#me in my drawing cat streak

[im-bored-so-i-draw]

day 12 of posting whatever doodle i have until i accept an uni

behold. 🙊 and 🙈 cats.

[ewwww-what]

Save me teenager who was never taught how to properly regulate his feelings and goes into emotionally distressing rage episodes as a result. You will be my hero always.

[murdleandmarot]

@mysticalcats @emimii @toki-toro um hi hello *throws these in your general direction and hides behind a trash can*

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

if i had a genie lamp id wish for Three Things: 1) spiders stay the fuck away from me & out of my spaces. 2) infinite moneys. 3) draw quickly.

[chopshajen]

1. Tova

Taking a stab at an October art challenge called “Draw literally anything for every day of the month of October” - kicking it off with a sketch study of @nameless-is-nameless‘s fantastically sad-looking warlock Tova!

I’ve never drawn enough in my artistic career due in large part to my perfectionism, so I’m gonna try to stick with this one >:O and inb4 “why is this drawing for the 1st of Oct posted on the 2nd”, I totally started drawing it before midnight and finished before I went to bed so, technically, it is an October 1st drawing just posted late LOL

[eiightysixbaby]

horror movies & chill

word count: 2.6k

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: eddie tries to scare you and gets more than he bargained for.

cw: SMUT - 18+ MINORS DNI. this is literally porn with a smidge of plot, sorry not sorry. mask kink, choking, degradation kink on the low (eddie calls reader slut/whore), fingering, unprotected piv, creampie

The TV screen lights up the dark living room, flashes of different colors streaking across the space. You sit on the couch, blanket draped over your lap as your knee bounces absentmindedly. Your boyfriend had wandered off to get something, and now you sit alone in suspense as the girl on screen figures out there’s a killer in her house. The movie goes eerily quiet, the lone heroine peering around her silent home. You know what’s coming next. You’ve seen enough horror movies to know that when it gets too quiet, a jump scare is right around the corner.

And yet.

You scream in unison with the girl on television, two hands gripping your shoulders from behind just as the fictional killer grabs his target. You spring up off of the couch, the blanket falling to the floor in a heap. You spin around, frantic, your body gone cold for a moment. Wicked laughter erupts in front of you as you get your bearings, your heart pounding wildly in your chest.

“God dammit, Eddie!” you shout, hand over your heart as you attempt to steady your breathing. “You absolute asshole!”

Eddie’s doubled over behind the couch, a cheap Halloween store Ghostface mask covering his head. He’s still laughing, trying to get words out and failing.

“Baby…” he says, and you can hear the smirk in his voice even though he’s trying to be serious. What a dick. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think I’d get you that good,” he says, walking towards you.

“You’re such a jerk sometimes,” you reply, but nevertheless you let him grab your arms, rubbing soothing patterns on the skin.

“I know. I am, baby, you’re right. That was mean,” he agrees, nodding his head beneath the black and white mask. You know he'd be giving you puppy-dog eyes if you could see him.

You can’t help but laugh, the initial panic leaving your body. You must’ve looked petrified, and you’re a little mad he scared you so badly.

“You’ll have to make it up to me,” you pout, crossing your arms over your chest.

Eddie’s head cocks to one side, sympathetic, playing it up for you. “Of course, sweetheart. And how do I do that?” he asks, stepping slightly closer to you.

He wants a genuine answer, but you find your breath hitching in your throat. Maybe it’s the way his fingers rub circles into your lower back. Maybe it’s the heat radiating from his body onto yours. Maybe it’s the sound of his labored breathing beneath that sweaty mask that's getting to you. You press your thighs together, suddenly feeling too hot for such a cold October day.

And Eddie can see, through the mesh eye cutouts, the way you bite your lip just slightly. He can see the way your lips part but no words come out, the way you tilt your hips closer to his. And he definitely feels the way your fingers hook into the belt-loops on his jeans, drawing him in.

“Oh my god. Are you into this right now?” he asks, voice dripping with his smug attitude. He’s grinning like the damn Cheshire Cat, if only you could see it.

You don’t answer right away, shifting on your feet. You look down, not sure if you have the gumption to tell your boyfriend the god damn Ghostface mask is turning you on right now. You were scared shitless mere minutes ago. But the way your heart pounds now is completely different to the way it had before.

“Shut up….” you mumble, your face growing incredibly warm.

“You are so fucking into this right now,” he says, laughing as he gets the last word out.

“Okay, if you’re gonna make fun-” you start, drawing your body away. Eddie doesn’t let you finish.

“Waitwaitwait,” he interrupts, pulling you back to him. “I just didn’t expect it, is all,” he reassures, his voice sounding muffled beneath the rubbery material.

You can hear your heartbeat in your ears, eagerly anticipating his next move. You can't quite bring yourself to act first.

He brings your body flush against his, two fingers gliding up one of your arms, sending chills down your spine. He leans his face close to your ear, his breathing audible. “I won’t judge if you like the mask, baby,” he purrs, his voice deeper now.

His other hand wraps around your waist, palm pressing into your lower back, pushing your crotch against his. You gasp, goosebumps perking up along your arms. Screams erupt from the movie, the final girl running free from her potential killer. It’s comedic, really, how you’re stood here ready to jump the killer’s bones.

Eddie’s hips roll, just slightly, but enough for you to feel the tent in his pants. You let out a shaky breath, your body seeking him out, wanting him to give you more of that friction.

“What is it, babe?” he taunts. “You want me?”

“Eddie…” is all you get out, a breathy little thing, your hands pressed to his chest.

And then he’s pressing you against the wall, hiking one of your legs around his waist, his crotch pressing against your needy core. One big hand comes to wrap around your throat, cold rings soothing the flames that lap at your skin. He squeezes, making you delightfully hazy, pinning you hard against the wall with his body.

“This what you want, baby? Want me to fucking ruin you?” he asks, voice akin to a growl, squeezing your throat yet again.

“P-please,” you mewl, desperate for more. You know you’re soaking through your panties, practically aching for him.

Something about not being able to see him drives you crazy. Relying on just his voice, trying to gauge his tone. You’re writhing beneath him, grinding yourself against him. He’s so hard it has to be painful, you can feel it even through the layer of denim covering his bottom half.

“Oh, she’s so desperate, huh? Pussy needs me, baby? God damn…” he rasps, and you throb for him.

His fingers dig into the meat of your thigh where he holds it, giving it a sharp squeeze. His other hand removes itself from your neck, tugging down the zipper on his jeans. You undo the button for him, just as eager to get his pants down as he is. His cock stands at attention beneath the fabric of his boxers, begging to be touched. He ignores it for the meantime, though, releasing his hold on your leg and letting you drop it. He makes quick work of sliding your leggings and panties down, fingers collecting the honey that drips from you.

Groaning, he brings his fingers to your mouth, prompting you to suck them. You oblige, mouth opening and enveloping his digits. Your tongue swipes over them, tasting yourself and coating them with saliva. And then they’re pulled from your lips, teasing your clit before slipping into your cunt. Your leg wraps around his waist once more, allowing for a better angle. He scissors those two fingers inside of you, his breathing heavy, sounding almost amplified from beneath the mask. Your hips buck forward, forcing his fingers deeper. One hand grips your side, pinning you back against the wall.

“Don’t be fuckin’ greedy, slut,” Eddie barks, words sending sparks right through you.

His fingers curl in a ‘come here’ motion, your body feeling boneless as you try to keep yourself upright. He laughs, a devious thing, clearly satisfied with how pliant you are for him. You can tell how wet you are from the slick sounds coming from every glide of his fingers, your body so desperately craving more of him. He adds a third finger, prying you open even farther with complete ease, grunting as he feels the way you tense around him.

“Eddie,” you gasp, “f-feels so good.”

“I know it does, baby, I know,” he coos, smirking to himself at the way your body writhes beyond your control. “Gonna let me fuck this pretty pussy, hm?”

“Yeah, oh god,” you cry, head tipping back as you moan to the ceiling, his fingers pressing so deep inside of you.

He moans despite himself, your cunt completely drenching his fingers. His cock twitches in his boxers, leaks and pleads for you. You’re a little blurry through the eyes of Ghostface, but he can still make out the way your face contorts in pleasure. He loves making you feel like this, loves having you in the palm of his hand.

“My filthy girl, so fuckin’ wet for me all because I put this mask on, is that it? Really gets you going, huh baby?”

He wanted you to like the mask, if he’s honest, and the fact that it’s working on you is driving him up a fucking wall. He needs to be inside of you, needs to fuck you hard and pump you full of his cum before he loses it.

Three fingers slide out of you, squelching slightly as you suddenly clench around nothing. He yanks his boxers down, merely a hindrance to him, his thick cock springing free. You whimper at the sight of it, chewing on your lip as you watch him wrap his hand around the shaft. He pumps himself a few times, lets his pre-cum drip over his fingers, and it makes you ache. You feel like your body is on fire, you need him so bad, white-hot flames licking up your thighs.

A few more pumps and then he’s releasing himself, hoisting you up so both of your legs tangle around him. He grips the meat of your ass, squeezing and kneading the flesh the best he can. He lines his cock up just right, your cunt glistening with your arousal. And you want to kiss him so bad, you want to feel your tongue against his and you want him to bite you, to suck bruises into your neck. The fact that you can’t almost makes you crazier, spurring you on more. You can only imagine what his face looks like as he sheathes himself inside of you, can only imagine those perfect parted lips as he sighs blissfully.

His cock pushes through your slick folds until you can feel his balls pressed against you, his thick length fully seated inside of you. It’s such an enticing stretch to fit him, your whole body vibrating with desire. He rocks himself in and out, in and out, letting you get used to his size. Your cunt has already soaked him in your cream, you can see it pooling where his body meets yours.

“Fuuuuuuck baby,” Eddie groans, panting beneath the warmth of the mask. “Such a needy whore for me, god damn. So fucking wet.”

You whine, canting your hips upwards ever so slightly, the tip of Eddie’s cock pressing so deep inside.

“She’s fuckin’ soaking me, angel. This pussy loves me, doesn’t she?” he says, thrusting into you harder now. He sets a quicker pace, holding your weight against the wall with complete ease.

“Eddie, Eddie,” you moan, waves of euphoria rippling through every inch of your body. He’s so deep and so big and so good.

Your nails dig into the skin of his back, clawing at him through his t-shirt as he fucks you like it’s his last opportunity. You can hear grunts and strained whines falling from his lips, breath coming out in spurts from exertion.

“Babe, fuck, can I take this thing off? Need my mouth on you baby,” he pants, hips snapping against yours and making you cry out.

“Yes, yes - fuck Eddie!” you moan, nearly screaming his name.

The mask is whipped off in one swift motion, Eddie’s unruly curls sticking out. His eyes are wild, pupils blown with sheer need, those perfect lips of his so pink and plump. His mouth is on you in an instant, kissing your lips, your jaw, his teeth biting at your neck. He sucks on the delicate skin, unforgiving as you hiss at the sensation. His warm tongue laves over the irritated area, soothing you and sending a shiver down your spine. You roll your hips, needing more from him, needing him in impossible ways.

“Fucking Christ, you’re so desperate for me,” he gets out through heavy breaths, his cock impaling you over and over. His cocky demeanor doesn’t waver, hands squeezing your ass, smirking when you whine at him.

Filthy noises fill the living room, wet smacks as your dripping pussy sucks Eddie back in for more more more. He glances down to where your bodies join, his dick shiny with your juices. Eyelashes flutter as he looks back up at you, pulling your face to his to kiss you harder. His greedy tongue roams your mouth, his lips demanding in the way they move with yours.

Eddie can tell you’re getting close by the way your eyes roll back into your skull, the way your pussy keeps squeezing him so tight. Your brows knit together as you focus on how good he feels, eyes pinching shut.

“Nuh-uh. Look at me, sweet girl,” Eddie instructs, fucking you faster. “Look at me when I’m making you feel so good.”

Your eyes open, big and glassy as they plead with him. You’re so ready to snap, your body overwhelmed with pleasure as Eddie abuses your cunt. Your fingers tangle in his hair - something you’d missed while he’d had the mask on - and tug, drawing a throaty groan from him. His balls are slapping against the skin of your ass with each rough thrust, fingers digging so hard into flesh you’re sure you’ll be sore tomorrow.

Those big brown eyes of his are incredibly dark, his lips parted as he watches you slowly unravel right before his eyes. You feel yourself about to tip over the edge, about to let go, and he can see it on your face.

