#it just popped into my head and I drew it

[jmkjournalblog]

"Soulmates" Part 3

Part 1 Part 2

Pairing:Wednesday Addams x FemVampire! Reader

A/N: English isn’t my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes

Warnings: None

Y/n POV

The flashing lights and clamor of the Harvesting Festival surrounded us, each noise and vivid display feeling almost surreal compared to the shadowed stone walls of Nevermore.

After we left the mirror maze, I found myself walking alongside Enid and Yoko. Enid was practically vibrating with excitement as she flitted between booths, desperately trying to convince us to ride a garish-looking Ferris wheel or taste-test the vendors' multicolored sweets. I played along, amused at the sight of her hopping from stall to stall, though I couldn’t entirely shake the feeling that something was off.

Yoko walked at a more measured pace beside me, her crimson-tinted sunglasses casting a strange glow as the neon lights caught their reflection. She seemed content to keep a casual distance, her attention darting around with an almost predatory interest in the people around us.

“Do you always look this unimpressed?” I teased, bumping her shoulder lightly as we meandered past a ring-toss game.

She tilted her head, lips quirking. “Only when I’m surrounded by chaos. Nevermore’s a circus on good days. This? This is just… another layer.”

Enid popped up between us, holding a pair of steaming caramel apples. “Come on, you two! It’s not all bad. Y/n, you haven’t even smiled once.”

“I’ve smiled plenty,” I shot back, taking the apple from her and pretending to inspect it as if it might bite first. “It’s just hard to tell when I’m surrounded by so many vampires and rainbows.”

“Rude,” Enid huffed, though her playful glare didn’t last. She spotted another attraction—this one involving some kind of spinning ride—and bounded away, already calling out for us to follow. I chuckled under my breath and exchanged a glance with Yoko.

“I’m surprised you tolerate the glitter bomb,” she said, amusement coloring her words.

“It’s a strange dynamic,” I admitted, my tone light. “Maybe I have a weakness for contrasts.”

Before Yoko could respond, my attention was drawn away. Across the expanse of booths, weaving between carnival-goers with a dark, purposeful gait, was Wednesday. I watched her as she moved—silent, alone, eyes fixed on the edges of the forest beyond the fairgrounds. My senses, ever attuned, sharpened.

“Y/n?” Yoko’s voice brought me back, but my eyes remained on the retreating figure of Wednesday. She had nearly reached the shadows of the woods, the darkness swallowing her small frame. Whatever she was doing, it wasn’t good.

“Go on with Enid,” I said quietly, handing Yoko the apple I hadn’t bitten into. She raised an eyebrow, sensing my sudden shift in mood.

“Is this a hero thing, or...?” she asked, a trace of humor lacing her voice.

“It’s a me thing.” I offered her a thin smile and began walking away. “I’ll catch up later.”

Without waiting for a response, I moved toward the path that Wednesday had taken, the noise of the carnival fading behind me with each step.

The darkness of the forest greeted me like an old companion. Trees loomed high, their branches twisting and knotting together to block out much of the festival's light. The carnival sounds became a muffled murmur, as if I'd crossed a boundary into a world that shouldn’t coexist with the one of clowns, rides, and caramel apples.

Wednesday's figure flitted ahead, her black silhouette blending into the night. I kept my distance, careful to match her quiet footfalls. Whatever drew her into the forest had her moving like she was chasing—or being chased. It was unlike her to be so transparent, but it was also clear she was driven by something more than mere intrigue.

She glanced over her shoulder once, and I quickly stepped behind the thick trunk of an oak tree. My heartbeat sped up, adrenaline prickling beneath my skin. If she saw me following, she’d either ignore me or take it as a challenge. Either way, I wasn’t ready to let her out of my sight—not with whatever ominous weight hung over this moment.

Suddenly, a rustle in the underbrush pulled my attention. It was only then that I noticed how still the forest had become. No chirping insects. No night birds. Just silence.

Wednesday picked up her pace, slipping deeper into the woods. I cursed under my breath and quickened my own steps. Branches snagged at my clothes, and the cool air bit at my exposed skin. I focused on her movements, the sharp lines of her shoulders and the determined tilt of her head.

