#i got really bored. so i went to texture world

[lycanthian]

WON'T SOMEBODY TELL ME / WHAT'S GOING ON?

[inzuinzudesu]

Please zoom in to see small Kakashi! 😭 He kinda disappeared 😭😭😭

Text translation: "Infinite Tsukuyomi" (無限月読)

Drew these in mid-July - when I started doing digital again actually 🤔

Took inspo from the Balut - a street food in my country; I hear a lot of people are grossed out by it?? Don't know if this is controversial, but I personally love the dish. Essentially grew up with it after all!

Wanted to draw something that feels a bit creepy but still has a sense of mysticality to it???

Meh, don't know if the feeling got across or not

I thought since Halloween is coming up, might as well post this haha

About the process of drawing these!

These were very fun to draw! I messed around a lot with photoshop to achieve this glowy dusty effect?? From the brushes to the blending options, and maaan the filter gallery 😭😭 Such fun tools to play with.

The main brush I used to achieve the dusty effect is called "KYLE Bonus Chunky Charcoal", in the Kyle Dry Media brush set. If you can, I recommend checking it out! There are definitely other ways to achieve this sort of effect, though. You can probably just use some sort of scatter texture brush and it'd work just fine. Studying is all about trying things out, right? This is like my first experiment with this type of effect, and I was happy at the time. Now looking back, these could most definitely turn out better, no? I really went overboard with just the effect and forgot everything else. The blood and the plate looks horrible man. If you look closely, you can see the sketch lines haha! I got lazy!

Also, for Obito's pose, I relied heavily on a reference I found on pinterest 😭 I wish I'd changed the pose more tbh, it looks really boring.

And I gotta say, these just look underwhelming in this smaller size. Like reaaaaaally underwhelming. Would love to show you the big version, but oh well! 😭😭😭

Brain vomit time!

I love the prospect (??? is that the right word) of Obito being all god-like and powerful after Tsukuyomi, having control over everybody's dream worlds?? And like he jumps from dream to dream, but stops at Kakashi's and picks it apart???? Observing and tormenting Kakashi with his childhood form that has both sharingan???????

Kakashi would probably be confused with Obito's appearance at first, asking questions like "What are you up to this time, Obito?", but then wouldn't receive any answers??? Like little man would just stare at him creepily, and Kakashi would push this to the back of his mind for a while???

Umm below is the technical stuff, I guess??

My headcanon is that the time span in the dream world is the same as the real world. Meaning, 30 years in the dream world feel incredibly real, with no gap of memories. It's essentially a different timeline. Whether this makes sense or not, who knows haha!

Let's talk about the dream events and how they affect Kakashi! Due to Sakumo and team Minato still living, this Kakashi probably wouldn't be as lax nor sad as in canon?? The relationships and personalities would be different huh???? I'm having a headache thinking about this, so let's just say that: 1. Sakumo lived because the villagers weren't as harsh, but the animosity still remained. Kakashi still developed this obsession with rules, but he doesn't blame his dad as much. 2. Kannabi happened, Kakashi was given the sharingan, along with Obito's ninja way. Team Minato thought that Obito died for a while, but Obito is 'rescued' by Madara, same as canon. 3. Rin would still be targeted by Madara, but Obito came in time to help with the situation, blocking Kakashi's chidori from connecting with Rin's chest, but also knocking Kakashi away. Then, a Mist enemy took advantage of the situation to attack Kakashi, injuring him gravely, to the point where everybody thought he died. With this, Obito activated his Mangekyou and exploded on the Mist enemies, killing them all. Meanwhile, Rin tried to heal Kakashi, just barely saving him. As Obito had dealt with the enemies, there was no need to rush back to the village, and the Sanbi wouldn't be released till then. And so, they waited for Minato to come and help with Rin's seal. (About Obito's Mangekyou activating with Kakashi's death - would that be too far-fetched? My reasoning is that Obito would think that it was his fault Kakashi died, because it was Obito who knocked Kakashi away into the enemy, no?) 4. Because there's no one to become 'Madara' now that Obito came back to the village, Naruto is born, Minato and Kushina live.

5. The Uchiha massacre doesn't happen.

(Everything is incredibly convenient, because I don't have the brain power to make it otherwise, please help 😭😭) -> In conclusion, this Kakashi resembles the Kakashi of the real world, but less depressed and self-destructive??? He loves his living comrades. My man still has a massive obsession (more like crush lol) with Obito by the way, just like in canon. He just doesn't show it.

-> About Obito of the dream world (I'mma call him Dreambito), he is all sunshine and brightness, but he exhibits some dark thoughts and deep rage from time to time due to the residual effects of Madara's seal on his heart. The seal has been removed though. And he has this obsession with Kakashi's safety, as he almost pushed him to his death once, albeit accidentally.

-> I was debating whether to just start this dream world at the point where Obito got crushed, or to start it at the beginning of Kakashi's life. In the end, I went with the latter, cuz ya know, I like the idea of Kakashi living through a whole life all over again, just to finally come to the realization that it's all a dream. Does that make any sense at all??

Obito (child form - 13) first appears in front of Kakashi at the start of the Naruto series, when Kakashi has officially become the teacher of team 7. (Let's not change this okay, my brain would fry haha I'm not gonna deny that the idea of Obito and Kakashi becoming co-teachers of team 7 isn't incredibly fun though)

After the first encounter with this child Obito, Kakashi begins to have flashes of memories from the real world, and he hallucinates about people's deaths - mostly about the members of team Minato. This young Obito is always in the corner of his vision, most of the time silent, sometimes saying things like "You trash" to Kakashi whenever he encounters Rin, who is whole and grown up in this world.

Kakashi exhibits more destructive behaviors as this goes on, the line between the dream events and the real events slowly blurring. He takes more dangerous solo missions out of the village, and shows strong signs of PTSD, just like in canon.

The two Obitos would contrast each other?? Like Dreambito would be all concerned with Kakashi's decline in health (both mental and physical) and goes to confront and comfort him, many times over because that's how it is with them??? Dreambito might even move in with Kakashi, being the obsessive and protective Uchiha that he is. Meanwhile young Obito would be an absolute asshole, saying all these horrible things to poison Kakashi's mind haha

At this point, Dreambito'd be in the last stage on the journey of becoming Hokage, gaining the all the trust from the Uchiha clan, the village elders and the villagers as a whole. I don't know about Rin, though? Should she be romantically involved with Dreambito or no? Would Kakashi dream that??

I think Kakashi's dream would somewhat focus more on Dreambito being happy and satisfied, to be honest. I know there's Sakumo and team Minato as a whole, but as a degenerate shipper, I love the obsession between them🥺

I don't think Obito would directly interfere with what Kakashi is dreaming about, i.e. changing Dreambito's behavior, or like the political situation of the villages (?). But he would most definitely insert himself in Kakashi's psyche, no? Mess it up real good.

Kakashi would slowly realize that he is living a dream world, after all the flashes of memories that Obito generates in his mind. He would most definitely deny it at first though, I think? And then it would reach a point where Kakashi remembers everything from the real world, but he has also lived through 30 something years of the dream world, meaning he'd be in his 60s?? Does that make sense or no?

And so, while Kakashi now knows that everything is a dream, his feelings for everybody in the dream are real. If that's the case, is it really that important anymore that he escapes the Tsukuyomi? Can this dream world really be called fake at this point? Is there even anything in the real world for him to return to?

What's to say 'the real world' isn't a dream at this point?

-> Kakashi would completely close in on himself after this. He still does things that he would normally do, but it'd be all an act. He would feel completely isolated.

-> Dreambito would notice and confront him again, now that they live in the same house??? Kakashi would like say everything is fine and try to act more convincingly, but Dreambito would still know something's wrong????

-> Obito is observing from afar, who knows what his motivation is at this point.

Because this is Kakashi's dream world, I suppose he would have the power to change this world to his will, now that he's aware? This is like a lucid dream situation???

The people in the dream have their own will up until this point, but Kakashi can somewhat change their behavior if he really wants to, whether it's subconsciously or not??? Example: He can probably will Dreambito to kiss him or something lol

So on and so forth!

Man, I'm having waaay too much fun imagining the pain. There are probably like a thousand things that doesn't make sense haha! I do wonder how this sort of storyline should end though, does anybody have any ideas? Personally, I prefer slow burn with a (sort of) happy ending, but ya know, angst all the way is good too! I can't write, but I love thinking about all the things that could happen 😭😭 English isn't my first language, so this might have felt weird to read at some point haha

If anybody wants to develop this, please feel free to do so! And if you've read this far, thank you for reading this absolute brain vomit of mine! I love to yap, as you can tell haha Have a good day!

[gojou-violin]

let's go for a ride

| pairing: sports biker!choso x backpack!gn!reader

| warnings: 18+ MDNI. sub!choso. begging/pleading. sexual acts on a motorcycle. palming? friction? HOW DO YOU WORD THAT??? um. don't actually do anything like this please.

| summary: choso loves to go riding with you, even though your hands like to wander from time to time.

| wc: 1.9k

| taglist: @aylitgirl , @ifeelsofilthy , @preciousamethyst , @justanotherpasserby , @lyteatus , @unknownspecies , @tojishugetiddies , @diorsbrando , @thisbicc , @bakugosgorl , @buerriberry

| a/n: i've been searching day and night for the vid that inspo'd this but i think tiktok took it down cuz the backpacker was deadass getting the biker off on camera, soooooo- anyhow. be safe on the roads, esp. on a bike. thanks.

Whenever Choso got bored, he'd throw on his textured black pants, a t-shirt, his favorite red sweatshirt that he used specifically for riding, and he'd grab his helmet. Most times, if you were around, he'd ask if you wanted to go for a ride. If you were out, he'd text you to ask where he could pick you up.

Before you started dating, Choso didn't really see the appeal of backpacks. He thought couples like that were actually kind of cringey. But when the two of you started dating and you expressed an interest in riding with him, he went out to make sure you got good clothing for it, bought you the perfect helmet for your birthday-- With gloves to match, of course-- and he started taking you out riding with him. It was something about the way you held onto him. When he was alone, riding had been about simply getting from point A to point B, and being on a fast sports motorcycle was just a lovely perk that he could show off. With you on the bike with him, however, it was about having fun with you. He got to show you all of his favorite places in the city. He got to go as fast as he wanted on roads that were in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere, and he got to focus on you and how much you loved it. He knew that you enjoyed something whenever you'd squeeze him. It was an unconscious decision you made every time something caught your eye, and it always made him smile beneath his helmet. He'd take one of his hands off the handle bars to grab your hands that were squeezing tight onto the front of his sweatshirt, and he'd acknowledge you and what you loved by squeezing back.

Choso tried to never ride alone since then.

When he asked you to drop what you were doing to go for a ride with him, you didn't protest. A couple of minutes of changing was all it took before you were off together... He smiled beneath his helmet when your arms wrapped around his torso as the light turned green and he sped off, he laughed when your helmet accidentally banged against his when he came to a sudden stop, and he smacked your hand away when you tried to hit the kill switch at the next red light just to fuck with him. You had a habit of doing that. One second he'd be enjoying his calm ride with you, the next you'd be flicking his visor down over his eyes, poking his stomach, or pulling the velcro strap of his gloves loose so that he had to readjust them. It was the type of thing cringey backpacks did. He used to hate when other people did that. But, oddly enough, he loved it when you did it.

As you two pulled onto an empty road that he usually liked speeding down due to the lack of other cars and cops, he hit the engine hard enough to make it rumble, and suddenly you were speeding so fast the wind could be heard through your helmet and the music you were listening to. You changed the song to something more upbeat for him. He tapped your hand as a thank you, and his head started nodding along to the beat.

You laughed and hugged him tighter. He was adorable when he was out riding. His head was always lost in the clouds to the point that it seemed like the world didn't exist around him so he could do whatever he wanted and no one, especially you, would dare to judge him. Choso looked like the scary type of biker. Most people looked at sports bikers and Harley riders as the same kind-- Which, truth be told, Harley riders weren't scary either, people just viewed them as tough sons of bitches who'd pull up with weapons whenever they got angry, which was hardly ever the case-- but sports riders were especially funny and loveable kinds of people. You'd met so many over the dozens of rides you'd been on with Choso, and not once had you met a bad biker. Choso was no exception. He looked scary because of his tall build, deep voice, and the tattoos littered around his body, but underneath all of that he was a loveable teddy bear that did anything and everything for you.