“Gonna cum for me, dirty girl? Little slut’s gonna cum all over my fucking cock?” he taunts you, every single word sending bolts of electricity right to your core.

“Gonna cum so fucking hard, Eddie, oh my god,” you say breathlessly, eyes fluttering to a close as you reach your peak.

You’re delirious as you cum, your walls squeezing Eddie so fucking tight. Strings of curse words are falling from his lips as he chases his own release, drawing it closer and closer as you completely soak him. Movements get sloppy, not aided by the slippery mess you’ve created, and Eddie’s breaths grow staggered.

His cock pounds into you one, two, three more times before his hips stutter, hot ropes of cum filling you. You can just barely feel the way he twitches inside of you, every last drop of his release pouring out. Both of you settle finally, catching your breath as you come down from your highs. Eddie sets you down, your feet hitting the ground once more. Your legs feel like rubber, like you might crumple to the floor if it weren’t for the fact that he’s holding your waist and pulling you in to him.

You look down at the floor, the crumpled mask staring up at you, mouth gaping in a perpetual scream. You’re dizzy with realization of what's just happened.

“You’re fucking unreal,” he says finally, tilting your chin up so your eyes will meet his. “Where did that come from?”

“I don’t know…” you admit, cheeks growing hot. “Something about that damn mask,” you smirk at him, getting a waggle of his eyebrows in response.

“I can go to the store right now and get more… who do you want next? Michael Myers? Jason?” Eddie jokes, smiling when you scoff at him.

“Just make sure to keep the Ghostface one around, okay?” your shy request has him grinning, his tongue running over his teeth.

“Oh, you’ll be seeing more of him for sure.”

[diejager]

Not gonna lie, love the Only Human Series and some of the fluff you do.

Thinking of including this in my own fanfics, but want to see how you would make it. Hunter is a medic and a smart one…

How soon until she exploits the 141’s monster weaknesses?

Soap pinning you down only to give out to belly rubs, Gaz getting preened and his feathers ruffling when you hit the relaxing sweet spot, etc.

Cw: teasing, using vulnerabilities, tell me if I missed any.

At a certain point, you’d gotten tired of their shenanigans, the small pranks and fright they pulled on you when they felt especially cheeky. Gaz and Soap were the biggest culprits, their streaks of mischief the highest than any. Soap would jump you when you lounged around in the Task Force’s personal red room, his round fingers finding a sensitive spot under your ribs and sinking into it with a conviction as strong as he had in battle. Gaz was the cheekiest of them all, throwing you a flirtatious grin before he swept you off your feet, pulling you left and right to appease his little need for attention, his talons finding comfort under your arms and teeth under your jaw. 

Whereas Horangi and Rudy were more… mellow, their mischief calmer and rarer than the two first. Horangi, being a stalking feline, stealthily made his way around you, feet carrying him from shadow to shadow with utmost silence without alerting you of his presence and jumping at you when the moment was perfect. Rudy was the least problematic, his gentle soul a being of tenderness, yet still full of eager teasing, whispering sweet words in your ears while you worked, drawing your mind elsewhere until you shooed him off, still squirming in your seat.

You swore the others knew —you knew they did. Ghost’s shoulders would shake in silent chuckles, his eyes warmly staring at you and Soap fighting on the couch after you fell down. Price smoked his cigar while he watched you, his shoulders slumped down and posture relaxed, unbothered by your screeching and Gaz’s cackling. Alejandro, for all his sugary smiles, did little to hide his wide grin, enjoying watching your thighs clench and bite your lip when Rudy pressed himself against you, breathing flirtatious words in your ear. And König, the giant percht was consciously acting as a wall between you and Horangi, helping him get an upper hand into scaring you, his low rumble and big hands caging you between them after a scare, wandering over you until you scolded them.

You would get back at them —you did. Soap was your first victim, the first out of eight that you would make him regret ever tiring you. You knew his tail was sensitive, the soft furs and the nerves connected to his spine made it especially prone to overstimulation, which made it your perfect weapon against him. When you found him relaxing on the couch, his body draped over it, tail swaying softly, you stalked towards him and pulled on it. He jumped, a loud moan slipping from his lips, his back shuddering as your brushed your hand from the base to the tip of his tail, his fur bristling up.

Horangi had the same vulnerability, his tail standing out like a red signal, dangerous and weak. This time, you used Königagainst him, walking as quietly as you could behind the percht, following them and only sliding aside when you found his tail curling upwards. You’d never heard him screech as loudly as he did, his ears raised so high as he whipped around, cheeks flustered and eyes wide as he stared at you, his pupils dilated. Your stroked his twitching tail, smirking at his dark blush as he stumbled on his words, forcing him to curled towards you with shaky hands clutching your arm and waist. You turned a big, bad tiger into a small house cat.

Gaz was more tricky, you knew his wings were sensitive, the pin feathers prone to feeling the change of air current or touch but the muscle of his back, between both wings, was the most sensitive, it was robust, but a weak point for most flying hybrids. You teased him when he came for a check up, realising his wings had a few new feathers, short and young, still so new as they grew out of its root. You unconsciously brushed your fingers over them, gazing at his bare back ripple and tense, his sculpted back jerking and muscles moving at the slightest touch, then you found an excuse - you couldn’t even remember - to knead his pectoralis muscles and watch him stiffle his moans and squirm beneath your touch.

Rudy was the hardest to pick at, he didn’t have any animal characteristics or sensitive spots a monster would have, he - essentially - was a human with special powers. Then, you figured that you might as well give him a taste of his own medicine, turning the tables against him and tease him red. You had no qualms in hissing out promises and filthy secrets into his ear, your hands running over his shoulders and sliding down his arms, holding him still by the hips. You couldn’t hold down the smile that kissed his lobe, feeling the skin warm with a fiery blush, listening to him stammer and choke down any whimpers that threatened to slip. It was your turn to leave him squirming and blushing, biting his lip to stop himself from following the sway of your hips, eyes bleeding out his need for your touch and affection. 

Revenge tasted the sweetest when served cold. 

Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @angelcakes-22 @cassiecasluciluce @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @im-making-an-effort @love-dove-noora @jinxxangel13 @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @mul-pi @danielle143 @beau-min @makayla-666 @urfavsunkissedleo @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @luvecarson @petwifed @randominstake @heartelysia @jggykhug09090 @cassiecasluciluce @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @call-me-nyxx @sans-chara @infpt-zylith @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @thigh-o-saur @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami

[candycandy00]

My Sweet Pet - A Togame x Reader Fanfic

Togame ends up with a pet hybrid cat girl he never wanted. 

Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. Hybrid AU. Togame is aged up (mid 20’s). Oral sex. First time sex. Reader has a prominent scar. Divider by @benkeibear! Any and all feedback is very appreciated!

Togame never wanted a hybrid pet. He’d seen the poor little things trailing along behind their owners, looking pitiful. He knew what they were used for, and just because they were literally created to be living sex toys, it didn’t make the situation feel any less gross. 

They were built a little smaller than normal adult human women, sporting cute ears and tails. He supposed he could see the appeal, but the idea of buying a woman just seemed wrong to him. 

Tonight as he’s walking home from the Ori, hands in the pockets of his Shishitoren jacket, he hears a small commotion coming from an alley. He stops and glances in the direction of the noise, blanching when he realizes the alley is right beside a hybrid Pet Shop. 

In the dim evening light, he sees a large man dragging a small woman with cat ears toward a van. She’s screaming, fighting with all her might to pull her little arm out of his grasp. Togame sighs. He knows how things work at these “shops”. He shouldn’t be shocked, and he shouldn’t get involved. But just then she looks up at him, and their eyes meet. 

“Please help me!” she cries, her pleading eyes full of tears. 

Fuck. How is he supposed to ignore this?

He walks over and grabs the man’s shoulder. “Hey. You’re hurting the lady. Could you ease up?”

The man turns to look at Togame, still tightly gripping the woman’s arm. He’s a big guy, a couple inches taller than even Togame’s considerable height, and bulky with a combination of fat and muscle. “Fuck off! This is none of your business!”

“Well, see, she asked for my help,” Togame says slowly with a casual tone. “That kinda makes it my business now.”

The man releases the woman so that he can focus on Togame. He draws back, raising his fist as he shouts, “I told you to fuck off!”

When the fist swings down, Togame catches it in midair, twists it while gripping the man’s forearm, and then uses it to throw the man to the ground. “And I told you to ease up,” he says, not even breaking a sweat. 

The woman with cat ears scurries over to Togame, hiding behind him as another man walks out of the shop and down the alley. 

“What the hell is going on?” the new arrival asks, looking from the man groaning on the ground to Togame. 

Togame feels the woman clutch his arm. Her hands are shaking. “I didn’t realize shops were so rough with hybrid women,” he says. 

The new man exhales. “We usually aren’t, but she’s a special case.”

Togame glances down at her. She looks up at him with those glistening, teary eyes. “Special how?” he asks, curious now. 

The man, who at least seems calmer and more reasonable than the one on the ground, gives the woman a pitying look. “We can’t sell her. She has an ugly scar on her body that makes her… undesirable.”

The woman seems to shrink at the words, looking at the ground as if in shame. 

The man goes on. “We tried to sell her, but no one wants her. I can’t keep feeding her forever, so I decided to put her down. That’s where we’re taking her.”

Togame feels disgust swirling in the pit of his stomach. They’re going to kill this woman because no one wants to fuck her? He never imagined things were this bad for hybrids. He looks down at her again, at her tear streaked face, her small, trembling hands clinging to his arm. 

Fuck. He never wanted a hybrid, never wanted anything to do with them. But he can’t just walk away from this. 

“How much is she?”

The man looks surprised. “You want her?”

Togame sighs again. “Just tell me the price.”

The man stares at the two of them, then shrugs. “If you’re willing to take her, you can have her for free. I’d have to pay to put her down anyway.”

“Guess I’ll take her then,” Togame says, looking down at his new pet again. 

She suddenly releases his arm and slips around in front of him, wrapping her arms around his torso in a soft but tight hug. 

Togame’s face turns pink. “Huh? What are you doing?”

Without answering, she breaks the hug, reaches down and takes hold of his hand, then pulls it to her mouth. He’s too confused to pull away before she opens her mouth and bites him. It’s not a hard bite, barely breaking the skin, but it does surprise him enough to make him jerk his hand out of her grasp. 

She looks up at him, a disappointed expression on her face. Togame looks from her to the shop owner. “Uh, is it normal for her to bite?”

The owner chuckles. “You don’t know anything about hybrids, do you? She just imprinted on you.”

Togame examines the faint teeth marks on his hand. “What does that mean?”

The owner shakes his head. “I don’t have time to explain everything. Look it up online.” Then he turns and walks back toward the entrance of the store.

Togame looks at his pet. “Are you gonna explain?”

She shakes her head, looking at the ground shyly, her face flushed with embarrassment. He hasn’t heard her speak since she asked for help. If not for that, he’d think she’s mute. Maybe hybrids just don’t talk much. 

“Guess I’ll just Google it,” he says, then he starts to walk out of the alley. “Come on, I’ll take you to my place for now.”

She follows after him, and for the first time he notices her tail, swishing excitedly behind her, the same color as her ears and hair. 

“I’m Togame, by the way. Togame Jo,” he tells her. She nods, but doesn’t offer her name. Does she even have one? Is he supposed to name her?

As they walk down the street, Togame pulls out his phone and begins reading about hybrids and what “imprinting” means. 

“Hybrids typically imprint on their owners within three to five days after being purchased,” one website says. “Once a hybrid imprints on someone, they feel an emotion much like intense romantic love for that person. They also feel extreme sexual arousal while in the presence of the human they imprinted upon.”

Togame stops reading and glances to the side, where the woman is walking next to him. She’s staring at him with glassy eyes, her lips parted, a blush on her cheeks. Holy shit, is she turned on right now? He feels his own face getting warm under her lusty gaze, not sure how to deal with this situation. 

Looking back at his phone, he continues silently reading about imprinting. 

“To complete the imprinting process, the human owner must bite the hybrid in return. Until then, the hybrid will feel uneasy and insecure. Some owners intentionally refuse to complete the process to keep their pet in this state, desperate to earn their owner’s love.”

That sounds cruel, but Togame isn’t sure he wants to complete the process. He tries looking up how to break the imprinting, but all the sources he finds suggest that is a very bad idea and would cause psychological harm to the hybrid. Ah well, he can decide a little later, after doing more research. 

