#i ran out of normal pencils so i pulled out the colored ones

[scrunklynrabid]

you should draw toing,, <3

he had no need to do this face i swear

[chaispicelatte]

I was thinking about how one of my favorite genres of Sonadow content is Shadow realizing Sonic is way more fucked up than him (the alien hybrid made in a lab in space). And then I had the thought of Shadow realizing ALL of Sonic's friends are sort of weird and terrifying in their own right.

Sonic:

Him being freaky is a given

No one really knows much about his origins, yet he has power on the same level of Shadow, who was engineered in a lab with the help of an alien dictator

Is usually chill but relishes any opportunity to flex his powers and push them to the limit

Only thing keeping him from being an interdimensional threat is his altruism, which Shadow has somehow learned to just trust (which honestly scares him more)

Tails:

First off, why is this child flying a plane? Does he have a license? (The subject was quickly changed last time Shadow asked)

It takes months for Eggman to come up with new tech for his schemes only for this kid to reverse engineer it and come up with a new counter in half a day

Shadow has seen him make weapons that violate the Geneva Conventions out of a mechanical pencil and box of scraps

Also has better aim than GUN snipers with 10 years of training

Shadow takes him out first when it's him vs Sonic team because he doesn't want to risk either Tails getting a clear shot or him having time to pull out some other bullshit

Knuckles:

Knuckles being insanely strong is nothing new, Shadow is also strong

The difference is that Shadow's strength either comes from momentum, precise control of chaos energy, and/or knowing exactly where to aim. Knuckles doesn't need to do that, he's just strong enough to lift a mountain on his own

Shadow would think that Knuckles just doesn't know how to use chaos energy in that way (he's too dense to figure out Rouge is flirting after all)

Until one day Shadow's Chaos Emerald is acting weird. He reluctantly brings it up to the group chat to see if they're having the same issue. Knuckles says "Hold on" and goes quiet for a couple minutes

Then Shadow's Chaos Emerald goes dark. He would have thought this was a harbinger of another disaster if it didn't regain its color a second later. It's also working perfectly fine again

Knuckles used the Master Emerald to fucking turn them off and on again ("Yeah, it's the Master Emerald for a reason.")

Sonic asks if that's tied to the time Knuckles punched the Super out of him and that only causes even more questions that Shadow is too exhausted to ask about

Amy:

At first glance, she seems the most normal. She's got an apartment in the city, a day job, and is an active member of the community

Is a bit of a jack-of-all-trades when it comes to abilities

Shadow held her hammer once, and it's easily over a ton, but she's swinging it around all day with no problem

At first Shadow thought her bracelets were similar to his limiters, but they're just bracelets. But they are almost solid gold and crack the ground when they drop

Even weirder is that while she has more muscle than the average girl, it's nowhere near the amount needed to be as strong as she is. And he doesn't sense that her body's being augmented by chaos energy the way he does

And when Shadow thought about that, he started thinking about where she stores that hammer. He stores small stuff in his quills all the time, but no way could Amy do that with something of that size. Even when he watched closely, he just saw her hide it behind her back, and it was gone

It becomes obvious that Amy has some control over chaos energy, but the way she used it was so weird that Shadow can't make sense of the how or if she even knows she's doing it

And then there's how she always seems to know exactly where Sonic is. Shadow was starting to think she put a tracker on him with how precise she was

That was until Shadow noticed that every time he ran into her on accident, she instead seemed to be...expecting him

Amy chalked it up to her tarot cards, Shadow isn't so sure

Just what exactly was she seeing when she mixed him or Silver up with Sonic?

Cream and Vanilla:

Shadow hadn't had many run ins with Cream, but had heard she was stronger than she looked

Sonic once joked that she'd become a more popular hero than him if her mother let her go on more adventures

Shadow didn't think much of it until an incident in which he was fighting Eggman's badniks

A couple had escaped and were heading to a Chao Garden. Shadow goes after as fast as he can, but when he gets there, he's cheerfully greeted by Cream, sitting on a pile of destroyed badniks

Shadow walks her home, and is greeted by her mother and her overprotective pet robot. Gemerl is easy enough for Cream to calm down though

Though Vanilla is a...different story. She seems friendly enough on the outside, even invites Shadow to stay for dinner. But something about her unnerves him enough to gently turn them down

The look in Vanilla's eyes was too familiar, he'd only seen it in very experienced GUN agents. Like she was sizing him up, looking for any weak spots, and considering the best way to dispose of him if necessary. But not out of any malice, just as a force of habit

On his way home, Shadow remembers tales from an older GUN agent about the legendary Agent V. Said agent had been said to be dangerous enough that few knew their face, but had gone missing several years ago. But the lack of records on them or any urgency for GUN to find out what happened to them led many to believe that they were just a myth

But Rouge once said with certainty that she did exist

Shadow decides not to make that connection

[the-froschamethyst4]

It’s a Pinterest Idea

𖤐Pairing: Husband! Alejandro x Wife F! Reader

𖤐Pronouns: She/Her

𖤐Warnings: fluff, wholesome, language, kissing, married couple

Y/n is a very creative person, she has her own home art studio that she’s in almost 24/7 coming up with new ideas

Her husband Alejandro comes home from work and sees her painting and also making it look 3D

He loved it and wanted to know how creative his wife can be

——————

——————

9:25AM

Y/n was heading to her home art studio. She put on an old t-shirt and some old shorts; she wore when painted. They were already covered in paint and spray paint from previous art projects.

She put her hair up into a messy bun and opened the glass door that led to her studio. She turned on the bright white lights and she also opened the window and balcony door to lighten up the room and let any paint fumes leave her studio.

Y/n's art studio is what you'd normally see, paint all over the place, pencils, markers, paint brushes and paint sets covered her desks.

She had a big blank canvas set up and ready to be painted on, now she just needed to know what is she going to paint?

She went to her computer that was her 'inspiration computer' she liked to call it. She would just look at other paintings and get an idea from that or looking at old paintings.

"Ummm~?" She hummed. She sat in her chair and swung her legs back and forth looking at inspiration.

She then found a painting and had some inspo, she smiled when it was a romantic painting a man holding his lover in her arms, and she seemed so sane and safe in his arms.

She grabbed a pencil and went to the canvas and started to do the outline.

Alejandro, Y/n's husband of 6 years came in the house. He rubbed his tired eyes and grabbed a glass cup from the kitchen filling it up with whiskey. He took a sip from the whiskey, he ran his fingers through his hair and now was trying to find his wife, which he knew where she was.

He went into her art studio and saw her mixing paints; he saw the canvas and saw the outline. He smiled seeing that it was a lover portrait.

"So, what's todays inspiration?" He asks, she stops mixing and looked up at her husband.

"Love...I haven't done a lover one in a while, so, that was todays inspo," she said. Alejandro hummed as a response.

"When was the last love painting?"

"Like...a year ago, I think..." she smiles and starts painting the canvas. Alejandro grabbed a chair and pulled it out from under her desk and sat there watching her paint.

Alejandro loved watching her paint, it was also like therapy for him, seeing her go in the lines with no problem, it was so satisfying to watch her paint.

He watched her start with the male's hair, it was a dark chocolate brown color almost like his. He leaned back and watched her put so much detail into the painting.

he untied his tie and removed his blazer; he placed his blazer on the back of his chair and rolled up his sleeves. He leaned back in the chair and looked at her painting, his eyes wondered the outlines...he realized that the portrait was on him and her.

"Ohhh~ I get it...that's us," he said, Y/n turned and smiled up him.

"Yeah~ when it's done...could we hanging it up in the living room over the fireplace."

"Of course, mi amor, we could do that," he said, getting out of his chair and walking to her and kissing her lips. "Anything for you," he said.

He walked out of the studio and was going to the bedroom to change into comfortable clothes. Before he went back into Y/n's studio, he poured himself another glass of whiskey and even brought Y/n a bottle of water.

Y/n mixed paint to now do her hair color. She placed it on the canvas and started to put detail into her hair too. He placed the water bottle on her desk, and he watched her rub paint onto her forehead by accident.

He laughed and leaned forward wiping the paint off her forehead with a clean rag. Alejandro tosses it over his shoulder and took a sip from his whiskey.

---------

2:30PM

Alejandro was now in the living room and Y/n was taking a small break from painting. She cuddled up to Alejandro's side, her eyes closed, and Alejandro had the TV playing in the background.

He was watching some Netflix series, the volume down, and he looked down to his right to look at his wife. Her knees to her chest and her hand placed close to his heart.

He placed his hand on hers and kissed the top of her head, and he rubbed her side.

"Mi amor? Are you done with your break?"

"No, not yet..." she yawns. Alejandro just smiled at her.

Y/n then sat up rubbing her eyes and leaned against him to watch the series as well.

"What even is this?"

"I don't know, I was watching it yesterday, but I got bored with it 3 episodes in but now I just turned it on," he said, rubbing her shoulder.

Alejandro then just looked around the house, he realized how filled the house was with Y/n's art pieces. He smiled glad that she has a hobby that she is proud of doing.

"Amor, have you ever thought about selling some of your pieces?"

"What do you mean...selling? By getting rid of them, are they ugly, do you not like them?"

"Huh? Amor no, I mean like making paintings and just selling them, they might fit peoples taste and may want to buy them from you," Alejandro said.

"I have thought about it, but I thought maybe people might not like my style, so I've just never done it," she said, playing with the jaw strings of his black sweatpants.

"No way, amor, people will love it, I love it, others will too...just...think about it, amor," he kissed her temple.

"I guess, I will," she said, smiling up at him.

---------

7:40PM

Y/n went back to her art studio, her phone in hand and started to download the Ebay app, she already posted 5 of her art pieces to see what people may want it.

She placed her phone on her desk and went back to the painting, she started with Alejandro's skin tone and put detail into it, to the veins of his hands, to some of his beard hairs.

She was so focused on her painting that she didn't notice that people were already bidding on her pieces. Soon she stopped and could hear the ping of her phone.

She looked at her phone and saw one of her pieces was going up to $50,000.

"HOLY SHIT!!" Y/n yelled. Alejandro jumped from his spot on the couch and ran to Y/n's studio.

"WHAT!? WHAT'S WRONG?!!" Alejandro yelled.

"My piece, my koi fish piece, is going up to 50 grand with 10 minutes," she said, with her jaw dropped and Alejandro's did too.

"THAT'S INSANE!!" Alejandro yelled.

"I know! What should I do?"

"Close the bid on the 50 grand," Alejandro said as she did and now will be giving her first piece away.

"Let that person know that you closed the bid, and they will get the piece you just need their info to deliver the painting," Alejandro said. Alejandro was excited that Y/n already have her first painting sold.

He watched her get excited and kissed her lips when she came close to him excited. His hands landed on her waist and smiled with her as she was so excited that she had made 50 grand on her first painting.

"Thank you for suggesting doing this Alejandro."

"Of course, mi amor," he kissed her lips again.

[thevoidscreams]

Thank you to @aqua-the-smiter for letting me use her oc for this. I love you. *books gently with love*

Day 20

Pairing Ferrus Manus x Argena (oc)

Warnings: Semi public sex, office sex, cock and ball worship, marking partner, cumming inside

Ferrus grunted and shifted his legs wider, he hated after action reports but they were a necessary evil. His wife however had devised a way for them to be a bit less dull.

“Keep up at this pace and you’ll be done in no time.” She cooed from under his desk. “In more ways than one.”

Ferrus’s cheeks heated as he glanced down below the desk, his kilt pushed up onto his thighs as Argena fondled one ball, kissing it lovingly leaving a perfect mark in the shape of her lips behind in the silvery lip gloss she’d put on for just that purpose.

She stroked his hard manhood trailing a line of kisses up his cock, leaving a smattering of silvery lip marks behind her.

They were the same silver as his eyes, which was the reason she’d picked the color.

Pulling away from his work she smiled. “Your work?”

Ferrus grunted again and turned his gaze back to the paperwork and tried not to think about those golden eyes or coal black hair, or those deliciously soft lips. Or the supple naked form between his thighs.

“Gena.” He breathed as he continued to fill out necessary paperwork.

“Yes my darling husband?”

Her hand closed around one testicle and gave a light squeeze, Ferrus’s pencil cracked in his hand as he choked back a groan.

Globs of clear shiny pre wept down from his tip, Arena eyed them as they trickled down reaching out with the tip of her tongue, collecting the salty drops with a hum of delight.

The warm wet tip of her tongue ran up under the head and dipped into the slit to make sure all of it was lapped up.

“Finish quickly please. I’m going to need more of this.” She panted and Ferrus nodded, reaching for another pencil.

Ferrus burned with the need to take her, to cum in her, or just to simply touch her.

But he knew better, as part of their deal, she would provide him with ‘love’ so long as he was working and after he was one he could have her.

BUt until he was done, he couldn’t cum and he couldn’t touch her. No matter how much he wanted to.

He was just about to complete the last page having pulled another pencil from his store of backups.

He was practically high from the thought that soon he’d be able to pull her up and fucked her till his balls were empty.

They felt like they weighed a thousand pounds each.

Then there was an alert at the door and Ferrus broke the fifth pencil that night.

He knew he couldn’t ignore it, he looked down, under his desk to the cushion his wife was lounging on, her mouth formed into a pout as she heard him permit the person on the other side.

“Come in.” He ordered in a firm voice.

Gabriel Santor came in and approached the desk.

It was a newer feature in his office and he’d never questioned it before, his father had simply wanted a new desk, and built it himself.

“What is it Gabriel?” Ferrus inquired of his first captain, his voice even and hard, but not cruel.

Gabriel did not waste time. “I have updated-”

Ferrus did his best to listen, taking in his words as he tried not to think about how nice Aregena’s mouth felt teasing his cock.

Ferrus’s body was stiff, his fingers laced together tightly. Gabriel's report was brief and to the point but it felt as if he’d gabbed on for an hour to the primarch.

“Is that all my son?”

“It is.”

“Then you may take your leave for now, I have work to complete here and.. a meeting to attend.”

“Shall I accompany you?” Gabriel asked, as he would normally, his position in his father’s honor guard made it a common enough inquiry.

Argena took both his balls in her hand and sucked the tip of Ferrus’s cock hard, sucking down a bit more precum in the process. The primarch’s hands clenched and they creaked audibly.

“No.” Ferrus’s voice came out more clipped then he had intended and he took a deep breath. “This is one I need to take alone… for personal reasons.”

Gabriel did not argue and left his primarch in peace. He took a shuddering breath as he spoke a simple command and the door locked.

Ferrus’s silver eyes blazed down at his wife. “On the desk. Now.”

Argena gave him a sultry little smile, golden eyes smoldering with mirth and desire. “Of course.”

She slipped up from beneath the desk and onto the polished surface.

Ferrus flipped her and gave her ass a not go gentle smack.

“I almost moaned with that last little stunt of yours.” He growled, his metal fingers plunging into her wet entrance. Argena let out a breathy moan and pushed back against him.

“You held out well enough.” She teased.

He gave her another smack that left her ass rippling and forced a girlish squeak from her mouth.

“I do not want our sons knowing that I have their legion mother is under my desk servicing me while I work. It is none of their business.”

His fingers retracted and he reached for his bottom drawer where he procured a bottle of clear lubricant.

He readied his wife. And stroked his own cock a few times to make sure he was well prepared to push into her.

He lined up with her hot cunt and thrust the tip in.

Argena cried out, her wanton sounds echoing in the room.

“Ferrus!~”

He worked his way in with short controlled thrusts but he knew as soon as he bottomed out that he wasn’t going to last. Not after hours of constant teasing.

Argena wiggled under him, begging for more. He could tell they were both practically at the edge already.He steeled himself and began a harsh pace, grunting with each perfect blissful thrust.

His hand wrapped around her throat, he squeezed gently. Her eyes rolled and he felt her clenching around him as she gasped and scratched at the desks surface while her orgasm rolled over her.

Ferrus reached out and grasped the far end of his desk, still using her neck to hold her in place as he let out a growl of all the pent up frustration.

“Gena~” He panted the wood under his fingers, splintered and cracked, yet the hand around her throat never tightened any further.

Her body twitched at the display and she came again.

Ferrus couldn’t hold on and he bent over her further as he came. His cum flooded her smaller body and spilled out and down her thighs onto the floor.

They both panted, basking in the satisfaction and after glow.

Ferrus lifted her into his arms kissing her face lovingly.

“Thank you.” He sighed, sitting back in his chair with his wife in his lap.

“That was so much.” She smiled and kissed his chin in return.

“You’ve had me worked up for over two hours. Perhaps my body decided to put it all out in one go as revenge.”

Argena gave him a mischievous little smile. “Maybe I should try working you up for even longer next time?”

Ferrus groaned and his head fell back onto the hearest of his chair.

“....Maybe.” He humored and hugged her tighter.