She came to an abrupt stop. In front of her, Rowan stood, eyes wide with a manic edge. I squinted, recognizing the anxious boy from school. His body seemed taut, ready to spring—like prey cornered by a predator. But Wednesday was not the predator here.

The wind shifted, and I caught their words.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Rowan hissed, his voice trembling with both fear and anger. He held a piece of paper clenched in his hand, but even from where I stood, I could see it was no ordinary scrap.

“Prophecies are meant to be broken,” Wednesday countered, her tone as cold as winter’s edge. “I’d think you, of all people, would know that.”

I took a step closer, every sense alert. I couldn’t yet see what drove Rowan’s desperation, but his power crackled in the air, and he was looking at Wednesday like she was his doom.

He raised a hand, and suddenly, she was pinned against a tree by some unseen force. The breath caught in my throat as I watched her struggle, her pale face set in a mask of grim determination.

“This isn’t about you, Wednesday,” Rowan said, sounding almost apologetic, though his eyes betrayed no mercy. “This is about saving us all.”

With that, he raised the crumpled paper high. “My mother saw it. You will destroy us.”

The wind howled around them. I edged closer, my instincts screaming at me to intervene, but before I could make a move, something crashed through the trees behind Rowan—a blur of snarling fury. The beast. It was large, hulking, and covered in coarse fur. I had heard rumors about such creatures, but seeing it was different—a nightmare given form.

In an instant, it was upon Rowan. He screamed, a chilling, guttural sound, as claws tore into him. Blood sprayed across the forest floor. I barely had time to react; Wednesday was freed from her telekinetic restraints and dropped to the ground, rolling away from the carnage.

The beast’s wild eyes locked with mine for a split second. It paused, as if recognizing me, before it bolted into the darkness, leaving only destruction in its wake. Rowan lay motionless, and the air was thick with metallic scent and dread.

I stepped forward, breathless, as Wednesday pushed herself up, her eyes colder than I’d ever seen them. She glanced at Rowan’s body, then at me. Her gaze was unreadable, but beneath it, I sensed a torrent of emotion she would never let surface. Anger, confusion, maybe even fear.

“You followed me,” she said, her voice low but pointed.

“You shouldn’t have gone alone,” I replied, matching her cool tone despite the whirlwind inside me.

She didn’t thank me, of course. That wasn’t Wednesday’s way. Instead, she turned her attention to the torn piece of prophecy clutched in Rowan’s lifeless grip, pulling it free with grim determination.

Third person POV -next day-

Wednesday’s eyes never betray emotion, but this morning they burn with cold determination. Rowan’s reappearance after the brutal encounter in the woods is not just unsettling—it’s infuriating. She stalks the stone halls of Nevermore with unyielding purpose, her boots striking against the floor like war drums. Y/n follows at a calculated distance, her steps silent but presence unmistakable.

“Would it kill you to make less noise?” Y/n drawls when Wednesday pauses by a Gothic archway to scan the students shuffling past. “People will think you’re trying too hard.”

“Like you?” Wednesday’s retort is venomous, but her eyes remain fixed on the hallway leading to Rowan’s dorm.

Y/n smirks, leaning against the cold stone with predatory grace. “You’re wasting your time with this alone act, Addams. You want answers. I can help you find them.”

“No.” Wednesday turns to face Y/n fully, her expression as cutting as a blade. “You want an excuse to meddle. There’s a difference.”

Y/n tilts her head, amusement playing in her dark eyes. “Touché.” She takes a step closer, her voice dropping to a low, provocative whisper. “But I’ll meddle whether you want me to or not. I find it thrilling to keep you… on edge.”

Before Wednesday can respond, the sound of muffled voices draws her attention. They slip into the shadows near Rowan’s dormitory, where Xavier’s unmistakable voice can be heard. The boy is arguing with Bianca in the hallway, their tones heated.

Wednesday’s hand darts out, signaling Y/n to stay quiet. Y/n raises an eyebrow but obeys, watching intently as Wednesday edges closer. When the door opens, Wednesday moves like a shadow, slipping inside while Y/n remains as a lookout. Wednesday’s gaze flits across the cluttered space until it settles on a notebook with an unmistakable emblem—a purple book symbol, just like the page Rowan had shown her.

