#i will probably be getting to the other asks ( i have ideas for those too ) coming up soon (or after i got out tonight ) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cum-aside · 1 day ago

Text

Ok it’s not like I go here really, but I’ve been reading a bunch of DPxDC recently because it’s very good, and I had an idea that won’t go anywhere

The various gangs in Gotham have callsigns/uniforms or something right??? If not, they should, and imma say they do. Anyway. Redhood I think didn’t think too hard about what people in his gang on his turf should wear for identification purposes, but they sure did. And what they came up with was Red.

Wearing red in the vicinity of the ‘Bad Part’ of Gotham?? Part of the red hood gang. Generally head gear is the preferred method of wearing red. Red hats and beanies, red head scarfs and hijabs, red headbands, red masks. The idea has been communicated. To a certain point, wearing red even if you aren’t officially part of the gang is a great way to get an in with them, or be under protection if you’re the right age in the right area, as long as you’re willing to risk getting roped into low stakes gang activity, which can range from working the counter at money laundering sites to community service (guarding clinics and shelters and volunteering) to making deliveries to destroying certain hostile architecture. (Hood saves the real jobs with cops and shootings and turf disputes for actual members, that he knows the names faces and skills of, and who are at least above 18, but preferably over 20, and who wear real gear he supplies them with, not just whatever’s in their closet that’s red) (this does not entirely stop the smaller ‘members’ from getting into their own fights with the cops and turf wars, but Jason has found that giving them Something to do that feels like direct action helps curb those tendencies. And it’s not like those things aren’t things that don’t need doing, so it’s a win win. Mostly)

Danny, bless him, does not know any of this. But has been staying in the sketchier areas of Gotham because that’s where people don’t care how old you are or if your papers are real or not, and he absolutely does not want people looking into how old he is and wether his papers are real or not. He is also wearing an inadvisable and vaguely conspicuous amount of red. His converse are red, his signature baseball tee is white and red, and his hoodie is also red.

Clearly, this kid (he’s like 17) really wants in with the hood gang.

And eventually, they oblige him.

Random people will approach Danny and ask/tell him that them and a couple others are going somewhere to do (insert vaguely/definitely illegal job or act of community service here) and Danny, who is deeply directionless in life currently, and also pretty assured in his ability to eat danger for breakfast, and has never met an institutional authority he doesn’t disrespect at least a little bit, is totally down for some civil disobedience and chaotic good shenanigans.

And then it spirals from there. Like. A worrying amount.

It takes Danny actual months, almost a year, to realize that he’s been low key slow cooked into the criminal underbelly of Gotham, and like… he’s not really mad about it?? Honestly if he had a choice when he came to Gotham, he probably would have picked the redhood gang anyway. He just seems to vibe with them on a… Spiritual Level…

Anyway

Years go by, and while Danny doesn’t have the most going for him in terms of a normal person life, vis a vis higher education, official employment, health insurance, dating life, or any other benchmark one uses to measure the trajectory of their lives— Danny’s feeling pretty good! Jazz, Tucker, and Sam have all finagled their ways into Gotham, (Tucker has a WE internship, Jazz is working/doing work studies at Arkham, Sam does what she likes now that she is a legal adult and has her inheritance, and what she likes is environmental activism, and occasionally being spotted with fellow activist Damian Wayne, and someone who may or may not be poison ivy, sources differ) and Danny finds his obsession suspiciously well served as a hood goon. Hood hench? Redgoon? Hench hood?? Name pending, who cares.

Danny is also suspiciously good at, well, his job. One of the best runners, even when he gets caught and frisked they never seem to find the goods on him (they never do check IN him, but then why would they) very well liked at every volunteer spot they have, patient, kind, funny, good with old people, kids, bitter people, addicts and the homeless, the sick and injured. And yet also very competent in the field, when they finally let him do actually dangerous things. Act as protection detail to the working girls in the red light district, he’s very respectful, and very good at intimidation, de-escalation, and when push comes to shove, excellent in a fight. Knows when to keep pressing his advantage and when to make a retreat with whoever he’s guarding. Not afraid to fight scrappy, and presses through pain and fear like a true gothmite.

He gets so good at his not really a job job that he becomes essentially, Redhoods right hand man.

The rest of the bats are skeptical of this for several reasons. Because generally speaking, the people in Jason’s turf are not fans of the bats, but Jason does a lot of coordinating with them, and someone so close to him is going to pick that up eventually if they’re half as sharp and useful as Danny is. Other than that, secret identity issues, plus pit rage, plus the fact that Jason trusts pretty much nobody. But Jason has great feelings about this guy, he always feels more clear headed and even keeled when he’s around, and he helps Jason remember the community he’s trying to build, and the community he serves. Also he delegates and mother hens like nobody’s business, but Jason just really can’t seem to work up too much irritation about it.

It is around this time, however, that the past, and shady government organizations come knocking.

Perhaps the GIW has also noticed how ecto-contaminated and lawless Gotham is and decided that they could start doing research and experiments with its live and undead denizens instead of amity, where the portal has closed, and ghost activity is down since phantom disappeared. Or maybe the GIW has finally located phantom specifically and is interested in what they’re always interested in. Or maybe it’s various ghosts harassing Danny to take up the throne, which he’s been avoiding successfully, but having settled into a life routine that suites him his core has finally ‘settled’ (halfa cores fluctuate more than other cores due to the transient nature of being alive, but halfa people settle into lifelong patterns and relationships quicker than other people because of the static nature of being dead) he is mature enough by ghost standards to assume the throne, or at least begin preparing for it.

Regardless, danny is being tracked down for his childhood baggage’s extended warranty, and brings the entirety of the JL and almost all associated sidekicks, hero group spin-offs, and organizations into the thick of it.

Idk. I just got through Secretary Danny by DeathlySilent13 on ao3 and I thought man oh man wouldn’t it be neat if Danny got to be Jason’s second in command instead??? That could open up a lot of avenues I haven’t seen yet. I’m also just very curious about how the Jason’s runs his gang according to the fandom, and I think that with all the ACAB energy Danny has been assigned, he should have a little bit of community focused organized crime. As a treat. Like I said I don’t go here thou, I just needed to put this somewhere and see if it vibed with anybody besides me

#dc x dp #dc x dp prompt #dc x dp au #danny phantom #red hood #liminal Jason Todd

90 notes · View notes

bluesidez · 1 day ago

Text

Bless Your Heart | 1. HELLO, MY OLD FRIEND

You're nervous, wary of your new environment, but you're excited to take on the challenge of becoming a ranch hand. Meeting the O'Hara brothers is sure to stray you one way or another.

tread lightly ⋆⋆⋆ humor, Miguel is...difficult, mentions of food, animals, animal manure, I think that's it!

word count ⋆⋆⋆ 5.6k (shoutout to the beta, DA WIFE!! @slushycoookie 💚)

note on the fridge ⋆⋆⋆ Special shoutouts to @opaloharas @monarchberrysblog @miguelhugger2099 @hysterical-reblogging as well as the Miggy server for guiding me with this story! It would still be in the drafts without y'all. Huge thanks to my beta Cookie! 🥺 I can't begin to say how much you've helped me. It would literally take up 20+ pages. JUST KNOW! THAT YOU ROCK!

last | next ℧ masrterlist ℧ AO3

JULY

You didn’t know you’d be back in the south so soon. A part of you wanted to laugh at yourself for crawling back to the place that you swore you’d leave behind.

Growing up here can be rewarding, but the itch to escape the fear that others placed on the outside world to make your own decisions rushed through your body every year.

So, you did just that.

You broke free of the grasps of superstitious aunts, traditional geezers, and terrified grandparents. You spread your wings to the city. You traveled the world. You got to know family that knew the ins-and-outs of various transportation systems better than you ever could.

And yet in those small, almost insignificant, moments, you found yourself yearning for the South.

You missed the way the air smelt before it rained. The expanse of land as far as the eye could see. The warmth of your closest family who never quite understood your ambitions, but urged you to chase after them anyway. The taste of grease and hot food, no one else in the world could match those down-to-earth flavors.

You missed home.

Subconsciously, you found the South in the things you did.

In the way you added packets of sugar to any tea you had because apparently no one knows what sweet tea is.

In the way you called people “ma’am” and “sir” when you weren’t really thinking about it.

In the way you had a little saying for every circumstance.

In the way you suddenly started to crave butter pecan ice cream as if you were in your 40s.

Still, home didn’t exactly mean back under your parents’ roof. You didn’t miss home that much, enough to have a curfew at your big age. You figured that if you were going to move back, it would be to an area where you could at least catch the nearest flight to some far off land.