At home, he was the type of guy to be on his knees for you, staring up at you with pleading eyes, drool dripping down his chin, whimpers coming from his throat, and he'd spend hours obeying your every command. "Don't cum." He'd nod obediently. "Make me cum." He'd use his mouth, his fingers, his cock-- Anything you wanted. "You've been a good boy... You can cum now." And he'd moan out as he'd finally let go with a thousand thank yous falling off his lips.

When it was the two of you riding alone, Choso was still like that. Beneath his mask, you could tell whenever he'd get flustered because of your touches, even though they were innocent most the time. Sometimes they weren't so innocent. When you were alone, it was easy to let your hands... wander...

As the song changed again, your hands ventured along his sweatshirt, grabbing at it and gently digging your thumbs into the places you knew he was always sore at. He rolled his head slightly. His back was relaxing so easily, which allowed you to pinch gently at his shoulders to manipulate the muscles a bit more. One of his hands came around to your thigh, his gloved hand squeezing gently. You smirked and decided to move your hands lower on his body, trailing down his front to his thick thighs that were vibrating thanks to the engine. The speed slowed only slightly. His grip on your thigh tightened. You had him right where you wanted him, poor thing. Unfortunately, for this ride, the two of you opted to listen to music instead of calling each other so that you could talk, which meant that you couldn't hear him whine, and he couldn't hear you tease him with, "That feel good, baby?" You were almost inclined to call him to remedy the situation, but you wanted him to focus on the road, not him trying to answer your call with Siri who could be so difficult to communicate with on fast rides.

You slowly ran your palms up and down this thighs until you felt the fabric of his pants tightening somewhat. A smirk grew on your face. He was so easy to get to, you loved teasing him about it, but... Fuck... Touching him while riding was something else because it barely took massaging his shoulders and touching his thighs to get him hard. Again, the speed of the bike slowed a bit. Your hands moved in towards his erection, running over it to get a reaction out of him-- Which you certainly did. His head fell forward somewhat, and you saw his chest move so fast you knew that he'd let out a desperate gasp. Slowly, you groped him. Again, he panted. Your thumb drifted back and forth, you gave another few squeezes, then you went back to running your entire palms over him again and again and again. You knew that the friction had to be doing something. It wasn't anything like touching him directly, you knew that, but he was reacting all the same with his grip tightening on the handle bars and your thigh, and his head was having trouble staying up.

Choso suddenly tapped your leg a dozen times at a quick pace. You let up. Your hands returned to his chest, and he let out a long, heavy sigh. He had been at the edge and wanted to warn you like a good boy. Surely you'd have to reward him for that later.

The end of the road came with a stop sign so that Choso had to decide whether he wanted to go left or right. As he came to a stop and his feet hit the ground, he lifted his visor to look back you over his shoulder, both of his hands immediately reaching back for your thighs that he clung desperately to. You could see beneath his helmet that he was a bright color of red. And then your phone started ringing. "Call from Choso Kamo. Call from Cho--" You told Siri to answer, and within an instant, you heard him panting in your ear, a slight whimper escaping him.

"Yes?" you teased innocently.

Through a broken moan, he pleaded with you, "P-Please... Please..."

"Please what, baby?"

He grabbed your thighs roughly. "Please may I cum?"

You laughed and groped his chest, teasing his nipples through all the layers he put on for safety. Again, he whined.

"You wanna cum in your pants, baby? Out here? Where anyone could see you?"

Choso looked both left and right then behind. There was no one around. There wouldn't be anyone. You two were about thirty minutes away from any main road, the only people that ventured out there were speeders like him and truck drivers. Since you hadn't seen anyone else yet, it was safe to assume that you'd be alone for the ride back to the main road-- And if Choso was eager enough to get home soon, he could make the forty minute drive become thirty or just under that.

"Please," he begged.

You nodded vaguely, your hands returning to his hard-on that must have been so miserable trapped under those tight pants. "You can cum, baby, just be careful, okay?"

He nodded with you, revving the engine to gain some momentum before turning around on the road to head home. You were honestly glad that the stop sign came when it did because you were happy to finally hear Choso moaning in your ear as you played with him as fast as you could to get him to the edge. He was careful-- Both of you were. It wasn't like this was the first time you'd done something like this, and it wasn't like you were willing to put yourselves or anyone else in danger. If Choso was worried about handling the bike, you would have stopped; and if there was anyone around, both of you would have put an end to it-- Yes, because people didn't need to see something like that while out on the road, but also because it could have been dangerous. The two of you weren't idiots. But the stars aligned to give you the perfect set of circumstances so that you could get away with it that afternoon: The weather was good, there was no one around, Choso had enough energy to still focus on the road while you got him closer, closer, closer--

"I'm gonna cum..."

You kept up your momentum. "Cum for me."

And with the most blissful moan you'd ever heard, Choso's thighs shook against the motorcycle, his back pressed up against your chest some more, his head lowered slightly, the bike glided without any input from the engine, and Choso came.

"Such a good boy for me," you cooed into his ears.

He whimpered. "Thank you... Fuck, thank you... Thank you..."

Slowly, your hands retreated so that you could inspect the damage: They were only slightly wet, but it'd be fine. Choso on the other hand, he laughed and told you that he'd completely ruined his pants. You laughed back and told him that it was what he wanted, to which he went silent and you could tell that he was blushing again.

[somedaylazysomeday]

A Deal With a Demon - Part Four

You try to help Beetlejuice set up the store's information, but you both get a little distracted.

Beetlejuice x fem!reader

Rating: Explicit. Not suitable for minors.

Word Count: 4100

Warnings: References to demons and witchcraft, background references to a sex shop, oral sex (fem receiving), coming untouched.

Previous | Masterlist

---

You took a deep breath in through your nose, reveling in the rush of it: Halloween. Or, as witches knew it, All Hallows’ Eve. 

Witches with a strong connection to nature got a little more out of the solstices - dark and light at winter and spring, respectively - but All Hallows’ Eve was more egalitarian. 

It was a magical time for everyone, really. The changing leaves were just at their most vibrant and the skies stretched a pale blue overhead. The crisp chill of fall gave each breath a hint of spice and the ground felt solid as iron beneath your booted feet. Spices from baked treats and flavored drinks filled the air. The world seemed to be simultaneously holding its breath and flinging itself vicariously through every moment.

The magic was growing stronger. It felt like you were tapping into the power without any effort at all, and the energy danced over your skin like a series of tingling electric shocks. 

Your senses were heightened, too. Your sight (and Sight) was improved, and you could hear even the faintest sound with clarity. A thousand invisible textures danced under your fingertips, and you could smell anything in the neighborhood from your home.

Which was why you hardly needed Beetlejuice to voice his complaints aloud: “This is so boring.” 

“You’re the one who decided to start a small business,” you pointed out, watching the leaves flutter past the open window. It was far more relaxing than focusing on the pouting pleasure demon in your living room or the intimidating number of forms spread around your ancient laptop. 

When you sensed that Beetlejuice was getting ready to launch another complaint, you gave him a stern look. “And you’re the one who decided that hypnotizing someone to give you a business license was better than doing all of the paperwork.” 

“It is better,” he muttered mutinously. “So why are we doin’ all-a this?” 

“Because,” you explained again, “if someone goes to dig up information about the store - and they will - everything needs to be legitimate.”

Maybe the explanation was harsher than was strictly necessary, but this was the dozenth time you had delivered it. You had run out of patience several hours before and relied on magical means instead. When Beetlejuice’s expression went pouty yet again, you drained what was left of the calming potion at your elbow. Well, technically, second calming potion. You had chugged the first to keep from committing murder against a being who was already dead. 

Wait. Were demons technically alive even though they had never been born? And if they couldn’t be said to be alive, they could hardly be dead, either. Maybe demons existed somewhere outside of the alive/dead dichotomy. 

You shook off the philosophical musings as Beetlejuice started muttering to himself. 

That was certainly enough of that. You weren’t about to let a petulant demon ruin your day, especially not All Hallows’ Eve. “Beetlejuice.” 

The demon in question flinched violently at your use of his name. When he saw the sternness on your face, he seemed to settle in for work. “Okay, fine, let’s do paperwork. But I’m not gonna be excited about it.” 

“Noted,” you said dryly. “Luckily for you, I’ve done most of the hard work myself. I just need some information about dates and where the funding is supposedly from. And we need to pick a new name.” 

“Ooh, a new name,” Beetlejuice said, instantly distracted by that. “What were ya thinkin’? I know I said you could change it, but I kinda like the one we got now...”

“No, it needs to be changed,” you reminded him. “If for no other reason than that it’s not very sexy.” 

Beetlejuice looked offended, baring greenish teeth at that. “Are you sayin’ my name’s not sexy, toots?” 

“It’s not,” you confirmed, but hurried to offer more of an explanation. “But only because the customers haven’t met you yet. You’re not sexy because of your name; the name is sexy because of you.”

“Oh.” He visibly relaxed. “That’s true. I am pretty irresistible.” 

You glanced at a spare piece of paper, hiding a smile. If Beetlejuice was always going to be this easily managed, maybe there was hope for this store. “I have a few ideas written down if you want to take a look. Let me know if there are any that stand out.” 

“Boring,” Beetlejuice announced, scorching a hole through the first name with his fingertip. He continued down the list even as the edges of the first hole continued to smoke and curl. “Overused. Stupid. Boring. Boring. Boring.” 

By your count, that was all of the names you had written. “Well, I guess I’m going to have to find a new copy of that particular form…”

“It needs to be something catchy,” Beetlejuice said, ignoring you and tossing the paper away in favor of framing an imaginary sign in the air. You did your best to listen as you scrambled to pick up the smoldering paper before it caught anything on fire. “It needs to snap, ya know? Grab your attention. But still be somethin’ we can work with. The name can’t overpower the store itself. Otherwise, it’s like… Ya know when you meet the worst, most boring person, but they’ve got a name like�� like…”

“Beetlejuice?” you supplied dryly. 

He pointed a blackened fingernail at you. “Watch it, babes. That’s two digs at my name and two times you’ve used it. I’m gonna start taking it personally.” 

“Wish you’d take your business seriously,” you quipped, only partially joking. 

“That’s it,” he growled, eyes flashing in a way that felt more like an animal’s eyes at night than a person. Honestly, deer should have come to mind given your typical life experiences, but all you could think of was a crocodile. “I’m done listenin’ to this kind of abuse.” 

“Is there a different kind you’d prefer?” you asked, betting on the fact that Beetlejuice hadn’t seen enough old movies to be familiar with the joke. 

Sure enough, it took him a moment to work through that, but after he had finished absorbing it, his stained fingertips shot out in your direction. The grasp on your upper arm wasn’t tight, but it was… odd. Beetlejuice’s hands didn’t have the right amount of give in them, not like a normal person’s.

Before you could be swept away in another round of philosophical musings about demons, Beetlejuice used that grip to pull you toward himself. 

You watched, fascinated as his figure grew larger in your perspective, then he was gone. It wasn’t until your hands and knees hit the floor that you realized he had let you go mid-pull, flinging you past himself and onto the ground. 

“What the fuck?” you demanded. 

At the same time, Beetlejuice asked, “What the fuck?” 

While you were glaring at him, the demon was staring down at his own hands, studying them like he would see something moving beneath his pale, dirt-stained skin. 

You took a moment to collect yourself, making sure nothing was broken, sprained, or otherwise damaged. With that done, you tried to demand to know why Beetlejuice had tossed you across the room, but he was so busy talking to you that he didn’t answer any of your questions. And, to be fair, you weren’t answering any of his. And so, you decided to be the bigger person and stop talking. (It definitely wasn’t because you couldn’t concentrate if both of you were speaking at once and trying was going to give you a migraine. Not at all.)

“Fine!” you snapped, throwing your hands in the air and scrambling to your feet. “You talk first. Go!” 

“What the fuck was that? Why are you crawling with magic?” Beetlejuice demanded. Something in his tone told you it wasn’t the first time he had asked it. 

You gave him the stare that deserved. Maybe demons didn’t have as strong a connection to the day as witches, but there was no way he couldn’t feel the way magic hung thick in the air. You could feel it pulse, feel it breathe. You could have been locked in a windowless basement, wrapped in a tarp, and suffering from history’s worst head cold and you still would have known what day it was.

But you tried to be kind. It helped that you counted to ten, then twenty as you took your position on the couch once more. That brief break helped keep your tone even as you answered, “It’s All Hallows’ Eve.” 

Beetlejuice looked blank for a moment, then let out a cackle that belonged on every Halloween sound effect CD you’d grown up hearing. “That explains the power. The way it’s just spillin’ outta you.” 

