#like I can feel your art. there's a scruffiness to it (I mean that as a compliment) but more a homely sort of coarse soft warmth

[seeking-elsewhither]

@margindoodles2407

More than halfway done with the Cody pillow!!

[maxdibert]

What are your headcanons on Severus and the Malfoys? Do you think he genuinely considered them friends, or was it part of his cover? Or were they ever really friends at some point?

I have so much to say about this! I actually have two different versions of the story, and I think both of them could be canon. I can never decide between them because both seem plausible, so I’ll share my opinion on each and let everyone decide which one fits best.

Despite being a poor, scruffy, half-blood kid from a working-class background, I think Lucius took Severus under his wing because, after all, Lucius was already a 15-year-old teenager who was likely quite involved in pure-blood extremist circles and had probably heard of Voldemort by then. He was probably trying to make a good impression by recruiting as many people as possible. And despite Severus’ background, treating him with respect was a pretty shrewd move to maintain unity within Slytherin and promote that “us against the world” mentality. This would ultimately foster the cult-like environment that developed during that era. I also think that, after seeing that Severus, beyond his background, had a strong interest and talent for the Dark Arts and was a good student, Lucius probably saw that Severus’ skills could be useful, which is why he kept him under his wing. Lucius Malfoy is often portrayed as a snobbish buffoon, but besides being a shrewd man, he’s part of high society, old money. And even the classist aristocrats know how to make use of the working class and recognize talent because, historically, they’ve maintained their position by exploiting such talent.

I think Lucius and Severus maintained that mentor-pupil relationship for many years, and once Lucius graduated, he intervened to help Severus be accepted and valued within his House while also using him as a sort of personal charity project. Like Cher in Clueless (who’s based on Emma Woodhouse from Jane Austen) taking on an awkward kid from the North without wealth or pedigree and turning him into someone fit for high magical society—a kind of social experiment, if you will. I think this made Severus feel indebted to him, at least before Voldemort killed Lily. I also believe that, during Severus’ school years, his gratitude stemmed not only from this “mentorship” but also from the fact that, for the first time, someone believed in him and motivated him to pursue his ambitions. Lucius was like a father/older brother figure whom he respected and appreciated for seeing him as more than just a poor kid with nothing.

That said, my interpretation of their relationship splits into two possibilities once Severus becomes a double agent.

On one hand, there’s the idea that, after Lily’s death, feeling guilty and determined to actively work for Voldemort’s downfall, Severus emotionally distanced himself from the Malfoys as much as possible. The relationship they developed over the next 18 years would then be solely a means to an end—to gain favor with someone influential within the Ministry and among the most important dark wizards. Deep down, it was all a façade because the Malfoys also represented everything he despised and regretted being a part of, so he decided to cut off any emotional attachment to them. Basically: it was all fake.

The other version, and the one I prefer because it feels more realistic, is that Severus, as the abused and abandoned child he was, would always experience cognitive dissonance toward people who treated him well during his most vulnerable years. It’s something evident in his view of Lily, even though he was joining a group that literally wanted to kill people like her, and I can see it applying to his view of the Malfoys as well. Though they were a family actively working to end people like Lily, and Severus would ultimately have to confront them if it came to it, he’d still struggle to sever his emotional ties with the Malfoys. Just as he couldn’t understand why his friendship with Lily was ending because of his choices, I don’t think he’d be able to emotionally cut off the Malfoys, even if he knew they were terrible or knew he might eventually have to face them in battle. Much like how Lily being the first person to treat him with kindness was enough to make him risk everything to atone for his indirect role in her death and his support of Voldemort, I think Lucius “taking him in” also carved out a streak of loyalty in Severus toward his family. Severus strikes me as someone fiercely loyal to anyone who’s shown him kindness or understanding, even if that loyalty is against his own interests. And despite everything, I think he genuinely cared about the Malfoys. While he no longer admired Lucius, I think he still respected him in a certain way, like a younger brother who knows his older brother is a jerk but still sees him as his older brother.

I also think Narcissa had a kind of “older sister” vibe for him—that when she and Lucius were dating and Severus was still a kid, she saw him as this scruffy little guy, like a cute but poor puppy. And that impression probably stuck with him too. I think he always felt more comfortable with her than with Lucius, since she was associated more with the maternal than with authority. While his favoritism toward Slytherins was partly to maintain appearances and partly due to resentment toward Gryffindors, I believe he genuinely liked Draco. This affection, though, was likely another form of cognitive dissonance because Draco was far more similar to James than Harry ever was (in terms of character, classism, and using his status, family name, and influence to torment others). But just as his hatred of Harry was a reflection of his resentment toward James, his affection for Draco was probably a reflection of his relationship with Lucius and Narcissa.

[avillanappears]

okay, let's do something different! I've always wanted to do creature design reviews, but it's always felt like I'm obligated to make it a whole Thing. I need branding, and my own website, and tshirts or whatever. and that can come, but I just want to ramble a bit for now. maybe these'll turn into something bigger, maybe they won't. but at least they'll be out there!

hey, it's psyduck! pokemon was the first thing I could call myself a real "fan" of, and it introduced me to the idea of creature design. I already loved animals, and you're telling me you can just....make up new ones? I'm onboard forever! and my favorite pokemon is and will probably always be psyduck, so it makes sense to start with this goober. let's take a gander!

psyduck is an odd duck. with gamefreaks insistence on never showing concept art or behind the scenes infonwe'll probably never know who came up with this thing, and that's a shame. I want to shake whoever made psyducks hand, because they struck a whole mine of gold. you take a duckling, add on some platypus elements like the weird beak shape and clawed limbs, make it yellow and bulbous to invoke a rubber ducky, and a little lizard tail for kind of a "cute mascot kaiju" vibe. you know what I mean? like pigmon or booska? psyduck feels in the same vein as critters like those to me.

fits right in, doesn't it?

and really, psyducks just cute. it’s sooo cute! it’s cute in the same way as a baby crow or echidna or something. it has no legs, stubby fingers, an awkwardly shaped bill, and scruffy hair/feathers it can’t even groom with those goofy arms. pokemon in general isn’t afraid to let its cutest designs also be slightly goofy, and I think that’s one of the big keys to its success. people underestimate the value of letting things be a bit uncool. and those eyes! the staring, pinprick pupil saucer eyes of a beautiful angel. psyducks is perfect.

but psyducks more than just a squishable widdle face. it has fabulous secret powers! its original pokedex entry called it a “wily” pokemon who acts pathetic to get the drop on you, which was quickly retconned into something even more fascinating. psyduck has psychic powers, and waay too many for a pure water brain to handle. it’s kind of a fascinating gimmick, isn’t it? the idea that esp is harmful to your own brain is simple, but feels kind of obvious doesn’t it? pushing your mind that far past its limits can’t be good for you.

psyduck is a lovely little creation. we may never know who decided an adorable duckling mascot should be full of cosmic secrets beyond its comprehension, but it’s instantly iconic and lovable. I’ve had my own share of headaches, and there’s something about psyduck I can really click with. I feel you, lil buddy. I understand.

golduck is alright, I guess

[gaytotaldrama]

duncney week day 4 (a day late): first 'i love you'

an unsent letter from C to D, years after the end of the show.

duncney song of the day: 'i've got your number,' elbow

also on my ao3!

Dear Dunc

To whom it may conce

For the idiot with the green mohawk

Duncan, 

I don't go to therapy, but Bridgette does, and she told me about this exercise her therapist set her where you write down everything you want to say to someone in a letter and then you don't send it. Therapy would take up way too much of my time, yet here I am on my bed, writing to you of all people.

It's been years since we last saw each other, or even spoke - since they carted you off the island and tossed you into some disgusting cell. I'm sure you're already aware, but destroying Chris's house was a really  stupid  idea. I understand that you were trying to prove your "villain status" or whatever, but all I could think about watching you leave was DJ and his rabbit. It made me feel  sick,  seeing what happened to you. Gwen and I pretended to be happy about it, but I don't think either of us were at all. 

I know she called once or twice, while you were in there. I know Geoff and DJ came to visit you. I know Bridgette sent you little care baskets through the mail.

I know I never did any of those things. It all hurt so much, still. And even when it didn't, I never figured out what I would say to you.

But now, I have an idea. More or less.

However angry I was with you after you and Gwen kissed, it didn't mean I wanted to see you thrown in  prison.  I know I can be petty and vengeful at my lowest moments, but I always imagined you'd be eliminated in some humiliating spectacle. You'd go home. And we'd never have to see each other again, unless Owen ever decided to throw that reunion bash he was talking about.

And then when that bash happened, you were locked up again for violating your parole. And you weren't there.

I thought about filling these pages with all the reasons you were awful to me, every nitpick and tiny detail that made me hate your guts. But it's not like I was the perfect girlfriend, either. And, Duncan, we were just  kids.  None of us knew what we were doing, what it was we even wanted. Chris knew that and he used it against us every which way, exploiting us on international television.

I don't know if I really forgive you yet. I guess I'd have to see you in person to know. I've spent most of my time post-Total Drama working to forgive myself. Which has worked. Somewhat, at least.

Geoff says you're in Seattle. He says you're working as a tattoo artist. He says you go to AA meetings every week at the recreational center. That's good. That's really good, Duncan.

I work. Sanford, Sanford & Patel - started as a secretary, but I've clawed my way up a bit since then. Helped win some major cases. Hopefully it won't be long before they're adding a Reyes up on that sign.

Bridgette, Geoff, and I have game night every Wednesday evening. We take turns cooking dinner. Sometimes Bridgette slides me a CBD gummy to help me fall asleep at night. I jog, in the mornings. When I can, I go to the gym. Every now and then, I pick up Geoff's guitar and strum it a little. I still remember when you taught me my first bar chord. I couldn't make a  sound  on the B minor then, but I've gotten better, now. I've really gotten better.

I have a cat. This little precocious furball that Bridgette brought back from the shelter. She likes to claw at my nice leather desk chair and she doesn't like strangers at all; I adore her. Her name is Scruffy.

Every couple of months, I fly out to visit Gwen in Vancouver. They showed me the inky moon you put on their collarbone - I think it's beautiful. We go and get coffee together, catch up. She's got an art exhibition down in Bellingham in the fall - I plan to go, but I don't know if you'll be there. I don't know if I want you to be or not.

I've had a few boyfriends, but none of them could keep up with me. One time, Gwen and I got drunk and slept together. I'm not sure why I'm telling you this, but it was kind of good. Which is kind of funny. To me, at least.

Oh, and Geoff and Bridgette are engaged. Which I guess you already knew. It only just happened, so there are no real plans yet, you know those two. Never once made a list in their lives. But I guess if you're not at Gwen's show, we'll see each other at the wedding.

Would you talk to me? If we met again, would you even talk to me? I like to think I'd talk to you. But it's a hell of a lot easier to say it in writing than it is to do it in person.

Would you miss me?

I've missed you. I know people say you never stay with your high school sweetheart, but look at G and B, case in point. We didn't stay together, but sometimes I imagine what it would have been like if we had. Where we'd be right now.

Damn it, ok, I'm just going to say it: I love you. We never got around to telling that to each other while we were dating, but I think it's always been true, since all the way back in season one. I love you, Duncan Russo. It's totally humiliating, but I do. I still really, really do.