The advertisement to be a ranch hand was a bit obscure, but the doodle of the big family on the corner of it was enough to sell it to you. It probably wasn’t the best idea to pack everything up so soon, but the pay was so unbelievable that you decided to test fate.

Your own family would have a heart attack. First, you were going to be almost in the middle of nowhere and second, you were going to be doing hard labor. Definitely not the little girl they watched grow up anymore.

It all felt surreal.

The sun was beating down on your legs through the windshield of a taxi-van. No tint was a match for this heat. You could hear your suitcases and bags rattling in the back with the one box of things you just couldn’t sell. You weren’t throwing away pots and pans, and no one wanted to buy your old dragonfly lamp.

The driver was a nice old man who spoke to you like you were a long lost relative, but he was starting to get way too quiet for your liking, and, like an idiot, you didn’t put the address in your phone. The service was spotty and all you could see was miles and miles of tall trees and power lines.

You leaned back and hugged your purse close to your body, letting out a quiet huff.

“You nervous?” the man asks.

You panned your eyes from a “Honey For Sale” sign to look at the rearview mirror.

“A little. But, you gotta jump in with both feet, you know?”

Such a light answer for what could be a walk right into your untimely disappearance.

Or budding success. You weren’t sure yet.

“That’s right. Wish I could get you to say that to my daughter. All she wanna do is lay around and watch TV all day.”

“Well,” your heart picks up as he takes a turn. The land was huge, red gates covering acres of green land and a few buildings spread across it. “I’m sure she has her reasons. Just give her time.”

He laughed as he pulled up to the gate, “Ain’t that much time in the world. Do you need me to drive further?”

“No, right here is fine, I’ll just drag everything through.”

You were quick to get out and get your things, body running on adrenaline. The cash you handed him was some of the last bit you had left. You're tense, wary of the new environment, but more than anything, you were excited for something new.

“Sure you don’t want me to drive a little closer? Those houses are far.”

“I think here is good. Don’t want to startle anybody.”

“Alright,” he slams the trunk and gets back to the driver’s seat. “You be safe now.”

With a quiet thanks and a wave, you watch his van back out of the rocky path. The dust under the tires makes you cough.

Roughed up combat boots scratch against the rocks in the path as you move to open the gate. It creaks loudly as you push past and the wooden sign burned with an H-marked spider jolts against it.

The person you were contacting said to just come on in once you got here. No number to call, no person to look for, no dress code.

Out in the open, you could hear cows talking to each other and birds singing their tunes. The wheels of your suitcase against the trail become the back beat of their song.

The land was truly beautiful, the few homes standing tall and proud against the plains. A small pond was at your right, ducks and mosquitoes floating over the top.

Following the path, you walked until you reached the first person you could find, the blurry image of reds, blues, and browns coming to form him.

A tall glass of water, taller than any other man you’ve ever met. You were sure if he ever fell off of a horse, it would be a hard flight to the ground.

The hair peeking from under his hat was as brown and curly as the chocolate shavings you’d see on grocery store cakes. The skin you could see was a rich caramel, hidden in the shade of dark felt.

You scanned the expanse of his back, wondering how he worked in clothes that made you feel hot just looking at them. Even with the shadow of the rim, sweat was still beating down his neck and soaking up the collar of his plaid button down.

A thick belt was snug around his waist and his jeans were mighty tight. Dirt caked the hem of them and walking your eyes up, every white stitch was accounted for. A name was on his back pocket, but it was too thin, too scrambled to see.

Dragging a hefty suitcase across the rocky path, you got closer to him, and with an extended hand and a polite smile, you introduce yourself.

“You needed a ranch hand?”

He turns his head to the side, barely acknowledging you, and turns back with a grumble, “Of course, this is the person I end up with.”

Your brows furrow, “What was that?”

“Nothing. You can put your stuff in the guest house. Join me at the barn in five minutes.”

“Do you have a name or were you never taught any manners?”

He stopped fiddling with the broken buckle of a saddle and turned completely towards you, “You talk back to all your bosses on the first day?”

Thick eyebrows lowered as he squinted at you and your breath hitched. If his hair was chocolate shavings, then his eyes were the mocha cake topped with swirls of coffee icing.

No man needed eyelashes that pretty nor lips that perfect and full. His arms were crossed as he stood there, body barely contained in his clothes. No man deserved to be that big with a striking face to match.

It was dangerous.

“Most bosses give me their names,” you drop your stretched hand, and the air lulls between you two. The purse across your body felt like it was digging in your skin. “Or at least a greeting.”

“Well, you’ll learn pretty quickly that I’m not most bosses.”

You bite your tongue, watching as he goes back to what he’s doing. That southern drawl in his voice was lingering in your mind as you realized that he truly meant what he said.

There was no proper introduction, no tour, no beginner’s manual.

Breathing deep you try again, “Can you point me in the right direction?”

His head flicks to the right, stance unmoving like a pillar. The three houses were all that were left and the barn was in another direction.

Gripping the handle again, you made your way back to the trail.

With a hand over your eyes to block the sun, you wonder if the guy from earlier would care if you passed out in the middle of the road. The distance between the houses and the animals feels further than it needed to be.

“Hey, hey, hey! Where ya heading?”

You slow your pace, unsure if the man sitting on a swinging bench was talking to you or someone else.

“Well, don’t just stand there. C’mon!” he waves over with the excitement of a little kid. “I don’t bite.”

Getting closer, the guy grunts as he stands and wipes his hands on his jeans. He’s just as tall as the first man you met, but he looks lighter, happier.

He smiles as you pull your bag to the porch, brown lips stretching to show pretty teeth. He tips his felt hat off, and when he steps into the light, the sun dances across his eyes, bits of brown tapping along a hazel base.

“It’s nice to meet you,” he sticks out a hand and places his hat back, something you expected the first man to do. “I’m Gabriel O’Hara. Welcome to The Huntsman Farms! ‘Where the stallions roam free.’”

You shake his hand with no hesitation, noting the strength in his grip, the roughness of his fingertips, “Thank you, I’m glad to be here. Although, I’m not sure if your buddy was informed?”

Gabriel pauses, then looks over to the paddock with a grimace, “Uh, he’s not too fond of visitors. A little bit of a stick in the mud. Sorry about that. I promise he’s all hat and no cattle. Figuratively.”

“That hat is pretty tall, then. He did mention a guest house in this general direction.”

“And to that guest house, I will guide you.”

He grabs your case and lifts it up with ease, turning to go behind one of the most stark-white houses you’ve ever seen.

There was a slight limp in his stride, noticeable enough for you to want to grab everything back, but watching him walk in front of you was entrancing.

Another pair of thighs and calves that fill denim cuts just before they make room to cover his boots. The brown belt hugged his waist nicely and the expanse of his back rooted itself in his t-shirt.

Sweat was building on your scalp.

Were all the men on this farm that built?

“So, is it your first time in this neck of the woods?”

You blink, “In Texas?”

“In the countryside, hun.”

“Oh, no! Born and raised in the South. I have plenty of family that lived in the country. I wouldn’t call myself a connoisseur of all things country, though.”

“As long as you can stand the heat, I think you’ll be alright. Had a guy sign up for the job and he passed out on the first day. Poor thing couldn’t tell a calf from a kid.”

“Well, Mr. O’Hara, I can assure you that I know that much. And a little heat never hurt anybody.”

“Glad to hear it,” he laughs. “And please, call me Gabriel. It’s a heap of O’hara’s on this land alone. Gotta keep track.”

You hum in understanding, thinking back to the family name on the advertisement.

Looking to the backyard next to the path, you notice a wooden playset with hot pink spray paint fading away to green on the slide. There’s a giant tree with a lone tire swing and a red wagon piled with lantanas and pink ladies under it.

The guest house matches the atmosphere of the playful area: pale teal wood with a chocolate brown door and window shutters. Three rocky steps lead to a welcome mat shaped like a cloud, and a few shrubs run along the edge of the house.

Gabriel steps on the stones, body stiff as he places your suitcase right by the door.

“Are you the owner?” you find yourself asking, steering your mind away from its earlier spiral.

He straightens up as he unlocks the door, grin prominent even though he wasn’t facing you.

“You could say that. I pride myself on taking care of the critters when I can,” the door creaks and he finally uses the handle of your bag to pull it in. “No unhappy chickens. No angry bulls. Unless I’m on one.”

“You’re a bull rider? Are you pulling my leg, Gabriel?”