The way he said it turned an already-odd statement into something dirty. When he licked his lips, tongue only serving to draw attention to his overly sharp teeth, you could tell it had been on purpose. “Don’t you dare. We still have work to do.” 

“C’mon, babes,” he purred, clearly not dissuaded by your sharp tone. “You know I feed on sex. It’ll make both of us feel better.” 

“And then I end up doing the rest of this by myself?” you demanded, gesturing broadly to the mass of papers across your coffee table. “I’ll pass, thanks. At least choose a name. Then we’ll have sex before you leave. Okay?” 

“I think better when my dick doesn’t have dibs on the blood supply,” Beetlejuice countered, unabashedly adjusting himself. “It just makes sense - I suck a little power from the person I fuck and ya have way too much power going on right now. I’m not gonna be able to focus until the two of us get down and dirty.”

“Well, we can cross sweet-talking off your list of skills,” you said dryly. 

Beetlejuice scoffed. “Toots, we both know dirty talk is the most important skill. Fuck sweet-talking. Besides, we both know how good I am with my tongue.” 

You rolled your eyes, though it wasn’t easy to look away from the dizzying display created by his waggling eyebrows. “Beej…” 

“Okay, I’ll make a deal with ya.” That got your attention. If there was one thing Beetlejuice took seriously, it was a deal. “Lemme remind ya how much ya like my tongue, then I’ll do as much boring paperwork as ya want.”

It seemed like a good deal. That in itself was suspicious. You narrowed your eyes at him. “Don’t you disappear as soon as the terms of the deal are complete?” 

“What? No, that’s not true! Who told ya-?” Beetlejuice dropped his offended act when you didn’t seem even slightly convinced. “Okay, I usually do, but it’s not a requirement. It’s just a convenient out, ya know? But I don’t have to leave right away. Don’t’cha remember the first deal we made?”

“Yeah, I do remember,” you admitted. The demon nodded, but otherwise, kept watching you expectantly. You sighed despite yourself. You didn’t want to break your concentration streak, but Beetlejuice had already done that. And you couldn’t deny that part of you was eager to see how the extra power would impact sex. 

So you fixed Beetlejuice with a hard stare. “And you promise that you’ll actually help afterward?” 

“Absolutely, doll,” he said, nodding too many times. “Anything ya want, I’ll do it. I promise. I swear.” 

“And it’s not going to hurt when you siphon power from me?” you checked. 

He shrugged. “Ya haven’t complained any of the other times.” 

The suspicion you felt must have been clear on your face, since Beetlejuice rose up on his knees. With the broken springs and worn cushions of your couch, your faces were on the same level. “One way to check.” 

Well, surely there was nothing to lose by this point… You leaned forward, tasting the mossy rain scent of Beetlejuice on the air an instant before your lips met. Someone gasped and you weren’t entirely sure whether it was you or the demon. The power had gathered where you touched him, like static electricity in a globe. It focused on the places where your skin touched, making your lips and tongue tingle as you explored just how strong an effect the magic had on you.

When you parted, both you and Beetlejuice were panting. He watched you intently, pupils blown wide with desire. You couldn’t blame him - it had felt amazing, and if he was right, you were actually losing power. How incredible would it feel if you had been gaining it instead?

“Okay,” you relented. “I guess we can- ah!”

Without warning, Beetlejuice worked his magic and stripped every stitch of clothing from you. His shirt was gone, but he was still wearing his pants. One grubby sock clung to his foot. If pressed, you would have bet that he didn’t own a pair of socks, let alone wear them. 

Before you could begin processing that, he had muscled his way between your legs and grabbed behind your knees. After a hard yank, he buried his face between your legs as you gasped and clutched his head.

Your hands flew to his hair, burying in the thick, shockingly soft strands as you tried to catch your breath and moan at the same time. “Beetle-”

Sharp teeth sank into the tender skin of your inner thigh and you let out a soft cry. “None’a that. You know the rules,” Beetlejuice murmured against you, kissing your leg gently before he set to work sucking a mark into your flesh. Just as the pressure of his lips seemed to reach an apex, the magic felt like it took a deep breath, gathering where Beetlejuice was pressed. 

The resulting pulse of magic made you groan… and pulled a whimper out of Beetlejuice. 

Before you could fully soak that noise in, though it was echoing deliciously in your ears, Beetlejuice moved back toward more sensitive places. His tongue slid out of his mouth… and out… and out, until the tip of it was wriggling against you without him moving any closer to your core. It was disturbing, almost enough to shake you from your lustful stupor, but then it brushed over your clit and you stopped caring. 

 Beetlejuice reined himself in, bringing his tongue back to a normal length as he nosed up and down your slit, laving everything with attention. Well, almost everything. He seemed to be pointedly avoiding your clit then. Part of you was grumpy about that, but with the intensity of everything else, you had to wonder if you would survive him making direct contact with all of the nerves gathered there. 

But you hardly had a moment to note the lack of stimulation before your attention was drawn elsewhere. One thick, cool finger pierced the heart of you and thrust ever deeper until it was buried as far as he could reach. The intrusion felt sharp and intense, but right in a way that felt far too important considering that it was nothing more than a finger. 

You knew he was a powerful demon and you had a half a beat to wonder if he could shift forms, or alter his usual one. Gifting himself several extra mouths and tongues was the only way you could picture him being everywhere it felt like he was. 

Of course, all of those musings were there one instant and gone the next. That was approximately how long it took the sensations to hit you, and then the only thing you could do was desperately bury your hands in Beetlejuice’s hair and ride his tongue.

He gave you plenty to work with, too. He had proven several times that he had far too long a tongue for a typical human, and he seemed determined to coax every inch of it into the tight clasp of your core. As soon as you got used to the odd flexibility of the muscle inside of you, your body clenched so hard that you thought you would push him back out. At any rate, you were quickly getting addicted to the sensation. 

When Beetlejuice withdrew his tongue, it was to give his full attention to that wonderfully sensitive bud at the top of your slit. He didn’t ease into it - no, he wrapped his lips around it and sucked hard. 

You shrieked, thighs fighting to close and push him out, but the demon simply tossed your legs over his shoulders. With your calves and feet dangling helplessly down his back, your kicks were ineffective. You were utterly at his mercy as he feasted on you, and Beetlejuice had never struck you as the merciful type. Your hips danced in his steely grip and even you couldn’t tell whether you were trying to move closer to him or further away. 

Your climax hit you out of nowhere, fully blindsiding both you and Beetlejuice. Your throat hurt with the noises you were forcing from it, but you couldn’t hear any of them. The flood of pleasure rushing through your brain made it ignore silly things, like your sense of hearing. Your fingers were sank deep in Beetlejuice’s hair, wrapped so tightly that your fingers ached with it. You used that grip to hold him against you, hips bucking as you rode his face.

The orgasm was like a feedback loop - the sounds he made sent a wave of wetness between your thighs and a wave of magic absolutely everywhere on your body. When the magic tingled its way through you, it impacted Beetlejuice as well. He was moaning helplessly, fingers convulsing on your hips. The few times you were able to pry your eyes open, you found that he had his closed. 

The pleasure stretched on and on, lasting until your body was aching and your folds were too sensitive to be touched. Beetlejuice was still working you, trying to draw out sensations that had already concluded. You couldn’t fully blame him, though: you were still holding him in place and he didn’t have a choice. 

When you managed to release your grip on his hair, Beetlejuice flopped backward, the hard impact leaving him sprawled on the floor. 

“That was… incredible,” you panted out at last.

“You’re tellin’ me, babes,” Beetlejuice said, sitting up with a wince and a glance at his crotch. “If I don’t take care’a this soon, I’m gonna peel off some skin with these pants.”

“Did you..?” you started, trailing off awkwardly. Ridiculous as it was, it seemed indelicate to ask your demonic lover if he had come in his pants. Instead, you just gave a vague sort of wave. “You know…”

“Go off like a kid who just saw his first nudie mag?” Beetlejuice asked, waggling his eyebrows. “Yeah, sure fuckin’ did.” 

“‘Nudie mag’?” you echoed, grimacing. “Are you a Beastie Boy circa 1992? Never say that again.”

“That song was ‘86, but fine,” he agreed easily. “How about-?”

“Why didn’t you just magic your pants away when you did everything else?” you asked loudly, talking over the first of what promised to be a long list of euphemisms for porn. 

“Hey, it takes a lot of concentration to do what I do,” Beetlejuice informed you haughtily. “And I was a little occupied. It seemed more important to get ya naked than make sure I was, too. Just couldn’t wait to get my mouth on that cunt…” 

His gaze got a little intent at that. Your face warmed with embarrassment and your core gave a throb of either eagerness or dismay, you weren’t sure which. But since you weren’t ready to even think about going for another round, you put on your sternest look and tone. “Beetlejuice.”

“Okay, okay,” he agreed gracelessly. “I got my shirt off, but the pants… Well, it’s a delicate area. I actually went too far the other way. This isn’t even mine.” 

You watched Beetlejuice’s toes wriggling in the filthy sock - especially easy given the large hole over his big toe - and shook your head. “Anyway, I hope that was enough of a break for you. We still have work to do for your store.” 

Beetlejuice pursed his lips and made a loud farting sound. “I still think the name is fine.” 

“Yeah?” you asked challengingly. “Let me go ahead and try it out: Bee-”

A mossy-smelling hand clapped over your mouth before you could fully finish the first syllable. “Anyone ever told ya that you’re too mean for how pretty you are?” 

You would have accused him of sucking up if he didn’t sound so disgruntled. “No.” 

Beetlejuice didn’t seem to have any trouble deciphering the muffled word you’d said behind his hand. “Then you’re either meaner to me than you are to them or they’re idiots.”

“Enough sweet talk practice,” you declared. “What do you want to name your store?” 

“I dunno.” Beetlejuice folded one arm behind his head, and there was something about the angle of his elbow that looked either painful or inhuman. You started getting dizzy when you thought about it, so you focused on the wet spot on the crotch of his obnoxiously striped pants to distract yourself. It worked remarkably well. 

Beetlejuice was, of course, fully unaware of your inner distraction. He sighed, rolling his eyes so hard that you could only see the blankness of sclera between his eyelids. “Can’t we do somethin’ easy, like ‘Wicked’?” 

“I think there could be some confusion there,” you reminded him, half-chuckling. Your amusement faded when Beetlejuice gave you a nonplussed stare. “You know, the hit Broadway musical about a girl with green skin? Could be a relative, you know, though I don’t think hers was rot.”

“Mold,” he corrected. “I have mold, not rot. I wish I had rot. And I don’t really keep up on the Broadway musicals, toots. They’re always canceling the good ones and sending them out on a tour that’s probably just as good, but lacks the dependability of a permanent theater.” 

“What are you talking about?” you asked. “Just… not Wicked, okay?”

“Sure, fine,” Beetlejuice agreed, sticking his tongue out in concentration. “What about somethin’ that means the same thing?” 

“A synonym?” you mused. “Sure. Let’s see… Bad, wrong, evil, corrupt…”

“Nah, not the right vibe.” 

You nodded. “There are other meanings that lean more into the religious aspect of things, if that’s more along the lines of what you want. Immoral, ungodly, unholy…”

“Unholy has a nice ring to it,” Beetlejuice admitted. “But I don’t wanna give people the wrong idea. My store has plenty of holes in it.” 

Even when you made the noise that boast deserved, Beetlejuice was still grinning. You decided to push past it. “Hateful, rotten, villainous, impure, sinful…”

“That one,” Beetlejuice said decisively, sitting up and running a hand over the hair that you had mussed so thoroughly. “Sinful. It’s got everything I like. Sinning… and being… full. Yeah, Sinful. We’ll have to change the logo.” 

You nodded slowly, trying to commit his choice to memory. You really weren’t ready to stand up yet.

“And we’ll have to change the border.” When you glanced down, Beetlejuice was giving you a knowing look. “I know how much you don’t like the dick snake.” 

“I thought it was clever, having it designed as an ouroboros,” you objected. “Maybe we should add lips to where it’s eating the head. Then it’ll look more like a blow job and less like torture.” 

“Whatever floats their boat,” Beetlejuice told you with a shrug. “I don’t object to a little C&B torture.”

“Okay, I’m done with this conversation.” You stood from the couch, brushing random fuzz from your bare ass. There was a price to be paid for being naked and sweating on cushions that were falling apart. “Give me my clothes back. Now that you’ve picked a name, I can get started on all of the branding.” 