[highlady-sorcha]

Before The Ceremony (Nesta x Reader)

I really cannot believe the love that you all have given me. Thank you all so so much!! This is a different one- more of like Nesta/friend/fluff? Not sure it’s a thing, but I just liked the idea of being that person that Nesta lets in as a bestie. So, here we are! 

*****************************************************************************************************

"Nesta, you've always been beautiful, but cauldron boil me... you could have any male in the world right now.," you told her, smiling at your reflection over her shoulder in the mirror. Your face hurt from smiling so much, but Nesta and Cassian were finally accepting the bond! Who wouldn't be this happy?

After fiddling with her long, golden brown locks for a moment, you glanced up to tell her so- and found her eyes rimmed with silver. Her face was tense, her lips pressed into a thin line.

 Your mouth dropped open in shock. Nesta crying? Since when did Nesta cry? She was your rock, she was the one who ripped out throats and hearts when you came back to the apartment you'd shared crying. She was the one who came back for you when she'd gotten her life together. Nesta had pulled you from the taverns and gambling halls when she knew what would help, when she knew how to help you rise from the life she'd shared with you.

You snapped your mouth shut and glanced at the door behind you. The pale stone walls of the small temple on the lawns of the river house glimmered in the early morning light. Your delicately pointed fae ear twitched, and hearing no one in the hall outside, you scuttled to the door and shut it, throwing the lock.

 When you came back to where Nesta was seated on a peach pink tufted stool, she had her face in her hands, her shoulders shook. Yards of cream colored silk overlayed with fine lace spilled out in every direction around her. Flowers from Elain's garden were tucked behind her ears and in the band that had been braided behind her head to contain the loose rich curls and bounced over her shoulders.

 Careful not to step on and mark the expensive gown, you shuffled through the layers and knelt beside her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. You could remember when it was painful to touch her, bump into her. Every bone had jutted from beneath her skin, she had been all sharp angles and exhaustion. Now, thick muscles set beneath a soft layer of skin covered by long lace sleeves that belled out from her wrists.

 "Nesta.... what is it?" You asked softly. "Mating ceremonies can be scary, but they're beautiful, you'll see. It doesn't hurt when the bond snaps into place." You reassured her, trying to think of all the things that might be scaring her.

 Nesta sniffed heavily, shaking her head in her hands. "It's not that, it's not." she sniffled again and raised her face. You bit back a sigh when you saw that the kohl around her eyes had smeared and the blush you'd dusted across the tops of her cheeks was now down to her jaw.

 "Although how would you know? Are you hiding a man I don't know about?" Nesta teased, braving a crooked smile through her tears.

 You wanted to shoot something back a little more cutting. Normally you would, but given the circumstances you let her down easy with a scoff and eye roll as you trotted across the room. Peach colored blush in a small black case and a black pencil in a thin tray still lay on the gold painted dressing table Rhys had summoned in there.

  You grabbed both and ran back to her. Time was ticking, the ceremony had to be starting soon and Nesta needed to be ready when Clotho was.

 You knelt down in front of her and dabbed at her eyes. "Really, Nesta, what is it? I've seen you do far worse things than accept your bond." You told her.

 Nesta sighed. Her eyes rimmed with silver and she smiled shakily. "Nothing is wrong, really it's just..." She closed her eyes so you could clean up the mess on their lids. When she opened them again, they were filled with such sorrow and grief that your chest ached.

 "I really wish my father had been here." She choked. Nesta's face crumbled and she looked down to her lap.

 Your eyes stung as you wiped the last of the makeup off her face, and threw the cosmetics into a chair with a matching peach cushion nearby.

 You wrapped your arms around her and pulled her close. Her shoulders shook and you let a hot tear slip from beneath your own long lashes that fanned across the tops of your cheeks. You hugged her close, willing the feeling of deep warmth and love that you felt for her to melt from your body to hers.

 "I know Nesta... I know," You ventured carefully. "I know you wish he was here, I wish he was too. But.. he would be so proud of you," you told her, your throat clenching. Another tear ran down your face and you allowed yourself a breath before you moved on. "He would be. You've overcome so much, you saved Feyre, and Nyx, and none of us would know what to do without you."

 She started to cut in, but you squeezed her tighter and trampled on.

 "Cassian is defined by you. The general of the mightiest, most frightening armies in Prythian. The man that has put the worst creatures in existence under that damn mountain, is brought to his knees by you." You pulled back from her and held her at arm's length. There was one last thing you knew she needed to hear.

  You smiled tenderly, letting her see the emotion brimming in your own (your eye color) eyes. "Nesta, you deserve this. You are worthy of being loved."

 Nesta's eyes glimmered softly, she opened her mouth to say something but a knock at the door wrenched both of your attention away from the moment.

 "Come in!" You shouted after a moment.

 The door opened, and Feyre leaned in, her long hair tumbling down over her shoulder as a small, chubby hand reached for a lock of it.

 "Clotho's here! Time to go"

[ajpendragon]

Red

It was a pretty good sketch, she had to admit. Even with the loss of her normal pencils, she had managed to turn the singular red colored pencil she had scrounged up into a beautiful landscape. Most everything here on Mars was red anyways, so it hadn’t looked too off, although a few extra colors would have been nice. When she got back to base, she would need to repack her travel kit. 

Speaking of base, it was time to get going. She had left early that morning to get to the solar panels before the sun fully rose. A few of them had been giving some weird readings, and she had been sent to fix it. After brushing the brick-red dust off the surface, she had stayed for a few hours to ensure that they were now functioning optimally. With the last readout uploaded to her suit, it was time for her to go home. 

Each step puffed up clouds of red dirt behind her, each of them billowing away in the light wind blowing across the surface. She tucked the sketch into a pocket as she walked, eager to get home. It could go on the fridge. Rory would like it. 

*******************************************

The ground crumbled beneath her feet, sending her careening down the slope. She hit the bottom with a thud, her route down clearly marked by a darker red streak where she had slid. Her oxygen tank was still attached, thankfully, and her suit appeared intact. She ran her hands over her body, checking for any damages she hadn’t initially noticed. Her hand came away red. Huh. That was new. Twisting as much as possible, she could just see the liquid dripping down to the ground, forming a slow puddle. As the adrenaline of the fall faded, her side hurt. A lot. 

She activated the comm unit in her helmet, hoping to reach the base for a pickup. Silence was her only reply. Either the hole she was in was blocking short range communications, or she had damaged her comm unit in the fall. She continued to try, refusing to give up yet, when a beeping interrupted her. A quick glance at her HUD showed the problem. Her injury had breached her suit. Oxygen was leaking into the surrounding atmosphere, and it would not take long before she was out. 

*******************************************

“Hey Al, you’re still over by Mars, right?”

“John, you know exactly where I am right now. What do you need?”

“I’m getting a weird signal from the surface. It could very well be nothing, but since you’re in the area anyways…”

“You want me to go over there and check it out.” Alan finished, already changing direction. “I’m on it. Send me the coordinates, and I’ll be there ASAP. But if this is a false alarm, you owe me dinner.”

“Understood, Thunderbird Three. Transmitting the coordinates now.”

*******************************************

Her oxygen levels were long past where she would normally allow them to fall, deep into the red portion of the gauge. She had tried to pull herself out of the hole, but there were no handholds. The pain in her side had flared every time she moved, so now she had taken to sitting propped against the wall, trying to conserve oxygen as much as possible. 

She occupied herself by staring at the stars, watching the sun sink past the horizon and its more distant cousins appear one by one. One caught her eye, initially looking like a shooting star, but continuing in a blazing red trail. She idly wondered what it could be, too weak from blood loss and lack of oxygen to care much. 

She tracked it across the sky until it came to a stop right next to her hole, the shiny red rocket glowing in the faint light. Her eyes slipped closed as something seemed to descend from the side of the ship. 

*******************************************

When she opened them again, there was a red gloved hand reaching for her. It took a monumental effort to take it, but as soon as she did, it lifted her confidently into the air. She pressed her helmet into the red of his baldric, and felt safe. 

[spacecadet-ticklesinspace]

Are You Alright?

Summary: Marc and Steven take care of Jake ❤️

Marc flipped aimlessly through the channels. Nothing good on at this time of night.

"That's the fifth time we've seen that channel Marc. Why don't you just put on a movie?"

The older knight sighed and glanced down at his younger counterpart. "What movie should I put on then?"

Steven shrugged as he picked up another colored pencil. "What do you want Marc? Adventure? Horror? Feel good?"

"I don't know Stevo. Anything I guess."

The younger knight huffed. "Fine. Big Hero Six?"

"No."

"Lilo and Stitch?"

Nah."

"Finding Nemo?"

"Not interested."

Steven threw one of his colored pencils at the older knight. "Now you're just being stubborn."

Marc caught the pencil and threw it back. "I'm sorry Steven I gue---."

Marc's next phrase was cut off by the front door opening and Jake stepping into the flat. When the other two vigilantes caught sight of their friend, they bolted up.

"Jake! What happened to you mate!" Steven demanded as he hurried over.

Jake wiped some of the blood from his face. "I'm fine hermano. Solo un poco de problemas en el trabajo."

Marc wrapped an arm around Jake's shoulders and lead him toward the couch. "That looks like a lot more than just some trouble bud."

Jake pulled away. "I'm fine Marc. No need to worry about me."

"Blimey, you're an idiot!" Steven ran to go get a washcloth.

"He's right you know." Marc grabbed a wad of nearby napkins and placed them over his nose. "Especially if you think that's going to happen."

Jake snatched the napkins. "I'm fine."

"I'd believe you more if you weren't currently covered in blood."

Jake muttered as he held the napkins to his nose. "You should see the other guy."

Steven hurried back in with the first aid kit. "That's not encouraging you twat!"

"Steven, relajar. I'm okay." Jake reached forward. "It's just an arañar."

Steven snatched the kit away. "I've seen a scratch and that's not it clotpole!"

Jake sighed. "Mi hermano---."

The vigilante was cut off as Marc pulled him to the couch. "Jake, you always take care of us. If something goes wrong, you come to the rescue. If one of us get hurt or sick, you swoop in immediately. But this time, you need the help, you need the rescue."

Jake closed his mouth.

Steven cautiously held up the kit. "So can we do the rescuing this time? Please?"

The middle vigilante looked between his two counterparts. Slowly, his gaze lowered to the floor. "No quiero que ustedes dos se preocupen por mi."

"We're going to worry about you no matter what." Marc sat next to Jake. "So why don't we worry about you while we take care of you."

The internal struggle could be seen on Jake's face. On the one hand, he normally took care of each injury, shrugged it off, then went on with life. It was routine, it was familiar, it was calming.

On the other hand, it would be nice to have someone taking care of him. In front of him, he had two people who loved him and cared about him and wanted to make sure he was okay.

The vigilante crumpled. "I---I don't . . ."

A hand squeezed his. "Hey, it's okay. Remember what you tell me? If you want us to stop, we'll stop right away. We'll go as slow and as gentle as we possibly can, and we'll walk you through each step of the process."

Jake's heart warmed. With Marc's past, it made tending wounds difficult. At first, he wouldn't let the other two near him without flinching away. As time went on, Jake had earned his trust by saying those exact same words and doing those exact actions. Over time, that trust became extremely valuable and helped the two build a special connection.

Now it was time for him to do the same with the other two.

After taking a deep shaky breath, Jake finally nodded. "Okay."

Marc nodded before turning to Steven. "Let me see the kit please."

The youngest knight handed over the kit. "Right."

While Marc laid out the supplies, Steven hurried away to get a clean washcloth and bowl of water. Once everything was in place, the two worked together to treat Jake's nose and the other wounded areas they found.

It was hard to sit still, but they held true to their words. They went slow, steady, and carefully tidied up.

Marc tied on the final bandage. "There we go, all good to go."

Jake's heart filled with warmth. "Thank you hermanos."

"It's no problem mate, but for future reference, don't scare us like that? Please?"

"I didn't mean to," Jake apologized as his gaze dropped and his cheeks flushed red.

"I know you didn't mean to. But ya know we love you and we'll look out for you no matter what mate?" Steven scooted forward and wrapped Jake in a hug. "We love you."

Jake returned the hug as a smile pulled up his lips. "Yo tambien los amo a los dos hermano."

While the two shared the embrace, Marc wrapped his arms around both of them. It was a nice reminder that they were all together and that they loved each other. Neither of them wanted it to end.

"Por favor no te vayas," Jake whispered.

"Not planning to bud." Marc soothed. "We'll be right here as long as you need us to."

Jake slowly relaxed into the hold. "Gracias."

[panfluidme]

Chapter Thirteen: The Stone

Chapter Twelve

October 13th, 2016

Varian was out with Milo and Sara. Zack was out sick, and Melissa was off doing something. She was pretty vague about it, so Varian decided not to push her on what it was. He knew how fun it was to be vague. The three were at the park, Milo playing fetch with Diogee.

It was a nice, sunny day. Varian decided to use their time in the park to watch the clouds. They were such fascinating things of nature. Varian wasn’t fully sure if he believed that they were made of water mist, but they were certainly very cool. No matter what they were made of.

A glint caught his eye. Varian sat upright and walked over to where it came from. He picked up whatever it was then examined it. His eyes widened.

The thing in his hand… it-it was the moonstone.

This was not good. How did the moonstone get here? They had sent it back to the skies, had they not? It shouldn’t be here. And since it was, where would the sundrop flower be? The two came in pairs. Even if they were king— cities or states apart.

He put it inside his pocket and snapped his fingers to catch Ruddiger’s attention. Ruddiger ran over and climbed up his body. Varian looked at Sara. “I’m going to head home. Take a nap or something.”

“Alright. Be safe. Dad’s home, so I don’t know how much sleep you’ll really get, but it’s still worth a shot.”

Varian nodded and started walking back to the Murphy household. Yeah, he occasionally referred to the house as his home, because it technically was his home. At least until he found one of his own.

Once he got home and, in the garage, he looked at the moonstone. He was a little anxious about the return. But somehow it almost made sense. Adira, well after the fight with Cassandra and Zhan Tiri, told him— and just him— that it was possible that the moonstone and the sundrop might return. But even then, this tiny little stone caused so much pain and suffering.

He put it onto a table. The garage had basically become his living space and lab. Varian gathered some supplies and put his goggles over his face.

Despite it being a bad thing, Varian could admit he was a tad excited. He actually got a chance to study the stone. He had wanted to know more about its powers and abilities.

“Okay, test one,” he whispered to himself. He grabbed the flame gun Martin gave him and started it up. Varian grabbed his metal scissor tongs and held the moonstone between the spoon-like tips.

The moonstone took flame very well. It glowed with heat when he pulled the flames away before it cooled down and returned to its normal color. It didn’t even seem like it had been on fire.

Varian grinned and wrote down the results. He thought carefully then mixed up a very small batch of bleach and baking soda. He dropped the stone inside and crouched down to watch what happened, scribbling the results into his notebook.

He loved pens and pencils. Varian tended to stick to pens. They were similar to quills, but he didn’t have to dip the tip into an ink well. Or wait for it to dry. He could just keep writing with no problems.

Soon, he used the tongs to remove the stone from the bleach mixture.

“Varian, dinner’s ready,” Sara told him. She paused then laughed. “What are you doing?”

“Research.” He pulled the goggles up. His face was covered in soot from some of his experiments creating heavy smoke. The family had the fire alarm removed from the garage a few weeks ago for reasons such as this.

“On?”

“This.” He grabbed the moonstone and held it up. “I don’t know how, I don’t know why, but this. It’s the moonstone. The one I told you about with Zhan Tiri and Cassandra. And my dad.” His grip on it tightened. “I have the chance to study it. Learn how it works and what it’s made up of. It’s extremely dangerous, so I’ll just work on it alone.”

“The moonstone?” Sara looked at it. “I thought that that was just a legend and a story you made up to go with the legends of your time.”

Varian snorted. “My time? You make it seem like I’m an old man who yammers on about the ‘good ol’ days’ while whining about modern times and differences.”

“Technically, in a way, you are an old man. You do jump with some new things. Like the plane.”

“I don’t like heights. Unless I’m in a hot air balloon. Even though he wasn’t the greatest person ever, Andrew taught me how to build one of those. I know exactly how they work. I don’t know how planes work. And I’m eighteen. That’s not old.”

“It is when you were born in the 1780s.”

He stuck his tongue out and took off his gloves, shoving them into the tan apron he had arrived with. Bridgette had gotten him a handful more. In her words, “you need more than one so you can clean them while still doing your experiments instead of having to wait for the load to finish.” Varian could live with that. But his tan one was his favorite.

“Pft, what’s with your face?”

“For your information, Zack, I was playing with chemicals.” Varian got his plate of food. It wasn’t uncommon for Zack and/or Melissa to be over for dinner, so he didn’t question him being there much. “Some of which, their reaction created smokey fumes. Which then got onto my face. My eyes aren’t because I was wearing my goggles.”