A creak behind her makes her whip around, daggers practically shooting from her eyes. Y/n stands in the doorway now, her expression serious for once. “You have seconds, Addams. Move.”

Wednesday’s jaw tightens, but she slips the notebook into her satchel. Y/n steps back just in time. Xavier and Bianca’s footsteps echo in the hallway. The girls forced to hide under Rowan’s bed, their bodies forced close together. There’s barely an inch between them.

“If they find us,” Y/n murmurs, her breath hot against Wednesday’s ear, “I’ll say you dragged me in here. You do have a thing for secluded spaces.”

Wednesday’s pulse quickens, but she refuses to look away. “I’ve killed for less.”

“Make me believe it,” Y/n dares, eyes darkening.

The door creaked open, silencing their exchange. Heavy footsteps and the sound of voices filled the room as Xavier and Bianca entered mid-argument.

“Your little stunt at the Poe Cup doesn’t impress me, Bianca,” Xavier said, his tone edged with frustration.

Bianca scoffed, her voice laced with condescension. “Of course it doesn’t. You’re too busy sulking to appreciate greatness.”

“This isn’t greatness; it’s cheating,” Xavier snapped. “Every year, you sabotage the course so no one else can even finish. You think that’s something to be proud of?”

Beneath the bed, Wednesday stiffened. Her mind churned with the implications of Xavier’s words. She turned her head slightly toward Y/n, who raised an eyebrow, intrigued but silent.

“Sabotage?” Bianca’s laugh was a dagger, cold and deliberate. “I prefer to call it… ensuring my rightful place. If the others can’t keep up, that’s their problem, not mine.”

“You’re unbelievable,” Xavier said, the disgust in his voice palpable.

“No, Xavier, I’m practical,” Bianca replied sharply. “Unlike you, I don’t rely on pity points or half-baked efforts. If you want to win, you do whatever it takes. That’s survival. That’s power.”

Y/n’s lips quirked into a faint smirk as she glanced at Wednesday, her voice barely audible. “Sounds like your kind of girl.”

Wednesday shot her a murderous glare, silently willing her to remain quiet.

Xavier let out an exasperated sigh. “You’re impossible, Bianca. This whole school is just a game to you, isn’t it?”

“Correction,” Bianca said, her tone as sharp as a blade. “It’s a game I always win. And this year will be no different.”

The tension in the room hung heavy as Xavier let out another sigh and turned toward the door.

As the door shut behind them, the silence in the room was deafening.

Y/n shifted slightly, her lips brushing against Wednesday’s ear again. “Cheating to stay on top. She’s more interesting than I thought.”

“Enough,” Wednesday hissed, crawling out from under the bed. She stood and brushed herself off, her mind already calculating the next move.

Y/n followed leisurely, a grin tugging at her lips. “You’re thinking of a way to humiliate her, aren’t you?”

[starsfic]

The Other Side

Summary: A wealthy business owner must convince the survivor of his recent death games to play again over drinks. Notes: This is a blend of "The Other Side" and the ending monologue, so sorry if some of the dialogue is weird. Ao3/Ko-Fi

The large manor was quiet. It was also nestled in the countryside, far from any towns or cities, meaning it was isolated. As screams rose up from the building, once shiny and now worn down with age, nobody would respond.

Pounding footsteps echoed through the courtyard before the grand doors threw open, revealing a panting adult. They were wearing what had been a fine grey suit, which was now torn to shreds and covered in sweat, blood, and ash. Their dark curls stuck to their skin. They gripped their side and the satchel resting against it, one leg dragging behind them, as they sprinted to the road.

There was no visible sight of… anyone, not even the watchmen that had popped up at one point. The adult bit back a sob at the realization before looking around. There had to be something, some way to escape-

Horses! They had been brought here by carriage-

The adult sprinted to the stables, uncaring about their limp or the clinking sound their satchel made. It took a few precious seconds to throw open the stable doors, but it was enough to reveal that one horse was saddled up.

“Fuck, thank-” The adult sprinted towards the horse, biting back a scream of pain as they threw their injured leg over the horse’s side. The horse whinnied, but did not buck, thankfully. As soon as they were secure, Morgan snapped the reins. “Giddyup!”

