” Donnie says quietly.

The beach is empty.

“Where's Tequilla?”

Doll bolts upright, injury be damned. She runs through the sand, feet sinking as she feels the grains below her bare feet push against her skin, getting more waterlogged as she approaches the water. He should have surfaced by now, she thinks, He's a better swimmer than I am by now. 

She scans the waters, looking for any sign of her son.

Nothing.

Suddenly, just a few feet ahead, she sees bubbles.

Without a second thought she dives into the water. The bandages around her wound fill with salt water, making the injury itch. But the adrenaline in her veins is drowning out everything but her son.

Her eyes sting as she opens them, but through the hazy vision of salt water she can see Tequilla thrashing, panicked, trying to resurface. Precious bubbles of oxygen escape his lips. She doesn't know how long he's been down here, but she has to get him out. 

His hand reaches out to hers and four fingers meet five. 

She gets her arms under his and tries to swim up, but is met with resistance from below.

Her eyes scan him, trying to find what could be keeping him here. His body shudders. 

His tail.

His tail is caught in something far below them.

Her own lungs are screaming for mercy, but she can't pause for even a moment, not while her baby is in danger. 

She dives, gripping his tail and the offending object, not even taking a second to process what was keeping him in its clutches.

She rips his tail free, blood oozing slightly from where it was caught.

Tequilla begins to float upwards and she follows, grabbing hold of his far too small body as she hauls them both up to the surface. The light of the sun glimmering ever brighter as they ascend.

It feels like an eternity has passed when they finally break through. She gasps roughly as fresh air enters her lungs. 

“Come on Tequilla, just a little farther,” She rasps as they approach the beach.

She holds her son close to her chest as she swims, trying to keep her own heart from escaping her burning chest as she feels how still he's become.

“Hold out just a little longer baby, please hold on.” She mutters.

It feels as if they're crawling towards the shore.

Finally, finally, finally, she feels her toes touch sand.

There's a ringing in her ears she didn't notice until just now. It fades as she hauls herself and her child onto the sand, and she becomes acutely aware of how Belladonna is screaming her name. She doesn't even acknowledge her. She crouches over Tequilla and prays that his heart is in the same place as hers.

“Go get Gin and Aurelia.” She says between chest compressions.

Donnie hesitates. “But.. Doll-”

“Don, go get them now!” She yells.

She doesn't even look up as she hears the sound of footsteps as Donnie runs back into the forest. She just continues her chest compressions.

“Please peanut, come back to me, I'll give you anything you've ever wanted.” she pleads. She plugs his nose as she gives him mouth to mouth, then continues with her compressions. “I- I promise I won't fight with your parents ever again, just please baby-” she gives him mouth to mouth again, gives him chest compressions until she's sure she must have broken a rib, again and again and again.

But he remains still.

Unmoving. Unbreathing.

Lifeless.

Dead.

Her baby is dead.

“No no no no no,” she cries, clutching his clothes, his face, all far too small and young for a fate like this. “No no please, this has to be a joke, I-I can't go through this again.” She presses her head against his chest, hearing only silence. “Please Tequilla, don't leave me again.” she sobs.

The tide washes up against her feet. She needs to move him, get him away from that wretched ocean.

“I'll take you home baby.” She says to his body. It's already becoming cold under her hands as she lifts him into her arms. His limbs are limp in her grip. She tucks his wings and tail in just like he always would. It's more comfortable that way, he says. She brushes the soaked hair from his dulling cheeks and limps into the forest. He's coming home with her.

—

The other parents meet her just outside the house. Gin is barely dressed in the early afternoon light, far too bright for the tragedy that has befallen them. His short black hair is ruffled up and sticking out, clearly showing the gnarly scar over his eye. He and Tequilla match in that way. He's in a white tank top and dark sweatpants, leaning hard against his cane. Aurelia looks similarly underprepared. Her tentacle hair shifts around as water drips from her, soaking the grass below. Her ringed pattern shifts to bright hues from stress. Doll can see her tieing on her robe as she approaches.

Donnie meets her halfway, her eyes never leaving Tequilla.

Doll's composure finally breaks. She falls to her knees and sobs, clutching Tequilla's cold body as if it would bring him back.

Her co-parents crowd around her, shouting over each other, clambering to see their son.

The dryad tentatively brushes his drying hair with her fingers. “Is he…?”