There’s something else he reads about the care of hybrids: “Since they are genetically engineered to please their owners sexually, most hybrids use sexuality to communicate their feelings. Rejecting their advances will make them feel that you are rejecting their feelings.”

He shoves his phone into his pocket, wondering again how he’s going to navigate such a troublesome situation. 

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

You follow your first ever owner home, eager to find out where you’ll be living from now on. Just minutes ago, you were about to be killed. Even before that, you had resigned yourself to never being bought and spending the rest of your life in a tiny cage. Though the idea of being owned by a stranger, forced to do whatever he wants, was terrifying, a lifetime in the cage was even scarier. 

But now you can’t believe your luck. Not only were you finally bought, escaping death in the process, but your owner is kind! He saved you when he could have simply ignored you. On top of that, he’s incredibly handsome. 

You watch his tall figure walking beside you, a little bit further ahead. With his long legs, he could easily leave you behind without even noticing, but he’s considerate enough to keep pace with you. 

It’s no exaggeration to say you’ve never seen a human man so beautiful. You really didn’t even have to imprint on him to fall in love and be attracted to him, but the urge had been so strong in that moment, you couldn’t resist. You want nothing more than for him to complete the process. 

There’s just one thing worrying you. He hasn’t seen your scar. He was told about it, but that’s not the same as seeing it for himself. Maybe you can keep most of your clothes on, even when pleasing him, at least until he completes the imprinting. 

The two of you arrive at a tall building and climb stairs to reach the third floor. You haven’t been out in the city since you were a kitten, when they took groups of you out to learn about the outside world. But you remember buildings like these, called apartments. 

He stops in front of one of the doors, unlocks it, and steps in, motioning for you to follow. With a bit of excitement and a bit of anxiety, you go inside. 

The apartment is small, but cozy. He shows you around, giving you the very brief tour of the living room, tiny kitchen, bathroom, and single bedroom. 

“It’s not much,” he says. 

“It’s bigger than my cage,” you tell him. He looks surprised to hear your voice. You’ve always been quiet, not liking to talk much to people you don’t know. But this is your owner. You’re going to know each other intimately. 

The thought has you squeezing your thighs together. From the moment you bit him and began the imprint, you’ve felt a burning desire for him. It started out fairly weak, but has grown in intensity with each passing moment. Right now, you want to feel his big, strong hands on you, to have him climb on top of you. But you’re too shy to initiate anything. You’ve never had an owner before, so your knowledge of sex comes only from the videos they had you and the others watch. You didn’t realize arousal could be so powerful. 

You really hope he wants to enjoy his new pet tonight. 

When he shows you the bathroom, he awkwardly rubs the back of his head, messing up his wavy black hair. “You can take a shower if you want.”

Oh! Maybe he wants you to be nice and clean before he touches you. “Thanks,” you say, stepping over to the shower and looking at his bottles of shampoo and soap. 

“I’ll find something for you to wear while I wash your clothes,” he says before leaving the room. When he returns, he’s carrying a few towels and a folded shirt. “You can wear one of my tshirts for now. I know it’s too big but we’ll buy something for you tomorrow.”

You take the bundle of items into your arms, thanking him again. He shows you how the knobs work and then steps out, shutting the door behind him. 

After waiting a few seconds to make sure he’s not coming back in, you strip off your clothes and turn the hot water on. After climbing in, you realize the water isn’t hitting your head. You look up to see that the shower is angled too high, pointing at the wall. Oh. It’s because Togame is so tall, over a foot taller than you. 

You reach up to change the angle, but the sprayer is out of your reach. You try jumping, but you still can’t touch it. That’s when you notice the small plastic stool in the corner with soap sitting on it. You move the bottles, position the stool beneath the shower head, and carefully climb up.  

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

Togame is sitting in his small living room, drinking a bottle of soda as he flips through the channels on his tv. His mind is elsewhere though, still trying to figure out what he’s going to do with the woman in his shower. 

He needs to look online for the safest, kindest way to release a hybrid pet. Are there shelters for them? Places that take care of them? Above all, he doesn’t want her to end up handed over to some perverted asshole who would do unspeakable things to her. 

Of course he’s noticed that she’s attractive. He’s human after all, and she was biologically designed to be sexually appealing. He sighs again, turning the tv off. 

Just then he hears a shriek coming from the bathroom, followed by a crashing thump. He jumps up and runs to the bathroom door, banging on it as he calls out, “Are you okay?!”

When no answer comes, he flings the door open. If she’s fallen and hurt herself, she might be unconscious! He hurries to the shower and jerks the thin curtain back, only to find his new pet on her back on the floor of the shower, wet, stark naked, and sprawled out. She’s groaning and holding a hand to her head. 

He quickly averts his eyes. “Uh, are you hurt?”

She apparently notices him then, as she rolls over to her side, her back to him, and curls in on herself. “Don’t look!” she cries, her voice even more desperate than when she asked for his help. “Please don’t look!”

He tries not to, but he can’t help seeing the way she’s curled up, shaking under the water. He turns his back to her. “I’m not looking! I just heard you fall and was afraid you got hurt.”

“Don’t look, don’t look,” she’s muttering, then finally says, “Don’t look at my scar!”

Oh. The scar. He saw it of course. It was hard not to. A very large, prominent burn scar stretched from the front of her stomach to her right hip. 

He peels off his jacket and turns to face her, quickly draping the jacket over her trembling form. He could deny seeing it, but he feels like that would only let her anxiety about it build. He remembers what the shop owner told him, that no one had bought her because of the scar. That must have made her feel terrible 

“It’s okay,” he says as she looks up at him, her hands pulling the jacket tighter around herself. “I already saw it, and there’s nothing wrong with it.”

Her eyes widen. “No! It’s ugly! Please don’t take me back! I’ll keep it hidden!”

Togame squats down to her level, looking her in the eyes. “It’s not ugly. It just shows that something terrible happened to you and you were strong enough to survive it. That’s beautiful.”

Tears fill her eyes, and suddenly she hugs him again. He pats her head, not sure how else to react to his affectionate little pet. 

Eventually she disentangles herself, and he stands back up before helping her to her feet. “I’ll go back out until you’re finished,” he tells her, then goes back to the living room. 

When she emerges later, she’s wearing a white T-shirt of his that dwarfs her small frame. The collar is practically slipping off one shoulder, and it occurs to him that she had no underwear to change into, so there’s nothing beneath the baggy shirt. He tries to avoid thinking too much about it as he collects her dirty laundry and puts it in the small washer that stands outside the bathroom. 

“Are you hungry? Thirsty?” he asks as he walks back into the living room. She’s sitting on the floor, on a cushion, her plump, bare legs curved up beside her. 

“Not hungry,” she says. “A little thirsty.”

He walks over to the fridge. In this tiny apartment, the living room and kitchen are practically one room. “Do you like ramune? I have water too.”

“What’s ramune?”

He looks up sharply. “You’ve never tried ramune?”

She shakes her head. 

He pulls a strawberry flavored one from the fridge and opens it for her. “Here, try it,” he says, reaching her the frosty glass bottle. 

She takes it, examining it closely. She even sniffs it. “Why are there bubbles in it?”

Togame grins. “Just try it. Trust me, it’s good.”

She lifts the bottle to her lips and takes a small sip. Then quickly takes another. She looks up at him with shining eyes. “This is delicious!”

He laughs. “See? I told you so! I have other flavors you can try too.”

At that moment, she smiles for the first time, bright as the sun. Togame feels his heart skip a beat as she happily drinks the soda. 

Afterwards, they’re both sitting on the floor, drinks finished, her hair nearly dry, when she crawls closer to him. She’s blushing, her eyes slightly glazed as she says, “Thank you for saving me, Master.”

“Please don’t call me that,” Togame says, giving her an uneasy smile. “Just Jo is fine.”

“Jo,” she says, as if testing how the name feels on her tongue. “Jo,” she says again, almost a purr, making him turn slightly red. “Will you complete the imprinting? Please?” She’s so close now, she’s practically in his lap, on her hands and knees. The oversized collar of his shirt is draping down, and he can see her soft tits through the gap, making him hyper aware of how little there is between him and her naked body. 

He swallows. “Uh, I need to think about it.”

She looks up at him with those big, adoring eyes. “Don’t you like me?”

He wants to look away from her, but he can’t pry his eyes away. “It’s not about whether I like you or not. I just…”

His voice trails off as she leans forward, nuzzling his abdomen with her face, slowly moving down. “Can I try to please you, Jo?”

The way she says his name, with such reverence, is making him feel heated. Her face moves lower, now brushing over his crotch. 

“You don’t have to do that,” he says, using all the willpower he has. 

She looks up into his eyes. “But I want to! I want to please you more than anything!”

His heart is beating faster. “That’s just because you imprinted on me, right?”

She shakes her head, and her face grazes over his rapidly hardening cock. “I imprinted on you because I feel this way. Not the other way around. So please?”

Ah, fuck. How is he supposed to resist a sexy little hybrid nestled between his legs, begging to suck him off? He doesn’t want to take advantage of her, but if what he read online was true, rejecting her might actually hurt her psychologically. 

Fuck it. 

“If you really want to, go ahead,” he says. 

Her eyes light up. “Thank you!” she says, as if he gave her a present. Then her warm little hands are tugging at the waistband of his sweatpants, pulling it down to reveal his erection. She blinks. “It’s already hard. And it’s so big!”

Togame looks away awkwardly. “Yeah, sorry about that.”

“It’s beautiful,” she says, wrapping her fingers around it as much as she can. “Like you.”

His face is getting hot. He’s never been called beautiful before, and it’s a strange feeling. Between his thighs, his pet extends her tongue and licks the tip of his cock. She lets her spit coat him as she keeps licking, running her tongue along his length for a few moments before taking half his cock into her hot mouth. Can she even fit any more than that? 

He can feel her throat, and then it seems to open up as she relaxes it and pushes him in deeper. Oh shit, he’s going down her tight little throat! She’s gagging around him, but keeping her composure, using her tongue to swirl around him. 

“Have you done this before?” he asks, remembering that he’s her first owner. 

She pulls away and looks up at him. “No, but they showed us videos so we would know what to do.”

As she takes him back down her throat, he groans and says, “You must have paid attention.”

Her mouth feels incredible, far better than any other blowjob he’s ever had. Then he remembers something else he read online, something he mostly skimmed over at the time. Hybrids’ entire bodies are designed to give maximum pleasure to their owners. Even their saliva has something in it to increase pleasure, and… their saliva also acts as a powerful aphrodisiac. 

Togame watches her suck his cock, his own arousal growing even stronger than he ever thought possible. Fuck, he’s gonna lose control here! 

He holds out as long as he can, even closing his eyes to block out the sight of her pretty face stuffed full of him. But that only emphasizes the wet, slurpy sounds she’s making, the little “mmm”’s of pleasure from her. But eventually, he can hold back no longer. He groans loudly as his hand flies to her hair, holding her head steady as he cums down her throat. 

She swallows it all gratefully, and when finished she pulls away for a moment before she begins to diligently clean his cock with her tongue. 

Togame stops her, taking hold of her arm, pulling her up and into his lap, so that she’s straddling him. His hands move to her hips, then slide up beneath the T-shirt. 

She grabs the hem of the shirt and pulls it down, looking panicked and shy. “M-my scar…”

“I told you, it’s beautiful,” he says, edging the shirt back up slowly. “Don’t hide something so special from me.”

She releases the shirt, letting him pull it up and over her head, leaving her totally bare in his lap. Whatever was in her saliva to get him turned on was strong stuff. He’s hard as a rock again already, and he feels an intense hunger for her like nothing he’s ever known before. 

He moves one hand down, slipping it between her plush, slightly spread thighs. She gasps as his fingers rub up and down her slit, feeling how wet and slick she is. She’s breathing hard and fast, her shaky hands on his shoulders. As he presses one finger in to stroke her tender, swollen clit, he says, “If I don’t fuck this wet little pussy, I’m gonna go crazy.”

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

All your life, you were told your purpose is to please your future owners, whoever they might be. You were designed for it, were taught exactly what to do to bring pleasure to your human. At no point were you told anything about your own pleasure. It was irrelevant. 

So you had no idea your own body could feel so good. Jo’s fingers rubbing the little nub between your folds is sending shockwaves of pleasure through your whole body, making you release mewling cries, your eyes tearing up, your hands gripping the fabric of his shirt as you bury your face in his neck. Your body is trembling, your needy pussy clenching around nothing. 