And I wish you were

Maybe if I

And I guess there's nothing to be done about that. Over a decade, and I'm still hung up on the boy who I kissed in the back of the Killer Bass cabin, right after puking my guts out. There's only so many people who would kiss someone with vomit breath, but you did. You didn't care. I mean, it was totally disgusting, but you kissed me back. I'll always remember the way you kissed me back.

Just...I just hope you're ok, ok? Or if not, then that you're something close to it. That show screwed every single one of us over, some more than others. The shit Chris did to us was messed up, and if I could go back and time and withdraw my audition tape, I would.

But then I guess I'd never have met you. And I don't know if that would be better or worse for me in the long run.

Thank God you'll never see this letter. 

Love,

Courtney

[ccasey0]

Here is my bunny oc

if you wanna give me some tips :3

ooo okay so there are a lot of ways to make an anthro rabbit look more Rabbit-Like.

starting with the feet! first of all, rabbits hve claws that arent retractable, so include those :) next, see the way you have made your feet they are flat on the soles and really short and simple:

however, rabbit feet are much longer for more propulsion when leaping. there are two way to show this: stanign on the toes or standing on the soles. typically, rabbits will be on their toes when they are walking, standing, running, ect. but when they are resting/sitting they will be on their soles. as shown here:

see how the feet positions change depending on what the rabbit is doing? try to show this when you are drawing the character, kinda like this:

Hands! i got nothing to say except for add pads on the palms and beans on the fingers. also claws. example here:

Now, ears!! the way you drew the ears they kinda looked like they were in a ponytail maybe? as if they were a substitute for hair. shown here:

There are plenty of other ways to show the ears that will translate as more like Rabbit ears rather than just like hair. examples shown here:

Tail! you didnt show the tail in your drawing since it was a front-on image, so imma just show different kinds of tails you can give her. first: realistic. a little scruffier and pointed upwards, like an actual rabbit's tail. fur will be the same color as the rest of the fur on the body on top and white on the bottom. example here:

next: round/cartoon. totally white, fluffy little cottonball on the butt. the way pretty much every cartoon depicts it. this isnt realistic but a cute design attribute nonetheless. example here:

last: hare. hares have slightly longer tails than rabbits. this isnt quite realistic most of the time when depicted in art, but it looks interesting enough. fur would be the same color as the rest of the body all over the tail, no white underside. example here:

Eyes! Rabbits are prey, so they have to be able to watch out for predators on all sides. that's why they have eyes on either side of their head. try making the eyes on your character more wide set(kinda like those from asian have). y'know how people are always criticizing Usagi for having eyes too far apart. yeah, there's a reason for that design choice lol. anyways example here:

Nose! just a little button nose. tiny upside down triangle on the face. simple as that :D example shown in the previous image

Body shape! yeah, i really dont have much advice for this one. if you want it to be realistic have thinner, bonier arms and legs with the same body shape you already have for her. here is your Og with the advice next to it:

hair! yeah, this one is really just ideas. i sa you added fluff to the top of your character's head, but it look really choppy and more like a weird hat tbh(not trying to hate just stating my observations). try making more fluid and going on one general direction rather than all different directions. want some different options i thought up? first, fluffy: more rounded and floofy looking. i dunno how to explain it so example here lol:

Next, scruffy: uhhh....i dunno how to explain this one very well either. curved points that go in mostly the same direction with a few outliers. example here:

last, Human-like: this one is kinda self explanatory. give her human hair lol.

Clothes! okay, this is that last tip i promise. listen, i love the skirt. it's cute, it's personalized, its stylish......But give her shorts or pants. she is a rabbit, which means she will be super athletic and will definitely be jumping/leaping and all-in-all moving around a lot. so yeah, unless you want people looking up her skirt all the time you might wanna give her different bottom apparel. of course, feel free to give her a skirt or dress if you wanna! now, for a top i really like the one you already gave her. it's sleek and looks cool! however, might i suggest a slightly baggier shirt? simply because tight tops like that would be restricting for movement and definitely uncomfortable since she has fur. a baggy shirt would allow for looser movements and wouldnt compact her fur and make it uncomfortable. belt could go either way. keep it or dont, its your choice. it might hurt a bit when she wants to bend over or something(i know from experience lol) but it also wouldnt hinder her like, at all. good for carrying pouches and stuff, holding weapons in shethes, ect. i personally think it looks great. i have a few outfit suggestions that you might like, feel free to use/mix and match any of them. they are yours now :DD

well, that's about all ive got for you. you dont have to use any of this if you dont want to. these are all just suggestions! anyways, have a good day! imma go hide in my cave now :)

[leporellian]

Currently trying and failing to draw Leporello, don't want to just copy your design, what're some visual choices you think are good for a depiction of the character

ooh this is a good question!

with my mozart opera character designs in particular i like to make the characters kind of mimic whatever their music Feels like. so i pay attention to how leporello’s music sounds and elaborate on that, which translates to him being a scruffy round little thing.

i think it’s very important he doesn’t Look conventionally attractive and physically kind of awkward… like i can’t imagine him looking -conventionally handsome- or whatever. he does look endearing and much more “real” though while the don’s conventional attractiveness makes him look less human at times. the best way i can describe it is like… lep has the “worn out abandoned teddy bear” type aesthetic to him. you’d find this bitch in a clearance box at a garage sale i bet.

(also relatedly i’ve found i like drawing him to be chubby. creates great contrast w the don (who’s meant to be Slim and Athletic) and it also serves as a fun visual reference to sancho panza, who leporello shares a common ancestor with. also like… draw different body types in art, of course!)

it also depends on how you want him to contrast w the don visually. there’s some designs that take the whole “he and the don swap clothes” thing into account and so make them roughly similar in terms of height and physique but i go the complete opposite direction and make them look cartoonishly different- it’s entirely up to you!

given “leporello” as a name means “the little rabbit” i like incorporating rabbitlike aspects into his design too… so with my design he’s got a brown vest with a darker back and the feathers on his hat look like bunny ears

of all the leporello drawings i’ve seen the most consistent factor visually has been that he’s got really pronounced eyebags LMAO. also for a While it was a thing to draw him w yellow sclerae like he’s a little jaundiced but that doesn’t seem to be as much of a thing anymore….. well it lives on in my design

he tends to have some level of Scruff but that can be played around with. i imagine he’s the sort of guy who likes to go clean shaven but it’s not like he can afford going to the barber constantly

looking at weird cartoon villain sidekick designs is a GREAT resource

always be encouraged to make him look silly! he’s a silly guy! (just don’t make him a flat out looney toon while everyone else looks realistic, of course.)

[audinosaur]

the seijoh boys as littlest pet shop toys!

i scoured through toysisters.com to assign different lps' to all of seijoh and by golly i had fun while doing it

iwaizumi: pet #92

cool guy

reminds me of a german shepherd and iwa is the most german shepherd ever

he seems like he'd be an overall chill guy

tug o' war champion

i'm getting "average height guy whose friends constantly call him a short king just because they're taller than him" energy from it

and that's basically the majority of seijoh w iwaizumi

dependable

oikawa: pet #818 

she’s stunning she’s gorgeous she’s everything

him being an ostrich is funny to me

also the colors suit him really well, oikawa’s entire personality is very mint-colored

stars in his eyes

they have matching little sprouts of hair! <3

honorable mention: #1751 

this is the bitch that everyone type casted as the main character/mean girl when they played with their lps’ as a kid and all the other toys are in love w her 

yk what i mean

and that just seems very oikawa tooru

hanamaki: pet #460

look in its eyes. 

very fluffy 

they have the same pink hair (fur)

the curled eyelash/eyeliner is so funky and makki is the mayor of funktown

:3 face which is just so

do we all get what i'm trying to say?

matsukawa: pet #2270 

LOOK AT THE EYEBROWS

literally everything about him is perfect 

i cant even begin to describe it

a little scruffy & shaggy, its ears remind me of mattsun's hairstyle

imagine looking into the window of a pet store and seeing this thing (+ makki's) staring up at you. would u not be amused?

he's planning something

honorable mention: #1861

he’s got sneakers on??

swagged out lizard

no need for further elaboration

watari: pet #1026 

this is the one i am the most confident about and I personally feel like it's obvious why

friend shaped

bald

i could see watari being a ferret otter thingy

similar big round eyes that bore into your soul

this just feels so correct i love them

he smile :)

kyoutani: pet #135

yellow dog

it's so pudgy kyoutani would adore it

he’s the epitome of a grumpy bulldog

they have the same eyebrows (or lack thereof)

the little frowny mouth i am crying

secretly a sweetheart (i can feel it in my bones)

honorable mention: #2472 

lmao bee

yahaba: pet #1106 

no explanation but do u see the vision?

this is how oikawa views him. puppy dog eyes and all.

it simultaneously looks like both a rule follower and a conniving little shit (aka yahaba shigeru)

imagine this thing barking ferociously at kyoutani's lps

(meanwhile watari's is just standing off to the side watching)

honorable mention: #108

they have the same swoopy hair

it made me laugh ok

look at it

kindaichi: pet #1519 

tall!

idk what dog breed this is supposed to be exactly but all the ‘seijoh as dogs’ art i’ve seen has made him look vaguely like this

pointed up ears = pointed up hair

its tail looks very waggable and kindaichi is constantly wagging his metaphorical tail when he's happy so

kindaichi's so dogboy it's unreal

looks both cowardly and strong at the same time

kunimi: pet #2204 

this one also doesn’t rlly have an explanation

but the color palette suits him i think 

the cat looks like it take some nice ass naps and kunimi is our catnapping king

cold dead eyes of judgement

slightly bitchy

ppl come up to it expecting to pet it but it actually just hisses at them (an analogy for kunimi when interacting with most people)

in conclusion: a lot of dogs. i love aoba johsai.

[pantswarrior]

Hii,

I read Fighting Gravity on ao3 earlier this year and I wanted to tell you I loved it! I'm one of those peripheral members of fandoms who haven't read or watched any of the canon stuff, but are too obsessed with the fanworks to stop. It makes me wonder about stories like yours - is some point in the larger canon where something similar happens, or do you just come up with the idea for an unhoused Spock on your own?

I'm sending my ask to thank your for your story, but I also wanted to ask if you were alright with people printing and binding personal copies (ie. not for profit) of the fic for themselves.

I've been hand binding sketchbooks on and off for a little while, and I saw a tiktok of someone's self-bound versions of their favourite fics and thought that trying my hand at fic binding would be a fun project for this summer.

I just wanted to ask bc I heard some authors aren't okay with personal prints, so just let me know please; I'll always love the story regardless.