“Dead.” Aurelia confirms. She crouches next to his body, inspecting it gently. “What happened, Doll?”

“I looked away for… for just a moment…” She looks up to Gin, stood above them in barely disguised horror. “Gin…? What do we do now?”

His knuckles go white as he tightens the grip on his cane.

“I don't know.” He says slowly. “I just don't know.”

“That was his last life.” Aurelia says. 

“Maybe we could take him to the Federation.” Donnie says. “They brought him back once, maybe they'll do it again.”

“That never worked for the others.” Aurelia points out.

Doll chuckles hollowly. “What other choice do we have?” She looks to Gin. “Do you think you could take him? They'll listen to you.”

“I don't…” He hesitates.

“Please, Gin. I can't. I just… can't do it.”

He sighs. “Yes, I'll do it. I'll do what I can.”

“Thank you, Gin. Bring his bag too. He'll want that when he.. he wakes up.”

Gin nods.

—

Gin never thought he would be back here so soon.

It's been a very long time since he worked for the Federation. It at least felt like one. Could it really have only been a few months?

If he hadn't gotten injured, hadn't disobeyed orders in that exact moment, he wouldn't be… he wouldn't be in this mess. Hurt. Crippled. Demoted.

…

Attached.

Taking care of an egg was meant to be a punishment. Some form of atonement. He was just supposed to monitor the thing until further notice, integrate himself with the assigned family, do something useful. Instead he got attached. And look where that got him. Stood in front of the place that ruined his life, pristine white walls mocking him. A dead child in his hands. and a small bag draped over his shoulder. 

He knocks on the doors.

And IT comes out to greet him. That damn bear. It towers over him, staring with that blank eyed smile beneath a brown mustache.

“Hello.” It greets him. “You are not allowed in this facility until further notice. Please leave the area now.”

“I can't do that.” He says.

“Why?” It asks.

He takes a deep breath. “My.. assignment,” MY SON, his mind screams, THAT'S MY SON, “My assignment has ended. This is causing significant distress to the other residents. His death was an accident, and they sent me to request that he be given another life.” Slipping back into the character of a mindless office drone comes easily, the emotional distance making the feeling of his dead son pressed against his hands farther away.

His boss stares at him for a long, long moment. 

It grabs Tequilla from him.

“Wait, wait please take his bag too. He'll want that when he wakes up.” Gin pleads. He places the bag atop Tequilla's chest.

“Yes. Yes. Ha Ha Ha.” It says. “I hope you enjoy the island. Please vacate the premises.”

The door slams shut before he can answer.

—

The place he's in feels familiar, yet not at the same time. It is dark and light, feeling and not. He floats in the everything nothingness. He feels something touch the edges of his consciousness, a flash of black lace, dark lipstick, a sunhat. A frown, a promise, a large hand. It beckons him, apologizes to him. Promises that it will protect him however it can. He trusts her, leans in, whispers back something that he can't remember.

And then he wakes up.

He gasps, memories of drowning still fresh in his mind. He coughs trying to expel the water that is no longer in his lungs.

“You've woken up much quicker than the others.”

His head whips around, and he finally notices his surroundings. He's in a white room, something he's far too familiar with. The memories of the tests he and his clutch were put through far too vivid in his mind. He strains against his bindings, strapped roughly and painfully to a cold metal table. He's in a fully white outfit that he has no memory of wearing before. There's lab equipment all around him, and a scientist at his side. He turns to him and growls. 

“Tsk, that's not very polite. Where's my thanks for bringing you back to life?” The scientist asks, his faceless form void of expression. 

Tequilla tries to speak, but the burning in his throat and fear in his heart cause him to stutter far too much to make out even a syllable. 

The scientist seems to understand what he was trying to say. “Yes, you did die. Due to drowning it would seem. Terrible way to go, dreadful. Nothing that we can't fix, of course.” He must see a glimpse of hope on Tequilla's face, because he quickly corrects; “That doesn't mean you're going home to mommy and daddy. They knew that they only had two chances with you. Instead we're going to save some resources.” He walks slowly around the table he's strapped to, adjusting the equipment that Tequilla has no hope of understanding. “Do you know how expensive it is to create one of you? Of course we do them in batches of twelve, it's such a nice even number of eggs. But between the cloning and the incubation and the genetic manipulation? The costs add up. Luckily for us,” He turns a dial with a sharp click. “There's an easy solution to this dilemma. Reduce, reuse, and recycle.” 