“Oh, I wish someone was pulling mine. This last sucker got me good. I didn’t stretch that well before I got on ‘em and my bullfighters were scattered. Next thing I know, I’m in the air with three seconds left and my fingers slipping from the rope. Then, boom! Landed on the gate with one ankle in between the bars and a pull so deep, I’m on fire.”

Gritting your teeth and breathing in air through the gaps, your muscles tense like you were there.

“God, are you ok?”

“Well, you’re still staring at this pretty face, ain’t you?”

A laugh you didn’t know you had in you finds its way out. Gabriel’s smile grows, shining just under the rim of his hat. He switched the light on as he joined you, hands on his hips as he looked around the room.

It was cozy and compact with the kitchen mere steps away from the living room you walked into. Sunlight coated the room with stripes through the barely open blinds and a “Home Is Where The Heart Is” sign stood out on the wall next to the entrance.

The colors were similar to the exterior, blues and browns with a splash of white.

“I do hope you can come to love it here. I know it’s not much, but whatever you need, I’ll do what I can to help you out.”

“Thank you so much. This was actually a lot more than I was expecting, honestly. The ad was a little ambiguous.”

“What’s life without a little fun?”

“A boring one according to you. I do have more stuff all the way back at the gate that I should get to before it’s seen as garbage.”

“Oh, you stop that,” Gabriel says, blocking your exit. “I’ll get my guys to bring it in later. You go ahead and get settled and I’ll check out your ACs before I leave you. You’ll need it.”

He stomped his shoes a bit then switched on the living room box. The stuffiness of the air lifted and the cool breeze and hum of the AC unit took over. He turns the corner and you open the blinds next to the couch, opening up the room even more.

Ten seconds and a blink later you hear a scream so high, you think one of the goats may have found its way into the home.

Running after the sound, you park behind Gabriel to see what caused the commotion.

In the bedroom with the light skirting around the curtains stood a tall creature with a head of flying fur. It had antennas that moved at a steady rhythm and a bend that felt irregular, strange to the eye.

Gabriel was leaning on the doorway, hands slapping against the wallpaper with short breath.

When he flipped the lights you gasp as the biggest, sleekest cat you’ve ever seen stands on its hind legs and kneads the air. Its eyes are a bright green, standing out against its jet-black fur as it stares at you unamused.

“Gabbie!” Gabriel shouts, moving to bend and breathe a sigh of relief. “Baby girl, don’t do that. You know my heart can’t take it.”

A little girl ducks out from behind the cat’s head with a toothy smile and a pocket of giggles in her chest. She lets her cat down who only weaves between her legs, nearly knocking her over. Her hair is wild, thick dark brown fly-aways escaping what you think is a ponytail.

“Daddy said when you say that, it only means that you’re actually scared!”

“Your daddy don’t know whether to scratch his watch or check his ass. Don’t listen to him.”

“Are you here to help on the farm?” she asks you.

“Why yes I am-”

“Baby girl, you know that’s not how you greet people. Get it right,” Gabriel chides.

She huffs, hair bouncing as she looks down at her feet. Her hands go behind her back, embarrassed.

“‘M sorry, ma’am,” she mumbles, thick eyebrows furrowed.

Her cat sits in front of her and meows low, body stretching up to place its paws on her shoulders. It started to rub against her face, purring loud and content.

Your heart tugged at the scene. It reminded you of yourself, getting fussed at for the smallest things.

Walking next to her, you squat to match her level.

“It’s ok, sweetie. You didn’t mean me any harm,” you place your hands in your lap as you look at her.

Her cheeks are full and her eyelashes are long. There’s a bandaid on her chin and from here you can see that her hair is stretched and curly, barely contained in a scrunchie trying to hold it all together. If she hadn’t confirmed it already, you would think she’s Gabriel’s daughter, a mole under her bottom lip matching the one on his jaw, but those eyebrows were reminiscent of the man from before.

“Tell you what, I’ll tell you my name, and you can tell me you and your kitty’s names. Deal?”

“Deal!”

You learn that her name is Gabriella and her cat is a Maine Coon named Jade, like the Bratz doll.

“Because his eyes are green like her’s! And he’s a cool cat. Did you know that ‘Kool Kat’ is Jade’s nickname?”

“I wouldn’t be a girl with a passion for fashion if I didn’t.”

She giggles, sienna eyes sparkling as she claps her hands.

“Want to see my dolls? We can play dress-up. And have a party! Oh, oh! I have tiaras for me and my cats. You can borrow one!”

“Gabbie.”

“I can push you on the swing and introduce you to the baby cows and ride the four-wheeler.”

“Baby girl.”

“And we can do parties! My birthday already passed, though. I’m 8! How old are you?”

“Gabriella,” Gabriel says louder. His hands are on his hips as he gives her a knowing look. “I know you hear me calling you. And you never ask a lady her age. That’s rude, baby girl.”

She pouts again and nods, picking up her cat from under its armpits. Jade sticks his tongue out and starts kneading once more.

“Now go run off and play. She needs to start her work, ok? If you do right, maybe she’ll play with you later.”

“Ok, Tío.”

Gabriel turns and leaves the room but before Gabriella can get too far, you tap her shoulder and urge her back with a finger. You cup your hands over your mouth and that glow is back in her eyes.

“28,” you whisper in her ear.

She leans back and smiles against the top of her cat’s head.

“You really are a princess,” she whispers back. She shuffles off before Gabriel can fuss again and you follow.

He guides her through the entryway, watching through the screen door as she and Jade run back to the main house.

“Sorry about that. I think she snuck in here while we were getting it ready.”

“It’s fine. She’s a cutie pie. I don’t mind at all.”

“Yeah, that she is,” he sighed. “One look at that face and you’re a goner.”

Looking at him, you could tell that those words were accurate. He couldn’t even hold his authority for too long.

“Did Miguel have something for you to do? I wanted to get Gabbie out of your hair, but there’s no telling what he has planned. He’s been running all over the ranch like a chicken with his head cut off.”

“Who?”

Gabriel snickered and looked to the side.

“I know it’s hot but don’t go forgetting stuff on me so soon, honey.”

“No, I, I really don’t know who Miguel is. Was that the first man I saw? Tall? Long hair? Wouldn’t look me in the eye?”

Gabriel’s head dipped as he slumped against the door.

“O’Hara’s. A line full of knuckleheads, I tell you,” he mumbles. “C’mon.”

“Even without a watch, I’m sure that you know it’s been more than five minutes.”

You rub a wrist over your temple, swiping away sweat. Gabriel clicks his teeth next to you.

“Look, if this is how you’re going to act with basic tasks, you won’t make it far here.”

“Really?” Gabriel answers for you.

Miguel turns, letting go of the stall he was unlocking.

“Thought you had business to tend to.”

“And I expected you to show some respect, so I guess we’re both up the creek without a paddle.”

“What do you want, Gabriel?”

“For starters, you should apologize to this lovely woman.”

“Apologize for what?”

“For being a jackass. We finally get some help around here and you can’t even muster up a smile on that square head of yours.”

“The same square head that your mama blessed you with?”

“The same one that I’m about to knock up against the barrels if you don’t quit it.”

Miguel smirked and started to roll up his sleeves. Your eyes zero in on his thick, sturdy arms decorated with hair. His muscles flex as his fingers fiddle with a button on his cuff.

“I’d like to see you try. You can barely stand straight right now.”

Gabriel takes his hat off and places it over a lasso hook, then cracks his neck. Your stomach lurches and you can’t tell if it’s because your brain has deluded you into thinking that they’re fighting over you, or if you’re actually nervous about two men well over six feet about to roll around in dirt.

As Miguel loses his hat and his hair falls to frame his face, you think the first option sounds more pleasing.

You back up as quietly as you can, the two of them shouting curses at each other so loudly that they don’t even notice your movements.

“I can’t believe you want this nice lady to see you on your ass.”

“And I can’t believe you still don’t know when to mind your own.”

“Your own is my own,” Gabriel bites back.

A crunch behind you grabs your attention.

Jade looks up at you, one eye scrunched as he munches on a bug. A tiny, sparkly pink cowboy hat adorns his head. Looking further, Gabriella looks up at you with big brown eyes.

The boys were only getting louder.

“Excuse me,” you interrupt them. “As much as this is entertaining me, little ears are listening.”

You point to the entrance where Gabriella is doing the worst job of hiding. Her fingers stand out against the white opening and Jade’s tail stands tall and curved. He makes a stunted meow as the attention falls on him.