Aw, thank you so much! I'm sorry it took so long for me to reply - my laptop completely died several months back and the only one I could get online with is 11 years old, freezes up upon trying to load Tumblr, and is physically falling apart. -_- So I have been away from Tumblr all this time and did not see this until I got a new laptop tonight and could load the site again, I apologize! First of all - I consider it a great honor when anyone thinks enough of my fanstuff to want to do ANYTHING with it. =) I mean, I'm just out here being a nerd, writing fic about characters that are not mine. I can hardly be possessive about them. ;) So while I suppose it's rather late for a summer project, if for some reason the inclination strikes you in the future, feel free! It sounds like a beautiful project and I'm honestly flattered that you would think my story worthy. =) As for the inspiration behind that particular story... there is a rather silly story behind it. (tl;dr, possibly...) My partner-at-the-time and I were both really into the new Star Trek movie when it came out in 2009 - and this was not long after both of us were fixated on Ace Attorney fandom, which had recently had a new game released. Before the game was released, there was some character art showing an existing character looking scruffy, and the Ace Attorney fandom decided he must have fallen on hard times. There were multiple fanfics written about the guy he's usually shipped with finding him unhoused and taking him in and helping him get back on his feet. It became sort of a fandom injoke, "Miles adopts a homeless Phoenix". Not long after the first reboot Star Trek movie came out, the ONTD Star Trek community over at LiveJournal (good times!) dug up some screen test pics of Zachary Quinto wearing the Spock ears... but with a scruffy unshaven look and longer hair. So I showed them to my partner, who reacted with six little words:

"So... Jim adopts a homeless Vulcan?" I laughed because that was ridiculous and impossible given how some things work in the Star Trek canon. ...And then I started thinking about it, and how maybe it wasn't impossible, how someone *could* possibly wind up in such a situation in the Star Trek universe, and stopped laughing. ...And then spent the next several months of my life having this offhand joking comment turn into yet another exploration of one of my favorite themes: predestination vs. free will. OOPS. My partner, of course, was laughing their head off incredulously the whole time as I sent them drafts of the next chapter to read over and repeatedly reminded them that this was ALL THEIR FAULT. ;) So that is the...origin story... of that fic. Apologies for the length of this (and again, the lateness of the reply) - though to be honest it's so absurd it's fun to share it again. :D

[jazzy---j]

We Accidentally Vaporize Our Pre-Algebra Teacher

Chapter Summary: A field trip suddenly becomes dangerous and traumatic, unveiling an unsettling reality for Cassie Jackson. Leaving her and her brother scrabbling for answers.

Masterlist >>> Read on ao3 (1/23)

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

This is not really how I pictured my life going. I don't know what I pictured exactly but the life of a half-blood was not it. But I am who I am for a reason.

However despite how amazing, my heroic demigod life sounds, if YOU are reading this because you think you might be one of us, my advice is: close this book right now. Believe whatever lie your mom or dad told you about your birth, and try to lead a normal life. It's almost not worth it.

Being a half-blood is dangerous. It's scary. Most of the time, it gets you killed in painful, nasty ways. Which can honestly be such a drag.

If you're a normal kid, reading this because you think this is fiction, great. Congratulations. Read on. I envy you for being able to believe that this is just a fun little bit of urban fantasy escapism.

But if you recognize yourself in these pages, if you feel something stirring inside-stop reading immediately. You might be one of us. And once you know that, it's only a matter of time before they sense it too, and they'll come for you. Don’t ignore it. Try and get in touch with me, with any of us and we will find you. We never leave a demigod behind. 

Don't say I didn't warn you.

My name is Cassandra Jackson. But everyone just calls me Cassie. It’s faster, easier and if you call me Cassandra... well you will literally find yourself sleeping with the fishes.

I'm eleven years old and until a few months ago, I was in the sixth grade with my older brother Percy. We went to Yancy Academy, a private school for troubled kids in upstate New York.

Are we troubled kids? Well duh. Wouldn’t be much fun if we weren’t.

I could start at any point in my short miserable life to prove it, but things really started going bad last May, when our sixth-grade class took a field trip to Manhattan. Twenty-eight mental-case kids and two teachers on a yellow school bus, heading to the Metropolitan Museum of Art to look at ancient Greek and Roman stuff.

I know, it sounds like a chaotic disaster. Most Yancy field trips were.

But Mr. Brunner, our Latin teacher, was leading this trip, so it may not be so bad.

Mr. Brunner was this middle-aged guy in a motorized wheelchair. He had thinning hair and a scruffy beard and a frayed tweed jacket, which always smelled like coffee. You wouldn't think he'd be cool, but he told stories and jokes and let us play games in class. He also had this awesome collection of Roman armor and weapons, so he was the only teacher whose class didn't put Percy to sleep.

I hoped the trip would be okay for us. At least, I hoped that for once Percy and I wouldn't get in trouble. Boy, was I wrong.

See, bad things happen to us on field trips. Like at our fifth-grade school, when we went to the Saratoga battlefield, Percy had this accident with a Revolutionary War cannon. He wasn't aiming for the school bus on purpose. And I still swear I didn’t mean to light the wick. At the time I didn’t know the thing still even worked. Percy and I were just immersing ourselves in the history of Sara toga. But of course, we got expelled anyway. 

And before that, at our fourth-grade school, when we took a behind-the-scenes tour of the Marine World shark pool, Percy sort of hit the wrong lever on the catwalk, and our class took an unplanned swim. 

At our third-grade school, I let out all the animals at the petting zoo. They just looked so sad, and I know this is crazy but I could have sworn I heard the horses just begging me to let them out. So I did, and a teacher may or may not have taken a trip to the ER.

And the time before that... Well, you get the idea.

But this time Percy and I talked it over and we decided that we had to get it together. We were determined to be good. We were gonna keep each other in check, no mess ups, no screw ups.

All the way into the city, we put up with Nancy Bobofit, the freckly, redheaded kleptomaniac girl, (also my roommate, lucky me) hitting Percy’s best friend Grover in the back of the head with chunks of peanut butter-and-ketchup sandwich.

Grover was an easy target. He was scrawny. He cried when he got frustrated. He must've been held back several grades because he was the only sixth grader with acne and the start of a wispy beard on his chin. On top of all that, he was crippled. He had a note excusing him from PE for the rest of his life because he had some kind of muscular disease in his legs. He walked funny, like every step hurt him, but don't let that fool you. You should've seen him run when it was enchilada day in the cafeteria. He also had the weirdest fashion sense with a Rasta cap and baggy jeans. But he was one of the greatest friends Percy has ever had, besides me of course, and I was thankful for that.

Anyway, Nancy Bobofit was throwing wads of sandwich that stuck in his curly brown hair, and she knew we couldn't do anything back to her because Percy and I were already on probation. The headmaster had threatened us with death by in-school suspension if anything bad, embarrassing, or even mildly entertaining happened on this trip.

Which is such a shame because I had so many plans.

"I'm going to kill her," Percy mumbled.

I scoffed, picking the foam out of the hole of my seat, “Get in line bro.”

Grover tried to calm him down. "It's okay. I like peanut butter."

He dodged another piece of Nancy's lunch.

"That's it." Percy started to get up, but Grover and I pulled him back into the seat.

"You're already on probation," Grover reminded him.

"And you know who'll get blamed if anything happens,“ I added.

I grabbed his hand, “Come on Percy we talked about this.”

We locked eyes, and I took a second to analyze my brother's face. Even though we were siblings we couldn't look more different. Both of us had jet-black hair and vibrant sea-green eyes but that's were the similarities stopped. My brown skin was a noticeable contrast to his light golden tan.

"Remember what mom said, "Hold fast, Perseus."" He sighed and closed his eyes, nodding in agreement.

Looking back on it, I wish I'd let Percy deck Nancy Bobofit right then and there. Heck, I wished I’d done it. An in-school suspension would've been nothing compared to the mess I was about to get myself into.

Mr. Brunner led the museum tour.

He rode up front in his wheelchair, guiding us through the big echoey galleries, past marble statues and glass cases full of really old black-and-orange pottery.

It blew my mind that this stuff had survived for two thousand, three thousand years. Probably even longer.

He gathered us around a thirteen-foot-tall stone column with a big sphinx on the top and started telling us how it was a grave marker, a stele, for a girl about our age. He told us about the carvings on the sides. I was trying to listen to what he had to say because it was kind of interesting, but everybody around me was talking, and every time Percy or I told them to shut up, the other teacher chaperone, Mrs. Dodds, would give us the evil eye.

Mrs. Dodds was this little math teacher from Georgia who always wore a black leather jacket, even though she was fifty years old. She looked mean enough to ride a Harley right into your locker. She had come to Yancy halfway through the year when our last math teacher had a nervous breakdown. 

Which I, of course, had nothing to do with.

From her first day, Mrs. Dodds loved Nancy Bobofit and figured Percy and I were devil spawns. She’s not entirely wrong but, that wasn’t the point. 

She would point her crooked finger at us and say, "Now, honey," real sweet, and I knew we were going to get after-school detention for a month.

One time, she'd made Percy erase answers out of old math workbooks and I had to scrap gum off the bottom of all the desks in her classroom. We were both up until pass midnight. One day Percy angrily told Grover he didn't think Mrs. Dodds was human. He looked at us, real serious, and said, "You're absolutely right."

So not ominous at all. Everything’s all fine and dandy.

Mr. Brunner kept talking about Greek funeral art.

Finally, Nancy Bobofit snickered something about the naked guy on the stele. I turned around to say something but Percy beat me to it exclaiming, "Will you shut up?"

It totally came out louder than he meant it to. 

My big brother ladies and gentlemen.

The whole group laughed. I turned and gave them a death stare and they quickly shut up. That’s right no one was gonna make fun of my brother except me. Mr. Brunner stopped his story.

"Mr. Jackson," he said, "did you have a comment?"

I dared a glance at Percy and his face was totally red. He said, "No, sir."

Mr. Brunner pointed to one of the pictures on the stele. "Perhaps you'll tell us what this picture represents?"

I looked at the carving and felt a flush of relief because we just studied this in class. Percy should remember this. "That's Kronos eating his kids, right?” Percy exclaimed.

"Yes," Mr. Brunner said, obviously not satisfied. "And he did this because..."

"Well..." Percy started trying to remember. "Kronos was the king god, and-"

"God?" Mr. Brunner asked.

”Titan,” I coughed into my hand.

"Titan," he corrected himself as grabbed my hand, giving a gentle squeeze in thanks.

"And... he didn't trust his kids, who were the gods. So, um, Kronos ate them, right? But his wife hid baby Zeus, and gave Kronos a rock to eat instead. And later, when Zeus grew up, he tricked his dad, Kronos, into barfing up his brothers and sisters-"

"Eeew!" said one of the girls behind me, I turned and made a face at her. Percy gripped my hand tighter in warning. I turned back around and made a face at him too. He ignored me.

"-and so there was this big fight between the gods and the Titans," He continued, "and the gods won."

Some snickers from the group.

Behind me, Nancy Bobofit mumbled to a friend, "Like we're going to use this in real life. Like it's going to say on our job applications, 'Please explain why Kronos ate his kids.'"

"And why, Miss Jackson," Brunner said, "to paraphrase Miss Bobofit's excellent question, does this matter in real life?"

"Busted," Grover muttered.

"Shut up," Nancy hissed, her face even brighter red than her hair.

At least Nancy got packed, too. Mr. Brunner was the only one who ever caught her saying anything wrong. Its like he had super hearing or something.

I thought about his question, shrugged, and gave the safe non-committal answer, "I don't know, sir."

"I see." Mr. Brunner looked disappointed. "Well, half credit, Mr. and Miss. Jackson. Zeus did indeed feed Kronos a mixture of mustard and wine, which made him disgorge his other five children, who, of course, being immortal gods, had been living and growing up completely undigested in the Titan's stomach. The gods defeated their father, sliced him to pieces with his own scythe, and scattered his remains in Tartarus, the darkest part of the Underworld. On that happy note, it's time for lunch. Mrs. Dodds, would you lead us back outside?"

The class drifted off, the girls holding their stomachs, the guys pushing each other around and acting like complete morons.

Grover, Percy, and I were about to follow when Mr. Brunner said, "Mr. and Miss. Jackson."

Damn... almost made it.