In one swift motion he clips something to Tequilla's ear, a sharp sting following just behind. Tequilla yelps and lunges to bite his hand, but misses.

He glares at him, rubbing the assaulted hand. “Rude.”

Tequilla huffs and growls at him, low and afraid.

“Oh it's not like it will hurt. And even if it does, it's not like you'll remember by the end of it. You'll just be.. a blank slate, in a way. A body is just a vessel for memories and experiences after all. If you don't have either, well you're back to square one. Just like a newborn egg, fresh off the printing press~.” He says in a singsong voice.

The dragon begins to start struggling in earnest, whimpering and baaing and crying. He calls for his Momma, his Mom, his Dad, his Pipi, ANYONE to come and save him as the scary man in the scary lab coat in the scary white room readies the machines that will ensure he'll never live to see another sunrise.

“Take a deep breath and close your eyes, dragon.” The scientist says as he brings a bright light down onto his eyes. “Or don't. It doesn't matter to me either way.”

A humming sound fills the air.

And everything goes white.

—

His head is ringing. 

The world tilts around him, his head rings and throbs in time with the sirens behind him, but he's out. He escaped. The scientist used… Something. To steal his memories. And he thought it was working for a while there! But then he… he…

How did he get out here?

He's standing just outside of a white building. There's alarms blaring from it. He doesn't know what it is or why its making that noise, but he knows he needs to get away from it. He runs, runs towards the nearest trees he can find. Trees mean home.

Home? Is that right? There were trees at his home, right? He knows that if he just follows the path he'll end up home. 

His run slows to a stop as he looks around. He doesn't know where he is. There's a bag over his shoulder. His bag. He hates to be without it. There's no scars on his arms like there should be. Not even a trace of them. And there's blood caked under his claws. He remembers swiping the scientist as he escaped. Why is there blood under his claws? He decides to worry about it later. He hears a stick snap behind him and continues running into the forest beyond. Maybe he'll find what he's looking for there.

—

Tequilla wakes up. He's in a tree somewhere. How did he get here? His muscles burn with exhaustion. He wracks his mind, trying to remember what happened before, but comes up blank. Absolute zero. A sob leaps into his throat for reasons he can't even remember. There's blood under his claws. He'll have to wash that out before it gets icky.

—

Tequilla wakes up. He's in some kind of burrow. How did he get here? His stomach growls sharply. He tries to remember what happened before, but comes up blank. He can't worry about that now. He needs to find food. He doesn't know why he knows this. He doesn't know anything at all.

—

Tequilla wakes up. He's by a small pond. How did he get here? Fear clutches the edges of his senses, telling him he needs to keep moving. That there's something out to get him. He tries to remember what that is, but comes up completely and entirely empty. His claws are clean. He doesn't know why that confuses him.

Tequilla wakes up. Tequilla knows nothing.

Tequilla wakes up.

Tequilla wakes up.

Tequilla wakes up. 

Tequilla knows nothing.

—

Tequilla wakes up, but somehow it feels different this time. Despite this, he's still very confused and frightened to realise he has no idea where he is. There's a bag over his shoulder. His bag, something tells him. It's covered in dirt by now but it's definitely his. He's covered in dirt too. Plenty of scratches against his scales. He's in clothes that used to be white, now stained various shades of brown and green and red. There's something tickling the side of his face. He panics and pulls at it, only to realize too late that it's attached to his ear which is attached to him. He hisses as it is pulled free from his ear, followed by a droplet of blood. It's a tag, a white tag. Like something you could put on a cattle. “Res: 1” it says. He wracks his mind, trying to remember what happened to him and where he is.

But he comes up blank. Completely empty.

He continues to wander the forest for several days, listlessly trying to figure out where he is and where he's going. Something feels different. Sharper. Like his mind is working when it previously wasn't. He doesn't think about that. He focuses on getting food and shelter. He just knows that he has to keep moving until he finds somewhere safe.

snap

He freezes, and looks forward to where he heard the sound of a branch snapping.

There's a person there.

They're short, shorter than he is. Their scales are blue with yellow bands and diamonds adorning it. They stare at him with dark blue eyes, a pink flower crown holding back brown hair. Large ears flop as they tilt their head. Wings twitch behind him and their tail wags. They're the first person Tequilla has ever seen. 