You want him. You wanted him even before you bit him. You never thought your own desires mattered, your own preferences in human men. But now you belong to a man who is everything you ever wanted. If only he would bite you back and complete the imprinting. 

His fingers move a little faster, a little harder, and your body jerks. You cum for the first time, clinging to him as you cry out. 

You barely have a moment to pant in his lap before he shifts on the floor, pressing you onto your back in front of him. You squeak in surprise as he hovers over you. He’s so tall, so much bigger than you.

With one hand he gently rubs over your scar, making you flinch. You still can’t believe he finds it beautiful, and having him touch it scares you. What if he decides it’s ugly after all? What if he doesn’t want you anymore? But he bends down and presses his lips to the scar, kissing it in several different places. You draw in a sharp breath, tears in your eyes again, overwhelmed by the love you already feel for this man. 

He smiles up at you, then he lifts your legs, placing them on his shoulders, folding you in half. 

You stare up into his lovely green eyes as he presses his cock into your dripping virgin pussy. He goes slowly, carefully, but you can see the strain on his face. He wants to shove in fast and hard, wants to fuck you wildly. He’s too kind for that, taking his time and making sure you’re not hurt. It’s your first time after all. You smile up at him, even as you feel the first stings of your hole stretching to accommodate him. 

“You can go faster,” you say, trying not to wince. “It doesn’t hurt.”

“Really?” he asks, then going just a little faster after you nod. 

It hurts a little, but you want him to feel good, to enjoy your body however he sees fit as your beloved owner. Still, he remains careful, watching your expression, and your love for him only grows. 

He gives a few shallow thrusts, and when you moan in response, he goes deeper. 

“You feel so good,” he says, leaning down to kiss your lips. You clench tightly around him, excited by his affection. You want more of it, more kisses, more touches. You want his love. 

A small shudder rips through him. “Fuck, if you keep squeezing me like that, I won’t be able to hold back!”

You wrap your arms around his neck. “I don’t want you to hold back,” you tell him, locking him in your adoring gaze. “I want all of you!”

He grunts as he shoves in deeper, probably harder than he intended, but his self control is clearly slipping. He begins thrusting all the way in, with slow, languid, impossibly deep motions. You cry out, tightening your arms around his neck, and he kisses you again, one of his hands moving to stroke your hair soothingly. 

“Ahh… Jo!” you cry as his thrusts pick up speed. He’s holding you so tenderly as he begins to pound into you. “Jo… I love you! Please… please love me!”

His eyes widen as he looks down at you, his cheeks going pink. For a moment he just stares at your face while he fucks you, hitting a spot within you that has you moaning. Then, all at once, he bends down and sinks his teeth into your shoulder. It’s not a hard bite, just enough to draw a tiny drop of blood. 

Enough to complete the imprinting. 

Your eyes fly open, your body responding immediately. Starting the imprinting process makes you feel love and arousal for him, but when it’s completed, those feelings grow wildly in intensity. You cum on the spot, nearly sobbing as all these sensations overtake you. 

Jo holds you firmly in his embrace, waiting for you to ride out your high before he releases the bite. Then he locks eyes with you as he plunges in deeper than ever before, his body going rigid as he groans. You feel his hot cum shoot into you in thick spurts, and you know he’s now claimed you as his own. 

The two of you lie there on the floor for a while after, you curled up in his arms. You look up at him. “Thank you, Jo.”

“Hmm? What for this time?” he asks, a lazy smile on his face. 

“For making me yours.”

He laughs breezily. “More like you made me yours.”

You grin, your face pressed against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. You’re finally content, knowing the two of you belong to each other. 

[jinkiesmariz]

Hello everypony I was being abused in call by @vampirewhohuntsvampires but despite that I bring a humble MCD offering :3 enjoy

First we have cat laur cuz um I was trying to catch up one MCD s2 and forgot where I was at so I accidentally set myself at the beginning of the season before realizing anyways ya

Second is Zoey but s2 cuz I remembered some of y’all asked for her in my inbox so I bring a quick snack for you guys ehe

She looks a little worn out but that’s just cuz of the lost immortality and probably vitalizing effects it has

Next is just how I see emmalyn. She looks sooo cute with short curled hair I think everyone should adore my favorite hater !!! She did nothing wrong I would’ve been worse and fighting aph for taking over my house !!

Anyways god bless her for being allowed to be a bit even if aph did like ruin her for it

Kenmur… accidentally made him gorgeous it’s not my fault I didn’t mean to it just happened

Nyways he’s the type of guy to have gorgeous long natural lashes that makes every girl hate him for it. But also the berry guy everyone has a crush on in school but he doesn’t know and no one tells hom . I like his little tooth gap and scar I think it’s so cute

Oh and her e levin while I was being relentlessly bullied by Jin 💔 they were so mean to me Anywyas I got really annoyed coloring bim I feel like he’s platinum blond but also still have his brown streaks as a baby but didn’t know how to draw it without it looking weird so I just added it at the bottom/back

Ok ya that’s it baiii I’m gonna sleep for 10 minutes

[saszor]

Short image description in alt text and longer one below (it cuts out when in alt...)

I started this one in (checks) December and it took me 4 months to actually finish but it's here... Purple is the hardest color to work with to me (ignore my PFP being purple) so I'm glad it turned out decent!

As always I'm open for suggestions for the next one :) !

reblogs > likes 🫶

previous drawings of the series; [1] [2] [3] [4] [5]

[Image description: Digital drawing of eleven disabled characters on a plain purple background. from left to right: A tan teenage girl with Down Syndrome and mismatched socks lying on the ground while kicking feet in the air, staring at a fluffy brown cat, next to a blushing blonde white girl with burn scars on her torso and arms. Below them; A skinny, dark skinned trans man with an uneven smile using a reverse walker, standing next to a pale hijabi girl wearing a large skirt with two prosthetic legs visible underneath. In the center: a couple hugging, consisting of a tan man with purple streaks and full body post-sepsis scarring and a white redhead girl with a large mass on her lower jaw. They're staring in each others' eyes. Behind them is a white man with thin, brown hair and acne using a purple cane. He's holding his free hand to his torso and smiling slightly. On the right: a Black manual wheelchair user holding their preteen child on their lap. They're smiling with reassurance towards him. The kid doesn't have his right eye. In bottom right, an older Black woman with gray locs using an AAC device with a focused expression. Next to her is a younger dark skinned man wearing a white tank top. He has strabismus and is missing a part of his skull - he's smiling towards her but isn't saying anything. End Image Description.]

[mochinomnoms]

The Private (not) Thoughts of a Moray Chapter 1: I wonder if you look both ways (when you cross my mind)

Gender Neutral Reader x Jade Leech

Chapter 1 preview:

“Henchman? Are you okay?” “…Yeah, thanks guys, I didn’t realize how sick I was getting… this magic thing is hard.” Snorting at your whiny tone, Ace still looked at you with a bit of sympathy. “It’s that telepathy stuff that’s the problem right? Not magic!” “Although,” Grim spoke up, left your arms and stood on the step instead. “That could just be a unique magic thing, right?” “Yeah! Though it’s basically impossible for someone to have a unique magic active all the time…” Deuce rubbed the back of his head, looking at you frustrated. “You’d probably be blotting, maybe it’s something else?”

[wc} - 3,699

back to chapter list

A year ago today, you, Y/N, entered Twisted Wonderland with nothing but the clothes on your back, a rotting, haunted dormitory, and a fire-breathing cat creature. You were but a mere  human with no magic to defend yourself with and no way to return to your home. Today, after months of sweat, tears, blood and 7 consecutive overblots, you have become known as the infamous prefect. 

It was a title well-deserved for the human that survived the overblots of several powerful mages, especially in the case of your dearest, Hornton (you still called him that even now, he seemed to like it). But it ended surprisingly well, with minimal casualties to the students and to the overblotters. You really should give thanks to the Seven for that.

Though it’s really less impressive than it sounds out loud, as without the help of your fellow freshman, Ace and Deuce, Jack, Epel, Sebek, and even Grim, it wouldn’t have been possible, as you still remain mostly magicless. 

Mostly.

Despite the mirror declaring you “empty”, and though it was true for most of your time at NRC, it seems that your extended stay has slowly granted you an affinity for magic. At the rate you’re learning at though, you can mostly cast small spells, like light spells in the dark, and small healing spells courtesy of Nurse Goethel. 

You personally found it pretty impressive that you could cast spells now, though the one time you mentioned as much, Ace insisted that you were the equivalent of a little kid proudly showing off a shitty stick figure drawing of their family. 

You choose to view that as a family endearingly encouraging their kid’s budding artistic streak!

Besides, that wasn’t your only budding ability, as you noticed during the graduation ceremony for the seniors. The freshman, per tradition, were in charge of the concession stands before the graduation ceremony. From what Crowley told your class, this was to help build character and build financial literacy, for he was a generous headmage that prepared his students for the real world.

You, of course, knew that it was probably just because it was cheaper than hiring someone.

Here you, Grim, and your 6 fellow classmates worked at a booth outside the coliseum, currently selling bouquets and garlands to the graduates’ families. Soon enough, the conversation shifted to summer plans. 

“Ahh~ I’m super excited to go home! My family’s gonna go to the beach! I'm so looking forward to seeing hot babes!”

“Of course you are Ace,” Jack sighed. “I’m just looking forward to some cooler weather back home.”

Deuce looked over as he adjusted the garlands, Heartslabyul-styled, in his hands, “It’s gonna suck being alone on campus for the next three months. Are you sure you don’t want to spend summer break with one of us?”

“Ehhh? I didn’t say anything like that!” Ace scoffed. “Don’t lump me in with you, Juice!”

“Don’t be rude, Ace!”

“Deuce is right! Y/N! We have room at my home, Meemaw- I mean, Grandma -would be happy to have you!” Epel piped up from behind the booth. “And I’d finally have someone my age with me in town.”

You smiled as your fellow incoming second-years bickered amongst themselves. Jack looked exasperated at the Adeuce’s arguing, as he usually did. On the other hand, Epel was blatantly ignoring the two as he looked at you with puppy eyes, embracing his cuteness (just this once) to convince you to join him home. 

“Cease your arguing! It is unbefitting of you as soon to be upperclassmen to a new class of students!” Sebek barked, looking quite silly as Grim laid on top of his head, a scene that would’ve been impossible two months ago.

“Nyah! Quiet down, you’re even louder when I’m on top of your head!”

“Mm-hm, I appreciate the concern--Grim get off him--but I can’t,” You grabbed Grim from Sebek, who leaned down to your head to help. “Crowley’s giving me a bigger allowance if I stay to care for the fairies again.” 

Grim curled himself in your arms as he pouted. “The cafeteria and school store are gonna be closed again! How am I gonna get my premium tuna from Sam now?!” 

“Don’t whine about something so trivial! Prefect, are you sure you don’t want to spend at least a weekend with me and my Mom?” Deuce asked you once again. 

“Ah, I’d have to ask if the ghosts could cover, but a weekend should be fine, but we’d better get back to the concessions.”

“Right you are, human! We should be celebrating the graduation of our upperclassmen!”

Jack winced at Sebek’s increasing volume, “Lower your voice, Sebek. It’s already too loud with the crowd as it is.”

Wincing alongside him, you rubbed your temples as the noise from the crowd grew with the number of attendees. You'd expect a graduation to be a busy event with loud crowds, but that was before you could hear everyone’s thoughts as well.

It’d started off slow, just after the last overblot, with soft whispers floating in your mind like will-o-wisps in a dark forest. They grew, as fire does, with those whispers becoming more and more prominent. Soon you could hear your classmates daydreams, worries, and secrets, like the soft crackle from a campfire. It wasn’t like you could control it though, each little fire from your peers grew together to become one large, blazing wildfire. In the forest of your mind, one unprepared for any sort of magical blaze, it tore through you, leaving your mind burned and throbbing from the endless feed of thoughts. 

I can’t believe it’s the end of the year already!

Ah! Damn they’re loud…

Geez, Mom, stop embarrassing me, it’s my graduation…

Make it stooooop!

Maybe I should stop for a graduation garland. Would he want an NRC one or Savanaclaw one?