Percy told Grover to keep going as I turned toward Mr. Brunner. "Sir?"

Mr. Brunner had this look that wouldn't let you go, intense brown eyes that could've been a thousand years old and had seen everything.

"You must learn the answer to my question," Mr. Brunner told us. "About the Titans?" Percy asked.

"About real life. And how your studies apply to it."

"Oh."

"What you learn from me," he said, "is vitally important. I expect you to treat it as such. I will accept only the best from you, Percy and Cassie Jackson."

I was kinda annoyed with that statement. He pushed us so hard.

I mean, sure, it was kind of cool on tournament days, when he dressed up in a suit of Roman armor and shouted: "What ho!'" and challenged us, sword-point against chalk, to run to the board and name every Greek and Roman person who had ever lived, and their mother, and what god they worshipped. But Mr. Brunner expected Percy and I to be as good as everybody else, despite the fact that we both have dyslexia and attention deficit disorder, and we had never made above a C- in our lives. And no he didn't expect us to be as good; he expected us to be better.

No pressure.

Percy mumbled something about trying harder, while Mr. Brunner took one long sad look at the stele like he'd been at this girl's funeral.

He told us to go outside and eat lunch.

The class gathered on the front steps of the museum, where we could watch the foot traffic along Fifth Avenue.

Overhead, a huge storm was brewing, with clouds blacker than I'd ever seen over the city. I figured maybe it was global warming or something because the weather all across New York state had been weird since Christmas. We'd had massive snowstorms, flooding, and wildfires from lightning strikes. I wouldn't have been surprised if this was a hurricane blowing in. That would actually be the least of my problems.

Nobody else seemed to notice. Some of the guys were pelting pigeons with Lunchables crackers. Nancy Bobofit was trying to pickpocket something from a lady's purse, and, of course, Mrs. Dodds didn't see a thing. Morons.

Grover, Percy, and I sat on the edge of the fountain, away from the others. We thought that maybe if we did that, everybody wouldn't know we were from this school, the school for loser freaks who couldn't make it elsewhere.

"Detention?" Grover asked.

"Nah," Percy said. "Not from Brunner. I just wish he'd lay off me sometimes. I mean- I'm not a genius."

”You most certainly are not,” I said smirking as I unwrapped my sandwich.

“Shut up, Cassie,” Percy said jokingly as he flicked my shoulder.

I stuck my tongue out at him. 

Grover didn't say anything for a while. Then, when I thought he was going to give us some deep philosophical advice like they say in the movies, he said, "Can I have your apple?"

Percy shrugged and handed it to him. I offered him my granola, but he declined, and I began to feed it to the pigeons.

I watched the stream of cabs going down Fifth Avenue and thought about my mom's apartment, only a little ways uptown from where we sat. I hadn't seen her since Christmas. I wanted so badly to jump in a taxi and head home with Percy. She'd hug us and be glad to see us, but she'd be disappointed, too. She'd send us right back to Yancy, remind me that I had to try harder, even if this was our sixth school in six years and we were probably going to be kicked out again. I wouldn't be able to stand that sad look she'd give me.

I also wished that I could go visit the dance studio around the corner. I've been dancing since I was 6, my mom enrolled me to try and run off all my nervous energy and help me focus. I fell in love and have been dancing ever since. Unfortunately, I haven't been in a year because of school. I was extremely out of practice and just itching to start again. 

Mr. Brunner parked his wheelchair at the base of the handicapped ramp. He ate celery while he read a paperback novel. A red umbrella stuck up from the back of his chair, making it look like a motorized cafe table. Like in those Italian romance movies that I watched from the window of Ms. Norris's fourth-story apartment across the street.

I was about to drink my juice box (yeah a juice box, sue me) when Nancy Bobofit appeared in front of us with her ugly friends. I guess she'd gotten tired of stealing from the tourists and dumped her half-eaten lunch in Grover's lap.

"Oops." She grinned at me with her crooked teeth. Her freckles were orange as if somebody had spray-painted her face with liquid Cheetos.

I tried to stay cool. The school counselor had told me a million times, "Count to ten, get control of your temper." Sometimes, it actually worked for me. Percy on the other hand... not so much.

The next thing I knew, Nancy was sitting on her butt in the fountain, screaming, "Percy pushed me!"

Mrs. Dodds materialized next to us.

Some of the kids were whispering: "Did you see-"

"-the water-"

"-like it grabbed her-"

There was no way. No way. All I knew for sure was that my big brother was in trouble again.

I looked over at Percy, “Dude, what did you do?”

As soon as Mrs. Dodds was sure poor little Nancy was okay, promising to get her a new shirt at the museum gift shop, etc., etc., Mrs. Dodds turned on us. There was a triumphant fire in her eyes as if she just proved an argument. "Now, honey-"

"I know," Percy grumbled. "A month erasing workbooks." 

That wasn't the right thing to say.

"Come with me," Mrs. Dodds said, “Cassandra too!” she said almost triumphantly.

Oh great! I’m in trouble by association.

Percy froze and stared at her in disbelief, “She didn’t even do anything!” he yelled.

”I’ll be the judge of that Mr. Jackson!” she sneered.

"Wait!" Grover yelped. "It was me. I pushed her."

I stared at him, stunned. I couldn't believe he was trying to cover for us. Besides the fact that it was totally a bad idea, Mrs. Dodds scared Grover to death. 

She glared at him so hard his whiskery chin trembled. "I don't think so, Mr. Underwood," she said.

"But-"

"You-will-stay-here."

Grover looked at me desperately.

"It's okay, man," Percy told him. 

"Thanks for trying,” I added.

"Honeys," Mrs. Dodds barked at us. "Now." Nancy Bobofit smirked.

Percy gave her his deluxe I'll-kill-you-later stare as he grabbed my hand. 

God, I did not want to be on the other end of that.

Then I turned to face Mrs. Dodds, but she wasn't there. She was standing at the museum entrance, way at the top of the steps, gesturing impatiently at me to come on.

I paused and glanced at Percy. He looked just as puzzled as I felt.

How... how did she get there so fast?

We have moments like that a lot when our brain just falls asleep or something, and the next thing I know I've missed something as if a puzzle piece fell out of the universe and left me staring at the blank place behind it. The school counselor told us this was part of the ADHD, my brain misinterpreting things.

I wasn't so sure, this time. My grip on Percy’s hand only tightened.

We continued after Mrs. Dodds.

Halfway up the steps, Percy turned and glanced back at Grover. He was looking pale, cutting his eyes between us and Mr. Brunner, like he wanted Mr. Brunner to notice what was going on, but Mr. Brunner was absorbed in his novel.

I looked back up. Mrs. Dodds had disappeared again. She was now inside the building, at the end of the entrance hall.

Okay, something clearly isn’t right. 

In any normal situation, she would make us buy a new shirt for Nancy at the gift shop. But that clearly isn’t the plan.

We followed her deeper into the museum. When we finally caught up to her, we were back in the Greek and Roman section.

Except for us, the gallery was empty.

Mrs. Dodds stood with her arms crossed in front of a big marble frieze of the Greek gods. She was making this weird noise in her throat, like growling.

Even without the noise, I would've been nervous. It's weird being alone with a teacher, especially Mrs. Dodds. Something about the way she looked at the frieze as if she wanted to pulverize it...

"You've been giving us problems, honey," she said.

Percy said, "Yes, ma'am."

I decided to stay quiet, with my mouth we’d end up in even more trouble than we already were. 

She tugged on the cuffs of her leather jacket. "Did you really think you would get away with it?" The look in her eyes was beyond mad. It was evil.

She's a teacher, I thought nervously. It's not like she's going to hurt us. I’m pretty sure that is highly illegal.

Percy said, "We-we'll try harder, ma'am." Thunder shook the building. If we were in a movie that probably means something very bad is about to happen.

"We are not fools, Percy and Cassie Jackson," Mrs. Dodds said. "It was only a matter of time before we found you out. Confess, and you will suffer less pain."

”Percy-, “ I said nervously as I gripped his arm. 

Ok, now I’m really confused. What was she talking about?

All I could think of was that the teachers must've found the illegal stash of candy Percy had been selling out of my dorm room. Or maybe they'd realized I'm the one who super glued the science teacher to his desk chair and let loose all the frogs in the classroom. 

What can I say I enjoy chaos.

"Well?" she demanded.

"Ma'am, I don't..." I trailed off. 

"Your time is up," she hissed.

Then the weirdest thing happened. Something that is not supposed to be able to happen. Her eyes began to glow like barbecue coals. Her fingers stretched, turning into talons. Her jacket melted into large, leathery wings. She wasn't human. She was a shriveled hag with bat wings and claws and a mouth full of yellow fangs, and she was about to slice me to ribbons. 

Then things got even weirder.

Mr. Brunner, who'd been out in front of the museum a minute before, wheeled his chair into the doorway of the gallery, holding a pen in his hand.

"What ho, Percy, Cassie!" he shouted, tossing a pen and small glinting object in the air. It flew so fast I could barely make it out. Mrs. Dodds lunged at us. 

With a yelp, Percy and I dodged in opposite directions. I felt talons slash the air next to my ear. I snatched what I could now see was some sort of metal bracelet cuff out of the air, but when it hit my hand, it wasn't a bracelet anymore. It was a spear! 

Ok... that’s new. Bracelet turning into medieval murder weapon.

To my right Percy was holding a sword, the same sword Mr. Brunner used on tournament days.

Mrs. Dodds spun toward me with a murderous look in her eyes.

My knees were jelly. My hands were shaking so bad I almost dropped the spear.

She snarled, "Die, honey!"

And she flew straight at me.

Absolute terror ran through my body. I did the only thing I could do: I slashed with the spear. 

The metal blade hit her shoulder and passed clean through her body, clashing and clanging with Percy’s blade as he swung through with the sword. 

Mrs. Dodds was like a sandcastle in a power fan. She exploded into yellow powder, vaporized on the spot, leaving nothing but the smell of sulfur and a dying screech and a chill of evil in the air, as if those two glowing red eyes were still watching me.

And just like that, she was gone.

My heart pounded in my ears and the world around me felt off kilter. I watched as the spear went limp like a wet noodle in my hands and seemed to shrink. It began to coil up my arm and once it was done it harden again into a bracelet cuff that looked like a snake warped around my wrist. I tugged on it, trying to get it off but it wouldn't budge. I finally decided to just pull my jacket sleeve over it and deal with it later. 

So.... that happened. 

I looked around the gallery but Mr. Brunner wasn't there. Nobody was there but us.

I ran to Percy, and he gripped me tightly in a hug. He was shaking just as badly as I was. 

“Percy, what was that?” I exclaimed. 

“I don’t know,” he said, eyes still searching the exhibit as if Mrs. Dodd’s would show up again.

My hands were still trembling and an uneasy feeling churned in my stomach. My lunch must've been contaminated with magic mushrooms or something.

That was much more believable than the fever dream we just witnessed.

"Come on, let's get out of here," Percy said as he grabbed my hand and dragged me back outside.

It had started to rain.

Grover was sitting by the fountain, a museum map tented over his head. Nancy Bobofit was still standing there, soaked from her swim in the fountain, grumbling to her ugly friends. When she saw me, she said, "I hope Mrs. Kerr whipped your butt."

Percy stopped walking, "Who?"

"Our teacher. Duh!"

I blinked. We had no teacher named Mrs. Kerr. I asked Nancy what she was talking about. She just rolled her eyes and turned away.