In a heartbeat, their demeanors change. Balled up fists loosen and shirts unravel. They both drop to the ground, Gabriel struggling, and beckon her closer.

For once, Miguel looks softer, at ease.

“Hey, sunshine,”

Gabriella walks fast to get to him, hands fiddling together. Once she’s in his arms, he cradles her, kissing her cheek softly.

“Were you and Tío Gabri fighting?”

“No, no baby girl. We weren’t fighting.”

“Yeah, we were just talking,” Gabriel agrees, smoothing back her hair that shoots right back up afterward. “Just some brotherly love, is all.”

“Then why is your shirt all messed up?”

She points to Gabriel’s stretched collar and picks at a loose button on Miguel’s.

“One of the horses might have gotten a hold of it.”

“Yeah, Tío’s right, Bubba was a little late with feeding time today. Magenta might have gotten hungry.”

Gabriella twists her lip.

“Tío, you know Magenta doesn’t like boys! What if she ate you up?”

Gabriel laughs before he can even think of a response, eyes warm as he takes in the seriousness of his niece’s face. With her eyebrows pinched like that, she was the spitting image of her father, scowl and all.

“Well, thank God you’re here to rescue me. Your daddy was no help at all.”

“If Magenta can’t stand you, what makes you think she wants to see me?”

Gabriel sneered at Miguel who only shrugged back.

“What were you hiding for anyway, Gabbie? I thought I told you to go play.”

She stares at her fingers, chin tucked away into her chest. Miguel rubs her arm, silently encouraging her, while Gabriel tilts his head and waits.

“I,” her eyes glance at you then back down. “I just wanted to see her again.”

When Gabriella says your name, it’s like everything sparkles around her. Like there’s bubbles and glitter in the air.

Miguel rolled your name on his tongue. He took you in and looked at you with more than just disdain underlining his skin.

Getting up without letting his daughter go, then helping Gabriel off the ground, he acknowledges you.

“Can you ride a horse?”

Your tongue slides over your teeth in your mouth. It’s not missed on you the way he watches you shift your weight, eyes calculating and stern.

“No. No, I can’t.”

Miguel looks at Gabriel out of the corner of his eye.

“That’s completely fine. Not nothing none of us can’t teach you,” Gabriel supplies.

“I could teach you!” Gabriella perks up, body jerking in her father’s hold, but his body remains still.

You smile at her in thanks as Gabriel continues.

“Have you ever milked a cow? A goat?”

“Once,” Gabriel looks hopeful and Miguel’s eyebrow raises. “At a museum. It was a simulation.”

“Hear that Gabri? They’re doing simulations for cows now.”

“Can you,” Gabriel ignored his brother completely, “plant something in the soil?”

“Absolutely. My mama has a garden and I planted things with my grandma before.”

Gabriel lights up as he turns and hits Miguel on the shoulder with glee.

You didn’t have the heart to tell him that your last plant died. Nor that the last time you were helping your grandma was when you were three years old and completely in her way.

“So you can operate a shovel?”

“Yes, I can do that much.”

“Great,” Miguel says. “I know the perfect task for you.”

Excited, you thought nothing of the calmness in Miguel’s voice. His tone and drawl mixed with Gabriel’s sweetness were like a lullaby sinking you slowly to the ground.

Right about now, you’d say the wrong ground got a hold of you.

Grunting, you stick a scoop shovel under the pile of shit in the corner of the stall.

It was gunky and rancid. For such a tiny area, there was so much of it piled high. You mourned the complete loss of your trusty shoes as you practically slid over it to gather up more.

“You know, cow manure is actually something that we farmers just can’t get enough of,” Gabriel stands by what you deemed the shit-truck. “It helps us so much. Keeps those crops coming.”

“So why isn’t said Farmer One and Two shoveling it with me?”

Surprisingly, nothing splashes out with the way you bang your shovel against the truck bedding.

Miguel was off somewhere. Probably thinking you weren’t cut out for this.

“Oh honey, this is looking like the same shit I picked up yesterday morning. This truck hadn’t even hit the road yet. ”

You stick your shovel in the ground and cross your forearms over the handle. Gabriel looks at you apologetically, but the chuckle in him doesn’t stay contained.

Miguel was a jackass.

“The cows don’t even mess up where they sleep this bad no way,” he continued. “I was so busy getting your house ready and fixing up things for the rodeo, I was able to move this out the way for composting.”

There was a rodeo to prepare for and yet Miguel still found time to give useless, stinky, busy work.

Not only was he a jackass, he was a dickhead, too.

You get back to work, choosing to imagine that you were throwing manure across Miguel’s face rather than getting mad at the flies whose home you were destroying.

Gabriel stays. Whether it’s for moral support or to laugh at your agony, you’re not sure, but his commentary cools you down.

As the last school of gunk hits the large pile in the bed, you really think you could muster up enough energy to strangle your boss. You could barely see through to the front of the truck.

“Thank you kindly,” Gabriel taps the bunk. “I don’t really like Miguel’s methods of…”

“Hazing? Torture? Deceit?”

“…testing,” he finishes. “But, if anything, you showed me you’re willing and ready to work. It’s a lot more than this last, what, ten? Twelve or so ‘ranch hands’ have done in the first weeks.”

You relax a bit, “So, I’ve got the job?”

“Had it when you told Miguel off at the paddock.”

He pats your shoulder as he shuffles to the driver’s seat.

“Go rest up. We got a busy day tomorrow and you start to smell like you’re the one that dealt it whenever you deal with manure.”

Grimacing, you nod in agreement. Your blouse would be better off in a garbage chute at this point.

Gabriel hikes himself in the driver’s seat and yells out before he leaves.

“Be out here at 7 AM sharp tomorrow! Don’t be late or it’ll be worse things to do than this. Left you some dinner on the table and some food in the fridge. We’ll handle shopping later.”

The truck moves and you panic, watching the pile fall into itself. Gabriel is driving far too fast.

Once he becomes more of a pebble in the distance and the sun is starting to hide behind he trees, you take a sniff at your clothes and gag.

You’re not sure if the world's strongest detergent and chlorine gas could get the smell out, but you know that from today, you were going to either prove Miguel wrong or die trying not to kill him.

After a shower, a deep cleanse to your scalp, a refresh to your braids, and a face mask, you finally go to the kitchen to see what Gabriel left you.

Thank you for signing up for this job! I know it’s hard labor, but the beauty of the result and the countryside make it all worth it.

I knew you’d make a great addition to The Huntsman Farms from our emails and I was happy to see that my gut was right.

For your hard work:

Fresh hot tamales made by my wife!

There’s a steamer on the stove to heat them up, but in case you’re prone to fires like me, just pop em in the microwave.

Enjoy and see you bright and early tomorrow!

P.S. - There’s some lemonade in the fridge too!

“A wife?”

You were too busy gawking at his face, you didn’t even think to check his hand. Of course, a man like that would be tied down.

Sighing, you open the microwave and start to wrap two tamales in damp paper towels. Your eyes were heavy and you might actually start a fire somehow if you turned the stove on.

While your food heats up, you pour a glass of lemonade and take a sip. It’s not too sweet, not too tart, and probably fresh.

When everything was ready, you sat at the small dining room table and unwrapped the husk.

One bite had you scrunching your face in anger and flipping Gabriel’s letter, searching for a description.

Fragrant tomatillo and green peppers, chicken bursting with flavor, and it was only just one bite.

You think there was another with pork and red sauce calling your name.

“She can cook and she has a great man, how lucky.”

You catch some scribbles on the back of the notebook paper and you straighten it out.

Smiling at her princess greeting for you and her best attempt at spelling your name, you read her words.

Welcome to the farm! I hope we can play together soon!

And I’ll teach you how to ride a horse! You can ride my horse! Her name is Flora! Like the fairy!

And I like your hair! It’s so pretty!

♡ Gabriella ♡

You pout your lip taking in her sweet message. Such a darling came from Miguel, a complete menace.

A tall, dark, and handsome one, sure. And strong. Hefty. It all falls through once your brain registers his words and not his drawl. He’s rude as all get out with the attitude of a donkey.

Despite that, as the night winds down and your head hits the pillow you wondered if you had made the right choice.

It was hot. It was stressful. It was far away from most things.

But, your thoughts kept running back to the little girl with wild hair and adorable smile.