Zack looked at him then laughed. “What cha playing with?”

“Several kinds.” He looked at Martin. “Speaking of which, you might want to buy some more bleach.”

Martin chuckled. “I’ll add that to our shopping list. I’m glad we can help fuel your passions.”

“As am I.”

Chapter Fourteen

[sinnamonrolle]

[ the little moments ] ♡ Diavolo

8 - That moment when you found out what Diavolo did with your doodles.

✿ part of a series now! ✿

❀  gender neutral reader  ❀

“Your Highness,” you called out, your knuckles rapping against the door of his private office. The sturdy wood muffled the three knocks, softening the crisp sounds. “It’s me. Are you inside?”

Immediately after you lowered your hand, the door opened to a beaming Diavolo. He wore his polite and friendly smile, restrained in the emotions he showed through his face, but his eyes softened when they met yours.

“Please, come in,” Diavolo said, his smile unfurling into a bright grin. He opened the door wider for you, letting you pass through before shutting it.

“How’s your work going, Your Highness?” you teased, dropping your bag next to your desk. “Still have a stack of papers?”

Ever since you agreed on a weekly hangout session with Diavolo, he immediately installed a new desk next to his, furnished with everything you would need—pens, paper, ink, pencils, colors—there was even a paper weight shaped as a golden nugget.

It must be nice to be a prince.

Diavolo wrapped his arms around you, gently latching onto you, and rested his cheek on your head. This side of him was something that only you could see. You bet even Lucifer didn’t know how puppy-like the prince of the Devildom was.

Diavolo pouted, blowing out a huff of air. “I understand being formal when we are in public, but we are in private, currently. Why don’t you call me by my name? Hm?”

You laughed and patted one of his arms crossed over your chest, but you dryly responded with, “I see Your Highness has plenty of free time. Your Highness must have completed so much work during the week.”

Diavolo drooped over you, his head burying into your neck as you tried to break free of his hold. You had some work to do, but you knew he had even more work waiting for him. Even though your weekly sessions were scheduled so that you could hang out with him, almost every session was spent working. You didn’t blame it on him—rather, you quite liked these sessions since they were calm, without the chaotic mess of the brothers, and you managed to get work done. You also get to spend that time with Diavolo, so it was definitely, one hundred percent a win-win situation.

In response to your veiled reminder to start working, he clutched tighter onto you.

“Be good, call my name,” he said, his voice leaving in a higher pitch than normal. It was even a bit nasally. Was he… whining? Diavolo, the future king, was whining? “Please? Say my name, hm? You know I love hearing you say my name.”

When he finished his sentence, he blew lightly into your ear. The warm air tickled at the inside of your ear, numbing it with a tingling sensation that remained even after he stopped.

You flushed and covered your ear with a hand. You glanced at him from the corner of your eyes only to see his pouting face, his own golden eyes misty with unshed tears.

Coupled with his voice, it was an effective and deadly double KO.

Flustered, you cleared your throat. “Di-diavolo… Diavolo, I think you should go work on your papers.”

Diavolo beamed at you, his eyes regaining their clarity. If you weren’t busy avoiding his eyes as you tried to rub away the color on your cheeks, you would have seen his eyes narrowing with a hint of smugness.

Before he pulled himself away from you, his mouth pressed against the junction of your neck where your shoulder joined together, the sensation of soft lips warming your skin for just a moment, and you swore your heart missed a beat—tripping over a figurative line and tumbling around in your chest until it landed flat on its face.

Diavolo sighed as he turned to the stack of papers on his desk. “I’m so sick of looking at these papers. I much rather look at you all day. You are, by far, more interesting than whatever Moloch has to report on his governing.”

You gave him a helpless look. “It’s your kingdom that you’re looking at.”

Diavolo ran a hand through his hair, his slender fingers separating the dark red strands, and you couldn’t help but stare at the way they fell back over his forehead.

“I can still be bored of it,” Diavolo replied. The teasing and playful expressions that were just on his face had now faded away, leaving behind a blank face that carried hints of exhaustion.

As a demon, Diavolo wouldn’t show any signs of aging like humans would, since demons had amazing regeneration abilities. And with the magic suffused in the Devildom air, it wasn’t any surprise that demons could keep their youthful appearance or even alter them to their preferences.

Diavolo had the face of a human in their early twenties, but you noticed the dark bags underneath his eyes, the way his eyes drooped, and the dazed look he often showed when he forgot the world existed around him.

“Besides,” he continued, sitting down on his seat, “You haven’t read Moloch’s reports. He’s a bit—how do I put this… Moloch pays high attention to details, especially when it involves… certain emotions and feelings. He’s easily excited by them, and since he wants to make sure I don’t miss anything, he includes everything into his report.” He stretched his thumb and index finger to measure the stack of papers. “This much is his.”

Diavolo pointed to basically one-third of the stack.

“That’s a lot of paper,” you said, also sitting down. “This is a weekly report, right? How do you still have so many trees?”

He blinked in surprise, probably from your concern about the Devildom trees, and then, he laughed.

“You are so cute,” Diavolo said, smiling. You were basically right next to him, so he reached over and lightly squeezed your cheeks. His voice became softer. “Don’t worry, we recycle all the paper, and we are replanting whenever we can. Anything that is within the territories of my kingdom will be well taken care of.”

“That’s good,” you said, returning his smile. “I wouldn’t want a beautiful place like the Devildom to reach the state of the human world.”

Diavolo picked up a sheet from the stack on his desk, the nail of his thumb scratching lightly against the paper. It was a subconscious habit of his that you accidentally noticed from the several sessions you’ve spent with him.

“I appreciate your concern for the environment,” he said, skimming the paper before setting it down on your desk. “But won’t you spare any for me? My eyes are so dry from reading for hours non-stop.”

You thought back to when he teared up earlier, appearing pitiful in order to make you say his name, and unwillingness welled up inside you. You had to stop spoiling him, or this would turn into a bad habit.

“Be good, hm?” you said flatly, mirroring his earlier coaxing. Only this time, there was mild indifference on your face. You brought out your own homework and grabbed a gilded pencil from the pen holder. “Get to work. Your kingdom awaits your guidance.”

Diavolo didn’t respond. You stopped flipping through your chemistry notes and turned to find him staring at you with a smouldering gaze. The dark pupils of his eyes nearly swallowed his golden irises, leaving behind a thin ring of yellow that reminded you of a fire’s core—a blazing, molten yellow that threatened to intensify into something that burns.

You swallowed hard, the air pausing in your chest. If you weren’t sitting down, your knees might have given out from how intense his eyes looked.

You managed to get some words out. “What—what is it?”

“I’m sorry,” Diavolo said. There was a hoarseness to his voice that roughened his words and lowered his pitch, seeming to rumble from his chest. Despite the hoarseness, the way he spoke was undeniably smooth and even a bit… deliberate. “It seems… I experienced momentary deafness. Please, would you repeat what you said?”

There was absolutely no way Diavolo experienced “momentary deafness,” or however he put it, because you knew that, as a demon, his senses were outstanding compared to humans. He had always been healthy, and today would be no exception either. Although it resembled more of an excuse than anything else, you had no resistance to that stare of his and could only agree to his request.

“Di—Diavolo,” you said, but when you found that your voice came out slightly wrong, you cleared your throat and repeated yourself. “Diavolo, be good. Do your work.” Your voice subconsciously became softer, but this time, it didn’t contain the same indifference as before.

Diavolo’s long eyelashes fluttered, trembling as he took in your words. After a short period of silence, he hummed softly.

“Yes,” he said, looking at you. “I will listen to you.”

To your surprise, he actually returned to his work without saying anything else. The only sounds that filled his office afterwards were the smooth slides of parchment against parchment as he placed the ones he finished reading onto your desk.

You returned to your own work as well. Your chemistry class had an exam coming soon, and you still felt ill-prepared for it, so you couldn’t miss out on this quiet time. However much you would like to study at the House of Lamentation, it was impossible to do so most of the time. One brother after another would just invite themselves into your room, often bringing their little arguments with them, resulting in them always asking for your opinions without fail.

Tapping the edge of the golden pencil against your notes, you took in a deep breath and cleared all irrelevant thoughts from your mind. No more nonsense. It’s time to study.

And so, the time quietly passed in this manner.

Before you knew it, you reached the last pages of your notes. You sat back into your chair, closing your eyes as you enjoyed the soft cushioning against your back. Diavolo’s taste was just fantastic, although you suppose anyone would after living in luxury for thousands of years.

The sound of scratching filled your ears, suddenly reminding you that you weren’t alone in the room. You lazily opened your eyes to see Diavolo slide another paper onto the growing pile on your desk.

Diavolo had made some good progress. He was nearly done with his stack, which earlier had towered over him. Some of the papers were signed and stacked to his other side, some were set aside to be reviewed again, and the remaining unnecessary ones were set on your desk.

The reason for it was because Diavolo knew you had a habit of doodling when killing time. You often finished your work before Diavolo, and so while resting your brain, you found yourself reaching for some paper and letting golden ink flow and form random shapes.

The pen scratching against the paper, the twinkling of the golden ink as the lights casted their glow against it, the shuffling of fabric against wood, the scritch scritch scritch that would occasionally murmur in the office—they all came together to form something comforting to you.

It became extremely familiar. Sometimes, when you studied alone in your room, on the rare quiet days when no one bothered you, you found yourself scratching against paper with the edge of your nail. Because, otherwise, the silence didn’t sound right.

How wonderful it was—to have this sort of secret connection.

“Oh? This is different from your usual doodle.”

You blinked, waking up from the trance of your drifting thoughts, and saw that Diavolo was smiling at you as he leaned into his hand.

“Ah, did you finish?” you asked, returning his smile as you set down the pen in your hands. “I think you finished faster than usual.”

“Of course, I did,” Diavolo said. “I had to in order to fully enjoy your drawing.”

He reached over to your paper, and then you realized that you had spaced out the entire time you were doodling. You had no recollection of what you drew, so when you looked down at your work, you couldn’t believe your eyes.

The golden lines winked back at you, teasing you with their sparkles as you tried to process the fact that you accidentally, very much so, drew the prince of the Devildom while he was working.

Indeed. Now, you remembered.

On the back of a report was a Diavolo in gold ink—the eyes half-lidded, focused on the paper in his hand; his mouth set softly with the ends curled down, matching with the minute wrinkling of his brows; the taut lines of his neck gently trailing into his collarbones, which were exposed due to his unbuttoned collar; the protruding knuckles on his hands, linked to his slender fingers that held onto paper.

It was a rough sketch, but it captured so much that the roughness gave it a sense of life. Of course, it wasn’t perfect. It was drawn in such a short amount of time that it could hardly be considered a masterpiece.

But with how Diavolo was handling the paper, you almost felt like he was treating it as such.

“Can I keep it?” he asked, setting the paper down and turning to you.

You looked at the drawing in his hands, and then back at him. Your sketch felt like a mocking copy of the real thing, and a creeping feeling of shame crawled up your neck.

“Are you sure?” You fiddled with the pen on your desk. Why did you have to go and draw him? “It’s not that good. I don’t mind if you keep it, but—”

“It’s not a matter of being good or bad,” Diavolo interrupted. He tenderly traced the lines you drew with a finger as he spoke. “To me, when I see this sketch, I don’t see the technicalities of art, but rather, the time you spent thinking of me. And it is this time and thought you have put in that I treasure the most.”

You didn’t know what to say in response, so you looked down, away from the soft indulgence on his face that only appeared when he was alone with you.

You looked away because you couldn’t bear the way your heart stuttered from it, because you couldn’t bear to allow yourself the growing familiarity of that expression, because you wouldn’t be able to bear it if one day you were no longer the receiver of the same expression.

Diavolo left a lifelong impact on you that was slowly suffusing through your daily life, but what about you?

How long will you last in his heart?

You clenched the pencil you were playing with, your mood dipping at the depressing thoughts sneaking their way into your head, but then you remembered something.

Looking back at him, bracing yourself against that expression on his face, you asked, “What did you do with my other doodles?”

Diavolo tilted his head, the strands of his hair brushing against his eyes, and he smiled at you mysteriously, like he relished in knowing something that you didn’t.

“Are you curious?” he asked.

You stared at him, face blank as various snarky replies flew through your mind. You were so tempted to sass back, but you decided on a mild, “Well, yeah. Why else would I be asking?”

Diavolo laughed, eyes squinting into crescents. “Fair enough. Then, I’ll show you.” He leaned over to his other side, away from you, but right before he pulled open the drawer, his hands paused.

“Are you ready?” Diavolo teased.

You were not impressed. At your deadpan expression, Diavolo stopped playing around and finally pulled the drawer open, carefully taking out the glass display box from inside.

You couldn’t tell what was displayed inside until Diavolo placed it down on the desk and removed the casing around it. Six golden seal stamps, each with a beautifully carved wooden body, were meticulously arranged so that the patterns could be seen clearly.

“Are those… seals?” you asked, leaning in closer to confirm what you’re seeing. “What do seals have to do with my doodles?”

Diavolo rubbed your head. “Look closely,” he said. “These are my favorites out of all your doodles.”

You blinked, then carefully studied the engravings. The first one was a doodle from long ago, from when you had just started the weekly sessions with Diavolo. In fact, it was so long ago that if Diavolo hadn’t told you that it was your doodle, you wouldn’t have recognized it at all. The others were all from your previous sessions. Some you couldn’t remember when it was from, but some you remembered doodling in the previous months.

“To answer your question,” Diavolo said after a while, “I made all your doodles into seals. My favorites are kept close to me in this case, and the others are placed in a protected cabinet at the back of my office. I also made another set so that I could look at them and use them back at the castle.”

“You…!” you choked, whipping your head towards him incredulously. You thought it was already crazy that he made six seals of your doodles, but not only did Diavolo make a seal out of every doodle you drew, he made two sets! Two! “Isn’t that overkill?! Why did you make two sets? That’s such a waste of resources! I thought you would just keep the papers I doodled on, not… not… this!”

Diavolo ignored your scolding and picked up a seal from its stand. “Do you want to give it a try?” he asked casually, taking out another box. This one held wax sticks, a spoon for melting wax, and some tea candles. “This penguin of yours is really cute. I love how chubby it is!”

“No, no,” you breathed out, rubbing at your forehead. “No, it’s fine. As long as you’re happy.”

After all, Diavolo was a prince of an affluent kingdom. It was also part of his nature to indulge in these sort of eccentric little things. And it wasn’t like you were angry or anything, since you did give him permission in the first place. You weren’t angry at all, just perhaps a bit embarrassed at having something you made with barely a thought and any effort to be turned into high-quality seals that rivaled the manufacturing of the royal seals…

Diavolo was really too much.

“Then, you can watch me,” he said, grinning. “What color should I use?”

You curled the edges of your lips. “How about blue?”

Diavolo nodded, grabbing the dark blue wax stick from the box. The golden specks mixed into the wax sparkled under the light as he broke a piece off. Lighting the tea candle with a spark of magic, he placed the piece of wax into the spoon and watched it melt into a puddle of gold-speckled blue.

Now that you thought about it, it was rather endearing. You smiled at the pure glee on Diavolo’s face when he poured the wax out on some paper, delicately pressing the seal into the wax.

This wasn’t bad. You could get used to this. Maybe you shouldn’t, but when you saw how Diavolo beamed after lifting the stamp from the wax, when you saw how he showed the penguin to you after peeling it from the paper, when you saw how this moment held you two so tenderly that you felt like time stopped—you were rather reluctant to let all of this escape from your grasp.

Crackle, stamp, peel.

This sound, too, you decided—if the sound of nails against paper was the sound of comfort, then, this sound of joy—you won’t let it escape.

It was yours to immortalize.

————————

Masterlist!

Phew, this one took a while. I'm sorry it's so long ;-;

Barbatos is next!

[meetmyothersouls]

The Ghost of You

Chapter 3

Moodboard by: @imnotoverlyobsessive

Warnings: haunted house, suspense, not proof read whoops

What do you say as you climb the ladder to meet an intruder living in your house? You tripped up the wooden stairs leading into the attic as you thought about it and there was a thump in response above you, as if you scared whoever was up there.

“Who’s there?” You asked with a shaky voice you didn’t bother trying to mask.

There was no answer, but if someone was really up there, would they?

“I…I’ve got a boyfriend and he’s a….police officer,” you warned, cringing at the lie.

You gripped the ladder as it began to shake and immediately looked above you. There was no body, no face, no one there shaking the only thing keeping you from falling what was now at least 5 feet onto the old wooden floors of your Victorian house.