Percy asked Grover where Mrs. Dodds was.

He said, "Who?"

But he paused first, and he wouldn't look at us, so I thought he was messing around.

"Not funny, dude," I told him. "This is serious."

Thunder boomed overhead.

I saw Mr. Brunner sitting under his red umbrella, reading his book as if he'd never moved.

”Stay here Cassie, I’m gonna figure out what’s going on,” Percy said.

He left me standing in the middle of a group of our classmates, who were no longer staring and whispering but doing something much worse. Laughing and walking around like everything was normal. But everything was not normal, and a familiar feeling of anxiety crept over me the farther away Percy got.

I am not one to just stay put so I followed Percy through the crowd to hear what they were saying but not too close in case there were any more surprises from Mr. Brunner and we needed to bounce.

My ears strained to listen as he reached Mr. Brunner.

Mr. Brunner looked up, a little distracted. "Ah, that would be my pen. Please bring your own writing utensil in the future, Mr. Jackson."

Percy handed Mr.Brunner his pen. I hadn't even realized Percy still had that. "Sir," Percy said, "where's Mrs. Dodds?"

He stared at Percy blankly. "Who? other chaperone. Mrs. Dodds. The pre-algebra teacher."

He frowned and sat forward, looking mildly concerned. "Percy, there is no Mrs. Dodds on this trip. As far as I know, there has never been a Mrs. Dodds at Yancy Academy. Are you feeling all right?”

Yep, something is very, very wrong.

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

A/N: Thank you friends for taking the time to read this chapter! This fic is also available on Ao3, Wattpad, and Quotev so check them out @Jazzy__J. I hope you enjoyed this fic, and leave a comment! Thank you, guys!

-Jazzy J

-> chapter 2

[i-love-dopamine]

warning: info dump

ok so a while ago i wrote a fluff shot for some of my characters (u can find it by going to my pin post > things ive written master post > bounty hunter boys > fluff if u want) so i decided to talk about their backstories rq

All of this takes place in a world where all of their version of Earth called Ayr (pronounced i-er) is ran by one dude who really hates Francis's people (which i haven't named) because they dont have concepts of a gender binary or prejudice to other races. Of corse running an entire plant is hard so Unamed Government Man has a huge military that still cant police everything.

So even tho Francis was created first from an art randomizer challenge Lucas actually has a more developed personality somehow

So lucas was raised by pirates that thought they could use his scruffy orphan self to clean the decks. This lead to him thinking all he was was a tool for people to use but were working on it. So said pirates are all bounty hunters that go around killing and capturing anyone their payed to/see have a high bounty. They use Pirate Speak™ like i said in the fluff shot. once lucas was deemed old enough (12) the pirates let him start coming on missions with them to get people. At first he didn't have the heart to kill someone, but, because the pirates wouldn't feed him if he didn't do his part, he learned to kill. And he got good at it, to. This is why hes a bounty hunter. More on him in a second

So Francis was created one day when i used a random descriptions thing to make a person and got him. His physical description is super out of date but hes what we'd call a cis femboy and what his people call

§ & _ Q €

in their language Airaeyish (ay rye ish) which translates to 'bulge' essentially meaning he got a dick. Airaeyish is relatively dead in place of Commons, which is literally just a mix of British and American English. Dont ask me how you pronounce this. 100000 usd if you can figure out how to pronounce anything in Airaeyish

His town was bombed by the government man and hes one of the only survivors of his people. All of his people have brown eyes that glow yellow in the dark and have darker skin, although there are other races with dark skin aswell, making the eyes the only reliable tell. and even then there are many ways to hide your eyes.

Francis approached Lucas to get a hit on the government leader that bombed his hometown but because hes completely broke instead offered intel and his help as payment and Lucas agreed

They start going around following bounties for money and leads to find the government guys secret bunker. While this is happening some angsty pining i really dont feel like wrighting happens aswell and eventually they start dating while Lucas learns how to leat himself be loved and Francis eventually gets to kill the government guy and ends up being a bad ass who is confident being one of his people.

After they kill government man they live in a cabin in the woods next to a lake till their old and grey. then ill probably have to wright some old man yaoi of them in their late 40's for you guys

[littlemisspascal]

The Infinity Cube Part 5

Main Pairing: Marcus Pike x Female Reader

Chapter Pairing: The Thief x Female Reader

Word Count: 1600+

Series Summary:  When you play with a strange cube, you’re transported out of your current reality with your boyfriend Marcus into brand new ones starring alternate versions of your boyfriend who look and act entirely different every time. With each encounter, you start to wonder if you’ll ever make it back to your real universe?

Warnings for the chapter: Language, Confusion, Heavily inspired by Inception + BioShock Infinite, I know nothing about art it’s all from google searches, Magic, No beta all mistakes are my own

Author Note: Thank you everybody for your kind support of this fic! I appreciate every like, comment, and reblog 💝 To everyone who guessed Ezra, well...I did say my description wasn’t very good 😅 He’ll be popping up in a later chapter, I promise 💖

PART 1 / PART 4 / PART 6

The room is opulent.

That’s really the best description your brain can conjure as you look around the rectangular space with stone pillars and black-and-white tiled floor beneath your feet. The room is lit up by a beam of moonlights slanting in through the biggest window you’ve ever seen in your life, and several lamps with yellow bulbs sporadically placed on tables around the room covered in small statues and vases. Artwork of various sizes and styles adorn the walls—ones you’ve seen hanging in The Louvre and the The National Gallery and—

They’re all famous, you realize, eyes bulging when you see the Mona Lisa. Who the fuck lives here? 

As if reading your thoughts, a voice with no body says, velvety smooth and brimming with certainty, “You, my dear little traveler, are not supposed to be here.”

You freeze, breathing hitching in your throat, feeling like you’ve just been caught spray painting the side of a freight train at one in the morning. Your eyes nervously flick around the room, searching for the speaker, but the only eyes you lock with are inanimate ones in portraits. 

“I…” you begin, slowly stepping backwards towards the wall, gaze still scanning back and forth. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

A strange clicking sound interrupts you, like a lever being pulled, and the wall disappears. You yelp, nearly throwing the cube as your limbs flail, only for hands, callused yet surprisingly gentle, to grab hold of your arms and steady you.

“No need to apologize,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your ear. “It’ll happen again as it has before.”

His remark strikes a cord deep within you, resonating from the depths of your core along your nerve endings and bones. There’s an instant response on the tip of your tongue, you can feel it, burning hot like a matchstick, but the words themselves remain elusive, far beyond your mind’s grasp.

He sighs, and are you imagining things or is it full of disappointment?

“Come, my dear,” his hand slides down your arm, interlocking your fingers with his. “The East Wing is calling.”

All you do is blink—you swear your feet never lift from the floor—and suddenly you’re standing  in a carpeted hallway lined with even more framed artworks, each one highlighted in a circle of light. 

“That’s the Ninth Wave,” you blurt out upon recognition, moving closer to marvel at the painting. “And that’s Wheatfield with Crows. And The Small Meadows in Spring…” You would keep going, but the inner art geek in you is silenced when you realize you’ve been pulling the man along with you as you name each piece.

You look at your linked hands first, noticing the thickness of his fingers and his short, blunt nails, and then gradually your gaze keeps moving along the long sleeves of his floral robe, the delicate blue flowers almost ethereal looking in the dim light, and up over his scruffy jawline to connect with dark brown eyes that remind you of leather bound journals, contents mysterious and teeming with ancient wisdom.

For the first time since your wild journey’s begun, you can’t think of a name to greet him by. 

“We’ve met,” you tilt your head, squinting, “right?”

A small smile tugs at his lips, but it lacks warmth or humor, while his eyes flicker with a fleeting glimpse of pain before a mask of neutrality covers his expression.

“No,” he says at last. “No, we haven’t.”

“But—”

He doesn’t let you finish, leading you by the hand down the hallway. You nearly have to jog to keep up with his brisk pace. Turning a corner, the floor changes to tile again with lit candelabras illuminating the way, and the only noises are your own footsteps and pounding heartbeat. It’s strange, the silent, graceful way he walks, like how leaves glide across the ground when a gust of wind bullies them.

You step into a parlor room, just as richly furnished as the first room you’d arrived in with a green leather sofa and matching armchair positioned in front of a massive fireplace. There’s an antique brass telescope near the window, the sight of which sends another excited thrill down your spine.

“Sit. You’ve had a long journey.” He gestures towards the sofa with a nod of his head before he drops your hand, heading for the bookcase on the other side of the room.

You obey, blinking with surprise when the sofa seems to adapt to your body. You thought your memory foam bed was something to brag about, but this? This is heaven.

“Where did you get all these things?” you ask, fighting back a yawn. “I mean, I know they’re all fakes but they’re really fucking good fakes which cost a pretty penny so are we talking black market or—”

“They’re not fakes,” the man interjects. “I stole them.”

Your head snaps his direction so fast your neck pops, but you’re too stunned to acknowledge the pain. “Wha—what did you just say? That’s impossible!”

“Maybe for an ordinary thief.” He grabs a book from the shelf before coming to sit next to you. He smirks, a bit of smugness slipping into his tone. “But I am the greatest thief in all the worlds.” Then, quieter, smirk fading, he admits, “Or, I used to be, at least.”

“Did…did you say worlds? As in plural?” You hold up the cube. “As in you might know what the hell this thing is?”

The thief is quiet, watching you with eyes as dark and deep as an abyss, and then he sighs again—a quiet exhale of air that strikes you with the same intensity as a slap to the face.

“Yes, I know about this.” He reaches out, deft fingers plucking the cube out of your hand, and looks at it with an expression of pure contempt. “The Infinity Cube is simultaneously the bane of my existence and the source of my immortality.”

A part of you had anticipated you’d have some kind of physical reaction to learning the name of the strange artifact, but nothing happens. No tremor shooting down your spine, or nausea twisting your stomach into knots, or even a stunned gasp. Nothing. 

“I don’t understand,” you say, looking between the cube and his face. “What is it?”

“An invention of torment crafted by the Devil.” At your wide-eyed look, he nods his head. “Yes, that Devil. I once desired to steal from all the worlds, using my magic to get away without a trace, but the Devil caught me attempting to steal his greatest treasure and as punishment he locked my heart within this cube and cast it out into one of the millions of universes.”

Your head tilts, eyeing him warily. “You’re speaking metaphorically, right?”

The beat of silence that follows stretches embarrassingly long before you realize no, he’s not speaking metaphorically. His heart is literally locked inside the cube.

“How do you get it out?” you ask, stubbornly ignoring the way your leg has started to bounce.

“I can’t.” His fingers pull at the edges of the cube before you can think to stop him, but the sides don’t move an inch no matter how much force he uses. His efforts cease once his point’s been proven, and he instead trails his thumbnail over the symbols. Softly, he continues, “My partner believed if the cube was solved then my heart would be freed, so she set out to find it. I felt it the moment she picked it up, the same spark as the day we first met and our hands touched. She brought the cube back for us to figure it out together, but what neither of us knew was that my magic tainted the cube. The second she turned its side, her soul was pulled into another reality. And when two souls of the same person exist in the same being, they begin to merge memories.”

Your nails dig into your palms, head reeling. This is too much. Way, way, way too much. “Merge memories? That’s not…” You cut yourself off,  the protest dying on your tongue. Din, Javier, Pero...You hadn’t guessed their names, you’d known them. You knew them each as wholly and intimately as you knew Marcus. All the blank spaces in your mind about the worlds were filled in the longer you spent interacting and observing. 