For her, you think you’ll stay a while.

dividers by ⋆⋆⋆ saradika + rookthornesartistry 💚

a/n ⋆⋆⋆ If you would like to be on the taglist, sign up here or comment! Let me know how you feel!!

taglist ⋆⋆⋆ @questionable-behaviour @babygotl01292003 @slushycoookie @calig0sto @ghost-lantern

@tatatida @haveclayeveryday @corpsenightmarebride @samjinxx @earth2fae

@maiyart @feergrh32 @darkstarlight82 @ladysimp @vmpz8sauceee

@leonsbimbogf @unwrittenletter @madeofstar-dust @leoeloo @just-simpins-blog

@poisamm @thequeenreaders @tinybirdhideout @aly29a2001 @mimi-sanisanidiot

@tojishugetiddies @pigeonmama @av3da @prettygirleli @koikohib

@jayskookies @snails-doodles22 @xo-zeze @planetxella @thedevax

@f1-hoff @stressed-cherry @pigeonmama @mozella @appledressing

@woahhajime @vicravluv @xodeity @somniasworld @obsessgurlll

@starboygf @undf-stuff @bmoplanet @alexxavicry @kaioaiks

64 notes · View notes

paperstorm · 14 hours ago

Text

Thanks for the tags @carlossreaders and @henrygrass!

Carlos catches his eye and there’s a funny flipping sensation immediately in TK’s stomach. He could kick himself over it and a little bit wants to stick his own head in a toilet like he’s his own childhood bully. Carlos is attractive and so what, TK internally chastised himself. Most musicians who make it are attractive. He’s sat across the table from dozens of people who are far better looking than either of them. He brushed shoulders with Beyoncé at an awards show once and had to stop himself from passing out on the spot, despite the fact that he’s never been romantically interested in women for a single second of his life.

Carlos steps around his bandmates to make his way to TK across the room. He holds his hand out, a truly maddening amount of sincerity in his humble expression as he says, “Hi, I’m Carlos. This is amazing, man, thank you so much for this opportunity.”

“TK.” He reaches out and shakes, but keeps it brief and lets it fall away quickly. “And yeah, it – wasn’t exactly my idea.”

“Oh.” The line of Carlos’s mouth flattens almost imperceptibly, but TK catches it.

“No, I just mean, I’m not really who you have to thank,” TK clarifies quickly. He wants to sulk about it. He wants to stomp his feet and raise a stink and demand they be allowed to tour with no opening act at all, just to shove it in everyone’s doubting faces when he can still put asses in the seats and money in the bank accounts of their financial backers. But it isn’t fair to make his resentment this man’s problem; none of this was his doing, either. TK reminds himself of that as if he’s a schoolteacher wagging a disapproving finger in his own head.

“Right.” Carlos nods. “Well … I mean, you could’ve said no. So thanks for giving us a chance.”

“Sure.” TK nods back at him, trying to arrange his facial features into a smile that probably ends up more of a grimace. It isn’t the truth. Billy made it very clear that TK couldn’t say no, that Carlos and his band opening was a condition of the tour existing in the first place. TK gets the sense Carlos doesn’t know that, and there is a small, bitter part of him that wants to tell him just to watch the sincerity slip off his stupid handsome face.

There’s a round of noisy laughter behind them. Carlos turns, and TK tilts his head to the side to see around his broad shoulders. He gets no clues as to what’s so funny, but he takes in the smiling faces of his band and the smiling faces of Carlos’s band and gets a pit in his stomach.

Carlos looks back at him, offering him an awkward half-smile.

“Is this your first time to New York?” TK asks, almost certainly failing to hide how much he hates small talk.

Carlos nods. “We just flew in this morning, so we haven’t really seen anything, yet.”

“What are, uh …” TK stumbles over his words and shakes his head.

The only thing Billy told them was to show up at his office to a meet-and-greet, he wonders if they’re being intentionally left in the dark about some of the other details in a way they normally wouldn’t be. TK’s usually been involved in the process of planning a tour, he’s been cc’d on emails and participated in meetings and been asked for his opinion on venues and promotional materials. This time, he has a sneaking suspicion everything was plotted out without his knowledge while he was still in rehab. Everything seems to be moving far too quickly to not have been already decided on, and TK wasn’t in on any of those decisions.

Carlos’s eyebrows raise. He looks even more like a Golden Retriever when his head tilts to one side in question, and TK presses his lips together.

“Our first show isn’t for six weeks, did they drag you guys here just to meet us, or …?”

“I think so, yeah.” Carlos answers. “And to meet with your people, I guess. Iron out the details of the contract and all that.”

“Right.” TK nods shortly. “Well … hopefully you get to see a bit of Manhattan before you head back to Texas.”

Tagging @theghostofashton @birdclowns @reyesstrand @strandnreyes @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut

@carlos-in-glasses @actual-sleeping-beauty @thisbuildinghasfeelings @herefortarlos @heartstringsduet

@goodways @alrightbuckaroo @lightningboltreader @freneticfloetry

@liminalmemories21 @nancys-braids @whatsintheboxmh @bonheur-cafe

@reasonandfaithinharmony @thebumblecee @never-blooms @lemonlyman-dotcom

@sanjuwrites @orchidscript @jesuisici33 @kiwichaeng @honeybee-taskforce

@hereghostslive @butchreyes @just-inside-her @firstprince-history-huh @captain-gillian

@tellmegoodbye @anactualcaseofthetruth @ironheartwriter @eclectic-sassycoweyes @ditheringmind

@emsprovisions @irispurpurea @nisbanisba @corsage @chicgeekgirl89

@carlossreaders @ladytessa74

Want to be added or removed from the list? Lmk

#possibly I have shared this bit before?? I've lost track #911ls fanfic #wip wednesday #musician au

49 notes · View notes

bullet-prooflove · 2 days ago

Text

The Good Book: Tim Gutterson x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @fallmoreinloveeveryday @elenavampire21 @floralfloyd @lamaudite

Companion piece to:

Lucky - Tim's assignment doesn't go to plan.

Stars - Tim's not like other men.

You make good on that gift basket. Tim finds it sitting on the welcome mat outside his apartment one day when he arrives home from the gym. There’s a couple of IPAs in there, classy chips and chocolate, that special brand of coffee he’d become obsessed with when in Indonesia, one he knows costs a fortunate to import to the US. And then there’s the book, the one you were telling him about that night underneath the stars.

It’s a Brandon Sanderson novel, The Way of Kings. He’s not much into fantasy. Magic and shit ain’t really his thing. He much prefers the darker writings of Stephen King and James Herbert, he thinks those fellas get the human condition in a way most people don’t. However he’d promised you he’d give it a go, so he does.

He spends the night devouring it, poring over the pages until the sun comes up and even then he doesn’t stop. He reads it on the treadmill at the gym, in the line at the coffee shop, even on the john because he has to find out what happens next.

After he’s finished that one, he finds himself at Barnes and Noble buying the rest of the series, along with a few others.

“It’s like a gateway drug.” He tells you over on the phone that night as he lies on his couch, book open on his chest. “What have you gotten me into?”

“Something much healthier than killer clowns and men who try to murder their wives in hotel rooms.” You tell him over a crackly line because you’re still deployed out there in buttfuck, nowhere. Tim’s shipping out again in a few days’ time because there’s a shortage of snipers and his services are required.

“Admit it, you were worried about me.” He drawls as he recalls the conversation the two of you had that night. “You think I was starting to fade into the darkness.”

Truthfully you were a little concerned about Tim. His job isn’t like yours, it’s dedicated to killing and it’s something he’s exceptionally good at. His kill count is already well above what it should be for a man of his age and rank. Your country, they’ll just keep using him, utilising him like a tool until he breaks and the thing is Tim will never see it coming, because no one ever does.

That’s what the books are about, a method of escaping the madness, of immersing himself in a world that still has hope because you don’t see much of it out there in Afghanistan, not with a job that deals in death.

“Yea.” You say honestly because Tim is the one person you will never lie to. “You started to get a little quiet there towards the end. I’ve seen it before…”

You trail off then and Tim, he picks up on what you’re not saying. You’ve lost someone, someone in the service. Probably by their own hand. You don’t want to see that happen to him.

“Lucky…” He murmurs into the receiver. “I promise you, you’ll never have to worry about that with me. I’ll get out long before it happens.”

“I hope that’s true.” You say softly and he can tell you don’t believe him. He doesn’t blame you, he’s sure the man before him said the same thing too.

“What are you reading right now?” He asks you changing the subject because he hates the idea of you out there all alone in the desert, feeling sad because of him.

“Cowboy romance.” You reveal and he huffs out a laugh, his palm running over his weary features.

“Is this because I told you I spent summers working on my Uncle’s ranch back in Indiana?” He asks you and he can hear your smile over the phone as he cradles it under his chin.