Pleeeease… it hurrrts!

a͔̱ͪ̓̅ͅw ͚͚̜̈́ͮ̾mán,̧ i̷̞̼ ͉͕̟͛̉ͦw̡̭̩͚͒̀̓ḁ̖͎s̶͍̻̩̉́͂ h̠o̒҉͕ṗ̭i̯ͦn͙̒g ̭̱͆ͥt̸o͕̟̫ ̤̓s̸e͉e̦̮̞͟ ̶̑͗h͏͖̠ï̪̻͓ͦ̎m̹̺̼̐͛̆ ̴̻̟̞ḅ͚efͪ͐̕o̖ͅr̦ͧḙ̹ ́ţ͔ͨh̲ͤḙͪ ̼̦̀ć͖er͓̝͕̀̓͐̕em͙͚̑̈́ȏ̟͍̹̓̓n̢̔͐͌y ̡̺ŝ͌̒t̶̪͂ąrt̞ͧeͬͫd̷

It hurts!!!

s̩̝̝ͪ̄̈h̦͉̱̰̾ͬ̄̾i̴͍̹̅͗t̬̬͇̙̳ͅ ̠̫͙̼̯͐̓ͫ͌̒ĭ͕̗͔̺̍̎̑m̛ ̱̣̗̠r͗ͧǜ͉n  n͢i̴̫͐ng̵ͅ ͇ḻ̬͙̠͋͆͆ͬa̹̬͚̺̯̯͔t̔̋ͨ̋ͬ̑e̖̹͚͓͖͚̙̅̌̉͆̌̉ͭ,̢͉͚ ̟̺̄ͦȉ̹͟ ̴͙̫̿ͫh̻͓ͨͦo͛͛̊̂̂̿ͯp̪̙̠̬̗ͣͤͪ̎̆͘e i͚̝͇̲̜̠ͣ̐͌̑̓̋ ͘c̉ͧ͌̓͂ a̳͚̐̚n̤̰̖̮̘͍͖͂͋ͧͯͫ̈̒ ̩͊g̷ͦͯ̈́̿̆̊̾e̴͖̙̲̮̦̰̮̽ͨ̑͌̉̿̅t͉̳̯̙ a ́̄̌ͦ s̈́̏́͟e̝͇̮ͥ͋̀ḁ̯̼̪̮̅̌̓ͩͥ̚ͅt̰̝ͥ̏ ͕̰͇͚͝

what up w ẅ̰̗̠͇͛͗̓h͇̱̥̔̈̽a̮͓t ̛̦̜͓͔̒ͧ͑̈u̽ͧ̓ͨ̾̐͝p̢ ̫͓wì̹͉̹̮t̰̪̝̞hͦ̐ͬ ͐̿th̋̇ͪ̃̊̈̇͏̠̜̯̤̝̯͉e ̴̯͎̦ͨ͐ͩp̅ͤ͆r̠͙̂̔e̥͑͡f́ë͈̭͍́̇ͬct?̧͙̭̥̞͎̬̠     make it stop!!   ȁ͍̘̝̩̄̂̿̐ͅw͇̪̯̥͕̞͚ ̧̭͍͕̼͈͕́̓̋̉̀̒̾ͅmàn͖̝͍̻̹̈͐̐̎̏ ̴ ṯ͇̭͕̼̏̉ͧ͒ͥh͏e̘̠̜͔̖̓̃̑͑̅y͓̣͙̭̤͔̘ͤ̎͂ͫ͛ͩͯ'̸̘̖̺̤̿̇̿̌r̬̰̮̩̜̞̫e͕̠̯̤ͧ̆̌̾ ̳̝͈̞̔͂̅̃l̯̘̻̖͔̝o̤̺̽͐o̪k͖̼̼̝̜̬i̙͕͙̯͈ͪ̆ͦ́̿̌ͅn̥̯͔̗̼ͅg͙̞͓͉͕̽͑ͦͭ͋ ̺͙̻̩̏͆̈́͊k͕͓̣̫͙̖̝i n̩͕̂̎͝d̵̞͖̘̦̳̟̺͂̂ͣ̑ͯͫ̇a ̛͈̺̲̥͉̮͇ͫ̎ͩ͋̍͛͗ s̮͍̘͎̼͔̥ĭ̑ͮ͑͂c̢̪̠k͇̜̾̆.̜̳̘͔̟̙.̦̦̎̓.̹̀̄ͅ stooooop! Ÿ̳̼̱͚̱̹́̈͊͒̅̋̀/͌͢N̠̳̠̰̖̜̻ͤ̋ͪ͒̒̋̆?̣̯͖͖̫̥͒̌̂ͣ̆̚ 

Iş̘̭̺̱͇̖ͧ͛̀̉ͭ̏̚ͅ ̷̜͍̩͈̹̻̥̋́̋͆ͣ̃̚t̼͐hȅ̋̊̉̑ ͍̺͇ STOP IT!!!!! h̖̳͜ͅu͌ͬ̅͆͊͑́҉͈͓̭̮̲̥͓m̹̟̟͇͚a͎̳͉̗̟̳n̥̘͈͚̫̣͉͊̾͗̏̃ͥ̿ ̝ͧg͎̅ő̳͔̖̞̄ͣ́n̪̰͈̝̙̣͕̆ͥ̄ͮ͒ͤͬṉ̖͕̍ͯ̚å̡̼̪͔͍ͦͣ̚ ̒̆͞p̯̝ǔ͙k͎͎̪̜͇͔͒́̉ͨ̓̏e̷̞̺̖?̯̘̻

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!

H͇͖̱̪͘e͇͍̲͍̺͈ͅnc̟̘̘̟͖̎̐͊ͧ̅́ḣ̋ͦm̪̚ḁ̟͍͓̻n͊͘?̬͙ͣ͛

“Y/N?”

You felt soft purring against your chest, where you had been clutching Grim tighter to your chest as you hyperventilated. Grim pressed his head against your chin in an attempt to comfort you as tears flowed from your eyes. You could still feel your head pounding when Ace and Deuce approached with concern. 

“You don’t look too good Prefect, do you need to take a breather?”

“Deuce is right, come on let's take you back to the dorm!” Ace placed a hand on the small of your back and began leading you away from the crowd. “See ya later guys!”

“Hey! You can’t just skip out of work like that!” 

“Trappola! Get back here!”

“H-hey wait! Deuce, give back the garlands!” 

Ace continued walking as Deuce ran back to hand Epel the products in his hands. “Oh sorry can’t hear you from here, Prefect is super sick, gotta blast~”

Leading into your friend, you let him guide you to your dorm, Deuce catching up to you as well. While it was still relatively packed along Main Street, even with the ceremony starting soon, the crowds dispersed as you two headed closer to the dorm.

Ah man, the line at Sam’s is super long. Maybe I can cut in somewhere?

Oh look at the Great Seven! Wait, that one’s an actual lion?

The botanical garden is closed! Nooo, I was gonna confess there before we left for internships!! 

As the four of you approached to the dorm, you visibly relaxed as both the voices and thoughts of the crowds quieted down. 

“Hey, we’re here,” Said Deuce, relaxing slightly as you approached the gate to Ramshackle. “You wanna just sit out here for a bit? The weather’s not too bad.”

You nodded and relaxed as you and your friends sat on the stone steps of the dorm, taking a deep breath as only the faintest of voices made their way to your head. From this far away, it made for a more pleasant ambience, like those YouTube “study with me” videos you’d put on for studying back home.

“Henchman? Are you okay?”

“... Yeah, thanks guys, I didn’t realize how sick I was getting… this magic thing is hard.” 

Snorting at your whiny tone, Ace still looked at you with a bit of sympathy. “It’s that telepathy stuff that’s the problem right? Not magic!”

“Although,” Grim spoke up, left your arms and stood on the step instead. “That could just be a unique magic thing, right?”

“Yeah! Though it’s basically impossible for someone to have a unique magic active all the time…” Deuce rubbed the back of his head, looking at you frustrated. “You’d probably be blotting, maybe it’s something else?”

You snorted at his comment, drawing strange looks from them.

“You could’ve just said I’m weird. It’s a well known fact at this point.” Sighing dramatically, you threw yourself down to lay on the steps with your wrist resting on your forehead, tossing back your head for extra effect. 

“Magic or not, I, the Ramshackle Prefect, will always be the strange little human! Whether it’s the strange human with no magic, or the strange human with weird…uh…mind magic!” You heard him snort. “I, alas, remain a spectacle!”

Rolling his eyes, Ace flicked your forehead (“Ow! Ace what the fuck!”) at your dramatics and sighed. 

“You know, I was joking earlier. You can join me—or Deuce, I guess (“Hey!”)—during the break. We’re not all-knowing like a certain housewarden friend of yours, but we can help you figure out what's up with you.”

So far, only Ace, Deuce, and Grim knew about your newfound ability. And while it was the thought that counted, neither really knew anything about spontaneously gaining magical abilities. In fact, no one, not Crowley or even Hornton, really knew what to make of your new powers. Adding telepathy on top of the mix seemed like a good path to trouble. In the meantime, you found it best to keep it between you four, even if you felt bad leaving your other three friends out of the loop.

I bet my brother can help us figure out something, he works at a pretty swanky university back home! 

You sighed and adjusted yourself so that you laid on your side, Grim curling up to you as you looked up at your friends. Ace sat a few steps down, so he could stretch his arm alongside your back, while Deuce laid his head on your waist. 

Almost a year's worth of life-threatening fiascos have led to your closeness to your dearest friends, and Ace’s casual PDA with you and Deuce certainly helped bring your little group close together. 

“I’m not gonna ask that of you, as much as I appreciate it.”

Why not? “My mom would love to have you over! It’d be no issue!” We could meet up with Ace and go to a library or something.

“That’s not the point Deuce,” You responded. “I just want to be able to do things on my own, and do you and Ace even live close enough to do that? Isn’t the Queendom pretty big?”

What? He didn’t mention me. Ace made a face at you as you answered. “Are you reacting to his thoughts?” Man that’s kinda creepy.

“Shut up, Ace.” Sorry… “I’m not trying to be creepy!” 

Deuce smacked his side. “Don’t call them creepy!” Don’t be rude, Ace!

“Ya, what he said, don’t be rude!”

“He didn’t even say anything out loud!”

You blew a raspberry at him, the other Heartslabyul student snickering at his exasperated look.

You’re lucky you’re both cute…and stop laughing at me Deuce!

Grin widening, and migraine fading, you wiggled your eyebrows at Ace. 

“Oh~ you think we’re cute? Deuce, he thinks we’re cuties!”

Eh? Me cute?

“Okay! That’s definitely not fair! Shut your mouth now before you spill all my secrets!” Ace grabbed at you as he tried to cover your mouth, blushing, failing to notice Deuce’s equally red face.

“Nyah!!! Watch it! No crushing the mighty Grim!” The little cat hopped out of the way and into Deuce’s arms as the two of you began to playfully wrestle. “I can’t be smushed before I become the greatest mage ever!”

You and Ace continued to fight for a few minutes, Ace gaining the upper hand as you were already laying down. Eventually, he finished your fight by simply holding your hands hostage in his, and laying across you, preventing any movements other than squirming, much to the other two’s amusement.

Unable to wrangle your hands back, you ceased your movements, huffing. Haha, I win. Instead, you relaxed, finding his presence on your chest comforting, like a weighted blanket.

Silence overtook the four of you for a few minutes, Deuce looking off into the nearby woods, Grim grooming himself, Ace settling in for what looked like a nap, and you gazing at the sky as stars began to emerge in the dusk.

“It’s just…” You spoke quietly, breaking the silence as if telling a deep secret. Maybe you were. “I’ve been so dependent on others while here, and now I feel like I can take that burden off of others.”

Your comment disrupted the comfortable quiet between you all. 

“You’re not a burden,” Not to us. Deuce spoke up, his voice soft. “But I understand, wanting to become independent.” I want the same too. 

“If you were a burden, we wouldn't've stuck around for so long you know!” More brash, but just as soothing, Ace scoffed. We love ya too much for that, anyways. “I think Deuce would agree with me.”

“Besides!” Grim piped up, standing up now with hands on his hips, You’re my henchman! “I need my henchman! You wouldn’t be allowed to go anywhere without me!” How else are you gonna survive without the great Grim!

You smiled at the three, taking a deep breath. 

I don’t know what I’d do without you guys. I wonder what would’ve happened, if we never crossed paths the way we did. 

Grunting, you push Ace off to the side (“Hey!”) and stood up, stretching your limbs until they gave a satisfying pop. 

“We should probably head back, Riddle’ll probably have both your heads if he finds out you're missing from concession duty.” 