Merging.

“But I’m still me,” you argue, slapping a hand against your chest.

The thief nods his head. “Yes.” A beat. “For now.”

Your heart drops into your stomach. “What does that mean?”

“It means, one way or another, you’ll lose the cube. And when that happens, you’ll stop being you and start being an alternate you. And then a year will pass, or ten or twenty, and the cube will cross your path again and the cycle will continue again.”

It’ll happen again as it has before.

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?” you ask, shaking your head. You feel sick. You just want to rewind time back to your office and go home with Marcus, ignoring the cube’s existence. “This could all be an elaborate lie you made up to trick me.”

Wordlessly, he flips open the book he’d grabbed earlier and holds it out for you to see. Even before you look down, your heartbeat increases its tempo, somehow knowing that what you’ll see will turn your entire life upside down. 

There’s a photograph stuck between the pages, and it’s one of those old fashioned Polaroids you have to wave in the air once the camera prints it out. The thief is in the photo, dressed in the same floral robe with blue flowers, smiling at the camera with his arms wrapped around a young woman with an identical happy grin. 

A young woman who has your face.

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[rere-the-writer]

Title- 'To win her back'

A part two to this request

a part three - ????

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Protective Mikaelsons

You were surprisingly happy after a good cry when the Mikaelsons left. You thought over Elijah's words wondering if you could truly forgive them. You stood huffing as Ryan rush to your side worry written over his face.

"You okay?"

"Yeah I'm fine I am just tired." You tell him as Ryan smiled softly taking you to bed. Marcel thought it would be a good time to visit you a month after your lovers found you.

"So all that is from them?" Marcel asked taking the cup of tea from you as you sat down looking at the boxes. Since the Originals found you and did as you asked it didn't stop them from sending gifts and things for your baby. Rebekah sent baby clothes, Kol sent toys, Klaus would send paintings he did while Elijah began paying your bills not trusting Ryan to keep you living comfortable.

"Yes. Their way of apologizing, showering me with gifts." You said having not open any of them though you couldn't stop Elijah from paying the bills.

"How is the little guy?"

"Heathly, him and his twin brother." You tell your best friend watching him light up touching your belly smiling.

"Wow twins. That amazing."

"It is....how are they?" You couldn't help but ask as Marcel leaned back thinking how things were back in New Orleans. Things were tense between the Mikaelsons and Hayley as they blamed themselves for you leaving and Hayley was trying to get them to let you go.

"Well they are tensed with Hayley and a little jealous that you let Freya visit." Marcel tells you as you sighed it was true you only allowed Freya to come up to see you so the only way your lovers knew that you were okay was though her and Marcel.

"Tense with Hayley? Why?"

"Well other than blaming themselves for you leaving, they also blame Hayley." Marcel says as you thought over what he said. You knew from what Freya told how they were doing Klaus dosen't really leave his art studio, Rebekah and Kol sleeps in your bedroom and Elijah ignores Hayley spending his time looking though your photo album.

"I see. Well I got a doctor's appointment."

"Right. See you again soon." Marcel said hugging you walking out with you.

"Yeah Mar."

You huffed feeling annoyed seeing dozen red roses on your door and picked the box. You reading the card seeing it was from Kol and you put the roses in a vase while doing so you noticed two empty glasses of wine.

"What the?" You muttered walking seeing pair of women panties that you knew wasn't yours. You realize what was happening as you marched to the the bedroom finding Ryan in bed with his secretary.

"RYAN! Are you fucking kidding me!" You shouted surprising the lawyer and his secretary. You eyes narrowed seeing the gorgeous necklace around the woman's necklace and realized it was one that Rebekah sent as an apology.

"Gifting her my jewelry?!" You shouted at him throwing a picture frame at him as the secretary ylep.

"Baby listen it was an accident."

"An accident?! Get the fuck out of my home and you take my jewelry off!"

"Baby! I'll be out on the street!" Ryan said giving you a puppy dog look as the secretary scrabble to take the jewelry off and got dress. You crossed your arms glaring at Ryan who look pathetic pleading for you to not throw him out.

Elijah was walking down stairs knowing how quiet it was with Klaus up in his art studio, Kol spending all his time with Freya and Rebekah had yet to really leave your bedroom. Hayley came in stopping seeing Elijah and made an attempt to talk to the Original as he had been cold to everyone that wasn't family.

"Elijah, you can't keep ignoring me."

"What do want me to do Hayley? Come running to you? Seek comfort from the one thing that reminds me of the pain I cause to the woman I truly loved?"

"Wow. I hope you say it to her face." Elijah looked up seeing you standing there with a baby sling that held twins. Elijah's breathing hitched finding you just gorgeous dressed in a long sundress hair cut short.

"Y/N?" Elijah whispered finding it hard to believe you were standing there as Rebekah had heard Elijah say your name with Klaus and Kol.

"You guys act like you have seen a ghost." You teased as Rebekah reached you first worried you'll pull away but was glad you let her hug you.

"Are you back for good?"

"I sure hope so because I didn't drive a truck load of stuff for nothing." You said noticing how nervous they were around you as if it was your first night with them all over again.

"You came back to us." Elijah said watching you being lead to the den by Rebekah. They followed after as you frowned noticing the dust on things as you took a good look at your lovers.

Marcel and Freya wasn't kidding when they told you that the others weren't doing well. Each of them looked as if they weren't really feeding, Elijah wasn't dressed in a clean suit, Rebekah looked a bit duller, Klaus looked scruffy with paint on his clothes and Kol was just as dull as Rebekah.

"Well I thought seven months in your mistake was enough." You say sitting down with Rebekah sitting next to you. They looked seeing the twin boys that was asleep.

"So you came back to throw it their faces that you are happier."

"No Hayley. Truthfully I missed you all so I came home it would be unfair to keep Oilver and Henrik from their family." You said as they stared and Elijah swallowed walking over kneeling letting Kol take the other side of you and Klaus stood behind you.

"You named one of our boys after our little brother?"

"Yeah to honor Henrik." You say softly letting them get a better look at the sleeping boys. Hayley crossed her arms staring at you.

"So what hoping to move back in like nothing happened?"

"No. I bought the town house across the street. I forgive them but I am not ready to move back in." You tell Hayley as Oliver woke whining getting your attention. You had Rebekah take a still sleeping Henrik as you fed Oilver.

"How old are they?"

"A month in a half." You answered Kol watching Oliver latch onto you to eat. Elijah was in awe staring at his sons noticed how much Oliver and Henrik looked like him but he was glad they had your nose.

"Baby, as much as we would love for you move back in if there was one thing we learned was. Let you do what you need."

"I am not going to keep the boys from you all unlike some people but I need time before we jump back into this."

"Take all the time you need love. We can wait a thousand years if needed." Klaus says softly rubbing your shoulders. They were happy you let them touch you and was every willing to go as slow as you wanted.

"You want to hold him, Elijah?" You asked when Oilver was done and Kol fix you up. Elijah held his arms out as you placed the wake Oilver in his arms.

"Henrik is smaller than his brother." Rebekah said handing you the sleeping baby as you smiled softly.

"There was a bit of trouble during childbirth. I mean Hen is heathly he'll be fine." You tell them noticing the worry on their faces.

"Are you guys really okay with her just coming back?! After all the pain she put you all in?" Hayley walking in as you stood up getting the twins comfortable in the sling.

"Clearly you guys need to work things out with Hayley. I'll be across the street." You said walking out missing the glares the Mikaelsons gave Hayley. Marcel helped you bring your things inside with Josh and Davina.

"They are cute." Davina said watching over Henrik and Oilver who were wake in baby swings. You smiled opening boxes looking at your boys.

"Yeah they sure got the cute Mikaelson baby genes." You tell Davina as Josh and Marcel brought in the last of the boxes.

"I'm glad you're back. Me and Josh missed you."

"You guys could have visited with Marcel."

"Yeah but someone had to make sure the Mikaelsons take care of themselves."

"Was it really that bad?" You asked looking at them as Davina sighed.

"I am not going to lie to you. Yes it was Y/N, they were a mess. Marcel had to watch over the city."

"Hell they barely let Hayley in the Abattoir unless she was dropping Hope off." Josh tells you as you looked out the window looking across the way staring at the Abattoir.

"Freya never told me how bad it was."

"Because we agreed that you should come back home on your own not because of guilt." Marcel tells you as you looked at them while you were glad that they wanted you to come back on your own. You wished they told you how they really were doing.

Later that evening Klaus stopped by with Elijah and you let them in as they noticed you were in one of Klaus's old shirts and sweatpants.

"Unpacking love?"

"Yeah if you guys didn't send so much I wouldn't be still unpacking." You tease lightly as Klaus smirked while Elijah knelt down in front of the boys. Oliver was reaching for Elijah's hand and he let the boy grab his hand.

"Where is Kol and Rebekah?"

"Getting you dinner." Klaus said moving to help you unpack while Elijah was playing with boys.

"Where is Ryan?"

"Back in New York. Caught him sleeping with his secretary."

"Sorry to hear the love." Klaus says rubbing your back as you chuckled leaning into him.

"It's okay. Ryan wasn't you guys...he didn't have that same warmth."

"We brought food my beautiful righteous Queen." Kol said making you laugh which made the babies laugh. The Mikaelsons were happy to hear your laughter again and this time they were going to do their best to be sure you felt loved as they weren't going to let you go this time.

[tilmarrowdries]

—     Art Teacher     —

Tarren caught a glimpse of Lawrence’s latest “art project”, and as a fellow artist, he is very intrigued. 

⫶⁖⫶⁖⫶⁖⫶⁖⫶⁖⫶⁖⫶⁖⫶⁖⫶⁖⫶⁖⫶⁖⫶⁖⫶⁖⫶⁖⫶⁖⫶⁖⫶⁖⫶⁖⫶⁖⫶⁖⫶⁖⫶⁖⫶⁖⫶⁖⫶⁖⫶⁖⫶⁖⫶⁖⫶

  Images of bloody hair littered in flowers, of a splayed spine filled lovingly with herbs, flash in Tarren’s mind as he knocks on his nervous friend’s apartment door. Tarren met the scruffy, muscular blonde in a bar while on this fun two-week-long get-away to the city. They got on well, and Lawrence let Tarren walk him home at Tarren’s insistence. All the way up to his door, as Tarren coaxed. 

  Tarren had only caught a glimpse of her, this temptress, this pale beauty. She was clearly not meant to be visible from the door, but Tarren did see, and he felt, and he wondered, and he dove within the waves of curiosity. 

  So, he knocks. 

  “Lawrence? Lawrence, darling! It’s Tarren, from last night." No response from the dark, covered windows. “Lawrence? Please do pardon my intrusion, I just have a query for you about the girl-!” Tarren cuts off his shouting as a crash and shuffling sounds from inside, followed by quickly thumping footsteps. 

  “Get inside.” Lawrence answers the door shirtless, face twisted up and mouth grimacing, flashing a small skinning knife. 

  “Oh now now, none of that mess, darling,” Tarren chuckles, flashing his own knife tucked into the inside of his shirt. Lawrence looks highly unamused, but Tarren, unaware, shoves past him into the apartment. Lawrence, seemingly shocked by this bold little bird now rummaging in his home, lowers his knife and stares blankly after. 