“Tim, the idea of you walking around in flannel shirts and a tight fitting pair of jeans, it does a little something to a woman.” You tell him and he groans in response to your words because it gets him off knowing that you’re thinking of him when you’re almost half way across the globe.

“I wish you were here right now.” He tells you, his voice turning a little rough as he thinks about that night, his mouth ghosting over your skin, those pretty little sounds you made as he sunk inside of you. It was only once but once was enough to make a man fall in love.

“Me too.” You whisper as you stare up at a starry sky in Afghanistan. “Christ Tim. You have no fucking idea just how much I miss you.”

Love Tim? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Before you join the taglist make sure to read the rules here as you otherwise you won't be added.

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#tim gutterson #tim gutterson x reader #justified

41 notes · View notes

wyervan · 1 day ago

Note

hellooooo

I was wondering if you had any tidbits of lore regarding your Yuletide boys besides what you've already shared here and in the SS discord? i just think as a concept they're soooo cool and their designs SLAP asgdkfgsadkj

also totally unrelated but how do you feel about people writing things for your aus? like is it okay as long as it's kept simple, short/doesn't assume too much with the characterizations?

also also not your secret santa! I'm just shy >_<

hiiii! Glad u like them :3

it’s funny because the concept came to me mid-sentence while I was typing my intro into the SS discord. I was like “hmmm what do I put on my wishlist? Slasher Au would be cool but what about something more seasonally rela—KRAMPUS.”

Hmm one thing I probably won’t have the time to draw anytime soon but DREAM about depicting is Sunta’s (ty again @velbsy ) reindeer sleigh. 🦌

It’s a massive bronze chariot with intricate metalwork motifs on the siding. There’s plenty of room on gold-thread embroidered cushions for it to fit the metal man himself and all the presents for the good children, all packed neatly into piles of bags, boxes, and bows. It’s bedecked in golden bells and the reins are of sturdy dark brown leather.

And attached to those reins—the reindeer! Nine shining, steaming fully clockwork bronze automaton reindeer. Just as alive and animated as their bestial counterparts—but without the messiness, much to Sun’s preference 🙂‍↕️. Though they still bite sometimes. They do NOT get along with Moon.

Now knowing myself, I would be spending hours on every little cog and glinting metal detail if I were to attempt to bring this image into reality. Oogh, i can already feel how I would render the metal antlers 🤩. Alas, the idea must be shelved for now. My schedule is terribly stuffed for the rest of the year.

Oh and to answer your other question: if either of my AUs inspire you in anyway, please please please feel free to let the creative energy flow from you unbidden without worrying about being occ or anything else.

I mean I am absolutely here if you have questions about how I think my characters would react to certain situations or if you just wanna ask for clarification or detail. But I’m also super curious to see what people take away from my designs standing on their own!

Thanks for writing in, secret not-santa ✌️ 😛

#dca yuletide au #ask #oh but i need to think of names for the reindeer!#there’re is definitely one with a bright red nose #what do u think this is

28 notes · View notes

holnnetd · 9 hours ago

Text

Catfisher!König Part 1

Warning: Suggestive content, mentions of pornography, misogyny, low-key incel behaviour, please be 18 or older if you read this!

Basically college loser!König cat fishing reader for some nudes.

In my defence, I was reading something about a cat shifter, but with my dyslexic ass brain I read catfish, and now it can't get out of my head.

This is the first part, explaining the context a little, to get into the juicy part go to part 3 (wich i will upload someday)😊.

This is only fiction, please remember.

Teen!König is an absolute nerd, going to collage just because mommy said that would make her proud. She would only agree to let him join the army after he graduates, of course. Does it matter that he's an adult and doesn't have to listen to his mother's wishes? Absolutely not, he's a mamas boy. And if she wishes he goes to collage, he will.

But sadly for him, school is merciless. In military you have some kind of camaraderie, but collage? Hah, nom..

If you think people grow out of being assholes, you are only half right.

Do guys make fun of him because he's socially awkward? No, they do make fun of him for never getting laid though. It's not like he has a reason to be celibate, no religious background or not any other reason.

He just gets no cunt. Easy. Fucking virgin.

But he does have friends! Or that's what they call themselves!

Do they make demeaning comments about him and straight up just make fun of him in every way possible? Yeah, but that's how boys are. Right?

Not that it matters, he doesn't care about a group of boys bullying him. It's the girls in his classes.

Fuck, those are merciless. Or so he says. Of course a pretty girl with decent grades only gets it through sleeping, he says, fully believing his weird incel like comment.

And every time a conventionally attractive girl looks at him wrong, he's on and about how he doesn't need a lady in his life. He's better off on his own. Yeah König, go sleep with your mom when you're at it.

Tsk.

And there is you. Yes, long introduction, I know. I had to build up the climax (haha)

A gorgeous, overly feminine, hot, confident woman. Ugh, he gets hard when you walk by and he gets a whiff of that smell.

And his bestest of asshole fuckboy friends, seem to take a notice in his little crush, not that he would say it out loud, but he looks like he jacked off to you at least thrice this week.

"Eh, you like?" That one loudest guy ask, jabbing his elbow into Königs side as their gases follows your ass.

König grunts out a noise, probably confirmation.

"Fucking sucks you're ugly." He snickers and that ass kissing fucker behind him laughs too, trying to get closer to that guy's fucking asshole. Tsk.

König rolls his eyes, giving him a dismissive side eye. "Don't you have a girlfriend to fuck, Rody? I'm sure she has been complaining about your bed performance to her friends lately." He scoffs back.

Rody chuckles and shakes his head. "Don't matter. She doesn't know what's fucking good for her." He hums and that boot licker agrees, making some degenerate comment.

Both König and Rody shoot him an annoyed look. No one stands this guy but he refuses to leave their side. A thorn dressed as a leaf, really.

"But if you're that desperate to get something from her, just text her from a fake account. I assure you she won't answer the profile you're stalking her with." He huffs and König scoffs in annoyance. "Why are you so invested in my account activity, Bruder?"

But later that night, in a desperate attempt to get off he started browsing for some good old porn, hoping to get his sickly horny mind off of your body, but not one of those overly erotic videos seems to be getting him off.

Browsing through the categories didn't do shit to him. Solo female? Too old, too old, too plastic, too small toy, too loud and this one doesn't look of age, nope. Absolutely not.

That's not it.

But staring at those he did get an idea, getting crafty after his super friendly asshole friend inspired him.

..., Part 2, Part 3(that I will upload)

29 notes · View notes

bosskie · 2 days ago

Text

Tense Dinner

Man, I feel like it's finally time to fart this out, after 3 weeks of working on this. I know that there are still some stuff I could improve, but I don't feel like it, and my current skills aren't enough... But at least I could produce something more proper after a long time... I don't know but this took like 20+ hours, or even 30+ hours... This was a good practice work too since I rarely draw/paint this complex stuff, and I'm still learning how to understand lights and shadows... But I guess that this looks okay.

But what the odd is this thing? Welp, I have said earlier that I have felt like trying out drawing some Oddworld characters I have never drawn before, but I only feel like drawing Molluck stuff, so... I just had to figure out in what kind of situation those characters could be with Molluck. I have never drawn Alf or Toby before, and I felt like drawing them but had no idea how. Then I did remember one comment on OWI's Instagram post where they asked with whom you would like to have a dinner or something. That one commenter said that they would like to have a dinner with Abe, Alf, Toby, and Molluck because they would like to have a tense dinner. So, that comment was my inspiration.

I thought with the sitting order that Molluck wants to keep his eyes on Abe, but he also sits so that he can see all the Muds. Abe wouldn't have wanted to sit next to Molluck, none of them really, but it suited Alf the best. Though, it's probably not better to sit in front of Molluck's vicious gaze either... The story is that they are trying to work together, and well, they are trying their best to make it as comfortable as possible, especially when Molluck has lost his certain power... Molluck doesn't really trust Abe, though he is paranoid anyway, so he has that chant suppressor to secure himself. The Chauffeur is bringing them some food, and it's up to your imagination what's that. But I assure that Molluck is trying his best to be nice! There are also some other thoughts and details, but I let you figure out the rest.

I don't know if I should write more or not, but well, this is my blog. While doing this thing, I just felt like I should quit art after this piece is done. I'm just so tired of seeing only flaws in my works, having inferiority complex moments... But quitting wouldn't fix the root issue. I still haven't felt like thinking about what to draw next like I normally do. I just feel like I don't feel like drawing... So, I probably need to have a break since I cannot force art. But I also have other stuff to do, and I also wanna get back to 3D stuff... So yeah, I just don't know about drawing/painting right now... I'm feeling alright, but also depressed right now...