“Ah shit.” You’re totally right. 

They’re right. “Are you sure you’ll be okay though? It’s gonna be way more crowded once the ceremony starts.” Deuce stood up with you, letting Grim take a perch on his shoulder.

Myah! I’m taller here! 

“Hm, yeah I think so.” You held a hand to Ace and helped him up. “I’ll just focus on whatever you two start dozing off about! Don’t think about anything gross though, Ace.”

He threw his hands up. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” What? You think I’d think of dirty thoughts? “It’s not like I’m actively trying to think of stuff to freak you out!” 

“… I heard you think about whether or not you’d fuck your own clone—”

“THAT WAS ALL CATER!”

Laughing at Ace’s red-faced embarrassment, your little group walked back to the coliseum to join your friends before the graduation, and the end of the school year, finally commenced. 

Geez, it’s crowded.

Ah man, I hope I’m not forgetting anything. 

I wonder if they’re gonna let us keep our rooms when we get back.

The food’s gonna go bad! Come on, let me get to the mirror!

My internship will start right away, I should tell them goodbye now. 

I wonder who’ll be housewarden now that Leona’s gone. 

I can’t believe I went through the entire year without meeting Idia, my own housewarden!

We can’t lose you!! Come back, I can’t work the lounge without you!!

Groaning from both the noise of the crowd and their thoughts, you rubbed your temples, reminded of the night before. Grim was still at the dorm, peacefully dozing off the morning away. At least this time you could blame your friends for keeping you up at the impromptu sleepover. 

“I told you to go to bed early,” That’s how you get sick, Prefect. 

“Shaddup Jack, that’s not why I’m feeling sick.”

“... I didn’t say anything about you being sick?” Did I say that out loud? “Uh, you’re okay, right?”

Waving off your slip-up, you nod. “Yeah, I’m fine, just tired. Hey, who’s gonna be Savanaclaw’s housewarden with Leona becoming a fourth year? Do y’all have, like, a throw down or something?”

Crossing his arms, ears flattening, Jack shook his head. That’s stupid. “No, of course not.” They’d probably do that if they could honestly. “Leona had appointed Ruggie, surprisingly, but he didn’t want it. Said he didn’t want to fight with whoever might become vice housewarden later on.”

“Eh? But I heard that he took it after all!” Epel chipped in, hair swept back in a ponytail and skin immaculate despite the late night activities (damn Vil and his pristine skincare routine). “What made him change his mind?”

“A-ah, well, I uh-” Rubbing the back of his head, Jack suddenly looked embarrassed. “asked me to be his vice housewarden, and I couldn’t refuse an upperclassman’s request.” 

“Woah, what!” No fair! “I can’t believe he asked! Vil didn' even spare a glance at me!” Epel pouted, his accent emerging before he caught himself.

“I mean, good for you Jack! I’m happy for you!” So unfair…

“Yeah man! Don’t be so bashful about it!” It’s super cool! Ace and Deuce approached you two, out of breath from running over, “Riddle definitely didn’t consider one of us for vice! He asked someone from his year to take Trey’s place.”

The pair had woken up late and ran over to pack up the rest of their things (or at least Ace did, Deuce had his stuff already packed, but couldn’t find his shoes at Ramshackle this morning), so both were slightly disheveled. 

“Of course not! Rosehearts would only expect the best of his dorm to lead the rest by example! Something the two of you humans fail to do!” Unlike me! My lord asked me and Silver to take his and Master Lilia’s place! Oh, joy to be considered a guiding leader by the Young Master! 

 “Unlike you two, I was deemed worthy by the Young Master to be Diasomnia’s new vice housewarden!” Sebek chastised the two, dressed in rather prim clothing that didn’t differ too much from his dorm uniform. “If you two were to shape yourselves up, then I’m sure Rosehearts would’ve considered once of you as his vice housewarden!” 

Groaning, Ace rolled his eyes at Sebek, who made an offended noise, before throwing an arm around you. “Hey Prefect, you know our offer still stands-”

“What do you mean our offer, Ace, I made it first!” Deuce grumbled. You’d probably make them clean your room or something as payment.

Shut up, Deuce. “-You can always stay with one of us during summer break! The headmage probably has someone else that can care for the fairies anyways. Enjoy the break with us!” Ace grinned and gave a sly chuckle. Plus, you can wear a super cute bathing suit to the beach with me! Yeah, I know you heard me~

“...Thanks Ace, maybe next time.” Deadpanning, you reached up and yanked on Ace’s ear, who started yelping in pain, as you pulled.”No guys, I promise I’ll be fine! Some of the juniors—or I guess seniors now—they’re gonna be coming to the college during break to solidify their internship credits and stuff. Plus I got the ghosts, so I won’t be lonely!”

Deuce looked at you with furrowed brows and concerned eyes. “Are you sure?” 

“Yes, but don’t worry,” you winked. “I’ll definitely be coming by to meet your mom. I’ll let you know so I can figure out the ferry and bus and stuff!”

“Oi! You can’t say that and not visit me too! It’ll basically be in the same area,” Ace whined, he’d accepted his fate with his ear in your hand.

“Yer gonna visit my place too then!” No fair to see just them!

“I’ll be visiting Epel’s place later in the summer, so we can meet then too,” Jack offered, a small smile on his face.

“Then it would only be acceptable to visit Briar Valley too! The Young Master—” And I. “—should be your first visit!”

Smiling at your friends, you felt incredibly lucky to have made a small family for yourself in a home away from home. Soon enough though, each passed through the magic mirror, exchanging promises of visits in the near future, though Sebek’s voice still rang in your ears.

Even when the last of your friends stepped through the mirror, you loitered around the mirror chamber and wished farewell to your other acquaintances and friends. Cater even gifted you a custom phone case before leaving, promising to message you on Magicam when he returned before his internship. As the crowd became smaller and smaller, you yawned and determined that it was time to take your leave and sleep for the rest of the day with Grim. 

Turning to the exit, someone’s peculiar thought entered your head.

Ah, no goodbyes for me, my cute little pearl? How devastating! Why don’t you look my way, cute little Y/N?

Whipping your head around with wide eyes and a flush face, you scanned the remaining students for the person whose thoughts you heard. Searching for someone looking your way, or looking sad, or something, you came up empty. A few students from Heartslabyul, Ignihyde, and Octavinelle remained. From the remaining students, you only recognized Azul and the Leech twins, none of which were looking in your direction. 

Tired and confused, you shrugged and simply continued your leave. Though, not without one final thought entering your brain. 

Finally leaving? Until next year then, my little pearl~.

[areislol]

this goes towards my current wip with al haitham so

child al haitham x child reader // cute moments :)

some moments on angst (mentions of his parents seperating, this is just a hc of mine for some angst don't bash me pls) not proofread. short

a/n: this was for funsies, honestly i just needed to write something cute and fluffy after writing an angsty wip, i can't write this all in my current wip hence, this!

when he was reading a book to you

when you were rolling on the ground trying to get his attenton as he read a book

when al haitham was trying his best to console you with awkward pats on the back after having tripped and cried

al haitham's mother making him hold your hand when crossing the street.

when you had a sleep over at his place and fell asleep on his bed, both of your tiny hands just barely touching each other

al haitham trying to stop you from touching a stray cat saying that it was "dirty and mommy said not to touch a cat outside, you can get hurt and even die!!" poor boy was scared for you

you laughing at him as he falls, when he cries and puts the blame on you, you both get time out and somehow you manage to run away, dragging al haitham with you as your mother chases you

building a sand castle with him, it's very sloppy looking but you were proud of it, and so was al haitham. so when a random child that was getting chased by their friends and run over your sandcastle he is furious, swearing to find them when his older and destory their sandcastle as pay back. and when he notices that you're sobbing uncontrollably? he might just even have a talk with them.

al haitham who helps you steal the cookie jar that was ONLY meant to be eaten after dinner, and when your grubby tiny hands reach for it and break it, he takes the blame.

al haitham who lets you put stickers and bows on his face as he reads a book, as long as you aren't in the way of course (he doesn't mind if you do or don't) and refuses to take them off when he needs to shower.

al haitham who is always there to help you get up when you trip and fall, even asking his mother to buy him a small hang bag so he can stuff bandaids in there.

al haitham gets really, seriously mad when someone picks on you for being "too loud" or "running around too much", he doesn't outright say anything but the glares...? even for a young child like him, whew.

he's always with you, before school, during school, after school and even during the holidays! (no wonder you're so close) and he doesn't mind, his mother is always tearing up as she watches her son watch you hold the crayon whole and scribble on a paper, and when you invite him to draw with you? ack! two cuties trying their best to draw each other.

(turns out to look like human blobs, one with grey hair with green streaks and one with [h/c]!! the eyes are disproportional but what can you expect from 5/6 year olds..)

al haitham who stays silent and listens as you yell at him out of anger when he accidentally loses a doll you gave him, he's clearly upset that you're mad at him but now he's mad at you, why are you yelling at him he did nothing wrong!!

this results in you ignoring him (it was a pain) and of course, al haitham hates it when you ignore him. so as usual, he asks his mother to give you a bag full of your favourite candies. you forgive him in less than a minute.

al haitham doesn't own much toys and likes books, any book. even if he can't read them he finds the pictures interesting. so he's more than elated when he sees that you got him new books on his birthday or even as a surprise gift!!

sometimes you lend him your toys so that you two could play together, you were taught to share of course. you often force him to play barbie dolls with you, not that he minds, it's just... does he really have to put on a girly voice for raquelle?

he swears that he won't ever play this game with you ever again after his friends caught him playing with you. (but secretly he continues to do so after making sure no one is around)

!!! playing family!!! you're always the mother who works hard by playing soccer and earning no money whatsoever while al haitham is the father who stays home and reads books. for some odd reason he feels this tingly feeling in his heart when he plays this game with you. what if one day when you're both older and live together with 5 exotic cats and wolves? what a dream.

al haitham who recieves a paper from his teacher that states "what is your dream?" for a class activity and immediately you pop up in his mind. his dream... is to make you happy. other than reading all the books in the world and making his mama and papa proud!

he gets upset when you aren't here with him for a day or more, say, you're on a holiday in another country or state, boy is he gonna be pestering and begging his mother to see you!! please, he needs to go there right now!!! (ever heard of face time?)

later in the years al haitham's always embarrassed when his mother brings that up, saying that it's "not true" but then completely freezes when his mother takes out her phone, saying "oh no worries, i have a video recording!!" and turns to face you, smiling. the way the colors drain from his face.

who is afraid to lose you after his mother came into his room and sat by the edge of his bed, her hand caressing his soft hair. "my dear boy," she would say softly, her gaze so soft and gentle.

"is it okay it mama comes in?" al haitham nods his head, how could he ever deny his mother's request?

"thank you baby, now, mama has something to say. don't be too scared now, okay?" al haitham nods, continung to lie down on his best tucked in nicely.

"people come and go, al, you will understand one day but... sigh, mommy and daddy have to tell you something."

ever since then he's sure to do whatever it takes to make you happy, he doesn't want you to leave him, ever. not like you would ever!!

[shirecorn]

Pardon me if this is too personal, but how are you faring after losing your job?

I didn't lose it; I quit because the shelter board was making decisions that hurt the entire staff and all the cats and it was making me crazy because no one was listening to me and sooner or later the animals were going to start dying from lack of care. They were already going almost 2 weeks with broken limbs without seeing a vet. Working there was killing me.

What really did it for me wasn't even about the shelter. I finally signed up for a figure drawing session, pulled out my pen, and remembered why I was alive.

Right now I'm back how I was before I got the job: drawing an insane amount every day, to the point I have to force myself to take breaks for the sake of my wrist.

When I had the job I had to force myself to spend 30 seconds on the daily doodle to keep up my streak. Even on my days off I felt half dead.

Right now I'm taking a short break on moneymaking to do some personal projects, then I'll open up commissions. They'll be more expensive than they were before, because I'll need to pay myself a living wage per hour.

I also need to start cross platforming to get more exposure. I'm literally ONLY on tumblr because its the only social media I enjoy, but I gotta get around, you know? I have accounts on reddit, twitter, instagram, and furaffinity, but they are mostly empty and just holding my name so no one else takes it.

I also need to update my portfolio, linkedin, and join behanced and Artstation.

I'm not excited about all the work ahead of me, but it's gotta be done if I want to make a living.

I am excited to draw again.