They smile wide, practically vibrating with excitement. “Hi, I'm Poll! What's your name? Do you wanna be friends?”

[mandimagic]

Creati Vs. Art

I personally think she can take that f***ing clown. She's got the sharp with and can create a sharp sword to take him down.

[itspeanutlove]

"A Dance With Death"

Aaahhh!!! I'm so proud of this one! I was trying to go for a more painterly style so I tried no lineart. I guess if theres one thing I'll look back on and Not Like™ its the hands, I feel like I could have done better there

BUT AHHHHH i cooked SO hard

For context, golden skull girl represents the sun/daylight and isnt real while purple girl is allergic to the sun yet every day goes outside to have some fun, so every day she's tempting death and just vibin

This is for a minecraft origins server btw

[gingerpines]

teen caitvi au where they met at jayce’s workshop as kids bc ekko was making deliveries for benzo and they became friends and would meet up outside caitlyn’s house at the gate every night like romeo and juliet and vi would always listen to caitlyn yap about jayce’s newest invention and one day cait convinced her mom to take vi at one of the shooting tournaments for a weekend and they realized how much of a crush they have on each other

more about this au here!

[giantkillerjack]

I think Gastronauts on Dropout is the cooking show that has made me truly appreciate the skill of professional chefs more than any other cooking show.

Like I don't know if it's because the challenges are so crazy or the fact that the judges don't have any professional input whatsoever (they're all comedians), but the combination of how utterly stoked the judges are to be eating this food and how creative the chefs get to be really works to make you marvel at just how skilled a professional chef has to be.

Other cooking shows always have a level-voiced narrator listing out shit like,

"Rebecca is doing a praline-mint ganache with a Twiffly Street stir-up, combined with a gestelle Santa Maria sponge technique."

And it's fun to pretend like, 'Ah, yes. Of course! A classic of the genre! He'd be a fool not to!' as though I know anything about cooking or baking.

But on Gastronauts, it's a bunch of comedians who would really graciously appreciate some fancy food, watching chefs cook and going, like,

"What is that? What is he doing?? It's like- like a swishy thing! Like a fancy swishy thing!!"

"OH MY GOD YES, HE'S USING ONIONS."

"Ooo! Crunchies!??"

And then the chefs get to come out and formally present their food, which makes them look very smart. And these actors who generally can't afford Michelin star cuisine are just :DDDD!

And it's like, oh yeah. This is about my level, yes. This conveys how normal people who don't eat good food for a living would actually react. And it's super chill. It's good vibes, that show. 👌

[cutthroatcarnival]

The urge to write was stronger than the urge to work on Psych notes- so! Chapter 9 of “Revered Deity, Unknown Hero” is finished, and chapter 10 has been outlined!

Chapter 3 will be up tomorrow at whenever-I-have-free-time o’clock! :)

[potato-lord-but-not]

Finished s1 of arcane and had the unshakable nauseating urge to draw the podcast men

[dragondawdles]

the beastie <3

[cupofsharks]

Something something... I forgot.

[syea-say]

The finale of a never-ending masquerade.

AQ 4.2 spoilers.

[tesspool]

"I dont want what you have, I want to be you."

[starmonsterrr]

[ * GUESS WHO GOT A PHONE STYLUS............... so anyway I drew my beloved on ibis paint. tehe ]

[vaguely-concerned]

huh. you know something I just consciously put together for the first time about caterina and lucanis' relationship is that through the game we get to hear them talk about each other a lot, but we get very few chances to hear them speak with each other at any length at all. contrast it with other companions whose storylines have elements of 'believed lost/long time no see relative returns!' like bellara and davrin, where we get to see both of them have several pretty in-depth conversations with cyrian and eldrin. hell I think even rook talks with varric longer in the regret prison scene than we ever get to see lucanis and caterina interact directly.