You didn’t believe in ghosts. The idea of them made you laugh, and people who believed in them made you laugh even harder. But as chills peppered your skin, and the warm breath you shivered out turned into visible frost, you found yourself second guessing your beliefs. Your foot missed a step, lurching you forward. Your chin banged against the one of the steps, slicing the skin open. 

“Fuck!” You yelled. 

The shaking stopped and the cold air suddenly went back to normal. You regained your footing and climbed up the remaining steps. You held a hand over your chin, catching drops of blood that dripped from your new wound. 

“Whoa,” you said, forgetting about your chin as you took in what occupied your attic. 

Stacks upon stacks of old painted canvas took up almost every inch of old wood flooring in the attic. They had to be at least a century old judging by the thick layer of dust that coated them. You ran your hand over a stack, brushing off some of the dust. The top painting was that of a bridge over a colorful stream. In the stream, the reflection of a young couple could be seen looking down from the bridge. You ran your hand over the painting. Whoever painted, but a lot of detail into it, it was a shame they had been locked up in an attic for so long. 

You spent the next two hours looking at hundreds of paints, taking the time to dust each one. It was late when you got to the last stack, but a signature and date, written in what looked to be pencil caught your eye. None of the others had either of those. You read out them each out loud as you cleaned them. 

“T. Chalamet, 1879.”

“T. Chalamet 1880.”

“T. Chalamet 1881.” 

“T. Chala-” You stopped on the last one, catching a glimpse of what was under the layer of dust before even cleaning it off. It was a painting of a young girl, maybe early to mid-twenties. You brushed through the layer of dust with the sleeve of your jacket which was now coated in several different shades of dust and cobwebs. You didn’t need to clean it completely to know that this painting looked exactly like you. 

But how? 

Your hands shook as you looked down at the date. 

“1882.” 

You jumped, tossing the painting as an old bag fell from a shelf directly beside you. A plume of dust filled the air as you scrambled to pick up the contents that rolled out of the bag. You couldn’t help but inspect each item. They were old, maybe even vintage painter’s items. Old wooden brushes with bristles crusted together through a century of old dried-up paint. Tubes of acrylic paint of various colors. Several wooden pallets, with layers of ancient paint dried to the surface. You could tell the messiest one was used for mixing colors. You gathered the supplies that spilled out, taking care not to break any of them, as if someone was going to come back to use them. It made you sad, to think that one day this painter just stopped using them. That one day it was this person’s last day using these items. 

You reached over for the bag, but a small photo staring at you from the inside of the ancient painter’s bag stopped you. You gently placed the art supplies down and pulled the photo out. The photo was of a young man. Black and white but yellowing in the corners. You admired it for a moment. He was handsome. Whoever he was. He wore a light-colored suit, it was hard to tell what color it would have been, but you felt like it was probably light blue. He had dark hair and light eyes. You smiled at the photo before turning it over. You gasped at the name written on the back. 

“T. Chalamet 1881.” 

You quickly turned it back over. He was the painter. He painted all those. And he painted that picture that looked identical to you. You shook your head, this was getting weird, and you suddenly felt like someone was watching you in the attic. You put the supplies back into the bag but pocketed the photo. You decided you were going to take it into town the following day, to see if anyone had any information on this T. Chalamet fellow. 

You truned the light to the attic off and made your way back down the ladder, careful not to miss any steps that time. As you made it to the bottom, you pushed the ladder back into the ceiling, yelping as the ladder revealed a canvas propped up on an isle.

The only thing more shocking than the canvas appearing seemingly on its own, were the words painted onto it in bright red paint.

“I’m sorry I hurt you.”

Your eyes traveled to the corner of the canvas where a in small, scrolling handwriting a signature could be seen.

“T. Chalamet.”

Tags: @imnotoverlyobsessive @dayafied @soulofendlessbook @fashphotolife @chicchanelcigs @scentedkittenperfection @weasleytwinscumslut @timotheel0ver @mxciscastleintheair @marvelmaniac2000 @lovelyrocker @divine-1 @louievr @love-poems-only @starberry-cake @inlovewithphantasy @alexagirlie @misswestfall @softhecreator @livresjaunes @timmymyluv @inannamoon @harrys-thick-thighs @s-we-e-t-t-ea @timolaurence @its-schmackin-dude @justagirlwhoneedshelp @gatoenlacuidad

[hexalianrebel-blackfeathers]

Katsukisses

Panda's Notes: I got this idea in my brain a few weeks back. >w< I admit I don't remember why or how. I hope you guys like it. I admit I'm tempted to expand the scene at the end. If you guys want to see it, I mean.

[Find it on Ao3!] || [Ko-fi]

With U.A. suddenly becoming a boarding school in the middle of the year, it was only natural that the new student mailroom was overflowing within the first few weeks. Letters and care packages ran in and out like a river flow, and students from the business course seemed to volunteer there the most.

Obviously, this wasn’t the type of thing Bakugou normally thought about, but about an hour after school had ended, just as he had finished changing out of his uniform, his phone beeped with a few messages. A few different classmates were calling him down to the commons, and he’d rolled his eyes as he left his room and descended the stairs. He hadn’t actually opened the messages, only seeing the parts telling him to come downstairs; when he saw a third-year standing near the door with a mail bag under their arm waving toward him, he was honestly a bit confused.

“Hey, bud!” They said brightly, opening the bag and pulling out a box a little bigger than a textbook. “Sorry this is late; Mail’s backed up, and we just got more volunteers to help sort.” They grinned as Bakugou accepted the box with a huff, looking around the commons before jogging over to Iida and Midoriya.

He’d barely even looked the package over before Mina descended on him, overflowing with curiosity.

“Ooh, what’d you get? Is it from your parents?” She prodded excitedly, crowding against his shoulder.

He couldn’t tell if she’d guessed right or just managed to read the labels before he did.

“How the hell would I know what it is before I open it?” He huffed, shrugging her off in a slightly gentle way. “So fucking nosy…”

She chuckled and punched his shoulder as she walked away; no one saw the smirk on his lips as he went back up to his room.

He pondered over the box for longer than most probably would, fishing in his desk for a pair of scissors. What would his parents even send him? It hadn’t been that long since he went home, had it?

The tape on the box eventually yielded to an aggressive stab from a pen, and Bakugou clawed his way through enough of the rest that he could finally pop the flaps open. At first, he wasn’t really surprised: Two separate letters from both of his parents wishing him well and telling him to keep out of trouble respectively; a third letter from Deku’s mom thanking him for the birthday and Mother’s Day cards he’d sent her; a new pair of pajama pants and a couple of t-shirts from his closet at home; and a few new packs of the trading cards series he liked. He hummed to himself softly; this was actually kinda nice.

He folded up the letters and set them aside, debating if he’d toss the empty envelopes as he dumped everything out of the box. Once the items were spread out, he realized there was something he’d missed: A little drawstring bag that clinked quietly as he lifted it. A note was attached to it in his mother’s handwriting.

Saw these while I was out. Thought you might like them, Trouble.

His huff sounded like a chuckle as he tossed the note with the other letters. He opened the bag and—

Oh. Oh, shit…

For all the bickering they did, his mother did know him well. He would likely be up late wondering what to text her that didn’t look like a ‘Thank You’.

He pulled out one of the little cases and popped the cap. Goddammit, this was going to be his new favorite color. How dare that old hag always be right? He leaned to peer into his desk mirror, dragging the tube in a smooth brush across his lip.

He smiled.

Game. Fucking. On.

------

Yaoyorozu flinched a little when a somewhat urgent knock hit her door, closing her pencil in her textbook as she got up. “Give me a second!” She laughed lightly as she walked.

“What’s the matt—Oh!” She exclaimed, her cheeks running a little red as she saw the blonde boy leaning in her doorway.

“’Sup, Tarou?” He smirked, casually drawing his tongue across pitch black lips.

“It’s not Tarou right now, actually.” She giggled.

“Shit, sorry…”

“Don’t worry about it. What’d you need?”

Bakugou scoffed and crossed his arms. “I can’t drop in on my favorite Peach?”

She looked him up and down for just a moment, smiling a bit wider. “You’re just here to show me the lipstick, aren’t you?”

He stuck his tongue out, and she flinched as he suddenly tossed something toward her. Her eyes lit up when her hands opened to reveal a small pack of chocolate turtles. “So what if I am? Just try telling me I don’t look good right now.”

She laughed, resting her hand under her chin. “I do like the color, I admit it. What’s the occasion?”

“No occasion. Just got it. Needs a test run.” He purred with a wink, holding out his hand expectantly.

She eyed it curiously for a moment, snickering softly. “Can I help you?”

He pointed to her hand, and she blushed again with understanding. He couldn’t hide his smirk as she gave up her hand, and he pressed a kiss just above her knuckles.

“Well, aren’t you a charmer today?” She smiled.

“I stick to what I’m good at.” He shrugged, turning her hand over and suddenly blowing a loud raspberry against her palm.

She squealed, the candy pack falling from her other hand as laughter burst out of her mouth. “Katsuki!”

“What?” He asked casually, running his thumb over the lipstick mark on her palm. He smirked again before stepping forward, his fingers lacing with hers as he lunged into her neck to blow another raspberry. Her fingers clenched around his, her free hand tugged the side of his shirt, and she tried to lean away from him as she cackled.

He finally pulled her to stand back up a few seconds later, and she was still gigging while he stood back and smirked. “Well, Peaches?” He asked teasingly, grabbing the candy pack off the floor and offering it back.

Yaoyorozu playfully shoved his shoulder and took the candy back in the same motion. “It’s one of those days, is it?”

“Better believe it~” He sneered, sauntering off.

“Don’t get yourself in trouble!” She called after him, fiddling with the wrapper as she closed the door.

---------

Jirou was sitting on her bed, humming to herself as she strummed her guitar. When a casual knock hit the open door, she didn’t even look up. “You can come in. That’s why it’s open.”

Whoever came in didn’t speak, but that scoff sounded a little bit familiar.

“Did you need some—” The words were barely out of her mouth before she was being crowded and a kiss was being pressed against her temple. She blinked as Bakugou pulled away from her, and her eyes lit up slightly at the new look.

“What was that for?” She asked with a chuckle, immediately reaching up to check if he’d left a mark on her. Of course he had.

“Test drive. Not apologizing.” He smirked, pulling the lipstick out of his pocket and glancing in her mirror as he applied a quick touch up.

“I mean, I’m not mad, so why would yo—” He cut her off again, grabbing the neck of her guitar and her shoulder as he kissed the edge of her ear and blew soft raspberries against her cheek. She fell headlong into those snort-giggles he knew she hated, and he snuck tickling fingers under her arm when she went to cover her face.

He set her guitar on the bed and let her squirm away from him, casually blocking the little kick she threw at him.

“Asshole…” She whined, resting her arm over her face as she giggled.

“Yeah, maybe.” He teased, lightly scratching her sole before turning away. “Kissed your girlfriend, by the way~!” He called on his way out the door.

“Wh—You—?!” She stammered. “You can’t just say something like that!”

Bakugou had sped up a little until he realized she wasn’t actually chasing him.

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

Todoroki and Sero were in the kitchen, with Todoroki holding a bundle of unfrozen ice pops in his right hand. He took even breaths, trying to keep his Quirk from overdoing this little project.

“You know Mina was joking when she suggested you do this, right?” Sero snickered, having already placed the rest of the bag in the common freezer.

“I had a feeling, but then I wanted to see if I could…” Todoroki admitted, staring determinedly at his hand.

“I guess I can’t argue with you there…” His voice had trailed off, his eyes looking past Todoroki’s shoulder. Sero bit his lip on a smile as a sneering bastard crept up behind his distracted friend.

Like a python ensnaring its prey, Bakugou’s hand slipped up and grabbed Todoroki’s chin. He yanked the taller boy close, blowing a raspberry against the left side of his neck.

Todoroki screeched and stiffened as if he’d been electrocuted, and Sero was sure the whole room got colder. Bakugou cackled and drew his nails along his victim’s throat as he slipped around him. Todoroki glared after him, his face burning red, before he stared in shock at the frozen ice pops in his hand.

Bakugou rested his hands in his pockets as he strolled up to Sero and shouldered him like a cat.

“Hey, Trouble.” Sero chuckled, putting an arm around him. “Nice color. Is it new?”

Bakugou had kissed his hand softly, pulling him down to kiss his cheek while he nodded. “Just got it. It leaves decent prints.”

“I see. Don’t use it all up in one day.” He grinned, patting Bakugou’s retreating shoulder before helping Todoroki chip the extra ice off of the freeze pops.

--------

Mina was thankfully distracted as the hunter stalked over to the crowded couch in the commons. She, Kaminari, and Kirishima were half piled on top of each other to watch a movie. Oh, yeah, Bakugou had been invited to that… It looked like a lame timewaster anyway.

He licked his lips slightly, smirking to himself. What he was about to do was a little risky. But it’d be so worth it if they didn’t get too fried. He lengthened his strides, keeping them quiet as he slipped behind Kaminari, leaned into the side of his neck, and blew.

Kaminari screeched like a banshee, electricity arcing all over the room and the small group.

Well, they weren’t unconscious; hell, the power even stayed on this time.

But Mina and Kirishima definitely noticed that.

“What the hell, Katsuki?!” Mina shouted, laughing and ruffling static out of her hair.

Bakugou brushed his thumb over the print on Kaminari’s neck, grinning like a fiend as his victim giggled and sparked through heavy breaths.

“What can I say? I like messing with you guys.” He shrugged, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and kissing her forehead.

And then his eyes fell on Kirishima, whose face was already turning a dark red. He walked his fingers along the back of the couch, dragging his nails up Kirishima’s throat before gripping is chin.

“I’ll be back for you, Red.” He purred. “Got some shit to take care of.”

He pecked him on the lips—the tease—and barely left an implication, let alone a mark, before striding off.

Mina and Kaminari “Ooh~”-ed teasingly, and Sero and Todoroki finally came out of the kitchen to ask how they’d fared.

-----------

Bakugou found an…interesting little scenario in Iida’s room.

“The fuck are you losers up to now?” He asked, unable to keep a smirk off of his face as he rested his hands in his pockets.

The trio had apparently grabbed the Twister box from the game shelf downstairs, and they were currently forming a weird human Jenga tower.

“Hey, Kacchan…” Midoriya called, voice slightly strained as he tried to keep his balance. “Your little crew is having a movie night, so we brought the game here.”

“There’s a lot of space in the commons, unless you weirdos get really ‘noisy’ when you play this game.” Bakugou had moved closer, hands on his knees as he inspected their positions.

“Katsuki Bakugou!” Iida barked, and Uraraka let out a cackle, nearly falling over. He turned his head, and the blonde smirked as he leaned into view. His smirk only widened when Iida suddenly looked away with a bright blush.

“A-Anyway, shouldn’t you be watching the movie with your friends?” He asked in a huff.

Bakugou faked a disappointed pout, trying to catch Iida’s eye again. “Do you not like the new color, Speed Racer?” He asked teasingly, sneaking a poke on his side and nearly making him fall.

“New color?” Uraraka asked, looking around until Bakugou sat where she could see him. “Oh! You look so cute, tough guy!”

“Wait, what does he have on?” Midoriya asked, sounding a bit more wary than the others.

Before she could answer, Bakugou popped up beside him and cracked his knuckles with an evil sneer.

“New makeup, Deku~” He purred, dragging Midoriya’s shirt up by the hem. “You know the drill.”

“Kacchan, wai—!!” Midoriya squeaked out, only to shriek helplessly as Bakugou blew a raspberry right beside his bellybutton. In the same instance, Bakugou’s hands had managed to reach Iida’s exposed armpits and claw into them.

“Gah! H-Hey—Bakugou!” Iida yelped, and between Midoriya’s shifting to escape, and his loss of balance, both of them crashed down on top of Uraraka’s back. Both whined and giggled their own little complaints, and Bakugou quickly poked the black print he’d left on Midoriya’s tummy.

“You’re the worst…” Iida huffed, succumbing to a little bit of childishness as Bakugou took his glasses off and kissed his temple.

“Love you too, Speed Racer.” Bakugou pulled his phone out to check his lipstick in the camera, eyes widening as he spotted the time. “Ah, shit; I’m off schedule… Later nerds!” He teased as he headed for the door.

The trio had begun untangling themselves—with Midoriya explaining what the so-called “drill” was—when Bakugou zipped back into the room.

“Bye, Chipmunk.” He said almost gently, pressing a kiss to Uraraka’s cheek and blowing playfully before finally leaving.

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

Bakugou smirked to himself on the stairs, having touched up his lipstick again on the way back to his dorm.

Sure enough, a tall, purple-haired intruder was posted up beside his door fiddling nervously on his phone.

Bakugou licked his lips, approaching silently and slipping his palm over the screen. “Hey, Squeakerbox~” He purred, absolutely sneering when his new victim’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. “Sorry I’m late.”