“Ooh, branding is fun.” 

You didn’t need to be psychic to know that he wasn’t talking about company branding… or to recognize that he was messing with you. Rather than reacting, you just threw a skeptical stare over your shoulder. “If you say so. Once we’ve figured out the logo, you can get it branded somewhere delicate. Now, are you giving me my clothes back or do I have to go find something to wear?” 

Beetlejuice pouted, but your clothes were back in a moment. In recognition of his lack of complaining, you decided not to mention that you were missing underwear. 

Again.

---

Author's Note - Thanks for reading and Happy Halloween! In case I offended anyone, I have not had the chance to watch Beetlejuice the Musical on tour. I'm sure it's just as good, but I couldn't resist a little fourth-wall breaking.

I don't offer a taglist for mature works, but you can find more on my masterlist.

[mabelstone]

Provocateur

matt stone x f!reader

genre: enemies to lovers, mature

summary: both trying to advance in the hierarchy of journalism, two sworn enemies will do anything (and anyone) to sabotage one another.

word count: 3.7k

cw: none really besides alcohol drinking. this is more an introductory chapter ❤️❤️ future chapters will be 18+

Her auburn hair shone under the stage lights as she answered questions at the podium. She had rather… interesting style, but that was a given considering she was the hottest artist in action right now. She wore a maxi dress made entirely from pages of her favourite books, mixed and matched poetry on frayed pieces of paper. With every step she took, you could hear the paper crinkle, and in no way was she comfortable. You couldn’t even wrap your mind around her Lady Gaga-esque fashion statements, or even the practicality of how her pieces worked. Albeit, you were completely and utterly fascinated by her. She was beautiful and had a cult following that would surely advance your career if you got the chance to write your article about her.

So that’s why you were here at the Metropolitan Museum of Arts in New York. You’d recently moved to a new prestigious journalism firm in the area, and you were more than prepared to step on some toes if you had to, determined to write your next piece on her. She went by the title Madame Provocateur, and by God, was that name perfect for her. She was here today to display her new artworks, selling for close to half a million dollars each. The artworks ranged from paintings depicting controversial opinions regarding war, to provocative nudist pieces, some even involving casts made of her and her partners’ genitals. As an art lover yourself, you were absolutely captivated by the sheer emotion of her pieces, especially when the overriding theme was rebellion and female liberation.

You dressed the part today, a long black faux leather coat that reached the back of your knees, matching faux leather books that hugged your calves. Your hair was slicked back, simple but dark makeup accentuating your features. You wore a beautiful - far too expensive - black dress underneath, sticking out like a sore thumb among the sea of people in bright colours.

As she stepped off the podium, you thought to yourself, this is my chance. You fixed your posture and casually approached her, the textbook definition of confident in your stature. As you opened your mouth to introduce yourself, a tall figure in an obnoxious emerald green suit slinked in front of you. What is that material? Velvet? You internally cringed, velvet was your least favourite texture.

“Madame,” he spoke cooly, extending his hand for her to shake. “It’s an honour to meet you, I’m a huge fan of your work. My name is Matt Stone, I’m a journalist.” You fought back the urge to roll your eyes as he continued babbling; the poor woman couldn’t get a word in if she tried. You took a glass of champagne from the waiter holding one of the trays like you see in the movies. This place was fancy.

“I was hoping to get your permission to write an article on you and your dedication to provoking controversial conversations in an ever advancing world.”

Oh please, you thought to yourself. Wonder how long he spent studying the thesaurus for that one.

You decided to interject, stepping toward the two of them. You didn’t even bother to acknowledge… what did he say his name was? Mark? Doesn’t matter, you pretended he wasn’t there. No time like the present, right?

“So sorry to interrupt, Madame,” you smiled, extending your hand to her as the other journalist did. “I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation. I won’t bore you with a thousand words, but I’m also a journalist and would love nothing more to write my article about you.” You placed a hand over your chest sincerely, pretending not to hear the scoff that came from the other journalist. “I’ve loved you since I was a teenager, it’d really mean the world to me.”

She looked between the two of you, seemingly unimpressed. She sighed before speaking, “I wonder how many others will ask me the same thing. I get this a lot, you know,” her French accent was thick, and her stare was painfully intimidating to say the least.

You finally looked to the man beside you, who shifted uncomfortably in his place. “But I suppose any press is good press,” she shrugged, looking between the two of you with pursed lips. “Write your little hearts out,” she feigned a smile, stepping away from the two of you.

You both stood there, absolutely shocked as you watched her disappear into the crowd.

He cleared his throat before turning to you, “didn’t catch your name. You are?”

“Y/N,” you looked up to him. Very handsome, short curly hair, peculiar oval shaped glasses.

“And your firm?”

“New York Times,” you grinned, still quite proud that you landed this position. “Trying to advance my position so, I really need this one.”

“Huh… never seen you around.” He rutted his jaw slightly before continuing, “I’ve been there for five years. I’m actually looking to advance as well so… I need this one.”

“Five years, huh? Never heard of you,” you stifled a grin as he clenched his jaw, starting to walk off. He followed close behind, exiting the museum with you. “Well, I’m doing this story. Sorry, sweetheart. I’m sure something else will come up for you.”

You bit your tongue to hold yourself back from arguing, hailing a cab from the street.

“Well, I am too,” you smiled sweetly, a cab pulling up to the curb. “May the best journalist win.”

“You’ll be okay,” he smiled back this time, stepping toward your cab. “I’m sure you’ll get used to losing. Or maybe you already are.”

You were shocked at his confidence, staring into the cab as he climbed in, jaw slack. “You getting in?” He smirked, patting the free seat beside him.

“Not with you,” you deadpanned, blood boiling at the way he shrugged and closed the door. You watched the cab pull away, arms folded over your chest like a spoilt child.

You climbed into the next cab, still in disbelief at what just unfolded with your supposed new coworker.

———

It was Friday morning the following day, and you walked into work with newfound confidence. You made your way into the large building, taking the lift to the highest floor to meet with your boss. Today he was setting you up with your own workspace and wanted to discuss what your next article would be. You knew your article would impress him, knowing the traction a story about Madame would bring. You scheduled your meeting extra early, hoping to be the first journalist to share your idea.

Once you reached his door, you knocked softly, awaiting his permission to enter.

“Come in,” you heard echo from the other side of the door, entering with a soft smile.

“Good morning,” you chirped, approaching his desk. His office was massive and had the most beautiful view of Manhattan.

“It is, isn’t it?” He smiled back, gesturing for you to sit before his desk. “We’re glad to have you on board.”

“Thank you, I’m so grateful for this opportunity,” you beamed, unable to contain the joy you felt. You hadn’t felt so excited in a long time, especially not for work.

“Speaking of opportunities, I see you’ve applied for our promotional position, yes?” He peered up at you through square framed glasses, his computer opened on what you presumed to be your file.

“Yes, sir,” you nodded, folding your hands over your lap. “I chose the topic for my article. Madame Provocateur, the French artist. She’s been the centre of a lot of controversy lately, I feel like she’ll bring us a lot of attention.”

“Well, you might have some competition,” he pursed his lips, checking the time before continuing, “our own Matthew Stone has taken an interest in her as well. He should actually be here soon.”

That motherfucker.

“May I ask what his article is specifically going to be about? Like, what topics will he cover?”

“Hm, I’ll be honest, he likes to stir the pot,” he chuckled, and you fought off a scoff. “He’ll likely be writing an exposè piece as he typically takes that route.”

You sucked your teeth, sinking back into your chair. Well, fuck. You definitely have competition.

“I’m happy for the two of you to discuss your articles, the last thing we need is interpersonal conflict.“

You heard an abrupt knock on the door, followed by none other than Mr Stone walking through the door wearing a well fitted grey suit.

You fought against the muscles in your eyes, forcing yourself not to roll them. I’m going to have a good day, you told yourself. My piece is going to be better, I am better.

“Good morning,” he grinned, taking a seat beside you. He took one look at you and his smile was wiped clean. “Oh… hello.”

“Morning,” you mumbled, shifting your eyes to your hands. The tension in the room grew thick immediately, the feeling comparable to hands around your throat.

“Do you two know each other?” Your boss spoke up, gesturing between you both.

“Nope,” you spoke up, flashing the best fake smile you could muster. You turned to face him, putting your hand out for Matt to shake. “Y/N, you must be Matthew? It’s lovely to meet you.”

“Yeah, likewise,” he gave you an equally fake smile, squeezing your hand a bit too hard. You winced silently, pulling away.

“Matthew, Y/N is writing a piece on Madame as well.”

“Oh, is she?” He turned to you, jutting his jaw as he had the night before.

“I want you to be adults about it. You’re both located in block B, so I’m sure you’ll have plenty of time to discuss.” Your boss gestured to the door, silently kicking the both of you out.

“Uh, block B, sir?” Matt questioned, tilting his head like a confused puppy would.

“Just for the time being,” he dismissed, eyes going back to his computer. “Your office is being renovated over the weekend, did you forget?”

“Oh, right, yeah.” He nodded, standing from the seat. He leaned forward and shook the bosses hand. Giving you one last look before leaving the room.

You followed suit, thanking your boss before following after the tall brunette. His steps were so large, you struggled to keep up. He got in the elevator and you had to practically run to make it in. He just laughed under his breath while you stared him down with daggers.

“So what’s your plan, huh?” You finally broke the silence between you both, immediately annoyed at the drawn out sigh he released. “An exposè?”

“Controversy sells,” he shrugged. “You’ll learn that after you get more… experience.”

You scoffed, following him out of the elevator to the B block of cubicles. “You know, I was gonna write the same thing.”

“Oh, really?” He asked, though it was more rhetorical sounding, as if it went in one ear and out the other.

“Mhm,” you followed him to two empty desks, one presumably yours as he took a seat at the one to the right. You took your seat, setting down your belongings, leaning on your elbows before continuing, “I have some connections.”

“Connections?” He scoffed, shaking his head before logging into his computer.

“I know where she’s headed this Saturday.” You spoke matter-of-factly.

“Mhm, the Little Red Door,” he looked up to you, mocking the surprised look on your face.

“How did you-“

“Look, kid. I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but it would be smart for you to pick a new topic.”

“Maybe I should,” you feigned a sigh, turning to log into your own computer. He seemed pleased with himself, patting you on the back before leaving his desk. This guy clearly got too much praise from mummy and daddy and genuinely believed the sun rose every morning for him. There was no way you were letting him upstage you. Somebody needed to knock him down a few pegs, and you were the perfect person to do so.

It was 5pm now, your eyes were going all blurry from staring at the screen all day. You jumped when you felt a big hand clasp your shoulder, turning to see none other than Matthew.

“Sorry, jumpy,” he laughed, gesturing to the clock on the wall. “It’s 5pm on a Friday. I’m not spending another minute longer in this building. Let’s go.”

“Let’s go?” You scoffed, logging off your computer and grabbing your things. He was still standing there… waiting for you?

“What’s an uptight girl like you get up to on a Friday night, hm?” He walked with his hands in his pockets, seemingly only bringing his phone and car keys to work. Douche.

“Oh, where to begin?” You joked, stepping into the elevator with him.

“I’m heading out for a drink if you wanna come,” he suggested, eyes scanning your face. Was he seriously asking you out?

“Maybe another time,” you shrugged, trying to maintain the attitude that you didn’t care. Or at least make him believe that. “Got a lot of research to do tonight. This guy at work stole my idea so uh, while he’s wasting time at the bar, I’ll be getting closer to my promotion.”

“I stole your idea?” He laughed incredulously, shaking his head at you. “I knew you were young but I didn’t think you were so immature.”

“Geez, sorry. Didn’t mean to strike a nerve,” you studied his face, the way his eyebrows knitted together when he was frustrated, the way he lazily leaned against the rails in the elevator. The way his dress shirt hugged his biceps so nicely. Stop, you scolded yourself mentally. “You don’t get rejected often, do you?”

He just shrugged, staring ahead at the elevator doors. “You might be pretty, but your looks don’t mean anything if you’re a bitch. I was just trying to be nice.”

You stood there, a bit speechless. This guy confused you on every level. First he was an arrogant asshole, then didn’t speak to you all day, then asks you out for drinks?

“I’m a bitch because I don’t want to go out with you? Get over yourself,” you scoffed for what felt like the thousand time that day, rolling your eyes at him.

“Don’t worry about it, kid,” he stepped through the elevator doors, walking away as he continued, “enjoy your ‘research,’” making air quotes with his fingers.