(and when we do see them interact, it's mostly one-sided -- it is, perhaps unsurprisingly, caterina who is doing most of the talking and giving all the orders, as he ruefully observes is her wont after murder of crows. including jumpscaring him with 'you're first talon now btw' and the shocked pikachu face in five acts he goes through in response lmao. perhaps it's more accurate to say that she talks at him and he reacts, than that they talk to each other much.)

it has such an interesting effect too, because in deliberately denying us direct insight or experience and only having this mosaic of description from each of them to go on, as well as forcing us to pay attention to the negative space of what is carefully not said, it's evocative along the same principle that you never actually show the monster in a horror film. if you've read the wigmaker job you have a clearer image of the more uh. worrying elements at play here going in, but there is something fascinatingly insidious and naturalistic in the way it's 'hushed up' in the game itself. she has his complete loyalty both as a member of her house and, more importantly, that of an abused child to a parent figure. he readily admits several times that she's a difficult person to live with, an even more difficult person to be loved by ("even for me. and I was her favourite")... but never once does he actively blame her nor truly conceptualize that he has every right to do so (that he can be angry with her and still love her, because whether he should or not he unavoidably does), or that she might have acted differently than she did, that she made a choice every time to hurt him. even affectionately he speaks of her as a force of nature, an act of god -- something that can't be reasoned or pleaded with or resisted, something you can only hope to navigate with as little pain as possible and pray to survive. let yourself get carried away by the riptide, resisting it will only make it worse. you don't compromise with a hurricane, you just try to find the best shelter you can and cross your fingers while you wait for it to pass and be calm again.

love is that hurricane. you do whatever she asks. you earn her continued affection day by day by never letting her down. you only want the things she tells you it's okay to want and cut everything else away preemptively. ("A wyvern tooth dagger?? I loved wyverns as a boy --Caterina would never let me have one of these, though." and as we have all wept and gnashed our teeth over, it never even OCCURS to him that he's a like thirty-five year old adult man who can buy himself any dagger he wants at any time. she said he couldn't have one. so he'll never have one. that's just how it works. and maybe if Illario could just accept that and find his peace with it like I have, this whole thing wouldn't be so difficult. oh lucanis.)

such is the price -- and the cost -- of being loved by her, it's a loan on which the interest will never stop piling up. you have to keep paying it down in perfection every day if you want to keep it. who got the worse deal there: the grandson who has abandoned everything else in life to live up to that and mostly succeeded, until the day he's so burned out and broken it threatens to no longer be an option, or the grandson who can never seem to scrape together enough worth in her eyes no matter how he begs, borrows or steals it, how he hustles and plays dirty?

one of the worst things that can happen to anyone is to be loved by a selfish god. another one of the worst things that can ever happen to anyone is to not be loved by a selfish god. (hope that helps, boys!) even in betraying everything else, Illario can't bring himself to hurt his grandmother, because that would defeat the whole point. who would he defiantly be proving himself worthy to, without her. in love, devotion, submission, hatred, frustration, bitterness, everything is defined in relation to her, you can spot the gravitational force of it through how the dellamorte family move through time and space. she -- her love and regard and attention -- is still the sun both of their worlds orbit around, even as adults. the game might never tell you outright 'she used to beat and starve them growing up. for their own good you see, so they'd be strong (and broken down enough for her to build them up again however she wanted but I'm sure that's incidental)', but if you know even a little bit about how these dynamics can work the writing is on the wall everywhere you look and all the more unsettling for it.

follow lucanis' freeze-logic and fraught interpersonal catch 22 irreconcilable mixed emotions problems back far enough, looong before the ossuary entered the picture, and you start to see caterina's ghost around every fucking corner. she is so proud of him. (well, she would be. she made him. she forged exactly the knife she needed and it rests willingly, devotedly, in her hands, it would return to her every time because it doesn't know love as anything but to be a knife. his tama never taught him how to be anything else. his biggest fear with her is that she won't even want him back, the way he is now.) to the best ability of her soul, whatever parts of it survived a lifetime of crow politics and 'five children, eight grandchildren, only Illario and me left now', I think she really does loves him. he certainly loves her, with all the sincerity and artless desperation of a child, of the little boy he was once. and what she's done to him (and to illario, for all his shitty gremlin scar-ass antics lol) is awful. the harm is real, and the love is real, and trying to find a way for these two truths to exist in the same space is driving all three of them their own individualized forms of insane. you know. the way only family can and so often does lol.

through implications and short glimpses and having to put the pieces together yourself, you can have the feeling that there is very genuine mutual love and attachment in this relationship... and that beneath that there is something so profoundly wrong. and the sneaking '...oh shit it gets worse the longer I think about it' horror of that is more effective for me at least than the stark in-your-face presentation of the facts of the matter could have been. the love is here. the love is here. it only ever makes it worse.

[spaltedrat]

cowgirl yuri for thy weary soul