The next 45 minutes—water breaks included—found poor Hitoshi Shinsou getting completely destroyed until his voice was hoarse from laughter. He was panting heavily and giggling out of his mind, still shivering as Bakugou massaged one of his feet and smirked at him.

“No safe word this time; I admit I’m impressed, Squeakerbox.” He hummed, sneaking a scratch on his foot before lying down beside him. “Does that mean you forgive me for being late for your tickles~?”

Shinsou whined, hiding his face until Bakugou reached up to tickle under his chin. He giggled a bit harder, lifting his arms to rest on his forehead and revealing several black marks on his neck where kisses were pressed, and raspberries were blown.

Shinsou just nodded, still trying to catch his breath and relaxing.

“Good kitty.” Bakugou taunted, slipping his arm under Shinsou’s back and softly nuzzling into his side. “Your voice okay? You haven’t said a word since we stopped.” He hummed, tracing the fingers on his free hand along the marks on his stomach.

Shinsou prickled, arcing slightly into his nails, and squeaking when his finger dipped into his bellybutton. “I’m fine, Powder Keg.” He snickered, earning another squeak-inducing poke. “What about you? You seemed busy today.”

Bakugou shrugged a bit, sneaking a new kiss to the side of Shinsou’s ribs. “New makeup. Needs a test drive. It’s kind of a thing; I can explain more some other time.” He moved to sit up, giving Shinsou’s stomach a few pats. “Now, don’t take this the wrong way, Squeakerbox, but you ought to clean yourself up before you’re the one who’s late. I’m going to the kitchen.”

Shinsou whined again, checking the time on his phone and trying to sink deeper into Bakugou’s bed. He was allowed to be a little late, right? Then again, this wasn’t much of an excuse…

----------

Bakugou was indeed in the kitchen a few minutes later, having stacked a few items on the edge of the counter in case Shinsou wanted to take them on his way out. In the meantime, he scooped rice from the cooker into a bowl before ladling a serving of beef stew on top of it. He’d set down his bowl to search for the bottle of hot sauce when he heard a few of his classmates seeming to cheer for a moment before talking normally to someone. He didn’t look up to see who it was, but he smiled slightly to himself when he heard little boots approaching the kitchen.

“Hello, King Bakugan!” She said brightly, peering around the counter wall.

“Evening, Princess Unicor—What did you just call me?”

Eri giggled like the gremlin the students had accidentally turned her into.

“What do you want, ya brat?” He teased, leaning to ruffle her hair.

“Papa is looking for Shinsou.” Eri explained, batting at his hand. “He said he’d probably be here today.”

Bakugou kept a straight face, crouching beside her as if he were confused. “Hm… You asked the others already?”

���Uh-huh. They said you’d probably know.”

Damn them being honest all the time… Bakugou bit his lip, eyes wandering as he looked for an excuse.

“Why is your mouth like that?” Eri asked, tipping her head for a moment. “Are you hurt?”

He flinched, almost thinking he was bleeding or something before he rolled his eyes and chuckled. “It’s lipstick, kiddo, just makeup.” He explained, reaching up to the counter for a napkin and holding it between his lips for a moment to show her the print. “Like Miss Kayama wears.”

Eri lit up happily, bouncing a little on her toes. “Oh, Mr. Yamada wears makeup. He has a pen thing he puts around his eyes.”

“Yeah? I do that too sometimes.” Bakugou stood back up, finally adding some hot sauce to his bowl and sticking a spoon into the rice before starting to carry it out. He leaned just slightly, and Eri grabbed his hand without question, starting to recount all the times she could remember someone wearing some kind of makeup.

They had barely gotten halfway through the dining room when Shinsou appeared from the hallway. Eri pointed excitedly at him, and a few of the other 1-A students giggled.

“Busted~” Bakugou taunted, and Shinsou rolled his eyes despite the blush on his cheeks. “Aizawa sent the gremlin after you. Maybe move a little faster.”

Eri waved as she ran to follow Shinsou out the door.

And now that he was free, Bakugou made a bit of a show looking over his classmates. A knowing few giggled and smiled and looked away, but he finally grabbed a chair and made a point to crowd close to Kirishima’s empty left side.

Kirishima tried not to smile too much, but Bakugou leaned close to his ear, gently blowing into it.

“7:30 sound good?”

He didn’t even look at a clock. “Definitely.”

Another ghost of a kiss. No print, but Kirishima’s cheeks burned red as he drummed his fingers on the table.

-----------

7:30 was a quiet time in most of the dorm. An hour after dinner ended, many students were now burying themselves in homework. Those who had done homework earlier tended to hang around the commons with their own movie or two and some hobbies.

This was all to say that Bakugou didn’t even have to be that quiet as he sauntered through the hall. He’d changed into pajamas, and obviously made sure his lipstick was perfect before taking the four steps between his and Kirishima’s doors.

Now though, he found himself pausing. Should he knock? Was that out of character? Why did he care?

Okay, he knew why he cared. Kirishima was…different. Even though it wasn’t the first time they’d done this, it always filled his chest with butterflies.

There must have been butterflies in his brain too because he didn’t notice the door in front of him had opened until a gentle kiss was stolen off his lips. He must have been a damn sight. Kirishima chuckled and gently bumped their foreheads together before pulling back.

“Hey Sleeping Beauty.” He teased, stepping back to motion him in. “I was just going to see you. Yours or mine?”

But Bakugou was still only half-listening. He was focused on Kirishima’s face. His lips were a weird glittery pink. Kirishima must have realized; his face was turning a little red.

“I, uh, I wanted to surprise you, but Yao-momo said that red lipstick was ‘too grown-up’. I didn’t really understand, but this lip gloss is all she would let me…”

He’d paused when he noticed Bakugou shaking. Seconds later, Bakugou was laughing. He let himself fall into Kirishima’s chest, his giggles keeping him from getting a full kiss on Kirishima’s face. This was why Kirishima was different.

He got to make up for those missing kisses once they were seated on Kirishima’s bed, even if Kirishima barely let him stop laughing the entire time. Ever black mark left on his neck or his cheek or his hands or across his lips was quickly repaid with pokes and scribbles that left both of them red-faced and laughing as they cuddled into the blankets.

“So…” Kirishima sighed, running his fingers through Bakugou’s hair. “You seem like you had fun today.” He teased, scratching gently at his scalp.

Bakugou prickled, leaning into his touch as he grinned. “I guess you’re not wrong.” He hummed, rolling over to run his thumb over the marks he’d left. “What do you think? You like the color?”

“I’d like it more if you washed it off before it gets on my pillowcases.” He grinned when Bakugou didn’t resist laughing, and he leaned in to kiss his mouth again. “But it does look really good on you, doll.”

Bakugou snickered, slipping his arms around Kirishima’s shoulders. “Mmph, fine… Thanks, red…”

[dancingamongstdust]

Creepypasta Scenarios - First Meeting (Part 1)

Ben Drowned

You had promised, sworn on your very life, that you wouldn’t laugh. It was an oath. One to be taken very seriously.

“Using your hand to muffle the sound still counts as laughing.”

Part of you felt really bad but that made you snicker even harder. Your best friend, at the very least, did appear extremely shaken about the entire thing. She sat on the edge of the couch with her arms crossed. Dark bags had formed beneath her eyes and her attention seemed unable to stray from the Nintendo 64 that sat between you.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “But you have to understand how this sounds. You’re telling me that you’re being haunted by a literal video game.”

She pulled her legs to her chest. The amount of weight that she had lost recently couldn’t possibly be healthy. “I knew you wouldn’t believe me.”

“Have you considered talking to a psychiatrist?” you offered. “Or perhaps selling this game?”

“He would kill me.”

You picked up the Nintendo 64 and stared at the main menu of the game. It looked pretty normal to you. You fiddled around with the settings to turn the music down. “I really think that talking to somebody about this would help.”

“That’s what you don’t understand,” she said. “I want to stop playing. I want to speak to people but all that he wants is for me to continue trying to beat the game. There’s no way to win! The entire thing is rigged!”

“Have you looked up a guide?”

She groaned. “Nobody’s going to listen to me.”

An awkward silence fell over the room and you shifted around in your seat before offering some coffee. She accepted but the kettle had barely been boiling for a few seconds when her phone chimed happily.

“Oh look, he wants to play now,” she muttered. She thrust the device to you. “Take a look for yourself.”

The notification had come through an app called CleverBot. It was a very simple ‘hi’ message that didn’t really seem all too haunting. You opened it up and clicked around the app for a little. “Looks like just a chatroom,” you said. “Why’d you download this?”

“I didn’t. I just woke up the one day and it was on my phone.”

You closed the app and returned to the home screen. It immediately reopened and the same message popped up again. An identical thing happened the second time. And then again.

“This looks like a virus,” you said. “It’s probably best to uninstall.”

Clicking on the button made the icon disappear for a short while but it was quick to reappear. This time, when the chatroom opened itself, the message had changed to simply say ‘rude’.

You pursed your lips. That was suspicious enough for you to understand her potential worries. “I don’t think that it’s haunted but you should probably take it to a professional to have it wiped or something. And maybe consider less porn in the future?”

Your joke fell flat but it died when the chatbot began typing. Not too long after, another message had come through.

‘I don’t hang out in such places.’

“Can…” you trailed off. “No, there’s no way that they’ve hacked the microphone, right?”

‘Don’t need to hack in to hear what you’re saying.’

The colour drained from your face and you quickly glanced towards your friend. She didn’t seem panicked, even when you showed her the message. If anything, her expression was resigned as though this was a regular occurrence.

You didn’t get too much time to respond when a horrible static sound came through her phone. The screen began flashing and blurry images raced across it. A distorted version of the Majora’s Mask theme song started playing. It felt like your ears were bleeding. Scared, you threw the phone to the floor and, with a shattering crack, everything stopped.

For a while, you stared at it but then she said, “He’s going to be pissed with that.”

There was a chime from somewhere on your right. Your own phone’s screen lit up. Nervously, you reached over to check on it.

A single notification stood there, from an app called CleverBot.

‘You Shouldn’t Have Done That.”

Bloody Painter

The park was busy this time of day and filled with an awaiting audience – whether they were interested in watching the performance or not. Many seemed to appreciate it though, taking the flyers handed out by your group.

It was nearing midday when you ran out of pamphlets. You stretched and pushed your hair away from your face, relishing in the feeling of sun against skin.

Your gaze drifted across the park’s patrons before settling on one that you had been watching since the beginning of your performance. He didn’t look up much. A sketchpad sat on his lap and tousled brown hair hung over his face. You hadn’t caught his attention once but he had certainly kept yours.

“Can you hand me another lot of flyers?” you asked one of the other girls with her.

She handed them over and you put on your best grin before making your way to the tree he was sitting under.

He looked up when your shadow fell over his sketchbook. His work was considerably abstract and nothing that you could identify with ease. There weren’t too many colors though.

“Hello!” you greeted cheerily. “I don’t mean to bother but what did you think of the show?”

He blinked up at you. “I didn’t see it.”

The man was a master of deadpan but you didn’t allow your smile to drop. You lowered the flyer and sighed, “That’s a shame. It’s so rare that we have attractive people at our shows… you should consider coming to our actual performances sometime. Everybody loves musicals.”

He didn’t even react to the compliment. No smirk or even a blush. It was as though you hadn’t spoken one word.

“I’ve seen your face before,” he said. “You do this kind of thing quite often. Don’t you get tired of people staring at you?”

You chuckled. “I wouldn’t be in this line of business if I was too self-conscious. When they stare for too long, I like to imagine that it’s because I’m the most beautiful person they’ve ever seen.” Running your fingers through your hair, you offered him your most dazzling smile. “And if you remember me, that’s a certain compliment.”

“You can take it whatever way you want but it doesn’t mean anything.”

It was tempting to give up. Flirting with cute boys was only entertaining when they responded with… something. This boy just stared.

“So you’re an artist, right? You’d have a good point of view on whether or not I’m actually pretty.”

“My opinions on people are rarely accurate.”

His response made you uncomfortable, though you couldn’t quite put your finger on why. Something of a warning twisted in your stomach. A light had lit behind his eyes but it didn’t seem like something you wanted to tie yourself to.

It appeared it was time to give up your pursuit. “Well, I really should get going. Perhaps I’ll see you at the next performance.”

His eyes drifted to the pamphlet that you held. “Were you planning on giving me that?”

“Offering it but you don’t have to –“

“I’ll take it,” he said, putting down his pencil and holding out his hand. “Your show wasn’t too entertaining but I enjoyed watching the performance you just put on. Rather like a peacock strutting its feathers.”

So he wasn’t oblivious then… just teasing. You had no idea if it showed his genuine interest or if he was merely taunting now.

With a slight scowl, you passed it over. He tucked it into his sketchbook and then closed it, standing up. He was scrawnier than you had anticipated but he still had a considerable height – holding at least a few inches over you.

“Thank you,” you said.

He left without another word. You rolled your eyes and made a point to ignore any thoughts about him for the rest of the day. Perhaps you shouldn’t have given him your information… after all, that flyer had your full name and everything.

And you knew absolutely nothing about him.

Candy Pop

Hospitals were the worst places in the world.

They smelled too clean and looked too false. You generally avoided them as much as possible unless it was absolutely necessary. When a close family member found themselves locked within the walls, unfortunately, it wasn’t possible to stay away.

You wrinkled your nose as you walked into the room. The sterilized smell burnt you.

Most of it was what you had expected but the young, child-like scream made you jump and nearly drop every gift you were holding.

Your aunt jumped up from her chair beside the hospital bed. “What’s wrong?!” she asked, fussing over your cousin.

She was barely over eleven and had badly injured her leg during a biking competition. Your mom had told you that everybody in the family was going to visit her, encouraging you to go together in order to drop off some gifts.

“I’m sorry,” the little girl said quickly. “I don’t like balloons and I thought… it doesn’t matter. Sorry.”

You moved them behind you a little, trying to block her line of sight. “No, no, I should have asked first. You could have been allergic to latex or something and then I’d be feeling really bad about it.”

“She’s been particularly on edge thanks to these awful nightmares,” your aunt explained.

“Nightmares?” you asked.

The little girl seemed pale at its mention, pulling her blanket up to her nose and watching everybody wearily. “They’re just bad dreams,” she said. “You said that they couldn’t hurt me.”

Her mother hurriedly rubbed her shoulder and offered a warm smile. “They definitely can’t,” she reassured.

“Are they about the fall?” you asked.

“Sometimes.”

You settled down in one of the chairs as your own mother began speaking to her sister. They were able to discuss everything from the colour of grass to what they thought would be the best country to live in. You weren’t particularly interested in what they were saying and, after a while of trying to chirp in, you just let the lack of sleep catch up to you.

Your dreams came to you quickly, faster than usual and sharp in an uncomfortable sort of way.

You found yourself standing in a large field. The sky was grey and the grass tall enough to reach your knees. Everything felt bright. It hurt your eyes to stare at anything for too long.

Normally, dreams didn’t feel as such, but you were certain that this was one. There was no purpose to where you were. No inclination to walk in a specific direction or try to understand what was happening.

Just confusion.

You took a step forward and a soft wind wrapped around you. It brushed through the grass, dancing around the trees. Something was watching.

You turned and two, glowing lights floated above the ground.

Slowly, mist gathered around the two spots. As you stepped back, it began to solidify – quickly forming a more recognisable shape. The figure tilted its head to the side and a slight jingling sound filled the air. It stepped forward then and the glow faded from its eyes, revealing just what stood before you.

He was a jester, though certainly more modern than the old king’s versions. Blue hair hung around his shoulders and his entire outfit jingled with hundreds of bells. A smile graced his face and he stepped forward.

You moved away.

His smile disappeared and his eyes narrowed. The mist appeared again and he vanished into it.

You looked around frantically. He was gone. The wind picked up unexpectedly, howling in your ears. You raised your hands to shield your face and something grabbed your wrist. Before you could turn to see, you hurdled away from the meadow and awoke spluttering for air.

“Are you alright?” your aunt asked.

In the corner of your eye, you swore you saw a blue jester but, when you turned to look, he was gone. “Yeah,” you said, rubbing your chest. “Yeah, I’m good.”

Your made eye contact with your cousin and swallowed thickly. The look on her face said it all.

Clockwork

Every night, without fail, you saw her sitting there when you arrived home from work.

She always wore the same thing and, initially, you had thought that she would play on her phone for hours at a time. It didn’t appear that she had a phone, however, as you came to realise. Whatever she was holding was circular and fit perfectly within the palm of her hand.

You mentioned it to the building manager the second time she was there until like two in the morning. He had said that they thought she was homeless but, as far as they could tell, she wasn’t dangerous. You reassured him that your worries weren’t about her presence due to any perceived problem but he had just nodded.

She never moved while she was waiting. Not even to adjust her weight or brush the hair from her face.