But I do actively follow what's going on with Oddworld stuff, even quite stealthily. And I feel like I gotta say that it has been amusing for me to see Molluck x Abe stuff since I literally said some months ago that I'm surprised at how little there is that stuff, when one anon requested me to draw them kissing... "Be careful what you wish for --, or your wish will come true." (Y) (This is a quotation from one game...) Frankly, I gotta admit that this is my fave Oddworld ship; I like it more than Molluck x Chauffeur Slig thing. Though, I would depict it in a different way, but I love Molluck being nasty. (Y) I have no personal interest in doing ship content myself but rarely since I'm busy with shipping myself with Molluck... But ain't that ship content then too? Well, you got my point still.

I'm always into seeing how Molluck is seen since I see that my way to see him is different from the usual depiction, but this mainly relates to certain depth and sides I see him having. But I also gotta say that for me, Glukkons are asexual. Though, I tend to forget whole sexual side whenever I think about people in general, since I personally prefer asexual world. Sexual desires only feel like some primitive needs/necessities I would prefer not to have, but since Molluck is still the only one I desire that way, I wanna it really be about making love since I wanna give some love to his beautiful body. And yeah, since Glukkon have no reproduction organs, for me it means that he doesn't have anything down there (but some hole to urinate) since it's what makes sense the most for me. But frankly, it's also how I prefer him, since of course, you can imagine that stuff however you like but I prefer none, and it doesn't prevent having sex with him, or him enjoying it... I can confess that I do have created (and keep creating) plenty of "that material" for myself, thanks to my 3D Molluck sculpt... It was my main reason to even create it, but I gotta create a 3D model out of it to create even better stuff! I will also create general Molluck stuff with that, so I can share something too... I have just no desire to share sexual content since it's like letting people come to my bedroom which is private. But it's probably easy to understand what's Molluck's role if he got none... It's all you need to know if you wanna know answer to this usual gay pair question. I have never seen Molluck in this role in other people's stuff, but it's just how I prefer him, his "joy holes"... (I also think that this depends on the relationship dynamics, since I feel quite equal with him.) Man, that Gluk just makes me go crazy... I want that Gluk so badly every single day... But yeah, I only would feel like posting some suggestive naked Mollucks, but nothing more, at least it's what I think now. I draw that stuff quite rarely actually, but I bet that my 3D stuff affects that... Would still love to draw more stuff to appreciate Molluck's beauty...

Yeah, I cannot help that I love Molluck so much... Even when Molluck is being his nasty self, I'm like "I love Molluck! 💓"... I love my little big butcher, professional bastard... It's probably because I do enjoy stuff like that, like dark humour, and my imagination likes to give Molluck some "good" ideas... I believe that Molluck and me could get along well and have such a loving relationship, since I do believe in that Molluck is able to genuinely love and care, but it's hidden unless he finds "the right one" who loves him just as he is. So, I see that Molluck's personality ain't all about being an angry nasty bastard, who just likes to use others, but he can also be caring and loving. It's just how Soulstorm made me see him; he feels like a friendly Gluk to me. But yeah, like I have said, I did start to love Molluck because I saw myself in him, so I bet that I also give parts of my personality to make his personality more complete. I cannot help it but I feel like saying that he is so adorable... Yeah, try to see Molluck as scary, intimidating, and sinister when it's more like hot to me... But I trust that Molluck do not wanna hurt me, like I do not wanna hurt him either.

Yeah, I didn't really have much to say... I can just keep talking about Molluck, how much I love him, and so on... I send him hugs 'n' kisses every day! It's really Molluck who keeps me creating stuff since it feels like my depression is getting worse in a way that I keep losing my interest in stuff... I just cannot get enough of that Gluk... He feels so right... He is like me as a Glukkon... I mean, I even see myself in some Molluck memes people do... It came to my mind to wonder like over a week ago if Molluck bites his cheeks or lips by accident since it's what happens to me, thanks to my own "loose" cheeks... I love Molluck's loose cheeks and his whole head's physics. (Y) Though yeah, I could list so many thing I love about Molluck...

Molluck! 💞 I really don't know what else to say... This Gluk is just so important to me. But I also don't know about drawing for a while... I just have no inspiration... But yeah, I always feel like appreciating Molluck's beauty, so if nothing else can bring it back, then it's probably what could end this art block.

#oddworld #oddworld molluck #oddworld abe #oddworld alf #chauffeur slig #oddworld toby #molluck #molluck the glukkon #art like a bosskie

22 notes · View notes

orleans-jester · 55 minutes ago

Text

Koda could have bragged if he liked, Elsa wouldn’t have minded. But the fact that he was being humble was pretty adorable as well. That he wouldn’t outwardly acknowledge that he was any good when Elsa had seen first hand how athletic he was. Strangely … adorable.

She gave a small chuckle herself when hearing the tales about young Koda. Not that long ago, in the scope of things, when he had a life outside of her, outside of Flotsam and Jetsam. The part about his uncle, and his mother did particularly strike her as entertaining. “Now that is a picture that I would like to see,” She teased him, lightly. In her mind, he still looked the same, though perhaps with shorter hair. Less muscles. But the same friendly eyes, and warm smile.

She was humouring him for the most part, but it was also truly interesting stuff. She found herself wanting to know more about him. About this boy that had seemed to capture her attention in a way that most people did not. So closed off from the world, she went most of her life in isolation. Even after her one true relationship, she went into a more self-imposed isolation, keeping barriers around those that she worked with, even if they were some of the friendliest, smartest people that she had ever met. Over a decade with them, and she couldn’t tell you a single fact other than their names and how messy they kept their small rooms. That was not the case with Koda. She could probably talk about him for hours, if she had anyone in her life who wanted to listen.

He spun. So like an excited child, dizzy on lemonade.

“Me?” She asked with surprise, and also sounded a little bit appalled at the idea. Here she was thinking that he would go, and she would have to use a cool touch to stop whatever injuries he’d get this time around from swelling. Play the tending nurse, perhaps. But her go on that thing? She shook her head like he was offering something insane, though her voice … it didn’t sound as against it as perhaps her expression might have seemed. “I don’t know if I’m up to date on my tetanus shot.”

And yet, she pushed open her own door, and stepped out onto the flattened grass in her sensible shoes. Her eyes took in the sight of the rundown playground, the rational part of herself imagining lawsuits and medical bills at every rusty bit of old metal that she saw. Though the merry-go-round was front and centre, and now she was thinking of Cracked Rib Summer.

“Though,” She said, shocking herself. “Perhaps it could work if I froze myself down to it, so I wouldn’t be flung off.”

And then immediately started to talk herself out of it.

“No, that would be ridiculous of course. I’m far too old for such things, I’d most likely end up making myself sick,” She shook her head. Then she turned slightly towards the expert here, Koda himself. “Wouldn’t I?”

"I like to think so." He grinned being the rather athletic sort despite not being the sporto guy. He liked to think he could hang in there at on any field or court if he put his mind to it. "Find us a ball and I'll play ya a mean game of HORSE." He laughed.

He could play. He was dumbing it down, but not on purpose. He wasn't being modest. He wasn't quite the non-participator as Flotsam had been. Koda wasn't the same sort of outsider in his community. He had people that would let him join in and play. Koda didn't always recognize his own talents.

Being good at anything that didn't benefit Coven wasn't encouraged growing up. It was a way of life and a frame of mind that took a while to shake.

Koda liked driving around in the truck with Elsa yammering on about bits and pieces of life. It felt so easy breezy.

"Given me? Oh shit." Injuries just for himself? He hadn't thought it through. "Um. There was the time someone dared me to sit cross legged in middle. I thought I'd be fine because I was sitting. Nope. Never think not holding on is ever a good idea." He laughed. "Cracked rib summer. Oh, and then there was the dreaded scraped faced school picture time. I don't remember what happened exactly, but I remember trying to hang on with hooked knees and it was too close to picture day. I do remember child services coming to my house and my mother blaming my uncle after those pictures came out. When I cried about him not making me do it because I was worried, he was going to get in trouble she said, 'Serves him right for giving me so much idle time' and then told me to 'Stop my crying. Making such a fuss was unbecoming of a boy who just found a scape goat who eats people.' She told me wise up and stop making problems where there were none. She didn't want to see me get tears in my scabs."

He couldn't help but laugh at that too. He didn't realize his past was full of such sentimental and funny memories until he started to try and share them.

"So two at least I remember specifically."