Why was I so rude? Wait, was I even rude? I’m allowed to say no. You were left again, conflicted and rendered speechless with one underlying thought.

He thinks I’m pretty.

When you got home, you followed your very structured routine. Feed the dog, shower, have dinner, then you could relax. You tried to do what you set out to do, pulling out your laptop to start your research.

All you could think about was Matthew, Matthew, Matthew. He plagued your brain; his pretty eyes, warm, deep voice, the way your stomach flipped when you kept replaying the moment he asked you for drinks.

Why did I say no? You mentally cursed yourself, deciding to crack open a bottle of red and try enjoy yourself. Truth is, you wanted to say yes. But something was holding you back. Maybe if you softened once you’d let him walk all over you? Maybe being nice was his way of throwing you off your game? Too late now.

You fought the thoughts of him the best you could, but eventually, you were overcome with curiosity. You reluctantly opened facebook, typing in his name. Turns out Matt Stone was a very common name. You eventually found him, seeing you had a few mutual friends.

Funny, when he wasn’t scowling or laughing at your expense, he was actually very handsome. Like… gorgeous. Aquiline nose comparable to a Greek God, the sharpest jawline you’d seen in a long time. When he smiled, his eyes crinkled, and his lips curved up revealing a small gap in his front teeth. You continued to scroll through his pictures, getting deep enough to see pictures from his early twenties. Woah. Big hair. Lots and lots of curls, and those oval framed glasses he seemingly always had.

You learned a bit about him. He was roughly 5-10 years older than you. He went to college in Colorado, but must’ve dropped out. He clearly thought he was hot shit, judging by the hundreds of photos on his timeline. He was unbelievably handsome, but you’d never give him the satisfaction of knowing you thought that.

By the time you’d finished the whole bottle of wine, the liquid courage coursed through your veins, controlling your fingers, adding him as a friend.

Shit, what if he thinks I was stalking him?

He added you back almost immediately so… too late. You tried to ignore the giddy feeling you got when you got the notification, opting for blaming it on the alcohol.

———

You had a somewhat productive day, having written the beginning of your article and feeling pretty good about it. Tonight, Madame was going to be at the Little Red Door; a small-ish bar located in downtown Manhattan. It was quite exclusive, but luckily, you had connections. It was relatively cold in Manhattan you’d grown to learn, so you put on a mid length, beige Burberry coat, with a fitted black dress underneath for once the alcohol heated you up. Your black stilettos clacked along the wooden floor in your apartment as you grabbed your handbag and headed out. It was approaching 7pm, and this was around the time Madame was expected to show.

You walked in, being greeted by the bartender you occasionally hooked up with. Whoops.

“How’s my favourite lady?” He beamed, already preparing your drink without you having to order.

“So so,” you smiled, tilting your hand side to side. “And you?”

“Better now,” he grinned, sliding the martini toward you. “This one’s on the house. Talk soon, okay?”

You nodded, blushing a bit as you found a table to sit at. He was handsome, tall, dark features, tattoos completely covering his arms. He was nice enough too, had a nice place, nice car. He was a bit of a coke head though, so you reserved your time with him for strictly sex only.

Fifteen minutes passed and still no Madame. You were halfway through your second martini when Matthew walked in. You knew he would be here, part of the reason you spent extra time on your makeup tonight.

You watched him order, deciding whether you should approach him or act like you didn’t see him. He seemed to have made his mind up, walking straight past you to an empty booth. Your heart accelerated when you saw him. Dressed more casually than at work, but still, he looked so clean. A black fitted t-shirt with black slacks. He had a silver chain on and his usual watch. He watched the band performing live music as he sipped on his beer, tapping the table along to the song.

Either he actually didn’t see you, or he was pretending not to. There he goes stealing my idea again. You decided to bite the bullet, taking a deep breath before grabbing your drink and approaching his table. He finally acknowledged you as you walked over, eyeing you up and down, righting himself in his seat.

You slid into the booth, blank expression. “Matt.”

He cleared his throat, bringing his gaze to your eye level.

“Jumpy,” he nodded toward you, taking another sip of his beer.

“I want to apologise for being rude to you,” you couldn’t meet his gaze, always having a weird reaction to sincerity. “You were just trying to be nice and I was being salty. Sorry.”

“Don’t sweat it,” he smiled slightly, looking to his hands on the table. “Shouldn’t have called you a bitch.”

You sucked your teeth, only nodding in response. It was slightly awkward considering you only met two days ago and you’d already gone through the emotions of despise and lust for this man.

“I don’t think she’s coming,” you broke the silence, fiddling with the toothpick in your martini.

“That’d be my luck,” he sighed, running his hand through his hair.

Again, awkward silence. The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife. “Want another drink?”

He nodded, eyes glued to the band playing across the bar. Asshole. Whatever, you were gonna leave after this drink anyway.

You wandered back up to the bar, ordering a drink for you and your coworker.

Your occasional friends with benefits bartender looked almost offended, looking in the direction of Matt. “You on a date?”

“Him? Oh god no,” you shook your head incessantly, scrunching your face up in distaste. “Co-worker. We just happened to run into each other, I guess. He’s a prick.”

“Want me to spit in his drink?” He laughed, and you laughed too for the first time tonight. You shook your head again, taking the drinks from him.

“Thank you,” you smiled, walking away still giggling. Matt’s eyes were trained on you as you approached the booth again, sliding the drink to him.

“Weird, you must have a funny side,” he murmured, taking the drink from you.

“Are you gonna thank me, or?” You deadpanned, both of you in a staring competition now.

“Thank you,” he smiled, eyes still glued to you. “So who is that guy?”

“Just a friend,” you shrugged, eyes finally leaving his.

“Friends don’t look at each other like that,” he pursed his lips, toying with the neck of his bottle. “Are you fucking him?”

You snapped your head around at this, sure your ears were deceiving you. “‘Scuse me?”

“C’mon, you’re obviously screwing each other.”

“I- wh- that isn’t any of your business, Matthew,” you stuttered, tripping over your own tongue as your cheeks reddened. His face lit up at your implicit admission, a little bit surprised.

“Guess you aren’t as uptight as I thought,” he chuckled, and you threw him a glare.

“Like you’ve never had meaningless sex before,” you rolled your eyes, unamused by the mischievous look on his face.

He shrugged, still grinning. “Touché. I wanna hear more about this. Wanna do some shots?”

[obsessivelyloved]

I'm obsessed with this youtube video on exploring old dead games

__________________________________________________________

The upbeat tunes were eerie to listen to as he explored the game. It sounded quite similar to things he heard growing up, from commercials for these computer games he was never allowed to play. The family computer was really just his parent's computer. And they never trusted these types of games. 

His parents had claimed that anyone talking to people online was a weirdo. So. Anything with people in it was a no-go. It was his handheld game or nothing. 

 So it was cool, in a way, to explore this online game. It was empty, devoid of life, but it was interesting. Even with the unnerving tunes. 

It made Edd wish a little that his parents hadn’t been so strict about online safety when he was a kid. He would have loved making new friends on this game's servers in its hayday. Because contrary to their beliefs, not everyone online was a gross weirdo trying to get kid’s home addresses. 

Ugh, Edd did not miss seeing those PSAs on the tv or hearing about them in school.

Edd sighed as his avatar stopped moving. The building he was trying to enter was trying so hard to render and load. It had been so long since this particular server had been updated, let alone used by people. He had to wait a lot for textures and stuff to load. 

It took a few minutes, but shop after shop started appearing. Then the floor texture loaded, then…. a person! 

Edd wiggled his mouse and tapped on his arrow key, impatiently wanting his character to move already. This was the first person he’s seen in this game! And he tried six servers already! 

But as he got closer to the other person, his face fell. There was no username hovering above the avatar. It was merely an NPC. Or a statue, since it wasn’t moving. 

“Aw man,” Edd muttered, slumping down. He’d just have to keep an eye out as he explored forgotten worlds. 

Still, he moved closer to check out the statue. Finally close enough to see it, he stopped.

What the hell? Edd thought to himself. The statue was plain, up until you got to its eyes. It appeared to be a man, with black pants and a blue hoodie. With large, black empty eyes. 

Edd huffed. It was probably someone’s last project, a way to scare anyone exploring. He moved around the statue, giving it one last look, before he moved on. 

As expected, the game freaked out as he left the building. Slowly, the world loaded, grass and buildings popping up. 

Edd moved on, lagging as he interacted with things. 

He found the statue again. 

This time, it was sitting on a park bench. Watching him, no matter which direction he went. And it kept appearing in places Edd’s avatar stopped at, while the world loaded. Whoever’s idea it was to scare new players, it was working. 

Edd went to click on the leave server button but…. nothing happened. Goddammit. He was going to have to close the game and then wait forever for it to load back up. 

Tom: leaving so soon?

Edd stared at the chat, baffled. He spun his avatar around, searching for another player. Not a single user name popped up in sight. Let alone another avatar. Who was talking to him? 

Colalover15: hi! have you been following me? 

Edd nervously typed. He didn’t feel like getting jumpscared by some random player. This game was unintentionally scary already. 

Tom: yes. you are the first player I’ve seen in a long time. no one joins anymore. 

Colalover15: I bet! I’ve joined six servers and haven’t seen a single person lol. do you play often? where are you? 

Tom: I’m right in front of you. 

Oh hell no. The only thing in front of him was the statue. That’s it, Edd was done. He was not participating in a creepypasta or urban legend. 

He clicked the X button on the window and waited. And tried again. And again. 

He frowned, his heart beginning to beat fast. 

Tom: why are you trying to leave? aren’t you having fun? 

Tom: are you bored of this world? 

Faster than the game had been loading all night, the world changed. A new map appeared, a different set of cheerful music playing. Edd grimaced, quickly muting his volume. This one was actively giving him a headache. 

He was in a room now, the walls gray and furniture scattered around. Things he was sure kids in the early 2000s would have loved popped up. 

Obscure and old pop artist pictures, ads, and activities flooded the walls of what Edd assumed to be a hub building. The statue was still standing in front of him. 

Tom: is this better? 

Colalover15: it’s very interesting! i haven’t seen some of this stuff in years. how did you do that? are you a dev? 

Edd hoped this was just a weird dev messing with him. But, still, it was best to be polite. Just in case. As he waited for the person’s reply, he ventured closer to the pictures on the walls. As expected, the links on them were dead. Each webpage was long gone.

Tom: Is it not 2004? 

Can of worms. This was a can of worms Edd did not want to fucking open. Since closing the game window wasn’t working, he clicked his power button. To his horror, nothing happened. Perhaps it was a bit over dramatic, but he yanked out the computer’s power cord. 

His screen flickered, then turned off. Ugh, Edd really hoped that the game hadn’t turned out to have a virus or anything malicious in the code. He really couldn’t afford to replace his desktop. And his parents would be so mad at him… 

Speaking of parents, it was a school night. It was best that he got to bed before one of them got up. 

He laid down on his side, facing his wall. With his heart still racing, he snuggled into his blankets. As scary as that was, he was pretty excited to tell his friends at school about it. At the very least, Tord would like it. Then, they could explore it together at his house, on his computer. 

Just as Edd was falling asleep, cheery pop music played on a low volume. 

Someone was standing behind him.

[dee-in-the-box]

even MORE kennedy family hcs if possible :evil:

woo!

and on today's headcanons: Visits With Family (when Jack and Peter were little)

(* also keep in mind: Jack is trans)

Visits with Marshall's Family (aka Dad's side of the family):

Marshall's family is. Loud. not great for sensory issues.

Jack and Peter have a lot of cousins on that side. so lots of people to play with.

Jack was always a more rambunctious kid, something that a lot of other kids found weird for a "little girl," but his cousin were just like "well, as long as she* can keep up, then she can play!"

Jack could, in fact, keep up

they were definitely more understanding about some of Jack and Peter's sensory issues, and the fact that they couldn't exactly help it. didn't help the noise problem, though

when Jack came out as trans, they didn't fully get it, but they were chill (especially Aunt Jan, she thought it was cool :]). His grandfather said "Well, Marshall, I guess that means you've got another man to help you around the house, eh?" even though Jack was. very much already doing that

all in all? pretty nice, just a bit too loud for the two of them to spend much time around.

Visits with Diane's Family (aka Mom's side):

hell. It Is Hell.