A few of your neighbours used the very eloquent reasoning that she was merely crazy.

Occasionally, you heard children from the area parroting their parents. Rumours abound that she was a ghost who would attack anybody if they spoke to her. You scoffed each time it was said but many believed the stories.

You were arriving home late one night when you spotted her sitting in the usual spot. It was strange for you to feel anything beyond exhaustion on the nights when hospital jobs ran too long but this time, a strange anticipation settled itself in your stomach.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “Are you okay?”

Her hair was dirty and her coat looked as though it hadn’t been washed for years. Now that you were close, you could make out what appeared to be dried blood on her shirt.

“Go away,” she said, shaking her head from side to side.

“I have medical experience,” you responded. “And I know some good places to stay in the area. I can –“

“Good for you,” she sneered. “Leave me alone. You’re going to make me miss it.”

The object she was holding was an old pocket watch. It looked like something you would find in an antique store and pay insane amounts of money for. Though, it didn’t appear to be working. The clock hands sat at a set time and didn’t move in the slightest.

“I want to help you if that’s okay,” you said.

She forced out a laugh that sounded as though it physically pained her. “You want to help me?!” she cackled, throwing her hair over her shoulder. “Isn’t that sweet.”

You stumbled away from her and clasped a hand over your mouth. Her face…

Her mouth was torn to pieces, jagged cuts that ripped through the skin there and had been crudely stitched back together. But that wasn’t the worst. No, the worst part of it was her left eye that had a pocket watch shoved into the socket and forcefully stitched there. The injury flared red with infection and pain.

“What’s wrong little doctor?!” she cawed. “No longer feeling like saving the poor girl you found on the side of the road?”

You steeled your resolve and straightened. “I’m still willing to offer help if you need it,” you said in your strongest voice. “That injury is severe and needs attending to if you want to save the eye.”

The eye was definitely gone and she knew it as well, scoffing at your offer. “No chance of that. Why do you people like pretending that you care?”

“I do care.”

She responded with a mocking expression and stood unexpectedly. “Sure you do.” She tapped the front of the pocket watch with her nail. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to get to work. I nearly missed it thanks to your nagging. I’ll see you tomorrow, doctor.”

And she marched off into the night.

Dark Link

The vase that you were holding was beautifully polished and almost brand new. As you lifted it, something rattled around within.

“Why are you selling this for such a low price?” you asked.

The woman was middle-aged with a falsely high voice and bright, darting eyes. “It was a gift,” she said. “But I decided against keeping it. I wasn’t sure how low the price should be but it’s not like I’m losing any money.”

You decided against buying it, thanking her and walking away quickly. While you were looking through a few pieces of jewelry, your arm was grabbed and a small object pushed into your chest.

“Here you go!” you friend chimed. “Consider it to be a late birthday present!”

You took the game cartridge and examined it closely. “Zelda, again?” you asked. “I’ve already tell you that –“

“Yes, yes, I know that they’re not your thing but if you haven’t tried all the games then how are you meant to know there isn’t just one that you like?”

Sighing, you took the game and dropped it into your purse. It was dirty and definitely well used. A bit of black paint flaked off on your fingers.

Another game for you to keep in your cupboard and not look at again until months later when you were asked about your opinion on it. It wasn’t your fault that you didn’t have the console you needed and the simple answer of ‘just buy one for cheap’ wasn’t always available.

But in the coming weeks, you quickly realised that this wasn’t just another game.

At first, the things that went wrong were too minor to even pay attention to. Electronics started breaking frequently until the point where you had replaced your stereo twice in a week and no longer had a television. After that, you started feeling sickly and uncomfortable whenever you were in the house. A feeling of imposing nature settled upon your shoulders.

You spent more time away from home, staying away for as long as you could. When you tried to dogsit for your brother, the pup wouldn’t even enter the house.

It was late at night when you woke up in a cold sweat. Nausea coiled in your stomach and your heart was beating at the speed of light.

At first, you had no idea what had woken you.

And then you heard the rattling.

It was coming from the next room over. As though somebody had taken hold of your desk and was shaking it as roughly as they could.

You scrambled for your phone but it wasn’t there. It was sitting in your office.

You took a deep breath and slowly stepped from your bed. Your head felt fuzzy, as though you weren’t able to wake up properly. Every step was slow and lethargic.

Stumbling toward the door, you gingerly grabbed the handle. As you opened it, your mind caught up with your body and you remembered that you shouldn’t just burst in on a potential invader.

But it was too late.

The person, for it had to be a person, stood in the middle of the room. Its body was so dark that it blended in with the shadows surrounding it. Two bright red eyes shone, illuminating enough that it showed some of the creatures ashen features. It had sharp features that were definitely human. Though as you stared at it, you knew that it was anything but.

It smiled and began turning into small squares, pixelating into the air and disappearing into something behind it.

You flicked on the light as fast as you could but it was gone. Sitting in the middle of the desk, the black cartridge seemed to emit its own darkness.

Dr. Smiley

The building was beyond restoration, crumbling and derelict. You were sure that it hadn’t been occupied for at least a decade. Perhaps even longer.

For months now, you had been going through the motions to have everything approved and organised. You had gotten clearance, hired the workers, discussed things with any neighbours, and even paid extra for the best machinery to get everything done quicker.

And now they were refusing to do anything.

“I’m sorry, and I will compensate for the time wasted, but my men are saying no,” the on-site manager said. “I know you’re not from these parts but we’ve always known there’s something wrong with this building. Rumours and superstitions abound and I wouldn’t blame my men for not wanting to anger a ghost.”

“They’ll be pissing off something far worse than a ‘ghost’ if they continue refusing to even go in there,” you snapped.

He glanced towards his workers and rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Once he left, you turned your attention to the house. Why anybody would have wanted a house in this location was beyond you but now that you had inherited it, you could see potential.

Although the entire place was probably crawling with all manners of disgusting flora.

Perhaps you could use that to get the health counsel to do the job for you.

They will still talking and you could see the weariness on their faces. Sighing, you stalked your way to the front door and pushed it open with one hand. It creaked with the effort.

You stood with your hands out towards the men. “I’m going to walk this entire house!” you called. “And if your ghost doesn’t accost me while I’m there, then I’m going to be expecting you to all get on with it, alright?”

Nothing immediately jumped at you when you entered. The door struggled to open and it swung shut on its own accord. If that was the haunting that they were talking about…

A roach skittered along the floor in front of you, darting under a derelict sofa stained with an unknown substance. Several of the windows had been broken so it wasn’t surprising to find that graffiti and markers had been used to etch various names into the walls.

You walked through a destroyed kitchen, passed a bedroom with a smashed crib, and even kicked open a door that led to a filthy storage room.

No ghost jumped out at you.

Problems started presenting themselves when you walked down one of the hallways and pushed open a bedroom door. The entire room felt set apart from the rest of the place with almost-new curtains that had been drawn shut. Blankets covered the bed, dirty but still there. You immediately thought somebody may be squatting there but your concerns changed when you noticed the wall.

Black mold. It crawled its way up the side, covering most of what had once been white wallpaper. You brought one hand up to shield your mouth and stepped out, slamming the door closed.

If there was an infestation then you had to get the health department immediately. This was –

Your thoughts were interrupted by something grabbing you. Panic filled your mind as a sharp weapon was pressed against your throat.

“Well now, I just know that you don’t have an appointment,” a voice said close to your ear. “I don’t like trespassers.”

Thinking on instinct, you threw your head backwards as hard as you could. There was a satisfying impact followed by a loud yelp of pain. The weapon around your throat moved away so you kicked the guy in the shin and bolted for it.

The house felt bigger while you were running but nobody came after you. You didn’t hear any footsteps or other sounds of a chase.

Bursting through the front door, you winced at the bright light. The house hadn’t seemed nearly that dark until compared to the outside.

You collided with one of the workers in your rush and nearly knocked everybody to the ground.

“What’s happened?”

“It was that ghost, I’m telling you.”

“We warned her, boss.”

You cleared your throat and straightened up, making eye contact with each man individually. “There is no ghost,” you said. “Only a squatter who I shall deal with using police force if needed. However, I do believe any construction will have to wait because I saw an excessive spread of black mold within the house.”

They all spoke amongst themselves, discussing options. You glanced back to the house and allowed your attention to find its way to the bedroom window. Though fleeting, a masked face peered out at you from within.

Eyeless Jack

In many ways, what happened that night was your boss’ fault.

Having just finished working a double shift that ended at almost 1 in the morning, you were exhausted upon returning home. You walked past the neighbouring apartment with only one thought on your mind – sleep.

It was then that you heard a thump coming from within the house, followed shortly by a muffled scream.

Tired, you had to pause to register what was happening and, by the time your brain caught up, your heart was in full-on panic mode. You slowly reached into your pocket and dialed the emergency number as slowly as you dared, whispering into the phone and being reassured that a police presence would be arriving shortly.

Your neighbour was a young man though, just out of rehab and beginning to make his way through life. The longer you stood and waited for the police, the guiltier you felt.

So you reached into the pot plant and pulled out his spare key. After a short while of building yourself up, you unlocked the door and crept inside.

It was dark with the outside world shrouded via heavy curtains. You could barely make your way through the unfamiliar apartment and you didn’t dare turn on the light. Damn, you were extremely tired.

Part of your brain suggested that you had imagined the whole thing. It was a byproduct of a sleep-addled mind or something. That would be embarrassing to explain to the police and to your neighbour. Would you get charged for breaking and entering or could you blame it on your tiredness?

Your doubts didn’t get much further than that because somebody grabbed you from within the room.

A horrible iron-filled scent attacked your senses as you took in the bedroom. It looked like your neighbour was tied to the bed though he wasn’t moving. Somebody stood behind you, their breathing heavy and their grip strong.

They pushed your wrist closer to your back, preventing you from wriggling free of their grip. A blade, small and yet sharp, pressed against the side of your throat.

“Trying to play the hero, are we?” snarled a voice. “Have you called the cops?”

The blade pressed against your skin and you quickly spat out a yes.

“Probably right before you came in, if not earlier… I’d have enough time to kill you but then you’d be an absolute waste. Nowhere to stash a body around here and they’d comb the entire area if you were missing…”

“I didn’t mean –“

You were shoved forward before you had a chance to react. In the dark, you couldn’t make anything out and you hit the wall unexpectedly. Now, far enough away, you turned and tried to make out the face of your assailant. He melded in with the shadows and you ran your fingers along the wall until you found a light switch.

The lights flickered on and you gasped.

He wore a dark blue mask, a black ooze dripping from the eye sockets and onto his hoodie. There was no reaction to the lights. Not even a blink.

“Don’t you want to beg for your life?” he asked. “The other one pleaded nearly constantly until I shut him up.”

“You killed him…”

“He isn’t dead, just unconscious,” the man scoffed. “I try to avoid killing them, if I’m able to.”

“The police will be here soon,” you warned.

“Oh I know. That’s the only reason that I’m leaving this very minute.” He made his way over to the window, never turning to stop facing you. The bedroom window slipped open without a sound and he began climbing out. “I’d keep my doors locked if I was you. Plenty of unsavory characters live in these parts.”

And just like that, he was gone.

Glitchy Red

Your younger cousin squealed excitedly, holding the game to her chest in joy. “I love it so much!” she said. “I can’t believe I used to think Pokémon was for babies. At first when the music randomly cut out, I did think it was super weird but I’ve gotten used to it now.”

“I don’t think it’s meant to do that,” you chuckled. “But cheap versions, you know?”

It was good to see that your last-minute gift hadn’t gone to waste. You had been worried that the present’s fun would be lost on your video game-hating cousin but she had actually decided to give the game a shot. Now you had somebody in the family to speak to which was extraordinarily exciting.

“What are you meant to say to Red when he asks you whether or not he’s a joke?” she aske unexpectedly. “I know that if you say no, he goes away, and I’ve been too scared to try the other option.”

You frowned. “I don’t actually remember that part of the game.”

“Really? But it happens so often.”

When she realised that you really hadn’t encountered anything like that in the game before, she told you to wait a minute and came back with her game.

“There was one around here,” she said, loading in. “Just give me a second and I’ll find it.”

You stayed much later than you had originally intended to that night. The two of you played through a lot of the game, waiting for the moment when Red would break the fourth wall and demand to know about your opinions on him.

It never came.

The game ran incredibly smoothly. It was quite odd. There weren’t any hiccups along the way nor horror-style glitches. The music didn’t even cut off which was apparently rare accourding to your cousin.

After a while, she sighed and handed it to you. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why it’s not breaking. I’ll go make us some food.”

You continued playing while she was gone, enjoying the memories that came with the game. It was as fun as you remembered until about five minutes after she left. The music just shut off unexpectedly and, no matter what you did, it refused to come back at all. Any other sound effects worked fine though.

“So you’re just programed to break when only one person’s in the room?” you joked.

Perhaps that was a bad choice.

Unexpectedly, a loud static erupted from the console, so ear-aching that it felt like your ears began to bleed. The game took on a horrible red tint and Red appeared on the screen, a dialogue box appearing beneath his blackened form.

AM I A JOKE TO YOU?

Horrified, you immediately shut down the game and threw the cartridge as far away from you as possible. You raced at full speed into the kitchen, nearly knocking several things over along the way.

“You have got to throw that game,” you wheezed.

“What? Why?” she asked.

“There is something really fucked up with that game…” you said. “That thing with Red is absolutely not meant to happen. It felt like he was staring into my soul. You have to throw it out the moment you can. I will buy you another one but do not keep that.”

“Oh, alright,” she said, seemingly confused but nowhere as shaken as you were.

A faint static came from the living room, sending shivers down your spine.

Hobo Heart

Tears flowed down your face despite your best attempts to remain composed. “I’ve known for a while now,” you managed to say.

Your ex-boyfriend seemed shocked, though not entirely upset about your admission. “How long –“

“Since last week,” you said. “Though I’ve heard it’s been going on for considerably longer.”

He shifted his weight and took a deep breath. You recognised this behavior from the past, already hearing the words you knew were coming. The apologies and the false regret, the promises about not doing it again, and then the eventual guilt-tripping. If you heard the latter, you weren’t sure your resolve would hold.

“Goodbye,” you said firmly.

“Wait!”

You ignored the calls, making your way home at a steady place. A few people offered you concerned looks so you rubbed away the tears and took a few deep breaths.

Several months of your life had been completely wasted. You had put so much time and energy into a person who didn’t care one ounce about you.

Just great.

You turned onto your street and made your way to the house across from your own. The woman who lived there was always busy and she only came home to feed her dog before disappearing again. Thankfully, she trusted you to spend time with Bruno.

Bruno came racing over to the gate and jumped up for head scratches. He was a beautiful Afghan Hound with a dark coat and bright eyes.

“At least I know that you’ll always be by my side,” you said, running his fingers through the dog’s fur.

A tear slipped out and you quickly rubbed it away. You dug around in your bag and took out a couple treats, offering him.

A second bark brought your attention to the street.

Standing there, a small white dog with a scruffy coat stared up at you. It looked friendly enough and, after cautiously checking it out, you crouched down and gave it a treat.

“Hello,” you cooed. You gave the pup a few scratches and smiled. “How are you doing, hm? No collar? But you must have an owner because your coat is all groomed and soft. Did you get out or slip your leash?”

You looked around the streets to see if anybody. Nobody jumped out so you gave the dog another treat and brought it into the garden with Bruno to protect it from cars.

The two barked and played with little issue and you messages friends and family about the events of the day.

It was about half an hour later when the air was starting to get chilly. You stood and the small scruffy dog began barking excitedly. Its tail whipped through the air and it jumped up against the fence. A man wearing a white hoodie was standing down the street. You glanced at the dog, scooped it up and made your way to where he was.

“Excuse me,” you said. “I think that I found your dog.”

He turned to look at you and you startled slightly at his rather unusual face paint. A white skull was painted onto his face, similar to something you would see at a college convention.

He glanced down at the happy dog and sighed. “So that’s where he got to.”

“I’m sorry if you were looking for him. I took him off the street to protect him from any cars or anything.”

“It’s fine. He always shows up eventually,” the guy said. “You can just put him down. He’ll follow me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

Then he turned and started walking away. You hurriedly put the dog down and it immediately bounded after him, falling into step directly beside him. They disappeared around a corner and you returned to your own house.

The day had gotten much warmer suddenly.