He could tell by Elsa's expression she was humoring him with all this. Maybe it was silly to want to go trekking through the woods to hit a childhood hot spot. He adored her all the more for going along with it and not trying to put her foot down.

"Really? Yes!" Okay, he got excited when she answered and popped a kiss on her cheek before he opened his door and then jumped out of the driver's side spinning all jazzed up.

He ran around to the other side of the truck like he was thinking about opening up her passenger side door when his head got side tracked. Elsa did ask if the merry-go-round went fast. He looked over at it. Okay, so the whole playground looked as if it came out of a time warp, aged, probably should be bulldozed over with safer equipment. Yet it still stood time tested and weather worn. A little rust never hurt anyone.

He'd go up to her by the door and ask, "May we should find out how fast it still is? I think we should." His voice had a little sing-song drawl to it to encourage her. "You sit down and hold on. I'll push and jump on."

Maybe it was Elsa's chance to be a kid just for a little while? But would she go for it?

#ElsaxKoda

29 notes · View notes

na0koz · 2 days ago

Note

To off set the happiness I wanted to ask what would happen if reader got together with someone else, or showed more interest in them than Jinx. Even with Jinx trying to stop it

Or another thought would be what if reader liked Vi more than Jinx 🏃

wait ur lowk a genius nonnie. reader liking vi more than her would actually like set her off to 10000%. kinda stole that scene from season 1 episode 9 with jinx’s tea party lol.

toxic!jinx masterlist

VERY DARK!! just block me if you don’t like it.

cw: jinx breaking in, implied kidnapping, use of guns, jinx is just insane, f!reader

since you met jinx’s family, you’ve been round the family home for dinner a couple more times. in one of those times, vi managed to get your instagram. probably while jinx was out of the room to save her ripping vi’s arms off.

ever since that day, you’ve been messaging vi a lot on instagram. however, you were very careful not to have jinx find out. you knew she wouldn’t like it, but you can’t help it when vi just gets you.

a month or two passes, and you’ve grown close to vi. it’s probably not the best idea you’ve had, given how jinx acts about you getting close to people she doesn’t know. somehow you think she’d be even worse if she found out how close you had gotten to her sister.

one day, you’re not answering the stream of texts jinx has sent you. she may have only sent them a few minutes ago but over time you’ve become the fastest replier in the game. something was up. she instinctively checks your location. a bar? you don’t drink, what could you possibly be doing there? cheating, jinx thinks.

it’s not that she doesn’t trust you, she’s just paranoid. she needs you all to herself, completely.

she grabs a jacket and starts to head to the bar almost immediately.

she glances around once she’s inside, looking for any sign of you. it was simple. she just had to grab you and act like there was some sort of emergency and you had to leave, while simultaneously taking note of whoever you were with.

she finally notices you, and to jinx’s absolute horror, you’re standing suspiciously close to her dickhead of a sister. she knew vi was a piece of shit, a sleaze at best, especially after her and her ex broke things off, but this really takes the cake.

a surprise to everyone, you especially if you knew she was there, jinx leaves. she’s too angry to think straight but she knows one thing, she needs to be alone when she’s like this. for the benefit of anyone who might cross her.

the night lingers on and you continue having fun with vi, unbeknownst to both of you, jinx was crafting her cruelest plan yet.

jinx manages to act normal for the following couple of weeks, despite her literally wanting to kill her sister and have you watch.

until finally, it was time to make the both of you suffer the consequences of your actions.

the first step was breaking into your apartment, that was easy. she had the key she made herself a few months into your relationship and she was no stranger to popping by when you were asleep to check on you. she didn’t really class it as ‘breaking in’ though, since she has a key that unlocks the door. sometimes jinx wonders to herself if she is actually sick in the head, but she chalks up her actions to her love for you.

next, jinx had to set up for her plan. she dragged a chair from your dining table into the middle of your apartment, the open space between the kitchen and the living room. she laid out a couple of other items by the chair, but she’ll get to those later.

what’s left was done in a haze of anger. of revenge. now all she had to do was wait for you to come home.

she was sat on the counter, swinging her legs when she hears the lock click in your front door. here goes.

you see jinx first, setting your bag down and kicking off your shoes. “oh, hey baby.” you notice the glint in her eye, the one you see when she’s angry.

“are.. you okay?”

jinx says nothing, just glancing behind her to the chair she had setup earlier. you follow her gaze and gasp when you finally see what she’s done.

vi bound to the chair by the same turquoise rope jinx had used on you so many times, in situations you could say were the complete opposite to the one you had just got into.

instinctively, you start to rush towards vi, until you feel something cold on your arm stopping you. you look to jinx and see her arm outstretched in front of you. clutched in her hand was a gun.

your eyes widened. you knew she had knives but not a gun. when you thought about it though, it wasn’t too surprising. you realise how you’ve kind of just ignored how fucked up she is.

“jinx. it’s.. you need to calm down,” you try your best to hide the tremble in your voice. anything to try and spare your, vi’s, all of your lives.

jinx lowers her arm and hops off the counter. she paces slowly between you, rooted to the spot, and vi, breathing heavily in the chair she was tied to.

“i am calm. you guys are the ones that need to calm down.” she definitely does not sound calm. her eyes are wide and hands trembling, she’s manic.

vi makes eye contact with you, you can see she’s just as surprised as you. i mean, it’s probably a good thing this hasn’t happened before, right?

jinx stops in front of you and gently takes her hand. her hands are warm, soft. feels strange given the situation. she pulls you closer to vi, closer, closer, until the three of you can feel each other’s breath on your faces.

you see the glint of the gun in between your faces. your breath shakes as it sways towards you, to vi, to jinx.

“i wonder.. who deserves this the most?” jinx mused, as if she was talking to herself.

“you see, there’s one bullet in here, and i don’t know who’s gonna get it.”

tears fall from your eyes now. you regret dismissing how crazy jinx is, and roping vi, her own sister, into this mess.

the gun swings back to you and you hear jinx click off the safety, the metal grinding. her hands are trembling, from adrenaline no doubt. she’s enjoying this. her finger crawls its way to the trigger, and she pulls back, agonisingly slow.

your eyes squeeze shut, tears streaming down your cheeks as you sob. after what feels like hours, the trigger ticks. silence. are you dead? you can’t even hear vi’s breathing.

“ah.” jinx’s voice pierces your eardrums. you’re alive.

your knees buckle, but jinx doesn’t let you fall. she catches you and holds you up with surprising force. you glance at her and through the blur of your tears, she’s smiling.

“looks like it’s either me or you, sis,” she laughs while tapping vi on the chest with the barrel.

she turns to you. “who should go first? whoever you like the most, up to you.”

so that’s what this is about. jinx has got jealous before, never to this extent though.

you beg her to stop over and over, barely able to get your words out as tears fall down your cheeks. pleading, you reach up to jinx’s face with violently shaking hands, trying anything to get her to stop.

she swats your hand away with the gun, causing you to gasp and cry harder. you have to use every cell in your body not to scream.

“choose one of us,” she orders.

you literally cannot speak now, you’re hyperventilating while looking between the two sisters. vi looks equally as scared as you do. she hasn’t said a word.

“mkay. we’ll go with violet here since you like her so much.” the gun moves to vi’s jaw. jinx’s finger flexes on the trigger. she flashes a grin at you, she’s not done yet though.

the sound of the trigger being pulled rings through your apartment. nothing. vi is alive, letting out a loud breath and she slumps down in the chair, as much as the rope restraining her will allow.

“uh ohh..” jinx practically sings. “my turn. we all know what that means.”

she brings the gun under her own jaw. the truth is, there aren’t any bullets in the gun. she knows that. she just needs to scare both of you as much as she can. of course she doesn’t actually want to hurt you.

she pulls the trigger faster than expected. you cry out, this time jinx lets you fall to your knees.

again, nothing.

jinx lets her head flop down, looking between you and vi with low eyes.

“i was just messin’ with you guys! there ain’t any bullets in here. wouldn’t actually kill ya,” she’s laughing. after all this she’s laughing.

“you,” she prods vi in the chest with one pale finger. “you can stay away from her.”

she crouches to your level on the floor. “and you can stop givin’ me reasons to do shit like this. mkay baby?”

you weakly nod. you just need this to be over.

“great! see you later, love ya.” she pecks your forehead before skipping out of your apartment.

she leaves everything behind. the gun, vi still in the chair, you sobbing.

what. the. fuck.

#jinx fanfic #jinx arcane #jinx league of legends #jinx x reader #jinx

104 notes · View notes