Diane's family absolutely sucks and is shitty to just about everyone, and that extends to their grandkids.

they give zero shits about any texture issues Jack or Peter might have. oh, you didn't like the dress we gave you, Jackie? how ungrateful, that cost us a lot of money, you know. what do you mean Peter doesn't like the onions in the spaghetti sauce because he doesn't like how squishy they are? well, he's either gonna have to man up or starve, because we're not making him something different just because he can't stop being a crybaby.

seriously, it got to the point that Diane would have to call her parents before they visited so she could make sure they were actually making something that Peter and Jack could eat.

her family also tried to shove Gender Roles onto her kids. which Diane fucking hated, by the way

Jack like wearing pants more since skirts and dresses typically had the Worst fucking textures. it wasn't even necessarily because he hated the dresses and stuff themselves, it was just because it was impossible to find anything (affordable) that didn't have World's Worst Fucking Texture. unfortunately uh. Diane's Family Was Very Judgemental About This. if any family pictures were being taken, then Jack was basically shoved into a dress. this should go without saying, but Jack Fucking Hated That.

due to Diane's family shoving gender roles on everyone despite how much they all fucking HATE it, Jack's usually laughed off whenever he wants to play with some of the boys. playing with the girls also sucks because "they don't ever wanna talk about dogs or go garden with me in the dirt because they "dOn't waNnA GeT meSsY". they just gossip and have no idea how to do hair Gently" (< Jack doesn't mind gossip, but theirs was Boring, and uh. Need I Remind You Of The Autism)

due to this, Jack Really Hates Visiting That Side Of The Family.

coming out as trans was. A Fucking Nightmare. Diane tried to make it clear that they supported her son, but her parents were just like Oh, so Jacqueline's one of Those people, huh? you can. Imagine how things went from there

anyway, completely unrelated, but Jack and Peter kinda cut that side of the family off after their parents died. I'm Sure There's No Particular Reason For That

[wackapedia]

Lucerys Velaryon And The Color Blue

Lucerys Velaryon x sea creature! reader You’ve existed for years beyond measure, exploring the known world and observing the tides as civilization changes. Its a lonely life, being the only one of your kind, until a gentle young prince discovers you and keeps you company.

Wordcount: 1,536

Warnings: Just the tides and other sea creatures, a brief mention of what happened at Storm’s End

The water has always been your home. Years and years, maybe even before civilizations you've roamed the vast seas of this world. There was no one else like you. Fish, both ancient and modern, the great golden Kraken herself, sea dragons, leviathan whales, and the drowned god all came and went, but you remained like a stubborn constant of the world. You never really found meaning to your existence, your long life is both a gift and a curse of nature.

Some time ago you found yourself near a fairly new island. There was a volcanic eruption here some time ago that caused this crust of land to rise. They built a castle on it and people came and went. 

and flying dragons, too.

This was the first time you met Lucerys Velaryon.

He was still a small being, clinging to his mother as he disembarked the ship. You kept yourself hidden under the tides as you observe the family.

The first few days you always saw him near the beach, sobbing, if not crying to himself. For the first time in years, you leave the waters, your feet itching at the rough texture of sand. Using the few words you knew of the common tongue, you became fast friends with the young prince and grew up with him until he became a young man.

"Where are you going, Lucerys Velaryon?" You asked him one morning when he came to see you by the shore to say goodbye. He used to ask you to call him with the shortened version of his name, but it didn't feel right, cutting one's name short for your own convenience. In time he got tired of asking you and just rolled with it.

"My grandfather will reaffirm my inheritance as the future lord of the tides." He sighs worriedly. His recent duties have been stressing him out as of late. You didn't understand why things needed reaffirming. 

"I am the lady of the tides! I can reaffirm you here and make you my lord!" You suggest. Lucerys laughs awkwardly.

To prove to him that you weren't jesting, you proclaim him as your Lord Of The Tides, raining sand upon his hair. He quickly pats it away, laughing genuinely this time.

You've grown up together but your mindset remained simple. He doesn't bother correcting you. He thinks of himself as a bad teacher, and he wanted you to keep your innocence of the surface world. With sand still on his hair and clothing, he bid his goodbye and left for King's Landing.

Lucerys knew you weren't like him or the rest of the race of men. From a distance, you looked quite human, but there was a certain gait and cadence in you that was both pleasing and unnatural. His mother once said there are certain wonders in the world that can not be discerned by our minds and it's best not to spoil them with scrutiny.

Upon his return, Lucerys Velaryon rarely came up to see you on the beach. You scaled the walls of the castle to watch him pour over his books and scrolls and lists of things that didn't matter. The first time you called him from the window of the castle, he smiled and pulled you in through the window. And then scolded you for climbing dangerously. "The rocks are sharp and the tides are unpredictable!" He warned.

"Not if they're my friends!" You respond.

You spent the afternoon watching him stare at multiple pages of paper. He said it's called reading.

When you got awfully bored, he tours you through the castle, showing you different rooms and furniture. They all seem unimpressive to you but it felt rude to say it so you kept your silence.

The second time you scale the rocks to his room, he catches you and escorts you through the doors, sternly telling you to never do it again. You do it again several times anyway. 

Mostly he ignores you or shuts the curtains on you. You toss shells and pebbles into the room just to catch his attention, and sometimes it works.

Lucerys Velaryon gathers your little gifts, keeping them neatly piled in a corner of his room. You spend your days looking for nice rocks and shells to offer him, hoping to pique his interest.

You get distracted with your search, bringing you to great distances. You return days later, bringing bags of shells and rocks from different corners of the world. This time you don't toss them in. You make a neat little stack of about five or six shells and pebbles by his windowsill, entertaining yourself by keeping them balanced. Lucerys Velaryon watches you from across the window and he smiles a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. He smiles but he doesn't speak to you anymore.

The stacks of pebbles and shells grow, filling the lower edge of his window and still, he doesn't spare you a word.

Until one afternoon.

"I am promised to another." His deep voice almost startles you while you were clinging to the edge of his window. 

'Promised' was an unfamiliar word in the common tongue. He must've noticed your confusion.

"I am to marry someone else." He says again, eyes sad and downcast.

Marriage was also a mysterious concept for you, but this was a little more familiar.

"Do you want to marry someone else?" you ask, tilting your head in puzzlement.

"I have to. It is my duty to my family."

He sighs and returns to his books and scrolls when he realized he was making you more confused.

"You don't have to if you don't want to" You offer, not understanding what the conflict was.

"Yes I do but you'd never understand! All you care about are your rocks and shells and the tides!" Lucerys Velaryon storms away, muttering to himself. He was like the tides, constantly shifting and unpredictable. Warm and unrelenting. It was like being caught in a cruel whirlpool with no escape.

For the next few days, unfamiliar ships and small boats rush in and out of the island. There's a lot of commotion with man's scheming and politicking and making their lives complicated. And then you spot Lucerys Velaryon taking his flying-dragon, heading south. As the sun sets, the sea tells you he is in the Stormlands.

While he was away you climb into his study, where your small pile of rocks was. A lot of them have been knocked over, and some of them scattered on the floor. A lot of the more crystalline ones and the smooth-shaped ones were specially stored inside a display cabinet, Along with sheets of paper. At first, you thought they were the things that Lucerys Velaryon studied, but upon closer inspection, they were drawings and renderings of your visage. It's what he's scribbling when he thinks you don't notice.

You were standing at the edge of the sharp volcanic rocks, the sea crashing violently against your feet. Either a warm welcome for you to come back to the tides or a plea to stay on the surface. Lucerys Velaryon left without a word of farewell. He's left, just like the creatures of the sea who were slowly harvested by man's cruelty. Like the golden Kraken's compromise of staying in her cavern for the next hundred years, and the schools of flower fish freezing into the northern ice. Once again, your existence is meaningless.

The wave crashes into the rock, and the sea takes you back.

You were on your way to join the golden Kraken in his hundred-year meditation when a loud crash reverberates and hits the ocean floor. Another soul has joined the waters, the tide whispered. A flying-dragon and his princely rider. You decide to put off your visit for another day and see what's happened southward.

As his weight sinks down, you catch Lucerys Velaryon among the tinted waters. Dark fluids leak from him and his flying-dragon, but you're not worried, seawater heals all wounds.

Lucerys Velaryon doesn't wake. His hair floats around his head like a lionfish's halo. His weight sinks you down closer to the dark depths of the ocean floor. You follow him down until it was almost too dark to see. A few disagreeable fish begin to munch on his flying-dragon. Some of them attempt to approach your Lord Of The Tides but you grant them a rude glare of your bioluminescence, causing them to rush away. 

And then, abruptly, Lucerys Velaryon stiffens in your grasp. Packets of air escape his chest, floating up to rush back into the atmosphere. You both sink faster into the darkness until another pair of bioluminescent eyes, green and familiar, stare back at you.

Rhaenyra Targaryen mourns the loss of her dear son. She stands in silence by the beach with only the crashing of waves to console her. She removes her sandals and walks barefoot, the tips of the waves caress the ends of her dress. Her footprints are quickly wiped away by the waves, pushing and pulling against the rocks and sand.

The queen stops in front of a large rock with a tide-flattened side up. On top of it are two piles of beautiful pebbles and shells, similar to what her son kept in his study.

Rhaenyra Targaryen's silver head swiftly turns to the blue horizon of the sea, as if expecting to see someone there. She is reminded of Luke and that otherworldly friend of his. 

Rhaenyra Targaryen smiles.

[vulpeskorsak]

Day 4 of Whumptober 2024: Angel

No. 4: HALLUCINATIONS Hypnosis | Sensory Deprivation | “You’re still alive in my head.” (Billy Lockett, More)

AO3 got banned in my country and VPNs have not been working well on my PC lately, so I am not going to post these there for now. But hopefully I can do that at some point.

This is taking place in my own DnD/fantasy world.

Barnaby is a fungal mage who loves mixing drinks. A mycologist mixologist, if you will.

This is a moment from his teenagehood.

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

Angel

At first when Barnaby opens his eye, he is not sure if he is awake or not. He cannot feel the right side of his body. He is pretty sure his right eye is open but he cannot see. Yesterday it hurt really bad but he could still see out of it. Yesterday? No, for the past week… maybe. He is not sure. Time has become hard to comprehend ever since the fungal infection has entered his blood stream. In the first days he struggled to tell the difference between hours and minutes. But not always. It was not that bad. He simply felt a little distracted, that was all. But now… he is struggling to tell how long he has been awake or how long he has been sick.

He tries to lift his right arm but he is unsure if he succeeded. His neck refuses to budge, though he can still feel parts of it, so he cannot turn his head to look down at his own body. He gives up and chooses to stay still.

The angel from the week before returns. She is wearing his mom's magical necklace and her crown and is made entirely of cold blue light, though her presence is warm. He does not remember the last time he saw his mom or dad. They must be worried sick. But why are they not coming to see him?

Barnaby tries to open his month to ask about them but he can only do so half way. Something foreign is in his mouth and around it. What is it? He tries to think. The answer suddenly appears in his mind as if it was always there. Mushrooms. Yes, of course. Many pretty and colourful mushrooms decided he was a good place to grow. He remembers now. He saw himself in the mirror at some point. And he was able to look down at some point. They were bursting out of his skin, out of his leg, out of his side, out of his face, out of his eye, painful at first but eventually they gifted him numbness. Maybe, they are not as bad as he thought at first. They feel quite friendly now that he has spent so much time in their embrace. Though he would prefer it if he could move. And eat. But at least it does not hurt anymore.

He misses climbing trees and scaling walls. His parents' castle walls are practically made for climbing. Yes. That is it. He remembers now. The Fungal Plague. He was not allowed to go outside the walls ever since it has begun spreading in their land, even if he promised to just stay in the woods and not go to the town to see his mates. He was bored. He was soooo boooored. Thus, he decided to sneak out. He scaled the wall and went for a walk in the forest just beyond them… Then there was movement in a nearby bush and something, more mushroom than man, lunged at him, biting him on the side. Yes. That was it. And then he kicked it off himself and ran home and his dad yelled at him and then began crying and his mom stared at him with her cold death glare usually reserved for the worst of the worst situations.

Barnaby tries to open his mouth again. It works but that brings him an odd tearing pain as something liquid fills his mouth. It tastes absolutely foul but he has no clue what it is. But he needs to use this opportunity.

"Where… is… mom?" He manages to gurgle out to the angel, lifting his left arm towards her before the liquid rushing into his throat making him choke and cough violently.

The angel takes his hand and says something. She is warm though her touch has an odd velvety texture to it. She sounds sad, sadder than she has ever sounded, but he cannot tell what she is saying.