  Tarren inspects the whole of the apartment until- Yes, there she is! Just as beautiful and artistic and lovingly crafted as his glimpse implied, oh!

  “Oh~” he gasps, turning to Lawrence with a lovestricken smile. “Law, sweetie, why didn’t you just tell me?”

  Lawrence’s face is twisted in what could be shock or maybe embarrassment, frozen in place a few paces away as his art rests in the hands of a near-stranger. But rather than horror or disgust, Tarren is blushing wildly, hugging the flower-coated decapitated head and spine to his chest; like it doesn’t matter, like killing and maiming and making anew is a normality to him. Lawrence doesn’t know what to feel, this is uncharted territory, this is new, this is... scary. The pure lust and shameless joy on the man’s face is scaring him. How can he be so shameless while clutching a corpse? Lawrence can never hold the dead without shame. 

  But rather than say any of that, Lawrence whispers: “ You... need to leave. Now.”

  “Oh come now, darling!” Tarren snaps, tossing the head back into her box. “Look I love it, your art, it’s beautiful! Sure your methods are brutish and messy, but dear-” Tarren rushes up to Lawrence who raises his knife to strike, but Tarren just touches Lawrence’s shoulders, eyes wild. “Dearest, let me teach you! Our passions, our visions combined- Imagine it!” Tarren is bright red, eyes wide and pupils blown. Lawrence can’t help his own dusting of pink along his cheeks at the physical contact. 

  “What- What do you mean? Teach me. Teach?” Lawrence’s voice is rising in volume, when Tarren’s hands come to rest on his cheeks, and he presses their lips together. 

  Lawrence blusters and shoves Tarren back hard, knocking him to the floor. Tarren screams in frustration and pulls his knife, lunging forwards and sticking the blade into Lawrence’s calf and twisting. Lawrence shouts and collapses heavily, rivulets of blood spurting from him instantly. Lawrence dropped his knife in the fall, and Tarren kicks it away, standing over him, uninjured. 

  “Testy, testy, aren’t you, dearest?” Tarren pants out. “No matter, I forgive you! But babe, you’ll bleed out very quickly without my help, you see, and I do think that makes you indebted to me for at least one art lesson, no?” 

  Lawrence is groaning in pain, clutching the wound and staring wide-eyed at the dark red puddle forming below him.

  “Art lesson? What are you talking about? You stabbed me! You- you stabbed me!”

  “I know, but you started it! I was merely defending myself. Now do you want my help stopping the blood or not? Trust me, I’m a doctor!” 

  Lawrence stares at his pale leg drenched in red, and realizes very quickly that he’s dying. The familiar ebb and flow of the river tugs the edges of his blurry vision. 

  “Fine, help me,” Lawrence shouts hoarsely. Tarren grins and pulls his emergency kit out of his back pocket, bending down and applying pressure with a random shirt off the floor. He hums an old fishing tune until the bleeding stops. Lawrence breathes heavily, staring him down with wary, reddened eyes. 

  “You’ll learn to appreciate it soon, darling, swear it.” Tarren pulls out and unfolds a small IV bag and wipes his arm clean, readying to draw his own blood to give to his patient. “By the time we’ve finished our lessons I’d wager you’ll understand beauty and the art of love like never before!” He strokes Lawrence’s cheek softly as those wide baby blues meet his hazel. Lawrence pulls away softly, unsure and vaguely terrified by the oddity of this man. 

  “I’ll make an artist of you yet, Lawrence Oleander~” 

[ac3id]

The Artist and His Majesty| 18+

𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒶𝓇𝓉𝒾𝓈𝓉 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓂𝒶𝒿𝑒𝓈𝓉𝓎 0 / 5 | fantasy au. 

chapter i , chapter ii

pairings: yandere! emperor! shigaraki x female! reader.

warnings: [series] dubcon, exhibitionism, size difference, degradation, masturbation, bondage, reader is also kind of delusional, death, violence (not on reader). (there are more but i can’t think right now.]

↪ for chapter 0: none !!

summary: you come to the big city in hopes of starting your career as an artist but things take a shocking turn when you’re recruited as the court painter for the royal palace.

↪ for chapter 0: a strange man approaches you, offering to buy your painting to which you oblige. little do you know that it kicks of a series of unfortunate events ending with you being trapped in shigaraki tomura’s clutches forever.

wordcount. 

a/n: finally !! i started this series. high-key inspired by these two dresses in my wardrobe and @ana-list‘s this  drawing ! seriously it’s literally everything. also thank you once again for proof reading this @the-grimm-writer ! 

taglist: @shigaraki-is-my-master, @deathmemeiverse, @n4dhii, @bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-love, @mstssister, @nereida19, @prince-zukohere [dm to be added/ removed.]

“That’s a beautiful painting,” a rough, scruffy voice calls out, jerking you away from your daydreams. Your grip around the color canvas resting in your arms tightens as you glance behind your shoulder to see a well-built man standing right behind you. He’s tall and a lot older than you, he has short grey hair which falls right before his eyebrows along beautiful, matching grey eyes. A cigar hangs lazily from his lips as he occasionally huffs on it, blowing clouds of smoke out his mouth. He’s dressed in expensive robes, a choice of style only people better off could afford. You can’t help exachaning a covetous glance between his expensive suit and your sloppy, knee-length, light green dress. “Thank you.” you murmur shoving him an appreciative look, hoping he’d leave you alone. When you come to the city to complete your studies in art, you mother, father, family and friends had warned you about men like these. Rich, snobby men who liked to lure in young, naive girls. Whispering praises of how they are the most unique on the planet so they pull their guard down form them to take advantage of the helpless beings. 

“Can I take a better look? It’s the Emperor, is it not? Your painting. ” You hesitate before turning back to him. Not a lot of people had seen the King to be. He lived humbly in his castle, trying his best to not indulge in the affairs of the common people. “ Yes,” you hold up the slightly small canvas (courtesy of you being broke the entire week and not being able to save up to buy a bigger canvas). To even get an idea of Shigaraki Tomura, you had to go through many people. Not a lot of people had seen his face, he had always kept it hidden under a mask. No one knew why he did so but the many conspiracy throes suggested it was something to do with his personal grief.

 You had heard many stories about him. Some made him look like a spoiled brat with a demeaning, ignorant personality who didn’t care for others and as the rumors said: self destructive habits which lead him to tear the skin of his own neck down whenever he got anxious or frustrated. 

Others portrayed him as a strong, confident man and a reliable leader who cared for his comrades. You did not know which one of the two personas brought him your attention but you couldn’t complain. Tomura had caught you under a spell, and despite never meeting him (and knowing full well you never would), you were still ready to sacrifice your life for him. He was your King even before he had taken his crown, to you he looked like a shining bright light ready to enlighten you. To you, he was a god. And as years passed by, he grew from a caterpillar into a cocoon which was ready to burst open as a butterfly into the beautiful, mysterious world. And it was happening today, Prince Tomura Shigaraki’s Coronation ceremony. After the passing of All For One, it was his turn to take the crown and fulfill his duty as the ruler of the nation

 The entire city was busy, bustling with people. Families, friends and everyone in between gathered around the huge castle walls as they waited for the ceremony to begin. They waited patiently, filled with excitement and joy as they waited to catch a glimpse of the new great King. You were among them. You had come down to the centre of the city with your friends, waiting alongside many to catch a glimpse of the new ruler. The painting which nestled in your hand was something you were hoping to sell today, to a shop or anyone who wants to have it. It was a beautiful painting which had taken you several days to complete, and dare you say it, you were quite proud of it. From all the things you had heard about Tomura, you had managed to sketch him decently. Long white, wavy hair reaching till his shoulder, skin white as snow. He sat proudly on his throne wearing a cape with his vermillion eyes peering through your soul. His face was scarcely detailed as you did not have much idea about it but he still looked ethereal. With little scars running both his eyes and a comparatively larger one on his right. Chapped lips with even more scars running over them wildly, he was not conventionally attractive. No one would call him a pretty boy yet there was something more, something alluring which attracted  you to him. His beauty was rare, not in the grasp of many but if it was grasped and held close to the heart, it was hard to let go off. And you found him attractive, very attractive. 

The man took a good look at your painting, examining it carefully and for a second you really thought he had seen the mysterious Prince. “It’s quite similar to him,” he sends you a friendly grin and you notice a tooth from his front missing, leaving an uncomfortable gap. “Have you seen him before?” he asked and you shake your head, no. He gives you an amused expression, “I must say, you are very talented, miss…?” you complete your name with a nervous smile. “And you are?” you ask. 

You realised that you were getting a little too comfortable with the stranger and it could be a really bad decision but you can’t help but give him the benefit of the doubt as he behaves like a gentleman you can find yourself to trust. “Kagero Okuta but I like to go by Giran,” he says with a lop-sided grin. Giran, you’ve heard the name before but cannot recall where and how. It sounds so familiar but you just can’t grasp it, he looked wealthy so you assumed he was a Noble and that made you even more curious as to why he was speaking to you.

 “What are you planning to do with that painting?” he asks, diving a closer look and admiring its features. “I must say, you’ve got it quite accurate but,” you stiffen, your hands growing cold as your heartbeat picks up. You realized your painting must have some complications, drawing a man you had never seen before purely out of your interpretation was a hard and a bold task to do. But to have someone who had actually seen the King for himself pinpoint your mistakes sent a rush of anxiety through your veins.

 “He’s not that bony.” He completes and you gulp nervously, looking down at your painting in disappointment. Your eyes are filled with disappointment,  all of the time and effort you spent making the piece all for it go in vain just because you missed a small detail. Giran notices your remorse and speaks up, “But that’s quite alright. He looked just like that until a while ago,” he hadn’t meant to offend or hurt you. He still believed your painting was the most beautiful thing he had seen all day.

 “What do you mean?” you ponder, giving him a perplexed look. He leans  in closer to you as if to tell a secret, “let’s say the King has been working out behind closed doors.” you blink in confusion. It was a strange thing to say, exactly how well did this man know the Emperor? Who was it that you were talking? 

“Who are you?” you can’t help but question, bewildered by such a character. Giran says nothing. He just stares at you with his lips curled into a snappy smirk, holding his cigar between his lips. He was not going to tell you anything. Without wasting time, he quickly changes the topic. “What are you going to do with that painting?” he repeats, his voice growing impatient.

 “I am planning to sell it,” you feel a bit taken back. The friendly aura which had Giran had now disappeared for a reason you could not conclude. “Sell it? To whom?” the intruding nature of his tone starts to make you uncomfortable, there’s nothing more you want to do other than get far away from him. Yet you still find yourself answering him, “To anyone who wants it.” he hums at your response, his eyes holding a mocking glint. “Wouldn’t you like to give it to the Emperor himself?” you frown, was he mocking you? 

“That’s well...impossible.” you reply, stretching your neck awkwardly. “To you, maybe.” 

You stop yourself from rolling your eyes, this man was really testing your patience. A part of you tells you to ignore him and walk away but as he reaches into his coat and pulls out a bag of coins worth much more than you could ever earn in a month, he has you hooked yet again. 

“Hey, let me buy that painting, would yer’?” 

.

..

..

“What is the problem now?” Giran takes a seat around the round table. It was late after the Coronation ceremony and the Royal palace was already facing problems. Giran was disappointed but definitely not surprised. After all, he was their personal problem solver and broker. “It’s not that big of a deal.” A curt and hard reply cut him off.