As the horse ran past the house, they saw a figure sprinting out.

They snapped the reins again, getting as far away from the manor as fast as they could.

Hurt. But alive. And, based on the blind amount of gold they grabbed from the chest they had discovered, set enough for life.

A bubble of laughter escaped them.

One year later…

“See ya, tomorrow, Mx. Cleery.”

“Next round’s be on me!”

“Not tonight, lads,” Morgan called, grabbing the broom. “I’m closing up.”

“Alright, alright,” the dockhand said, chuckling as he set his payment on the counter. The others followed, jostling and laughing, merry on good drink. Morgan felt a smile form as they grabbed the coins, tucking them in the small chest they kept behind the counter before moving around the bar to begin their sweeping.

The bar had been a risky idea, but it was one that was paying off over time. Sure, the smell of alcohol clung to their skin, and they had to be wary sometimes, considering it was just them and a bunch of drunks, but it was much nicer than their old workplace. They had been able to decorate this place, with the popular green wallpaper and nice wooden chairs. Yep, it was nicer than the place before. Or…the place in between.

Morgan brushed that thought off with a sweep of the broom. The space was small, so it was easy enough to sweep and grab the glasses left scattered about on the tables. Once the glasses were all arranged in the back, left to soak in some water, they headed to the front to wipe up the counter.

It wasn’t until they were polishing a few glasses that the bell hanging over the door rang. “Sorry, folks,” they called over their shoulder. “Bar’s closing for the night.”

“Oh, I don’t suppose you can spare the time for one drink?”

The glass slipped from their fingers.

Damn. That was gonna eat up money.

Morgan slowly turned, ignoring the slight crunch of glass under their foot, and felt the blood rush from their face.

Frankie F. Franklin, who used to be part of the most famous magician’s act in the world, waggled his fingers. He wasn’t exactly the most handsome man, greying in his forties, wearing a grey suit that was similar to the suit they had run out of his house in, but there was something in him that drew people’s attention. “Hello, my dear!” he said, like they were old friends. “I heard about your…” He looked around, and his wide, constant grin faded into a sneer, just a bit. “Lovely establishment, and I was hoping to spend some time catching up.”

Morgan glanced over his shoulder. One of the footmen that had driven them and the other contestants to what they had thought was going to be a silly contest stood next to the door, not quite blocking it but probably willing to grab them if they tried to sprint. The grey mask hid their expression. Damn. 

“Alright,” they said, summoning whatever courage they had and summoning up the barkeep act. “What’ll it be?”

“Whatever you prefer,” Frankie said, pulling out a small money pouch. The coins inside glinted as he pulled a few out. “I am paying for both of us, after all.”

“I don’t drink on the job.”

Frankie’s smile returned. “Didn’t you just say you were closed for the night?” He had a point. He pushed the stack of coins, more than required for two small drinks, forward. “Whatever you prefer, my dear.”

Morgan bit back a snarl as they grabbed the stack and turned to the stock, hearing him shuffle. They had a feeling that Frankie didn’t just come for a drink, and it made their blood run hot. They grabbed a bottle of whiskey and two small glasses, setting the latter on the counter and pouring both quickly, ignoring the smell of smoke as he lit the cigar he had pulled out. “Here you go,” They pushed the glass forward and grabbed their own. “If you’re here for the horse, I sold him,” They threw back the glass.

Frankie was still staring when they lowered the glass, except he looked a tad more sheepish. “Oh, yes. I forgot you stole a horse.” Morgan raised a brow, and he raised his own glass up. “This isn’t about the horse, though, or the money you stole.” He sipped his glass, his dark eyes staring them down.

He was in control, and they both knew it.

Morgan grabbed the whiskey bottle and poured some more in. “Then why are you here?”

The asshole waited until they were sipping the second glass to speak. “I’m here to convince you to rejoin the show.”

Their sputter sent the alcohol flowing the wrong way, turning the sputter into coughing and gagging. The first word that came up was “Hell no-” The vest and tie they wore felt too tight with the sudden ache in their ribs. They started to undo it, glaring him down. “No.”