Some more angels flock towards her, creatures of pure white light. One of them gently takes her hand and guides it away from him, making her let go. He is sad now. He likes this angel the most. He is scared they will make her leave again. Tears run down both sides of his face. They feel wet. It is nice to feel something for a chance.

He is so tired of this unmoving horizontal existence. And so bored. And now he is sad. Maybe, if the mushrooms are really his friends, he can convince them to let him go. He really wants to see his mom and dad again. All he can do is hope and pray that something will save him.

His natural magic sparks to life deep inside him, slowly but surely beginning to pulse through the mycelium that has taken root deep within his body, fighting to take control of the plague, make it submit to Barnaby's will, though he himself is too tired to notice the beginning of this battle.

[yomiurinikei]

Hey!! You can totally decline (I got no idea if your ask box is open)

But can you write some random Utsuro hc?

I love my man way to much

siiiiiighs. i tried to make this longer i really did </3…. simply wasn’t in the stars! the world doesn’t want me to be crazy abt utsuro. oh my fuckass neighbor is being weird again. gdi ANYWAYS !!

anyways!! my inbox is always open, i’m really bad at getting ask memes done admittedly, but hc requests ALWAYS get finished (even if my memory loss become an issue and i forget that someone requested hcs. tee hee. totally not what happened here)

anyways!! order up here it is i hope u enjoy!!! 🫶

~*~

•spends a lot of time inside (always finds people looking for a housesitter, wins a raffle to go travel to a event w/ hotel charges includes, etc) and swears up and down that he hates being outside

•but then when he actually steps foot outdoors he likes it a lot

•there’s nothing to really do, so while he gets bored p quick, he isn’t really actively engaging with his divine luck, past the weather being nice and things like that, he gets to just chill, and let the hours go by

•used to play puzzle games, bc he figured even if he knew the solution on instinct, he at least had to pass the time by moving pieces and the like

•then he tried 2048 and noticed he always got the tiles he needed, and that without thinking, he always made the best move to combine pieces,

•and started paying more attention, and realized that even if he was actively engaged in smthn else, his hands would just move on their own to play

•aaaand he promptly got fed up with it all and hasn’t played anything like that since

•gives like. really really bad advice. just absolutely horrible advice 

•example: he has -3 street smarts and will ONE HUNDRED PERCENT give u horrible advice that will get u mugged. 

•he has never had any reason to fear for his life or safety (his well being and mental health is shot to hell but-) and it is very apparent in the way he will just. completely casually walk across a highway to save time when going somewhere

•for a guy who could probably solve the millenium prize problems immediately if he knew they existed, he is. not very smart

•speaking of. i 100% believe he has all those great internationally known puzzles/treasure hunts/etc solved. he just chooses not to share

•has some degree of enhanced/higher senses (has vision over 20/20, does well keeping track of distinct sounds in noisy places) but this contributes to his misery

•he can pick out every little thing he’s tasting, and it keeps flavors from blending together well, picks out the wrong scent notes in perfumes-

•OH simultaneously touch starved and touch averse. 

•he’s generally finicky about textures/what touches him (you see how my train of thought arrived at this station), and also generally doesn’t feel comfortable around others

•so like… while he’s not really conscious of it, his subconscious is screaming for contact with another person, but whenever akane (who ELSE is trying to have physical contact w this guy) is like… 🥹? and tries to get a hug from him he just. activates the self destruction protocols.

•like. just stiffens up and just waits for it to be over.

•bc his thought process isn’t “i wish this was a better hug” but rather “i wish this was OVER !!” he doesn’t have a positive experience w it because his luck doesn’t kick in and make him feel okay/make the hug not be evil

•actually let’s talk about blesseds more. i imagine he didn’t bless many youngin’s because they were consistently very obnoxious @ him.

•like. i 100% believe that all the CoU tried to cling to/follow him if at all possible. from day One they were trying to find him (looking for any potential good caregiver) while adults were less active/persistent in their hunts

•so he kinda just went. 😐 and tried to stay away from kids when he was giving people fortune

•controversial i suppose but he has resting confused face. boy just always looks lost looks out of it looks ?

•”but whenever we see him in the games he’s going 😑” LISTEN. whenever we see utsuro in game he’s being exposed to the horrors. 

•i don’t say this to woobify him, he literally always is like noooo actually i did nothing wrong i am entirely passive and neutral and have no impact on everything ever. your actions are YOUR fault and not a result of me being insane to you. and it’s so hilarious to me to see. 

•but i do think it’s important to recognize there’s a Reason hes so like. no actually i’m devoid of agency… and that there’s trauma in that head !!!

•so yeah i think whenever we see him in game he’s yk. experiencing things. i think if u just saw him on the bus or whatever he’d look like he has no clue what’s going on ever. just a very very clueless resting face

[kindheart525]

Sunset Shimmer was settling nicely into her homeland of Equestria. Even her daughters who grew up with fingers and toes didn’t find the hooved life half bad. Together with Nana Stellar they were getting along like a family who’d been close their whole lives, going on day trips and such. 

But there was one member who wasn’t adjusting quite as effortlessly. Well, Luster Dawn was dealing with it as best she could, mostly just going with the flow. But these family members were still so much like strangers, it made her uneasy. 

Her cousins came from a world populated by creatures that didn’t even exist in Equestria, but Luster felt like she was the one thrust into a new world.

Today she tagged along with them on their visit to the local ice cream parlor. But she still felt too awkward to mingle with them, instead settling down on a bench while the rest of them made their orders. She could have declined their invitation, she knew this, but part of her wanted to go. As Luster sat alone, she listened in on their conversations, hoping that she could get to know them that way. 

“Luster!~”

A sing-songy voice called out to her, kind of like her Nana’s but much more youthful and gentle. Her was her cousin—Marmalade, was it?—sauntering over towards her, her long flowery dress swishing with every step.

“Why aren’t you over there with all of us? Don’t you want some ice cream too?”

“Sure.”

Luster nodded, feeling a bit unprepared for this conversation but also grateful that somepony was bothering to talk to her at all.

“I, uh, I guess I like chocolate chip cookie dough. I mean—if you want a flavor. In a bowl, please.”

That was what she used to eat with…never mind.

“I’ll be back with something special!”

Marmalade assured her before going back to the ice cream stand, leaving just as quickly as she’d come.

Luster watched her go and wait in line for a moment, until she got bored and went back to her own thoughts, tracing her hooves along the wood grain nervously.

Something special? What does that mean? Is she getting me chocolate chip cookie dough or not?

She wasn’t sure what to think of Marm, she was the first of her cousins to really approach her so that was at least nice. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Soon her questions were answered when Marm came back over with two cones grasped in her magical “hands,” not the bowl Luster asked for.

“I’m back!”

She passed one over to her younger cousin, casually seating herself down in a pose that was rather unnatural for ponies but perfectly normal in her own homeland.

“Oh. Thank you.”

Luster was a bit disappointed that she didn’t get the ice cream she asked for, but maybe it was a good thing to not go down nostalgia lane today anyway. She didn’t want to deal with that with everything else going on.

But the ice cream scoop covered in nuts was just as foreign to her as getting four new relatives in a day had been.

“What’s this?”

“This is butter pecan ice cream!”

Marm announced proudly. 

“A revolutionary flavor, I’d say. It’s a perfect combination of sweet, salty, buttery, and crunchy, created from vanilla ice cream mixed with crisp buttery pecans.”

She clearly adored this flavor, so Luster decided to take a few tentative licks for herself.

“Hm. It’s nice.”

The saltiness wasn’t her favorite, she much preferred something sweet and chocolatey, but trying something new wasn’t too bad.

“I’m sure you appreciate the chemistry that goes into it, don’t you? Nana says you’re something of a scientist yourself. A scholar of er, magic.”

Marm wasn’t entirely familiar with the concept, her mom had connections to something otherworldly but she had never seen so much magic before coming to Equestria. So she stuck with what she knew, her comfort zone.

“See, food chemistry is like magic all on its own. If you break down all the properties of flavor, texture, so on—you can create something even better than what you first envisioned. That’s why I bought you butter pecan, to show you what it’s like.”

Marm was a bit more focused on her own interest than Luster’s, even though she really was trying to connect with her. But the filly was too lost in her anxiety to really notice it.

“Well, thank you. It’s good. Really. And yeah, uh, I guess it is like magic.”

“A brilliant girl—er, filly you are! How would you like to see how it works up-close sometime? And you can show me your science-magic too, I suppose. We can make a day of it.”

“Sure.”

Luster’s response was brief, nerves and eagerness both swirling inside her. This was nice, she was getting somewhere, it looked like she had something in common with one of her cousins. But she also had no idea how this would go, would it be fun or disastrous? She hoped for the former.

She was so lost in her conflicted feelings of anticipation that she didn’t notice her ice cream starting to melt until Marm pointed it out to her.

“You’d better lick that fast now. Cones take quick thinking and wit, you can’t take it easy like with those little bowls.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Previous: Blended Next: Weird Science

Background by Stelar-Eclipse Luster Dawn’s cutie mark by Parcly-Taxel

[syn4k]

3, 19, 32!

(already answered 3)

ok so way back when we first got minecraft our username was Creative. we then changed it to CreativeMode. when we finally signed up for minecraft our xbox username was TallishPark1689 (which fucking SUCKED ngl but hey whatcha gonna do we didnt know we could change it back then). we figured out we could change it and went oh! okay gotta choose something cool here... alright. rubies are cool and i like red so that's gotta be in there, yeah, what else ooh i could be a princess! i can put that in there! now to tie it all together! hmm what about TheRubyPrincess. mm. no not correct... what if i changed the "the" to "da" (because we were 10/11 at the time and thought it sounded cool). aha! darubyprincess! that became our username for everything everywhere. and then we figured out we were not a girl and darubyprince did NOT have the correct vibes so we changed the last two letters to xx and updated that everywhere also and now we're here. do you see why we don't tell this story a lot it is so horribly convoluted

uhhh theres been a lot of shit places we've visited for a short reason but when we were really small and both our parents worked full-time and had nothing to do for us for the summer they dropped us off at either our grandparents' (lovely people) house or their friends' (Hell World. i'll explain in a minute) house. now the woman who took care of me as well as like six other kids constantly, we'll call her Ms. T, wasn't exactly what you'd call the most tolerant person? i know we'd spend most summers at her house extremely bored and not in the mood to socialize with Anyone which unfortunately she wanted us to do. im not gonna go into detail because i dont want to and also i need to make dinner but one time she made scrambled eggs for breakfast and made me eat it and because we had texture issues with it and also because it tasted horrible to us we gagged on it. then she yelled at us for being ungrateful and made us eat the rest. you get the idea. also recall that we spent a lot of time standing in the corner there. the other kids were also not The Nicest. not the best place but oh well we were only there for like three summers

[ramuneempiremtl]

Slave-kun's Happy Life in Another World: Chapter 12

I suddenly woke up with a sound like "pachi".

When I blinked, it was morning. I didn't even dream.

Magical sleep is scary.

My body is incredibly light. I can see how I've been living in a dilapidated state until now. This is the original weight of this body.

I'm very hungry, maybe because I recovered so quickly.

I got up and stretched, and when I looked at the next bed, my master was sleeping soundly.

I wonder what time it is. It's the same 24-hour system as my original world, but not many people have clocks. The people of this world are very generous with their time - no, they're just loose with it.

It's probably around 7 o'clock.

I got dressed lightly and made the bed that had provided me with amazing softness, and when I went to the main room, Aki, the cook, was already working. The leader is also there.

"Good morning. Did you sleep well?"

I nodded.

Hmm, I can't have a conversation without my master. I guess I'll have to get used to this too.

I went back to my room after using the bathroom and washing my face.

"This is breakfast."

Aki placed on the table something flat like a naan and something that looked like fruit… fruit!

The naan-like thing was just bread. It was spread with something sweet, maybe honey, and it was very delicious. The tongue of this body is very happy. This boy seems to like sweet things.

Next, the fruit. It has a shape I've never seen before. A nice fragrance spreads gently. This is also a new scent.

I was looking at it in the palm of my hand when it was snatched away by a hand that reached out from behind.

"!"

"Peel it like this and eat it."

My master has woken up.

I've already started eating.

The peeled fruit tasted like a peach with the texture of a cherry and the sweetness of a grape. I like this.

In front of my master is the same bread as mine (but twice the size), fruit (twice the size), and cooked meat! It's amazing in the morning.

I guess I'm eating better than the inn's food because of Aki.

I'm glad that this "fatten up the boy's tongue" plan is going smoothly. This is a good party.