 “It actually is, Shigaraki Tomura.” a voice speaks, coming from a man dressed in a black suit with a long, flowy robe covering his entire body. He stands taller than the other two men in the as his head is replaced with a wisp of smoke. He was none other than the trusted and talented magician of the Royal family. With eccentric features and an ability to wield strange magic, nobody knew where he came from. There were many rumors about him; that he was once a normal, handsome man cursed by a witch that turned him into a hideous monster or he simply was a ghost. “What is it, Kurogiri?” Giran rephrases his question, directing it to the other man. “We need a new painter,-” 

“Servant.” Shigaraki corrected. He stood in front of the giant windows glancing over his city as his men talked about hiring a new painter for the castle. He couldn’t care less about such tedious tasks, he had his focus set on greater things like expanding his territory, taking back stolen land. 

“What happened to Mr. Kyo?” Giran asked, Shigaraki rolled his eyes at the mention of the name and clicked his tongue, “His Majesty eliminated him.” Giran stops himself from laughing out loud. He was certain once Shigaraki would take over the throne incidents like so would double the instant. But he was expecting it to happen so soon. “And why was that?” 

“He was breathing too loud, like you are right now.” 

A cold silence broke over the room as Giran counted his breath. Kurogiri looked nervously at Shigaraki who still had his back turned to them. The longer the pause grew, the dreadful the atmosphere became. Shigaraki’s threat strung the air loud and clear and Giran was afraid to speak again. “What we are asking for is that-,” Kurogiri started in a calm, slow tone easing the tension in the room. “-we need a new court painter. Do you have any names?” 

The murderous sent in the air magically disappeared as a grin stretched across Giran’s face. 

“Aren’t you in luck?” He says, running a hand through his hair before taking a puff out of his cigar. “Does that mean you know someone?” Kurogiri questioned. Giran hummed, “You see, I met this beautiful painter today. She’s extremely talented and I know for a fact she will love working for the castle.” 

“What’s the name?” growing impatient, Shigaraki asks. “Oh, it was,” Giran pauses for a moment to recall. 

“Ah yes, Y/N L/N.” 

[bitchassbucky]

.raw

Word count: 1.3k

Warning/s: this chapter is pretty tame ngl. very toxic relationship dynamics, bit spicy, references to sex, dark!bucky x dark! reader, obsessive/manipulative tendencies, cyber and irl stalking (usage of tracking device), food and eating were mentioned several times

A/N: thank you @unsaltedalmonds for the idea of IT!Bucky wearing this shirt lmfao

follow the CTRL series:

i - .exe

ii - .avi

iii - .raw

iv - .png

v - .zip

CTRL playlist CTRL moodboard

The lunch rush is starting to pick up when you came into the restaurant Bucky had told you. The chitter-chatter of the patrons along with the live acoustic band drones on as you sit by the bar waiting for him.

It’s nice. The mood is casual and the atmosphere is light. Maybe if the al-fresco dining area isn’t too crowded, you’d pick a sunny spot.

Catching your reflection on a glassy surface, you fix your appearance, hoping that it isn’t too much or too little.

“You look great, don’t worry.” A voice behind you perks up and you turn—Bucky.

A genuine smile finds itself on your lips, “thanks, Bucky. How long have you been here?” You let your eyes gaze upon his form. Black bomber jacket, zipped up all the way, tight skinny jeans, and scruffy boots. He swapped his dress shirt with something casual and it’s somehow driving you nuts already.

He gestures backward to a free table a few feet away, “long enough to get a seat for us.”

Bucky then sees your eyes flick outside by the restaurant’s patio, “unless you wanna go al-fresco?”

“Oh my gosh,” you almost even give yourself an eye roll for that, “no—no, it’s okay. We can stay here.”

“C’mon, it’s okay. I’m sure someone would be willing to switch with us.”

Before you could protest further, Bucky already flagged down the hostess. Giving his best smile and a minuscule head tilt, he speaks, “Do you think we could get a seat out there? I think fresh air would do us good.”

Like any other woman—hell, even men—wouldn’t be able to resist Bucky and his charm, “yeah! Of course, anything for you and your girlfriend.” The hostess looks at you and beams, prompting you to smile back.

Do you even try to dismiss that claim when you caught how Bucky reacted?

—

Peals of laughter slip past your lips as Bucky unzips his jacket, revealing a tasteful shirt underneath, “Bucky, oh my god!”

He throws an apologetic look around as you keep laughing, your hands hitting the table repeatedly.

“Can you keep it down?” Even he was chuckling a bunch, “in my defense, I need to do my laundry.”

You calmed yourself down only to laugh again, happy tears springing to the sides of your eyes.

Bucky wants to relive this is forever. Making you laugh and cry from laughing too much.

Is this what love feels like?

Your presence to him is like ecstasy.

He never wants to leave your light.

Everything about you is addicting.

And the way you didn’t even try to dismiss when the hostess called you his girlfriend—you want him as much as he wants you.

—

Lunch turned into afternoon snacks and snacks turned to dinner.

You and Bucky almost went and turned every food place upside down, the waistbands of your pants getting snug as the sun sets by the avenue.

“I’m so full, oh my god.” You jokingly rubbed your tummy, sipping boba as you walked side by side.

“Says the person drinking boba tea?” Bucky smirks, his hair fashioned into a low bun, showing off his side profile, much to the delight of people passing by.

He’s a walking Greek statue and you’re with him.

Bucky makes you feel loved. Enough. Seen. Validated.

Is this what love feels like?

You in his presence feel like a warm hug.

Bucky changed you forever.

A rather rushing pedestrian knocked shoulders with Bucky, causing him to stumble back and you to hold him steady, “you good?”

He seemed pissed, the crease between his eyebrows prominent, “yeah. Sorry, I’m okay.”

And then there it was: the tug of something unknown yet strangely familiar. The sound of the traffic ceases as you and Bucky both gaze upon each other’s eyes, only drifting to the other’s lips.

The moment has never been this perfect. Fuck all your romantic comedies starring Kate Hudson, this is your story now.

“Can I kiss you?” Bucky asks tenderly. His hand brushing your hair away from your face.

“Yes.”

Without a moment’s notice, your lips met.

—

Hand in hand, you walked the streets feeling like you’re on the clouds. Sweet smiles, bashful giggles. Normally, you would protest against stealing kisses but not when it’s him.

“This is my place,” Bucky says, pointing towards a mid-rise apartment complex. The neighborhood wasn’t new to you; you often find yourself walking these very streets early in the mornings.

You haven’t had the moment to appreciate his art pieces when Bucky suddenly pinned you against the door, shutting it roughly as soon as you stepped into his apartment threshold.

His lips finding yours, nibbling. The kiss was anything but sweet—all teeth and tongues.

“You have no idea how much I’ve waited to do that.”

“Like a month?” You quipped, tugging the collar of his tee. Your arms draping past his shoulders as his hands rest on your hips.

“Yeah, sure, let’s say a month.”

Having you in his studio apartment was meant to be. You in his space was written in the stars. He can almost see you waking up on his bed with him cooking you breakfast. Making you a cup of coffee now that he knows how you like it: with cream and two sugars.

You took a seat on his large office chair and a vision of you riding him suddenly floods his brain. Hey, now’s not the time.

Him shaking his head into resetting sent the wrong message, “oh. I can’t sit there, or…?” You pull yourself up, metaphorically hitting yourself in the head for making such a presumption.

Maybe he’s that kind of person who doesn’t like someone all up in their space. Then why would he take you here?

“No, no, it’s fine. I just—don’t you think it’s a bit late?” Bucky forces a smile, rubbing his palm across his nape. The warm feeling was suddenly pulled out of him. Now he’s just standing in his house with an acquaintance.

You suddenly felt small, minuscule, and very, very stupid. “Oh. Yeah, uh, I should probably get going.”

“What about a drink?” Bucky’s internally panicking now, he didn’t mean to insinuate the intent of leaving.

You shook your head, straightening your posture as you gathered your thoughts. “I can call a ride, it’s no worries. Got tons of stuff to do anyway.”

“I’m sorry.” Is all Bucky said. He wasn’t really sure why he’s apologizing or what it is for.

—

The door clicked closed and Bucky bolts to his workspace, closing down the applications that will implicate him.

He closes all applications but one, a tracking dot. He installed one on your work phone just in case you needed his help and can’t reach out. You’d never know who’s a sick fuck in these days.

Bucky shoots you a text but instead, he got a phone call.

Hey.

Hey.

The sound of the road was muffled on your end, but nonetheless, the car was moving in the right direction.

I’m so sorry for earlier. I didn’t mean to...intrude. I just—I really like you, Bucky. I’m sorry I was too forward.

I… Bucky tries to play with time as he chooses his next words carefully, I like you too but I think we’re going too fast.

Your end was quiet, save from the ambient noises.

I guess so. Let’s keep things professional and friendly first, okay?

Okay.

I gotta go, I’m at my place.

The line went dead without as much as a goodbye.

Liar. Why would you lie to him? You have at least fifteen minutes more to go.

Why would you lie to him? Didn't you just say that you liked him? The way you said it was so casual—like it didn’t bother you that you were lying to him. Raised like a liar, die like a thief.

[badlydrawncreepypasta]

fellas! it is time!

the contest I have held in celebration of accumulating 100 followers has passed, and by now, I have gained more than two hundred. first of all, that's absolutely crazy. everybody here has been nothing but great, and I have received nothing but kindness and cannot thank you all enough for supporting.

firstly, I'd like to thank the participants of this competition for submitting. I've received some awful (in a good way) and genuinely hilarious submissions, so thank you to:

@gyougherea @sakura-bunnie @sleepygamerotaku @sanityisforlosers @dinklebat @thehauntinginn @lastwave (I can't tag you?) @glitched-out-mess @cryingteacup @teadarling123 @coolguy2122 @maskedthingsgone @cold-collarbones @defective-selfship @mad-gutz (if I missed someone, I'm incredibly sorry. please let me know and I'll add you)

now, to announce the winners!

just for the sake of tension, read below the cut. it'll be in reversed order.

to start with our runnerups!

we have:

@gyougherea

this is just for the fact that you went out of our way to make a wholeass video

@dinklebat

this comic was just generally hilarious

@sanityisforlosers

this one's especially because this in my opinion is one of your funniest incorrect quotes

now for the top three placements!

number three, we have:

@cold-collarbones

this is honestly one of my absolute favourites here because this picture somehow looks both high and low effort at the same time. it gives off the super crummy energy of the room, yet there's something weirdly comforting about this art style and its scratchiness. (also, please rest your hand)

@leicheexe

I feel like I could have drawn this and I mean this in the best way possible. additionally, I love how scruffy Jeff looks, and the way Slenderman almost has a unibrow. I just think that's great

and, finally, in first place, we have.......

@lastwave (again. can't @ him for some reason) with this true masterpiece:

when I first looked at this picture I am not exaggerating when I say I was absolutely hysterical. there was zero effort put into this whatsoever. you can barely register this as being BEN. I don't know if you even drew his body or if those extended lines are just there for decoration. the "im benjamin". the random jarringly high quality joint that's in his eye????????? this is arguably the worst picture I have ever seen and that's exactly what I wanted. congratulations, man, you fuckin won

that's been the competition! once again, I'd like to thank everybody who participated and everybody who has started following me. the winners may DM me privately to discuss the art prize they have won!