[from-memphis-with-love]

Songbird - Ch. 1 - The Handsome Stranger

Summary: The year is 1969. The place is the International Hotel. Valerie Pedretti, an aspiring singer, has a chance encounter with one Elvis Presley in an elevator that will change her life forever. Notes: To me, 1967-1971 EP is kind of peak Elvis, and so I wanted to write a fic with him smack dab in that time period. In the 1969-1970 period, especially, Elvis was probably the most handsome and alluring man in the galaxy. Lots of anachronisms and historical inaccuracies in this one, but just roll with it because it's fun! I based Valerie, in a sense, off of a mixture of Kathy Westmoreland, Joyce Bova, and Linda Thompson. Kathy met the real Elvis for the first time in an elevator, and that really inspired this work. Priscilla exists in this universe but she and Elvis get a divorce far earlier than in real life. Theirs, in some ways like real life, is a marriage of convenience and an "arrangement." Lisa Marie does not exist in this universe.

Las Vegas, Nevada, 1969

*

Vegas was shimmering mirage of bad decisions just waiting to snare me—a sucker-punch I never saw coming. The lights, the noise, the impossible promise of it all crashed over me in kaleidoscopic waves as my cab cruised down the strip towards the International Hotel. I pressed my forehead against the cool glass, watching slack-jawed as sequined showgirls and vacationers blurred by in streaks of neon and rhinestone.

The cabbie swerved to the curb with a jolt, snapping me out of my daze. "International Hotel," he barked, his voice an ice bath to my face. I shoved a crumbled wad of bills into his hand and  stumbled out and into a swarm of hairspray and cigar smoke congregating under the hotel's blazing marquee. Blinking in confusion, I took in the frenzied scene unfolding—beefy security shoving their way through the sea of pompadours, vendors hawking glossy headshots, teddy bears and "I 🖤 ELVIS" pins. The realization hit me like a freight train. This wasn't just any weekend at the International. It was the kickoff of Elvis Presley's residency. Ground zero for absolute Elvis mania.

The irritation set in, simmering beneath my skin. "Shit," I muttered, suddenly feeling foolish for forgetting. Of all the rotten luck. Out of all the times to visit Las Vegas, I had unwittingly chosen the kickoff of Elvis's shows—an event drawing crowds I had no desire to mingle with.

I wove through the throng, lugging my cumbersome suitcases behind me. Inside the lobby was even more chaotic—a swirling kaleidoscope of big-haired fans and cigarette smoke lingering over shag carpet. Elvis was everywhere, his angelic face beaming down from posters, gold records, life-sized cardboard cutouts. A veritable religious shrine. Groaning internally, I caught my bedraggled reflection in a mirrored column. Of course I would show up to the Presley Promised Land looking like something the cat dragged in. Normally I'd at least try to pull myself together for check-in, maybe swipe on some lipstick or fluff my chocolate curls into place. After all, I didn't want to look terrible in front of people dressed to the nines. But after the day I'd had, I couldn't muster the effort.

My flight from Chicago had been delayed six excruciating hours due to "mechanical issues," which apparently was airline-speak for "sit tight while we screw you over." By the time we finally took off, I'd already stress-eaten two sleeves of Oreos and read the in-flight magazine three mind-numbing times. To top it off, I'd spilled coffee all over my only nice blouse right before landing. Clearly, some divine power had it out for me today.

Feeling sweaty and vaguely nauseous, I trudged to the front desk. The angular blonde behind the counter, Brenda, barely glanced up from her well-thumbed issue of Variety as I approached.

"Welcome to the International Hotel. Checking in?" She smacked her gum, eyes never leaving her magazine.

"Yes, uh, reservation should be under Deena Lovelace."

That finally got her attention. Her penciled brows shot up as she inspected me, taking in the coffee stains and rumpled slacks. "Wait, you're Deena? The Deena who told me she booked for the Sinatra audition tomorrow?" The doubt was palpable.

I gritted my teeth into a tight smile. "No, actually. I'm her friend Valerie. Deena got sick at the last minute, some kind of exotic flu, so I'm filling in for her."

Suspicion clouded Brenda's face, but after a long beat she shrugged. "Huh. Well, takes all kinds, I guess." She signaled to a bellhop in a red monkey suit and thrust a key into my hand. "Room 2806, elevators are that way. If you need anything, ask for Hector."

Hector the bellhop scurried over and hoisted up my bags with surprising ease for such a slight guy. I made a weak attempt to protest, but he just grinned and ushered me through the cacophonous lobby to the first hallway. The doors slid open and I thanked him, pressing a few crumpled bills into his white-gloved hand.

“I can take it from here, Hector.”

As I walked along, I looked at my reflection in the mirrored wall and exhaled slowly. My nerves buzzed like an exposed wire as I thought about tomorrow's audition. Landing a spot in the Sinatra chorus line seemed about as likely as shooting the moon at this point. I barely knew the song Deena had been rehearsing for weeks, my go-go boots had a broken heel, and my voice was ragged from practicing the whole weekend.

But damn it, this was the first real shot I'd had in ages to claw my way out of the chambermaid grind and actually make something of myself. To prove Ma right for always saying I had stardust in my veins, even when it landed me more trouble than applause growing up. I had to at least try. For all those thankless nights warbling in dim lounges, waiting for my big break. For Deena, who I knew would kill for this chance.

I'd barely begun my little pep talk when someone brushed by me, sloshing their vodka tonic onto my sleeve and snapping me back to the present moment. I weaved through the crowd towards another inner hallway, clearing my throat.

I turned on my heel and started hoofing it towards my room. The hotel's layout was an absolute dizzying mess of twists and turns in every direction. My thudding, ungainly footsteps were muffled by the shag carpet and the dulled roar of fans congregating throughout the hotel.

As I trudged on, the ambiance shifted gradually. The hum of voices faded away, replaced by an overwhelming silence that signaled I was getting farther away from the bustling core. Exhaustion tugged at my bones while I navigated the maze of hallways. My room was somewhere in this labyrinth, but my bed felt worlds away at this point.

My steps sank into the plush carpet as I drifted into a quieter, dimly-lit corridor that seemed less traveled. Finally, I found myself alone in front of a bank of elevator doors. I stabbed the call button and waited impatiently, my arms aching from the weight of my overstuffed suitcases. God, why did I pack so much useless junk?

"Must be close now," I muttered out loud, my voice barely audible.

With barely a thought, I slipped out of my heels and bent my toes backwards and forwards, allowing my sore feet to relish the heavenly softness underfoot. It was soft, springy, and absolute relief for my aching soles. Automatically, I began humming a familiar, nameless tune under my breath - just a few sweet, absentminded notes I always turned to for comfort when I needed it. The thought of finally washing this endless day off my face and jumping into a crisp hotel bed was the only thing on my mind as the gilded doors opened with a tinny ding.

*

The cab was empty. Relieved to finally have a moment to myself, I dragged my heavy bags inside and slumped against the mirrored wall. As the doors started to slide closed, a large, ring-adorned hand suddenly shot out, halting them.

I straightened up with a jolt, my exhaustion replaced by a flash of irritation. Great, just what I needed, another overzealous Elvis fan trying to cram into my personal space bubble.

But as the interloper stepped into the elevator, my breath caught in my throat. Standing before me, in all his smoldering, technicolor glory, was the man himself. Elvis fucking Presley. The aura he gave off was undeniable, that much was sure. And I recognized his face immediately, the same one splashed all over the posters and knick knacks in the lobby. There he was, outshining the garishly glitzy elevator cab like a supernova eclipsing neon. And next to him, a well-built redheaded man, his hand resting at something shiny on his hip. Bodyguard, most likely. Quickly, I shoved my feet back into my heels, silently cursing myself for having taken them off in the first place.

I blinked hard, convinced I must be hallucinating from sheer fatigue. But no, he was unquestionably real, from the polished black shoes to the perfectly coiffed onyx hair that shone like quicksilver in the light. His lean, powerful frame was draped in an immaculately tailored black suit, a shock of pink peeking out from the silk scarf knotted at his throat. But it was the penetrating, electric blue gaze behind tinted shades that truly unraveled me.

I'd never considered myself much of an Elvis fan. Sure, I could appreciate a catchy tune like "Don't Be Cruel" or "Teddy Bear," but I'd always been immune to the mass hysteria he incited in his besotted admirers. Yet here, in such close proximity to his cosmic charisma and undeniable sex appeal, I finally understood. This man was a force of nature.

The redhead caught my awestruck stare and chuckled knowingly. "I see you've met my friend Jon Burrows here," he said with a wink.

But this was no "Jon Burrows." I knew who it was, plain as day. And his affect on me was immediate. Was I dreaming? My pulse started racing. Should I say something? And just how the hell did this happen? I opened my mouth, then closed it, swallowing hard. Play it cool, Valerie.

Any lingering self-consciousness about my frazzled appearance just evaporated in the sheer force of his presence. Though judging by the unmistakably mischievous curl of his lip, my travel-battered state didn't seem to faze him one bit. His perceptive eyes met mine, always accustomed to the spotlight but now studying me with curiosity. He took in my slumped posture and visible fatigue without a hint of judgment.

"You've had yourself a long day, haven't you, honey?" That voice, richer than a Mississippi smokehouse, sliced right through me.

I could only nod dumbly, a lump forming in my throat. "I—uh, yeah. No. I mean... yes, you could say that," I stammered like an idiot. Get it together!

His smile was pure bewitchment. "Well, you'll be tucked in in no time, I reckon. I hear the beds are mighty comfortable here." 

I looked up at the ceiling in silence, tracing the swirling pattern with my mind's eye and trying to give off a vibe of cool indifference. But my stomach was actually rolling.  

To my surprise, he kept talking. "Pardon my manners. My name's Elvis, and this is my pal Red. Who might you be?"

My throat locked tighter than a cowboy's bullwhip. "Valer—?"

"Valerie." He drew the name out, savoring each note and curve as if testing its ring. Each single syllable seemed to undergo some mystical transformation, alchemized to pure liquid amber from his lips. "A pretty name for a pretty little songbird." A ringed hand discreetly adjusted the bejeweled cups shielding his gaze, maybe hoping to make out my sides better.

Elvis was still steadily playing the blue suede shoes off me, from his elegant bent stance to the teasing half-smirk barely shadowing those indolently hungover features—the whole routine daring me to go chasing his bait. But I was far too busy trying not to spontaneously combust. I screwed my eyes tightly shut for a half-moment, desperately grasping to regain some sense of composure with an oxygen-deprived brain. 

How did he know...?

Dumb question, Sherlock. The very notion conjured images of me, sweat-glazed and punchy-tired, mindlessly vocalizing sweet lullabies straight from my Off-Off-Broadway chambermaid days while I waited for the elevator. Of course he would've overhead that.

I cinched my mouth into what I hoped was a blasé half-smile, refusing to come completely uncorked by his pet name. I replayed the embarrassing moment in my head, wishing I could dissolve into the elevator shaft. Every breath I pulled in seemed to crackle with electricity. First I randomly share an elevator with The Elvis Presley, and now he'd overheard my nervous vocalizing and was complimenting me on it?

"Baby." A rich, salt-cured chuckle melted off his tongue, resining deep in my nerve center. "I got ears like a well-tuned radar dish. You in town for a show?"

I shook my head slowly. "Technically yes, but no. Just an audition," I replied, my heart thundering in my ears. I hoped he couldn't hear it pounding.

"Who for, if you don't mind me asking?" he inquired with that laser gaze.

I sucked in a steadying breath. Might as well take the bait since I'd already been barb-hooked but good. "I'm here for an audition, actually. Tomorrow. For Sinatra. I'm a singer. I mean, not like you, but hopefully one day..." I paused, unsure of how much backstory was worth burdening Elvis with. "Just got a last minute sub-in for a friend who's under the weather."

Something flickered across Elvis' handsome features before the mask of idle curiosity slid back into place. "Is that right?" His gaze raked over me again, slower this time, more deliberate. "And what will you be singing for Ol' Blue Eyes?"

Shit. Why was he asking me so many questions? My palms started to sweat as I racked my brain for a suitable answer. It wasn't like I could admit that I barely knew the material, that I was flying by the seat of my pants on a far-fetched favor for a friend. So I settled for a half-truth instead.

"Oh, you know. Just a little medley of standards. 'To Keep My Love Alive,' 'I Can Cook, Too,' that kind of thing."

Elvis nodded slowly, a shadow of a smirk still playing on his lips. "A classic set list. I'm sure you'll knock 'em dead, honey."