"Today's plan is to go to the guild branch first and settle the matter of the borrowed house. I also have to do the job I'm receiving as a disguise."

"Don't forget about the hired hand."

Hired hand?

Seeing my puzzled expression, my master told me, "The guildmaster forced on me a 'caretaker until you get used to the city', and he stole the party's belongings, so I turned him over to the guards."

Did something like that happen?

It must have been hard.

Oh, I think I get it. I was welcomed because I'm a slave, a slave who has a magical contract, because the hired hand was untrustworthy.

It's ironic that slaves are considered more trustworthy because they're less likely to betray.

"Are you taking Owl with you?"

"No. I don't trust the branch in this city. I don't want them to know that we've increased our members yet."

"… He'll be left alone at the inn."

"It can't be helped today."

Master, you really don't trust the branch. Is the 'powder' reaching out to the branch?

I'm going to stay behind.

It's a shame because I wanted to see the city.

"… Well, I'll be going then. Lunch is in that wooden box that Aki made for you. You can get water yourself… Don't leave the room, okay? I'll tell the innkeeper not to let anyone in, but don't come out no matter who comes, okay? If you get bored, I'll leave some reading material there for you. It's got lots of pictures. Lock the door and don't go outside, okay?"

I won't go out.

After that, my master and the others left, accompanied by Nove, who had just woken up, and Daine, who was half asleep.

I saw off my master, who had decided to leave me behind but was worried about me at the last minute, and went back to my room and locked the door.

Now, what should I do?

My body is in good shape, so I can do anything.

Anything, but what I'm good at is cleaning and laundry. That's a piece of cake. I've already eaten, so it's after breakfast.

Well, let's start with the laundry.

[skruffie]

hair thoughts

So I finally decided to try growing my hair out and the last time I had the back and sides buzzed down was in May 2023. Last time I went to the salon I let my stylist know what I was thinking of doing, and I've been seeing the same woman for haircuts for years. She basically trimmed up the top a bit but kept the back and sides shaggy. This was a few months ago, and this is where I'm at now:

(Also got new glasses last week)

I waffled on if I wanted to grow it out for a couple years before I finally decided to go for it. Part of it was that I was just getting bored of having the same sort of haircut since I had variations on it for over ten years. Part of it also was because during reconnecting to my Indigenous heritage I kept seeing a lot of talk about hair and how it's sacred. I'm not tradish by any means as I'm still learning, and that's a loooong road to be on, but I wanted to challenge myself to see if I would be able to understand the symbolic meaning of long hair while I underwent it.

This has come with some emotional challenges. throwing under the cut because like every post I make this one is a bit of an essay.

If you're anywhere near the periphery of online Indigenous spaces, especially twitter, you've probably seen a lot of discourse around "the pretendian problem" and now with the term descendian slowly making the rounds I had to give this decision serious pause. It's very obvious for anyone who sees me that I have a majority European heritage and I walk through, am perceived, and therefore largely treated as white. I never get clocked with the possibility of mixed ethnicity. I had to really work through how I self identify to even get to this point and settled into racially white + ethnically mixed as probably the best way to put it... I've put in years of trying to identify where my family is from and reach out to relatives. I want to travel to meet in person. None of this would matter to the "pretendian" hunters and I'm aware of that. I'm fully aware that growing my hair out probably would very quickly be seen as similar to the actual frauds that also grow their hair long and dye it black or put on awful fake tans. If I gain any notoriety in this life I already know speaking about all this is gonna probably come into question.

I went for it anyway.

The other emotional part for this is my haircut has been an extension of expressing my gender and sexuality from even before I realized that I was non-binary. Now I know that hair length and style don't equate gender or sexual orientation but it's been the best way I've been able to express it to the world. I've been clocked by other queer people with my short hair and in turn it's helped others feel safe when they see me. Multiple people have said that just by knowing me they've been able to explore their own gender identities because they didn't realize other options were even a thing. Growing it long in this regard is something of a loss.

like reconnecting I'm finding I'm stuck in between. I could still reconnect, learn ancestral languages, learn culture and have the gayest haircut on earth. I'm still agender with long hair. There isn't a comfortable middle ground. Right now I'm still letting it grow because I'm kinda curious to see if there's going to be a breaking point before I reach for the clippers, but there also this curiosity of wanting to play with my natural hair texture for kinda the first time in my life. I've realized that I've always had somewhat wavy hair but never did anything to bring the natural waves out, so growing it long gives me an opportunity to see what I can do with it.

[hellsvestibule]

Okay here we go! I did talk about this a bit under the Mephy process pics which I posted a while back, as well as my response under the og pic it’s just interspersed w my meta reasons for it. (Although, idk, for me, having a strong intent w symbolism and themes is often the first and foremost of whatever goes into a pic, everything is secondary to carrying the meaning. If it doesn’t have a meaning I just fuck around and find out.) and for that one it was recent and I didn’t start culling the like 20 versions of it like I did most of these... If you ever wanna see process pics you’ve gotta hit me within the first week of posting cause I often do start deleting the earlier copies eventually and ended up fewer examples than I wanted…

My process for backgrounds highly varies depending on the intent of the picture. Sometimes I have very clear intent in mind when starting a picture, but because the way I work is so painterly now, I find that I’m willing to change the background or composition at any point if I don’t like it.

I can’t find the older versions of this one, but I did post one earlier in the process, initially it was going to be a very clean image of her sitting bored on her throne. But I didn’t have a clear reference for the throne, and what I ended up with was boring, I found myself disliking it, and so went with the shattered earth bg sort of merging the scenery from her card art. You can see how I was working from more flat lines, adding layers of color exclusion and subtraction to soften it, then jagged lines to add crunch and texture and make it look like the image was more grungy and decomposed.

But the same holds true of flatter styles. The background is actually a part of the picture I work on and change at random. Nothing is sacred and things can be added or discarded at any point. This one here here I drew all these bugs individually on a separate canvas and pasted them at random. But I was working on his figure and background at the same time. For the butterflies, I drew the front and back wings individually then sort of composited them into a complete bug. Rather than drawing them individually at various angles. Bc I wasn’t going for that for this one

This one here I got so wrapped up in the background I ended up zooming out and trying to add more characters and had to pause on it bc it’s a lot more work to build a multi character scene when really I should have just posted my grunged up little meow meow when I was ahead sigh

A few more thoughts: if the composition looks good flat it’ll look good shaded. Strong Shapes are really useful for a background. Windows are particularly elegant, I have to fight the urge to put a window in every picture as a frame within the frame/for an excuse for backlighting. Because any way you can emphasize the picture being a contained space will bring a sense of dimensionality, which invites you to want to look into it as a little world rather than a singular drawing of a character which is ungrounded, in which case the appeal is more the character itself. Like, you drew a decent pic of the character i like. Vs. you drew an image w a composition that is confusing and distracting enough occasionally people who don’t “go here” might still get caught up staring at it. Or at least this is the type of response that always brings me a lot of joy.

On that merit though, if the figure is strong enough on its own, which sometimes it is, then sometimes a simplistic background is the best you can do, because you don’t Want to overpower whatever your concept is without reason. Here’s an example of me choosing the simpler and cleaner picture even though it lacks the Crunch simply bc you lost the shape of the wings and the opening line of inferno which was the whole point of the pic (even though I’m ultimately still torn on that choice and miss the spooky vibes of pic 1)

If background is the central focus to the picture, it’s probably better to work bg first or even set the scene up in a poser program for better lighting or composition. But it is t necessary to put that much background work into Every picture. If you don’t need a background, sometimes adding details is just going to make it cluttered and messy. My current process I generally Want to look cluttered and messy bc it’s the type of art I enjoy looking at, but specifically in a way where you are rewarded for looking closer, and any time your eye wanders you’re pulled back to something else, because the more things of interest happening in the picture, the more likely someone will stop to stare for a longer time and hit reblog, because you’ve tricked them into spending more time in your personal little hellscape. Which I also talk about on my reply to some tags the Mephy pic. My current mentality is, if this is a long term picture I’m pouring a lot of effort into, I’m my harshest critic and can easily slip myself into the bored disillusioned user scrolling tumblr going “who cares” so any time my eye wanders when working on it, if I find myself slipping away out of the picture I want to put something there to redirect you to the subject.

Here’s an example of what happens when i draw the lines without thinking about the background till the very end (managing to keep a separate layer for figure and bg which I don’t often). It looks silly when the character layer is turned off but it gives you a better sense of how you start with flats and simple gradients and add all the little bastard textures on it later.

If you have questions on any specific texture or technique from a specific image I can probably go more into that! I use a combo of mostly default pro create brushes and ones I’ve made myself which are easilly replicated if you have the program. But even if you’re using object or texture brushes you have to keep them at a minimum. They shouldn’t carry the pic just enhance it

I hope this is! interesting and or informative

I would really really love to know about your process in terms of the backgrounds and how you fill up the canvas, I think it always looks so cool and it always really adds to the pieces

Hi adet ty for the ask! Will reblog with a proper response with some examples in a minute, my iPad hates tumblr and is convinced asks are an illusion

[wavy-gorl]

did not realize there was a community for this, but this is the internet i should've known

hi i was born with a cleft soft and hard palate, i didn't have a cleft lip or anything else (still tagging this because i wanna reach anyone who understands), my mom told me that i also have the thing where you have a really small chin combined with a cleft palate but i don't remember the name of the condition

i've like literally never been able to talk to anyone else who's had one and i mean my friends all know about it and i love them, but like they don't fully understand bc they haven't experienced it, you know how it is

but uh yeah i've always felt really weird labeling myself as like disabled or anything like that because i've always felt like my cleft palate wasn't enough but honestly my entire life has kinda revolved around it so i feel like i should

here's the part where i'm going to dump in a list all of my super specific experiences in hopes that someone will relate because i am so serious when i say that i've never talked to someone who relates before:

tw: idk medical stuff, ed mentioned (arfid specifically), mildly graphic i guess (just complaining about medical stuff i've had to deal with)

i've had 11 surgeries (feeding tube, adenoids removed, palate repairs, and ear tubes)

i have this sick as fuck second belly button and honestly sometimes i forget that most people only have one and i have to do a double take when i see other people's boring abdomens

i have a list of foods that i cannot eat because they taste like general anesthesia (including but not limited to: whoppers, onion rings, cranberry juice, blue candy hearts, and wintergreen life savers)

i was diagnosed with arfid recently, but i've had it my entire life because i had a feeding tube for the first year of my life and so i just cannot handle most food textures

i have really bad social skills and low self-esteem because i got bullied when i was younger because people couldn't understand me because my voice was really weird, this got better with surgeries but it didn't fix my lack of social skills

I HATED SPEECH THERAPY, like 14 years of it did not make s sounds easier to pronounce

i need hearing aids but i can't get them because i have holes in my ears and extreme drainage, but the holes are good because they allow my ears to drain but the fact that there's drainage is still bad and ahhhhhh

i'm 19 but i still have to go back and forth between the children's hospital and the regular one when it comes to palate stuff and it's honestly annoying sometimes (everyone's nice though so it's fine)

eating is awful because nose stuff i don't want to go into detail but iykyk (don't make me laugh while eating)

i don't have a uvula and when people find out, it's suddenly the most interesting fact they know about me and i don't get it

not even i know my full medical history it is so incredibly complex

i have a collection of my wristbands

the worst fucking thing in the world was the stupid nasal endoscopy, like early covid brain-poking tests were fucking nothing compared to that stupid camera going up my nose

mouth breathing

i have random vocal/breathing tics (i guess tic is the right term?) and they are annoying but yeah

every goddamn time i went to the orthodontist, he would always say every FUCKING TIME "don't let your mom tell you that you have a big mouth because i'm here to tell you otherwise" LIKE I GET IT

when i got my teeth pulled, the laughing gas didn't work because 1.) that shit's so weak and 2.) i had to breathe it in through my nose exclusively (mouth breathing point), but they didn't believe me and went along with the procedure anyway and after experiencing that, hell has nothing on me

my role model growing up was lentil bean, the cleft palate dog

the only piece of media i ever related to was Wonder, but even that one contributed to me feeling like i hadn't gone through enough to consider my cleft palate a big deal

i am a musician (singer and percussionist) but i can't breathe, hear, or speak properly and so i bet you can imagine how hellish that is

i had to quit dance when i was younger because i kept missing entire seasons because of my surgeries (since recovery was like 4 weeks sometimes) and i really wish that i didn't have to

ok yeah that's all i can think of please someone relate to me god please