[littlespace-imagines]

Little Muse pt. 4

Part one Part two Part three

Pairing: CG!Vincent x little!reader

Contains: fluff, short slow burn, Vincent Sinclair figuring out how to be a caregiver, CG/L dynamics, !Nonsexual! Dd/lg dynamic, reader is GN but wears skirts and dresses a lot (they’re so comfy and cute), cursing, Bo doesn’t understand but tried to be supportive, Lester is high key a middle

**Ageregression and Littlespace will never be sexualized on this blog**

(Readers POV)

I laid on my belly and decided to color for a bit, just something small to help take my mind off of what was going on around me, maybe I would give my coloring page to Vincent when I was done as a ‘thank you for not freaking out’ you smiled to yourself this wasn’t so bad but this also probably wasn’t a normal kidnapping you didn’t know what you had done to deserve this but it honestly didn’t seem horrible. I colored for a bit before fatigue began to set in, before long I could hardly keep my eyes open as I fought sleep.

You woke up with a start, giving a small Yelp and sitting bolt upright. Your tired eyes land on Vincent who has his hands raised to his chest into a ‘It’s okay! It’s just me’ type way. You rub your eyes and look around before your eyes fall on your coloring book you must’ve fallen asleep while coloring you thought, before recalling the fatigue you had experienced what felt like moments before but was realistically a couple of hours judging by the dark peeking through your blinds, you were pulled out of your thoughts by Vincent picking you up off the floor carefully and rubbing small circles on your back. You laid your head on his shoulder and just enjoyed the man's warmth for a moment as you took in his scent he smelled like wax and some other pleasant scent you couldn’t think of right now.

Vincent seemed to be considering something before he held you tighter and exited your room being sure to grab a few things to keep you entertained first. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders not caring about what was happening, you kicked your feet slowly. You were deep in littlespace and there was no way you were coming out of it soon, all your little brain knew was that Vincent is nice and that must mean he’s safe. The stress from the past couple of days leaving you with every step down into the basement below.

You looked around the deep cavernous room, the big pot of wax catching your attention. You took in everything including the makeshift sleeping area in the corner surrounded by candles. There was a partial statue in the center of the room. Vincent placed you on the ground before grabbing his sketch pad and sitting acrossed from you studying you carefully. You grabbed the pacifier popping it in your mouth before excitedly resuming your coloring which was about half done when you had fallen asleep, Vincent looked at your coloring page and looked at you he seemed happy about your enthusiasm to do what you do best.

(No ones POV)

Vincent watched as the person on the floor colored. He was focused on drawing the adorable sight before him, wanting to make sure he didn’t miss a single detail. His hands worked furiously acrossed the paper trying to finish the drawing before they finished their coloring just as he sat his pencil down they pushed their drawing towards him, he cocked his head to the side and studied it before gently patting the head of the person acrossed from him. He watched as they crawled over to him, plopping into his lap and curling around it. The dark-haired man nearly melted as they held onto his sweater with a death grip.

He gently picked you up shushing the cry of protest that came from your lips before grabbing the book he had been reading and making his way to the bed in the corner letting you cuddle up to him on the plush surface. With one hand he ran his fingers through your hair and with the other he read eagerly through the book. Holding you tightly against him, this was what he needed someone who loves and trusts him. It wasn't long before Vincent was drifting off to sleep beside you.

You woke up and felt a weight around your waist you looked up to see Vincent holding you close, arms wrapped around you. You looked around and saw your coloring book a few feet away on the floor you sat up slowly and stretched feeling your joints pop causing Vincent to wake up aswell. The tall man gently pressed the lips of his mask to your forehead and once again lifted you walking up one of the side stairs to take him into the kitchen, he sat you on the counter and had you help him with small things like stirring and cracking eggs as he made you guys breakfast he enjoyed heading you tell him about your favorite cartoon and made sure to make mental notes of all the things he was learning about you.

The two of you had the same favorite color, he hadn't heard much of your favorite music but he was going to ask you to show him sometime, your hobby sounded interesting and wanted to see you working on it.

“Hi, Bo!” your chipper voice snapped him out of thought as he turned to face his twin who was smiling at you and a small wave Bo just nodded towards Vincent before getting plates and silverware out of the cabinet.

“How’re you doin?” He asked you making a pointed glance at Vincent when he did,

“I’m alright, just woke up.” You answered and Bo nodded and seemed content with your answer

“You know, Lester’s goin into town if there’s anything y’all need write it down.” Bo said as he served himself breakfast and left with a small pat on Vincent’s shoulder.

He was doing well even Bo noticed he was doing good.

Vincent helped you down from the counter and sat you down at the dining room table and gave you your food before sitting down with his own. Everything was going according to plan so far.

[raindownforme]

Hey! I’m back with another request!

Reader and Ted practicality have all the same classes and whenever they have to do projects or work in pairs Ted without fail or shame is always like “Can she work with me! Please!” Even in front of the class So he can flirt with her during the project

She/her pronouns pls :D

Also I LOVED ORBITING JUPITER I NEVER HEAR ANYONE TALK ABOUT IT

An Ode to You

Ted Nivison x reader [she/her used]

The teacher, Mrs. Statham, smacked a stack of papers on her rolling cart. She lined the edges of them up to make it straight, then held the stack in her off arm. She turned to face the class, smiling kindly as she stood tall in her professional shoes.

“This week, we’re starting a project. You and a partner will be writing poetry based on prompts and discussing your different styles of writing. Your partner will be randomly assigned-“ the class groaned, some shutting books in protest. “Hey. It’s 9am, you think I want this either?” The class grew quiet. “Exactly. Now, I’m pulling names from a hat. First is…”

y/n leaned into her open palm, closing her eyes for a moment. She could hear students shuffling around their chairs, tennis ball covered legs scraping the cheap cement. She ran a hand through her hair, leaning back to stretch her back over the cheap school chair.

“YES.” Someone stood quickly in the opposite corner of the room, the scraping and falling sound of the chair making y/n jump. She opened her eyes to see her classmate Ted standing up in the corner with his arms upright in a cheering motion. He smiled widely, looking over towards y/n. He quickly realized his outburst, dropping his arms and pushing his glasses further onto his face. “Should I pick up that chair?”

“Yes, Ted. Then go move over to your partner.” Mrs. Statham shook her head, going back to the task she’d been working on before hand. Ted gathered his things, placing the chair back to where it belonged, and headed across the classroom to where y/n sat. He pulled the chair next to her out and sat down, smiling widely.

“Hey, come here often?”

y/n rolled her eyes, trying to hide a small smile. “Good morning Ted.”

“Good morning gorgeous.” Ted looked away from y/n, sorting through his backpack for a spiral notebook and a mechanical pencil. He turned back to y/n, intending to say something, but Mrs. Statham spoke first.

“All partners have been assigned. On the board are types of poetry and some one-word prompts. Yes you and your partner must pick the same type of poem and prompt. If you have any questions, I’ll be up here grading. Go ahead.”

The students began chattering as Mrs. Statham went to her desk. y/n huffed, staring at the board. She wasn’t well-versed on types of poetry, and the list was quite long.

“How about an Ode? You know like an Ode to something?” Ted gestured with his pencil as he talked. “I’ll let you pick the category.”

“An Ode to…” y/n scanned the board, looking for the right word. “Does that say darling?”

“No?” Ted squinted as he looked at the board as well. “I think it says daring. But I like darling! An ode to darling.”

y/n smiled, turning to begin writing in her own notebook. The rest of the lesson went on with only a few scattered comments from Ted.

“What color are your eyes?”

y/n looked up at him, confused. “Why?”

“Never mind I got it.” Ted furiously scratched at his paper, y/n returning to her own.

“What season is your favorite would you say?”

“Fall.” y/n set down her pencil, smiling kindly at Ted. “I like the leaves and it’s usually a nice temperature out. You?”

“I’m a late spring early summer kind of guy.” Ted taped his pencil over and over in a slow rhythm he could only hear in his head. “I mean, unless you have a pollen allergy.”

“Why?”

“I can’t take you out if you’ll be sneezing and coughing the whole time. I don’t know, maybe the fall could be a good time.” Ted waved like he was getting rid of an idea. “I’ll figure it out.”

“Okay?” y/n thought to herself for a moment, then ignored Ted’s question to go back to her work.

“Hey what’s your-“ Ted was cut short by the ringing of the school bell. He groaned dramatically as y/n stood to gather her things. “No! Stop.”

“Why?” y/n didn’t stop, instead zipping her bag shut and throwing it over her shoulder. Ted grabbed onto the edge of her shirt, tugging slightly.

“I don’t want you to go.”

“Ted, I have a class across the school. I’ll see you tomorrow.” y/n gently pulled her shirt from Ted’s grasp. He sighed, standing up.

“Fine. Let me walk you there at least?”

It took Ted all of a minute to gather his things. He shouldered his back pack and led y/n out of the classroom. He let his hand fall to his side, gently taking y/n’s middle finger and wrapping his own finger around it. He looked down at her, smiling softly, and held on tighter when she showed no sign of discomfort.

The two walked in silence across the school, taking y/n to her science class. Ted stopped her before she walked in, keeping her finger is his grasp. “Can I see you later?”

“Ted, we have class tomorrow. I’ll see you then.” y/n patted him in the arm, politely excusing her self. She watched him walk backwards down the hall, and turned to walk into the class.

“I’ll be thinking of you!” She rolled her eyes at Ted’s outburst, avoiding the peering eyes of her classmates.

———

The next few days continued the same way; Ted endlessly flirting while y/n write her ode. The writing came easy to her. She wrote about the stars, about the constellations and the night sky. It was a basic topic she knew, but it was easy to write about and it fit the prompt. She wasn’t sure what Ted had written about, but by now everyone had finished their poems, and it was time to present.

“Alright, Ted and y/n?” Mrs. Statham sat behind her desk, yawning into her mug of tea. “Please state your type and prompt.”

“We chose an Ode, and I miss read the prompt so instead of daring we chose darling?”

She nodded, keeping her eyes on the grading sheet in front of her. “I like it. Go ahead.”

y/n cleared her throat. She looked over at Ted, waiting to see who would go first. He gestured to her, offering her to go first while smiling kindly. Oddly enough, for it being the first class of the day, Ted seemed to be the most awake in the classroom.

“For darkness around you, a pattern to make do…” y/n read robotically from the sheet of paper in front of her. The poem lasted only ten seconds, letting her quickly set it aside and awkwardly smile at her classmates. There was light clapping from the crowd, complimentary almost.

“Very good.” Mrs. Statham scribbled on the grading sheet with a blue pen. “And what was that called again?”

“An Ode to the Stars.”

“Thank you. Ted you’re next?”

Ted nodded eagerly, straightening himself. He smoothed down the front of his shirt and looked expectantly at Mrs. Statham. “Do I-“

“There are no extra credit points for memorization. However, if you’d like to, go ahead.”

“Thank you.” Ted turned back to y/n, smiling widely. “I’m encaptured in your loving stare; My darling girl, my lady, fair.”

Ted went on for a long minute, leaving y/n a flustered mess. Every stanza, Ted found a new way to look at her. A new way to gesture to her. A new way to emphasize the lines he spoke. And after that long minute, the class fell silent for a moment before clapping loudly for Ted’s display.

“Thank you both. Class, did we notice any differences in Ted and y/n’s writing?”

Someone y/n didn’t know the name of put their hand upwards, prompting Mrs. Statham to call on them. “Well, y/n wrote about an object, Ted wrote about a person.”

“Good. Is there anything else we can infer class?”

“Oh!” Someone in the back classroom sat up straighter as they shouted out. y/n couldn’t quite see who it was. “y/n wrote kind of factual? Like things that we could all see. But Ted sees the person differently than we’d normally… perceive them?”

“Yeah. Exactly. Alright good job you two, go ahead and take your seats.”

Ted followed y/n to the shared desk in the far corner of the classroom. Another set of students went up to present theirs, and y/n kept her eyes glued forward on the pair, avoiding looking at Ted.

“I really liked yours.” Ted leaned over to whisper in her ear. She jumped a bit, surprised by how close he sat. “I think it was beautiful.”

“Thanks.” y/n chewed at the inside of her lip. “What was yours called again?”

“An Ode to You.”

“Sorry?” y/n tried to swallow the heat rising to her face, trying to not be flustered in front of Ted.

“It’s called An Ode to You.”

“To me?”

“No— well.” Ted twirled a pencil around in his finger tips. “It’s called An Ode to You, not like An Ode to y/n, I mean technically it is about you-“

“Me? What, are you flirting?”

Someone snorted in the seat in front of y/n and Ted. “You just noticed?”

y/n watched Ted’s face turn bright red. “I mean, they’re right. You just noticed?”

“I assumed it was a joke.”

“Why would I be joking?” Ted looked at y/n with concern etched across his face.

“I don’t know! Are you not joking?”

“No.” Ted very gently took y/n’s hand in his. “y/n, my darling. I would never joke about you.”

“Well Ted, honey, it’s 9am and you’re flirting with a tired teenager.”

“Can I flirt with you some other time?”

“Yes.” y/n yawned, stretching her arms upwards. “Any other time.”

“Tonight then? 7 o’clock?”

“Why 7-?” y/n stopped, her face becoming increasingly heated as the realization came to her. “A date? You want to take me on a date?”

The school bell rang and Ted stood from the desk, placing a folded piece of paper in front of y/n. “Text me, I’ll come pick you up.”

She watched Ted walk away, then looked down at the paper. On it read a phone a number that she assumed belonged to ted. When she unfolded it, however, was a hand written poem with a title reading, An Ode to y/n.

[mxtcha-tea]

and that's how i met you mother

✎desc; love at first sight with shiratorizawa (honestly, not all of them are love at first sight but ignore that)

✎pairing[s]; shiratorizawa 3rd years x f!reader (separate)

✎genre; fluff, crack

✎language[s]; english

✎chef note; just an excuse for me to write lovesick boys💗 (I can’t do Shirabu, Kawanishi and Goshiki’s part cause I ran out of ideas🤸‍♀️🚆)

Ushijima

It would just be a normal day in his class, learning and stuff like usual

Then after the teacher finished explaining and hand out the tasks, he'll went through his pencil case and couldn't seem to find any pen

Ushijima frowned at that and looked throughly in his pencil case but with no luck, there's none

He swore that he had put some inside, maybe his mind slipped a little?

A tap on his shoulder caught his attention as he turned his head around to make eye contact with you

You're holding out one of your pen to him with a neutral look,

"You can have it," Ushijima look at you surprised, does that mean he can just take it from you? That's a little absurd

But he didn't question it and nodded, slowly taking the pen from your hand and continue studying

The pen doesn't really sit right in his hand, it's not being his and literally someone else that he doesn't have the chance to talk to

He'll spare a glance at you every minute (ngl, he's complimenting your side view internally)

And when you caught him looking at him, he'll just blink and slowly look back at his work with a light blush on his cheeks

(Istg it's so cute)

After the class ends and before you can leave for lunch, Ushijima caught your attention first,

"Here, thank you for lending me this. And unfortunately, i can't take it from you"

You're just looking at him with a dumbfounded look before taking the pen from him,

"Ah, no problem, um..." "Ushijima Wakatoshi"

You nodded at that, scratching the back of your head "...Ushijima. And it's [y/n]"

Both of you are just standing there in front of each other but it's not awkward, surprisingly

It's as if you two are waiting for one of you to speak and end the convo

(Spoiler alert; none of you wanted to end the convo since both of you find each other interesting)

You cleared your throat, fiddling with your pen a little, "Okay, see you after this, Ushijima"

He nodded at that and with that, both of you went to your separate ways

'[Y/N], YOU AWKWARD BASTARD! THAT WAS SO EMBARRASSING, I BET HE THOUGHT THAT YOU'RE WEIRD NOW!'

Ushijima's just walking towards the gym with a fairly visible blush across his cheeks as he look down

"Ushijima..."

"[y/n]..."

"I guess he's fine..."

"I guess she's fine..."

Ushijima Current Mission!

Trying to figure what other scenarios he can drag you in to have a convo with you again

Good luck Wakatoshi~!

Tendou

You and Tendou have talked with eachother a couple of times but it's nothing more than that

And Tendou actually want to talk more with you (at first for friendship points but y'know...)

Today, you look more beautiful than ever to him today

It's not like you're not beautiful every other day (he thinks you're pretty so that's why he kept on having a convo with you)

And he caught into that

Somehow, he can't help bet stare at you in a distance and he tried his best to avoid getting caught

(Tendou's scared that you find him creepy for looking at you all the time and he don't want that thought to flood you mind)

Then, you came to him to explain about the work your science teacher gave since she's absent for the time being

And you can bet that he doesn't hear a single thing you said because he's too focused on yourself

It's kinda like in those scenes in manga where the main character stare into the main interest

The main interest looking as beautiful as ever with flowers around them

Pretty eyes, angelic face, kissable lips

For him, you're perfect and he even thought that you might be an angel in disguise

No matter how you even see yourself, he would always think that you're fascinating, adorable, enticing—

"Tendou, are you okay?"

The redhead snapped out from his thought and got caught by you

By now, his face is literally mocking his hair color as he chuckled nervously,

"Ah, I'm fine! It's just that..."