“You did win,” he said, reminding them of what had been cast in a fever dream of pain and terror. “The audience loved it. They loved you, the first person who ever won. And more than earned your prize.” Frankie pulled out a large bag. It shook the counter when it landed, spilling out to reveal several hundred coins.

Morgan felt their jaw drop as they stared at the sheer amount. This was more than enough to set them for life, enough to make the bar one of the best in the city. Their hand reached for it-

“Hundreds of people lasted a few seconds, a few lasted a few minutes. But stars don’t just stay for one show.”

There it was. There had been something he wanted, common sense dictated. Otherwise, he would’ve just sent the money.

Frankie leaned forward, as if he was sure he had already won. The red gleam of his cigar cast sinister shadows over his face. “You want something colorful, something crazy, something more than…” He gestured to the bar again. “This.”

“Look, I appreciate that my entertainment value was enough that people want me back,” That was a lie. “But I enjoy breathing. I enjoy my life here too much to risk doing something stupid.” They left the bottle on the counter, next to their glasses, and grabbed the broom again to start sweeping. It wouldn’t exactly be the best weapon, but it would be something if Frankie had brought his brother. “I enjoyed the show,” Enjoyed hearing the stories from the staff who attended, who kept their mouth shut and waited on the wealthy members of society who gathered at the Franklin home to watch four members of the poor be slaughtered. “But one time was enough for me.”

“Really?” Frankie chuckled. A hand wrapped around their own and Morgan gave a start. They hadn’t seen him walk up. “You really want to spend your days in squalor, with the scent of alcohol clinging to you, lonely?” He yanked them forward, and the broom clattered out of their hands as they landed, gripping his shoulder with their free hand as his other hand rested on their waist. “You’re different than that, and we both know it.”

“Not that different.” They stepped forward, and he followed suit, pushing them both towards the bar. They released his shoulder to grab his glass, some amber still left inside it, and threw it back.

“Different enough,” he said, more of a purr. “I like that.”

He had made that known when he found them and brought them into the game. Morgan had to admit it. They hadn’t been blindsided like the other three clearly had been. He had been amused when they tried pickpocketing him.

“But, let’s be honest,” Frankie suddenly spun until Morgan’s back pressed against his chest. “We need each other, especially you. We were on the verge of bankruptcy, and then you dazzled everyone.”

Their blood was hotter now.

The crowd had cheered when they slammed Frank into the fireplace. It had made their heart rush even harder, staring into his eyes and seeing the pure shock in his expression.

His hands suddenly pulled away.

“But,” Frankie sighed, shrugging as though he had just given up. He flicked away the remains of his cigar. “I guess I’ll leave that up to you.” He turned and started heading to the door. The footman had his cane and his coat ready.

Morgan was left standing there, unsure of what to say or do.

Fuck off? Good riddance?

They glanced around the bar. Despite his claims, it wasn’t a pit of filth and squalor. They tried their best to keep it clean and tidy and well-lit. But the smell of alcohol and piss hung in the air, clinging to their skin and hair, and there were stains they could never scrub out, both on the green wallpaper and the wooden stools. It was fine, but…

“So what percentage of the show would I be taking?”

Frankie paused, long enough that Morgan could pour two more glasses, grinning at him.

He turned and his grin revealed it all.

“Fair enough,” he said with a shrug. “I’d give you seven.”

Morgan felt a feral, loud cackle form as they poured another two glasses. “I wasn't born this morning, eighteen would be just fine.”

Frankie sputtered. “Why not just go ahead and ask for nickels on the dime?

“Fifteen.” Two more.

“I'd do eight.” Another step forward.

“Twelve.” Two more.

“Maybe nine.” A wince and another step.

“Ten.” Morgan grabbed a bottle over the counter, one of the most expensive bourbons they sold, and poured two glasses. They held one of the glasses out, staring him down with their grin.

Frankie stared. Once again, he looked like they had just slammed a fist into his gut. His eye twitched. 

His smile reappeared as he took the glass. 

“Deal.”

[kittenmoth]

He doesn't know anything about dragon reproduction, Zuko. For all he knows that time you held hands counts.