He was about to stop mid sentences but thankfully he still got that crumbs of courage and just goes with it,

"...you look pretty today,"

Tendou said with a closed eyes smile, peeking an eye open and trying to see your reaction (ngl he's nervous)

You blinked

Before you literally exploded at that which is what make him surprised in his seat

You fake coughed, looking away and avoiding eye contact,

"Thanks...."

[love meter +10!]

If this is an actual manga or anime, there could've been hearts dancing around him

Timeskip to Tendou at his home and squealing quietly to himself (he can't let his family hear him fanboying for someone in his school lmao)

"We're totally going to marry 3 years from now on~" he says to himself in the mirror with so many confidence

(I just love it when Tendou act like that, let him have his moment)

"Haha, thank you gods for creating me and [y/n] in the same world,"

Tendou's Current Mission!

Getting to know you better and give tons and tons of compliments, just like in the simulations! Specifically otomes and dating games

Try your best Satori~!

Semi

It was another day, another practice session

Except that it went longer than Semi expected, he managed to run from the gym to the main entrance

But before he can even put on his shoes, heavy rain started pouring down

He look at the dark grey sky, resting his forehead onto the shoe locker with one shoe already in his foot while the other in his hand

Sighing, Semi thought about asking to come with Tendou and Yamagata since he didn't bring his umbrella

But on second thought, he realized that they prolly forgot theirs too

And all 3 of them have to run under the rain again like last time

Yamagata and Tendou: "We can avoid the rain if we're fast enough!"

He shivered at that their words and the thought of getting terribly sick again

And before Semi's brain can process a strategy for himself, he was caught off guard when an umbrella was opened next to him,

"Ah sorry,"

In those few seconds, everything went slow motion when your eyes catches his

(He swore it felt like in the anime)

He can feel his cheeks flushing a little but thanks to the wheater, it's not obvious

"Hello?" Semi snapped from his thoughts, shaking his head before focusing on you again,

"Sorry, sorry, um—" "You don't have an umbrella?"

He blinked, shaking his head slightly

It's a pretty peaceful staring between you two with the rain hitting the ground as background sounds

Until you lift your umbrella up, and pointed at the small spot next to you with your thumb,

"Here, I'll help you,"

"Eh?"

Semi was flabbergasted a little at your statement but would he decline it?

Of course not,

"Just tell me where your house is then I help you go there,"

And that's how he find himself back at his house's entrance with you in front of him,

"And that's why I just let you walk with me for the afternoon,"

"Is that so, oh wait! I haven't known your name, and you prolly haven't known my name either..."

He scratched the back of his neck before looking at you with a smile,

"The name's Semi Eita, thanks for the walk back home,"

Your lips parted a little before in turns into a tooth rotting smile,

"[y/n], no problem and thanks for the company, Eita,"

An arrow pierced through his heart as his face is literally the color of Tendou's hair

And just like that, you left him on the entrance with a funny expression upon his face

Cutting the scene to Semi punching his pillow (rip pillow)

"You already caught me off guard already but you really had to look at me like that...."

Semi's Current Mission!

Try to find you the next day after first period and try not to be awkward with you and his convo after the eventful day

You can do it Eita~!

Yamagata

Let's just say that,

Yamagata went through the late anime girl scenario

But with his toast falling down from his mouth while running towards his school

And his stamina almost running low despite being a volleyball player and a libero

(His house's prolly far from his school, cut him some slacks sheesh)

He's pretty much stumbling a lot when he enters the school and speed walking up the stairs

Some of the students look at him weirdly but that doesn't become his main concern because a strict teacher is going first

Yamagata's almost there, almost reaching his classroom's door

But god had other plans and place an invisible rock in front of him

And as you can tell, he slipped on it and now facepalming the floor

(The sound is so loud my lord)

He groaned, shaking a little while trying to sit up from his position

The male look up and is now face to face with you, who's looking down at him

Okay he might be delusional from the impact but is he actually looking at an angel right now?

"Dude, you okay? That's gotta hurt from the sound that it made—"

Your words drowned inside his mind as he widened his eyes with pink tints decorating his cheeks

'This...THIS IS IT!'

"—also I think your nose is bleed—"

"PLEASE MARRY ME!!"

You flinched at that but keep a calm face, a little bit concerned that he may hit his head too hard

While Yamagata is just having heart eyes for you, sparkles around him after saying those words almost too confidently

He doesn't know what's in him that make him think that you're the one,

But he definitely can feel it

You sighed, crouching down while searching through your pocket and pulling out a small pack of tissues,

"I think we're going so fast right now but no, maybe 5 years later or never,"

"Does that mean you agree??"

"I don't know, you're handsome but also stupid, a himbo I think,"

You wipe away the blood dripping down his nose, taking his arm, opening it and put the bloodied tissue on it before closing it, giving a light tap,

"Now go to the nurse office,"

"Will you be there for me?"

"No,"

You help him stand up, dusting his shoulder and walk away as if nothing happened

Yamagata watches you from the distance with a lovesick smile

Tendou laughed behind him with Ushijima and Reon next to him and Semi looking at Yamagata, confused,

"Hayato, I have no idea if you had your alarm on but you just came to school during recess,"

"She's perfect...also, I think I need to go to the nurse right now cause my head hurts,"

Yamagata's Current Mission!

Marry [y/n]

Have fun, Hayato~!

Reon

(He will have the best love at first sight cause I say so)

It was the school festival and it's lively in every corner of the school, the outside, inside the classrooms, even the hallways

Reon had just finished his part of his classroom and now can walk around to enjoy the festival

Honestly, it's a pretty normal day to him despite being the school's festival

The students of Shiratorizawa has always been this lively so it's good that they can be keep the atmosphere as how it is like any other days

Since the others are still working on their parts, Reon was all by himself

Sure, the quiet sounds without Tendou, Semi and Yamagata is fine but he prefer it being loud anyway

A short of way to fill in the boring silence

But what's the bad thing to enjoy the peace once in a while?

So he take a small walk outside the Shiratorizawa building

Stalls decorated the outside with students busy serving the customers

He was greeted by some of them as he greeted them back with a warm smile

Hands inside his pocket while looking at the sky every few seconds

Baby blue sky with fluffy white clouds, it is the spring afterall

It was at that moment where he turn his head around and caught your eyes

It was something between those few seconds that a lighting strike between the string connecting you two for a second

Reon knew he did from the moment you two clashed with each other so suddenly

It was...not love at first sight exactly,

But rather, familiarity, like,

'Oh, hello, it's you. It's going to be you,'

The staring prolly lasted more than he expected before you snapped out from your thought, shaking your head,

"Sorry! Didn't mean to..." "But you didn't do anything?" He rose an eyebrow, smiling sheepishly and watch your panic slowly dissolves

"Well, technically yeah but It was bad of me to stare off at you like that,"

He chuckled, your heart clenching at that,

"Don't worry, I think I did it too...maybe both of us did,"

"Ah, yeah! Probably..." you fiddled with your fingers, visibly nervous facing him since he's basically a stranger even tho being in the same school,

"Reon Oohira," "Eh?" You look at him with confusion at first, while he just offers you a smile,

"My name, since we have...how to say it, meet each other? And I don't want to make you uncomfortable after all that so I think it's best if we introduce ourselves,"

Your heart's basically beating out loudly that you'll afraid that he'll hear it

But, that doesn't seem so bad, does it?

You mirrored his smile, this time more confidently than before,

"[y/n] [l/n], nice to meet you Reon!"

"Please,"

Reon put his hand onto your head, "Just call me Hira,"

You fainted

"She's interesting, I love her,"

Reon's Current Mission!

Get to know you better and honestly, there's nothing else to do after that other than asking you out

You'll do great, Oohira~!

[leafweaverryn]

*lugs in a very big shitty pot* okay, so i needed something to work on today because my brain was having a hard time focusing on the thing i should have been working on. i asked a couple friends for prompt ideas, and one of them has been on a revolutionary girl utena binge, so he said "utena au" while another friend said "make it lilanette".

so here we are. a very shitty pot. i am dumping and jumping, probably never coming back to this pot. there are notes at the bottom of stuff i was going to include, but didn't get to. be warned, it's been years since i consumed any utena content, so the lore is going to be baaaad

without further ado...

cw - lilanette, Lila Rossi, bad utena au, lots of cussing, and lots of lesbian thoughts

Only one thing made the school gossip about more than they do over who has the rose bride.

Transfer students were rare, short-lived, and were talked about more than the yearly newbloods. At least the academy freshmen knew what they were getting into; transfers seldom did. Their innocence, their ignorance of the carnivorous academia aws always something to behold, and bets were often placed on how long before the transfers ran or died. Underclassmen would race to be the first to meet them; upperclassmen knew it was only a matter of time.

When Marinette saw her first, the upperclassman felt… curious. Not hopeful or pity as she normally did, but curious, as if she had found a stray little glass animal, a missing part of a larger set yet to be discovered and collected. Originally, she had been taking papers between teachers, but seeing her made Marinette change her path, go out of her way for a closer look.

As if something tied to her breast was pulling her.

The transfer wasn’t in uniform yet. She was tall, but her platform boots could be the culprit for that, rather than the natural length of her legs. Her limbs, however, were slender and willowy, and she had a strut like a model, as if she knew she was being admired. Marinette kept her distance, and when the transfer stepped into an elevator, turning the interior red with her hair and clothes, the upperclassman didn’t try to follow.

Instead, she leaned on the bannister and watched the transfer ascend to the dorms. Shaking her head, Marinette walked away, writing off the encounter and dismissing it from her memory.

Someone else can have the bragging rights of meeting her first…

She already has a target on her back…

Meeting me would just give the others a reason to pull the trigger.

~~~

If Lila was sure of anything, it was that this is the weirdest fucking university I’ve attended yet!

For one, it was a castle and a city, self-sustaining and closed off from the rest of the world like a dream. That she didn’t mind. What woman didn’t want to live in a castle? Her only regret was that she didn’t have the luggage space to pack all of her gowns and dresses, but surely there’s a mall here somewhere! This place has everything else. Garden, dining hall, ballrooms, a labyrinthian library… The dorms were also very nice, as one would expect from a castle-city-school, with every student from the lowly freshmen to the higher echelon in doctorate programs had their own room, as spacious and well furnished as a small apartment. Lila was not one who enjoyed sharing, regardless if it were a pencil or shower.

She had no complaints about the uniforms either. The dress code was lax in its terms, allowing her to mix and match pieces so long as she was consistent and wearing the university’s rose emblem. For her day-to-day uniform, Lila opted for a red jacket with black detailing and lacy trim, and a matching red pleated skirt. Her usual platforms were restricted to only after-class hours and weekends, leaving her feeling shorter in the standard flats. There were no rules for hair color or styling, which she saw some of her classmates took advantage of with a small handful who dyed theirs. Her wearing of the uniform turned heads in the halls, though that could also be because I’m so beautiful, she thought with a flick of her hair and a smile.

The classes were standard fare, with a few eccentric electives and unusual programs in the listings, but she’d arranged her class schedule so that she was able to have a few free hours after breakfast and around lunch. She was halfway to her third major graduate degree, and the extracurriculars sounded like a fun little challenge that she signed up to a few without really thinking very hard about what they were.

No, what struck Lila as the most weird thing about her new university was the student body itself.

Never, in any of her years going to college, university, grad school, whatever, had she been to a place where a dozen or so of her classmates were armed with swords!

At first, when she saw one young woman with a katana, Lila didn’t care. She shrugged it off as a weirdo being a weirdo who only got away with it because who bullies a woman with a live-steel katana, no thank you. But then she saw a pair of blonds with rapiers, and a pair of goths with pirate sabres, and annoyance bubbled and seethed to the surface, barely caught before she could whine to the nearest professor, “Why do they get swords?! I want a sword! Why can’t I have a sword?!”

Day one, Lila had a mission.

Usually it was to find the head bitch in charge of the student social ladder and go straight for the kidneys, or clitoris depending on how the bitch in question swung, but the moment Lila stepped into the castle, even before she put on the uniform and got lost in the sea of bodies between classes, she knew that here, the game was different.

Very different.

Perhaps even… a little dangerous. 

She squealed at the thought.

Her mission to start was reconnaissance. Observation. Gather information to fill in the blanks she came in with. Lila didn’t like not knowing anything, but even she was willing to admit that she was at a disadvantage. So against her usual methods, she instead laid low and let the information come to her.

The first opportunity presented itself during afternoon break that same day. 

Lila was one of the first to arrive at the cafeteria, getting a cup of tea, a light cucumber sandwich, and a couple of macarons before she took her seat at a corner table where she could watch the door, her back to the wall. She was also very obvious, in a place where she herself could be seen; she wanted the others to see her, so she could judge them appropriately.

And it was very obvious what the other students thought of her.

Each and every one of them would pause, look at her, then scuttle away, whispering between one another. They would look at her again and again, but were never brave enough to approach her directly.

She bit back a scowl as she sipped her tea.

I’m an animal at a zoo, Lila thought darkly. Something to be stared at and whispered about to her face, as if she can’t understand. Peasants. Go on and whisper. Say what you will. As soon as my claws are sharp enough, I’m breaking out of my cage and clawing my place to where I belong at the top, queen of this antique jungle.

But no sooner had the thought finished did a classmate approach her table. Lila assessed her in a flash. There was an edge to the blonde, one that made Lila want to lick her fangs and grin. The fact she was wearing the sleek jacket and pants version of the school uniform only added to her regal presence. Her jacket was gold satin that shimmered when she moved, and her golden hair was pulled back in a high ponytail. This was one of the armed students, with a silver rapier at her hip. Behind her, a red-head in the standard puffy sleeves and skirt uniform and buggy-eyed glasses hid in her lady’s shadow.

The golden blonde smiled as sweetly as honey laced with venom.

“Oh!” she chirped. “You must be the new transfer!”

No shit, Sherlock. Lila smiled. “I am.”

She clapped excitedly. “Oh wonderful! Why don’t you join me at my table? The view is much better.”

“I’d be delighted!”

Lila stood, but when she reached for her tray, the blonde stopped her, “No no no, don’t worry about that!” Her pretty blue eyes went to the plain young woman beside her as she clapped her hands again. “Bibi, get her tray.”

Without a sound, the plain spectacled woman picked up Lila’s tray. The blonde giggled and offered her elbow, which Lila accepted without hesitation. As if they were a couple at a promenade, the blonde took her time in leading Lila through the bustling cafeteria.

“So what is your name, pretty ruby?” the blond asked, side-eyeing the woman on her arm.

She framed her face and gestured as she answered, “I am Countess Lilaousia de Francesca Emelia Catharine Rossi the Third…” Her hand slid along the blonde’s arm in her hold. “But I will let you call me Lila.”

“Mmm, never heard of you,” purred the blonde. “But then again, I’ve never been to Spain.”

“Italy,” Lila corrected.

“Whatever.”

Bitch.

The blonde led her to a table on a dias that did admittedly have a better view of the cafeteria. There were three other tables on the raised platform, all unoccupied. Quickly, the plain woman scurred to set Lila’s tray down, careful not to jostle the contents, then pulled out a chair for the blonde and one for Lila.

As she sat, the blonde continued, “I am Chloe, and this,” she gestured to the bug-eyed woman, “is my Sabrina. You can talk to her as you see fit, but you can only use her as a servant when I’m around.”

Lila’s eyes glittered in interest as she sat, looking between them. “The underclassmen serve the upperclassmen here? How fascinating.”

“No.” The word cut hard, and Chloe narrowed her eyes on Lila. “Bibi is mine because I won her. Simple as that. If you want your classmates to serve you, you have to earn it.”

She only smiled, mentally noting the other woman’s defensiveness. Like herself, Chloe was not a woman who enjoyed sharing. At first thought, the idea of “owning” her fellow classmates was boring, but the more Lila chewed on the idea… 

There was one pretty little thing Lila had seen on her way to the dorms earlier. Short, slender, ebony hair… Lila was disappointed that she didn’t get to see the young woman’s eyes, but her body, in the puffy sleeves and uniform skirt, left little to be desired, save that the clothes were removed to give her imagination a break.

The “pretty ruby” gestured vaguely at Chloe with her teaspoon. “Is that what the sword thing is all about? So you and the others can fight over your classmates and collect them like trading cards? I do wonder, is there a weekly swap day? How do you rank your little prizes? I hope it’s not by how many you have, because if Miss Bibi is your only one, I have to wonder at your skills when it comes to… penetration.”

At Chloe’s elbow, Sabrina blushed and snickered, but went silent at a glare. 

“Yes and no,” Chloe hummed to her tea. “Some do, and I’d suggest you learn how to mind that tongue of yours, since you are also fair game… But the prize, the true prize is the rose bride.”

“I beg your pardon… Whomst?”

~~~

edit: oh god i made another one