[dailykeiji]

yaoi

[fisheito]

collab #2 with @xenole i was given a chibi yakumo and i.. i...... turned it into thiS

[ask-squidbeaks-agents]

// It's Father's day today so quick break from refs to give this little doodle of an old photo Cap, Four and Gen took with their dad :)

[kelpiekidd]

[xmrnothingx]

Samus Aran and Dark Samus from Metroid

Sorry for long time no draw. It's hot where I am so here's Samus and Dark Samus at the beach.

[etchif]

I really hate what the internet has done to the name Karen

[autumnally-art]

rich girls... of course you have pigtails and mommy issues

[aincretop]

sharing some fries with your bandmate :3

[katlakitty]

RK1K prompt week - Day 2

Prompt: Interface/Partners in crime

"I'm not comfortable with this," Markus repeated himself as he followed Connor around the house. "Why?" Connor asked, again. "I don't think we should be here," Markus said for the fifth time since they left New Jericho. "I've done this a million times, Markus," Connor sighed. "I'm allowed to go in, I have a KEY." "But he explicitly said-" "It's a surprise!" Now it was Connor's turn to repeat himself. "You can leave, you know."

It's been a while since I drew anything, let alone posted it somewhere. But this little story inspired me to try drawing Connor and Markus as Chibi.

Art as well as the link to my AO3 below the cut.

[strixcattus]

This character's hands are being really annoying to draw. Can't wait for him to stop having them.

[meikyuunolovers]

rkgk

[skitskatdacat63]

During the 2020 shut-in era, I basically only listened to Coldplay and god the amnt of emotional nostalgia I get from listening to their music is so

[agentmika]

thank u thank u thank u @raylangivins​ for tagging me in not 1, not 2, but 3 fun tag games! fr tho I haven’t done one in ages and doing this one tonight has been really fun :) 1. picrew game (this is like. a mix of how I dress + how I want to dress. also my hair is a bit longer than this but this was most accurate!)

2. shuffle my on repeat playlist and post the first 10 tracks 1. This Year - The Mountain Goats

2. Through Me (The Flood) - Hozier

3. Cleaning Out The Rooms - Sea Power

4. The Internet - Jon Bellion

5. What’s Your Name? - Doechii

6. The Time Is Now - Futuristic

7. Can’t Help Myself - Sir the Baptist, Saint Ashleey, Estelle, MC Lyte, Syleena Johnson, Ann Nesby, The Boys & Girls Club of the Gulf Coast 

8. Up the Wolves - The Mountain Goats

9. Subaru Crosstrek XV - Hobo Johnson

10. Countdown - Beyoncé

(I'm surprised I only got 1 hozier song considering the entire EP is in my top 10 on this playlist rn)

3. this questionnaire:

Tea, coffee, or soda? depends on the day but at this point in my life I’d prob pick coffee Dogs or cats? cats :))) Can you play any instrument? I have a very simple jingle bells memorized on piano as well as smoke on water basics on acoustic guitar. but if I wasn’t making caveats I would simply say no but I really really want to learn how to What's your sun sign? taurus babyyy First song lyrics that pops into your head? HONey you’re familiar like my mirror years agoOOOOoOoo, ideALISm sits innnn prisonnn, chivalRY fell on its SwORD Do you have any tattoos? no but I am interested in getting at least one someday Favorite place you've travelled? I really loved my first time in Edinburgh this past year What's the last movie you've watched? You People What languages do you speak? English, Spanish, can count in French as well as a few basic phrases, and I know the word for butterfly in like 5 languages  Do you have any hobbies? taking a note from mo, I will also note that I have many hobbies but one I think you wouldn't guess from my blog is that I’m a runner! I did track and ran hurdles and sprint events for years and I still like to run now :) I think a half-marathon might be in my future tbh You can hang out with one fictional character for an hour, who do you choose? way WAY too many coming to mind rn so I’m going to add a spin on this and say from podcast: Hera, from TV: Castiel, from books: Jesper Fahey, from movie: Em Haywood.  Compliment yourself: I’m a pretty good artist 

likewise tagging for any or all of these: @thetrial​ @fan-art-ic​ @essential-npc​ @sistermp3​ @cor-aeterna​ @davidfosterwallaceandgromit​ @quinnfabreys​ @yellghoul​ @realpersonfacts​ @rebeccabinch​