I started to stammer out a thanks, but Elvis was already moving past me towards the door as the elevator finally shuddered to a stop. He paused, throwing a glance back over his shoulder. There was a new intensity in his eyes when they met mine, a dark promise that made my toes curl involuntarily in my heels.

"I'll be rooting for you, songbird. Break a leg."

And with that, he was gone, leaving me weak-kneed and dizzy in a cloud of his smoky-spicy cologne. I sagged against the wall, trying to collect myself. What in the ever-loving hell had just happened? Had I honestly just been shamelessly eye-fucked by Elvis Presley in an elevator?

More importantly, why had I liked it so much?

I shook my head, trying to dislodge the treacherous thoughts as I finally stumbled out into the harshly lit hallway. It was late, I was tired, and I had an audition to rest up for. The last thing I needed was to dwell on smoldering looks from a celebrity Casanova that I had no business panting over in the first place.

But even as I went through the motions of unlocking my room and sinking face-first into the marshmallowy duvet, I couldn't stop my mind from wandering back to the electric encounter in the elevator. The way Elvis had stared at me, equal parts scorching and inscrutable, as if he was trying to crack some tantalizing code. There was no way I could have imagined that. The effortless command he'd exuded, the sheer magnetism rolling off of him in waves. How ridiculously, unexpectedly good he still looked, hips swiveling in slow-motion in my mind's eye...

I punched a pillow in frustration, annoyed with my traitorous libido. This was so far beyond the scope of anything I'd anticipated when I'd agreed to sub in for Deena's audition. But one thing was certain—my time in Vegas was shaping up to be a hell of a lot more interesting than I'd bargained for. And something told me that a chance run-in on a hotel elevator was only the beginning.

[miabrown007]

post-Representation reveal for @ladyofthenoodle and @asukiess <3

Time stops when Chat Noir plummets from Marinette’s skylight. She stops in her tracks and stares at him, eyes blown wide behind the polka-dotted mask that sits snug over the mascara streaks on her face. Her heart skips to her throat, because she doesn’t understand. She doesn’t understand what Chat Noir is doing at Marinette’s right now, in this break of dawn, when she was just about to head out to purify the Akuma he and Alya captured. He has even left her a voicemail to cheer her up—he always had an innate talent to know when she needed some cheering up—and he sounded so calm and collected then— Face buried in her mattress, he sniffles now. And Marinette knows that her identity is at stake here, that she’s incapable of explaining away Ladybug’s puffy eyes staring at him from the end of Marinette’s bed, but Chat Noir’s crying. He came to her because something so devastating happened to him that he’s crying.  If there’s one thing Marinette knows, it’s that they have sacrificed enough. She gave up love and gave up her friends for the mighty cause, and in the end, it was her friends and their love that saved the world.  She won’t give up her partner. Never again.

She reaches out, stroking her fingers through his hair gently. “Marinette, I need to tell you that—” he starts, then looks up and his eyes go wide. She smiles down at him. “It’s okay, Chaton. I’m here for you.” His bottom lip trembles, and several beats pass until he finds the voice to whisper, “I love you, Marinette. I’ll never let anyone separate us.” And maybe that should feel like a surprise. Maybe his arms around her and his lips on hers should wreck her world. Maybe, once, they would have.  Now, they feel like a small sound of ‘oh’ at the back of her mind.  Of course, it’s him.  Of course, he’s hers.  Of course, it’s them until the end of the world. She cups his face and smooths the messy hair out of his eyes, kissing away the tears spilling over his black mask. “I love you, too, Adrien. I’ll never let anyone hurt you ever again.” And if he cries harder and buries his face in the crook of her neck, that’s alright too. She hugs him, rubbing his back and peppering kisses all over his face—his nose, his forehead, his crown and his little cat ears—and holds him until he needs her to. She would be his Atlas and hold him until the end of the world, but slowly, his breathing calms and Adrien draws away, wiping at his eye with the palm of his hand. “I need to— I’ll need to go back,” he stutters over a swallow. Marinette shakes her head firmly and holds him tighter. “You are not going back.” His face softens. “My lady,” he begs, and she thinks her heart might give in from the way he says her name alone. “You know I have to before he discovers I’m missing, otherwise—” She cuts him off with a kiss before he gets to finish that train of thought. It’s an option she isn’t willing to entertain. “Your cousin owes me big time. You are not going back. Never ever,” she confirms.  If the surprised fervour and gratitude he dives back in for a kiss with is of any indication, he believes her. Marinette isn’t delusional enough to think Félix would do her a solid as an apology for his theater kid nonsense, but she suspects a chance to be closer to Kagami in place of Adrien will do it. She laces her fingers with Adrien’s, as if gluing them together, but he doesn’t seem to mind. She smiles against his lips with confidence only his support can grant her. “Okay, Chaton. Here’s the plan.”

[serenescribe]

pénthos Twisted Wonderland | 2.2k Summary: Silver is dead, and everything is wrong. AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52165603 TW: Major character death, heavy angst

I wrote this a few days ago while trying to process my complex feelings about death and life continuing on, mainly due to the sudden decline in health of one of my family's dear pet cats. It is, in essence, a vent fic; it deals with a lot of grief and hurt.

Nevertheless, writing is still a form of expression, and I hope that someone can find some meaning in this, in spite of the heavy content.

The cottage door opens with a long, drawn out creeeaaak.

He covers his nose and mouth with a hand as he steps inside, eyes squinting against the deluge of dust and musty air that permeates the inside of the house. For a moment, Lilia lingers there, standing stock-still in the doorway, his other hand still wrapped around the handle of the door. His grip tightens the slightest bit, the movement imperceptible, matching the way his heart is squeezed within his chest — a scarcely noticeable gesture to match such inner, invisible pain.

With deliberate effort, Lilia forces his hands to drop to his sides.

He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes.

And then he dives in.

A home is a place, everyone says. That is the textbook definition of what it is — a place where one lives permanently, especially as a family member, or as a member of a household. This cottage is a home, has been a home for all these many years spent deep in the woods of the valley. It was once decrepit, abandoned, falling to pieces, but Lilia had restored it for the purpose of creating a home.

A home for two — for him, and for his son.

His steps are slow, soles practically dragging against the dirt-stained floor. Despite the way the stale air makes him cough, with barely any fresh oxygen in this musty household to revitalise his soul, Lilia leaves it as it is; it is far more fitting this way, than to push open the windows and allow sweeping gusts of forest air to burst inside, washing the living room alight with life.

The decrepit atmosphere matches his mood, the emotions clawing inside his chest, tearing into him from the inside out. There is no point bringing life into a home, when to him, it does not feel like one anymore.

And with that thought, that realisation, Lilia stills. He blinks, and for a moment, it feels as though something indescribable has overcome him — an emotion so peculiar, so powerful, eating at the hollow abyss that has festered within his chest ever since it happened. His shoulders stiffen, teeth snagging against his lower lips. He raises his head, pulling his eyes away from moth-bitten curtains and dust-smeared windows to glance around instead.

Lilia looks at the frames on the wall, housing paintings and photographs within them — an oil painting of him, hair streaked fuchsia yet still draping over his shoulder in long locks, a slumbering toddler seated on his lap; smaller colleges of him years later, laughing in black-and-green uniforms with a boy who towers over him; and scribbly doodles on yellowing paper that tears at the edges, crayon scribbles of stickmen, with wobbling words that read: “Papa and me.”

The claws of fate snatch at his chest, and strangle his heart.

Pressure builds behind his eyes, something wet pricking at the edges. Before he even knows it, Lilia is pressing a hand against the framed drawing, tracing the amateurish yet loving strokes, a lump forming in his throat to choke him until he collapses into the black.

From the very moment he found a crying bundle in a castle of thorns, he has known one singular truth: Lilia has never intended to live longer than the son he shall raise.

Even all the way back then, as he used magic to bless the baby, watching sunlight-spun hair turn to streaks of silvery moonlight, Lilia has always known that his end was near. His only mistake was assuming he had more time than he actually did; if he were truly aware of how meagre his magic reserves were, of how he would run out before Silver even reached the threshold of adult maturity, he would have taken careful steps to preserve it longer.

But Lilia has always known he would not outlive his son. For all his human mortality, Silver was young, and Lilia was old; death has always followed him in his shadows, stalking him with each ticking year, looming like an inevitability that would one day swallow him up.

And yet, the fates had been cruel. Far, far too cruel.

Everywhere he steps in the cottage, Lilia sees him.

He lingers in the bookshelves, from the picture books to survival guides and training manuals. He is there in the wood-carved critters, from amateurish carvings of a bird to much more detailed squirrels and bunnies, that gather dust along the shelves, keeping the neglected books company. A candle, half-burnt, the wax melted a significant amount, sits on the square table they take their meals at; it would always be lit by a smiling son, who started with matches and ended with flickers of budding fire magic.

He haunts the creaking steps and groaning floorboards, the hinges that squeal as Lilia pushes into room after room. He stiffens with each sound, whisked back to years of the past; suddenly, he is playing hide and seek again, and he expects to hear a squeal or a giggle as he calls out a playful warning; “Come out, come out, wherever you are!” When Lilia steps into the bathroom, he spots the laundry basket that the giggling boy used to sit in, when he was tiny enough to hide inside and pull the lid over his head, unable to stop his laughter from squeaking out as Lilia entered and feigned ignorance about his obvious whereabouts.

He lives on in the withering potted plants and the bird houses hanging from the outside of the windows, still visible even through dirtied glass. Signs of life taken care of, from the flora which flourished under his care, lapping up water poured from a little cup and blooming with ample sunlight, left in the view of the shining sun, to the birds and squirrels who would clamber up swinging feeders, chirping and chittering as they tucked into meals of nuts and berries, a veritable feast gathered by a young boy who simply loved the world.

The hollow ache in his chest never dissipates. It only grows and grows, consuming his heart.

Lilia feels something streak down his cheek, and absentmindedly wipes it away.

Silver’s room is untouched by time.

Everything is just as he left it, coated with thin layers of dust. His bed is made, quilted duvet folded and spread over it neatly, his pillow fluffed up at the headrest. His tables are cluttered with a few trinkets, and his training sword, wrought from wood with some metal to emulate weight, leans against the wall. Books line his shelves, next to gifts received from his years of schooling — clocks received as gifts from hometown travels, a little jewellery case that gleams with far too many expensive jewels, and a memory album received in his final year. Lonely clothes hang within the wardrobe, limp and sad without their owner to adorn; he swallows a lump in his throat at the sight of a silly hat tucked away within an inner drawer, thinking back to the silly smile his son adorned when he wore it for the first time.

The weak rays of a setting sun streak into the room. Dust dances in the air.

Lilia stands in the middle of the room, and stares.

Slowly, he moves to the bed. The mattress dips under his weight, and he spreads a hand against the patchwork quilt beneath. Lilia can remember every little patch of fabric and their origins; against the logic that barely stands out in his tumultuous, aching mind, he summons what little bits of magic he has left, closing his eyes as he casts—

“Far Cry Cradle.”

Silver is young, and Lilia is younger than he is now, new to fatherhood with little idea of what to do. Silver outgrows his clothes at a rapid pace, faster than Lilia expects — how peculiar it is, the way the little human baby seems to grow in the blink of an eye!

The clothes pile up, again and again and again. Silver is older, tottering around on two feet. He giggles at him and claps his hands together, babbling at him over and over.

Lilia has always held a weapon in his hands. The calluses marring his flesh is proof of that. The needle he picks up feels pathetically small in comparison, thread looped through the little ring on the end. Silver slumbers in the cot nearby. A pair of scissors rest on the table to his side, along with a mountain of tiny patches of fabric.

A patchwork quilt. Baul told him about it, when Lilia visited him and his daughter and her family, and had grown interested in the colourful blanket folded across her child’s bed. “She sews one for everyone in the family,” Baul tells him, his voice gruff, though pride and affection underlines it deep within. “It’s her way of showing her love.”

So he tries. He uses Silver’s old clothes, before he moves on to his own, and then he moves on to anything else he can get. Silver grows as new squares are added, his stitching clumsy before it slowly straightens out over the slowing movement of time.

By the time he is six, Lilia wraps him in a thick, snug blanket, heart soaring at the way the young child beams at him, flashing him a toothy grin.

“I love you, Papa!”

Silver is dead, and everything is wrong.

“The worst thing about loving humans,” Baul’s daughter said to him once, when he’d visited in a panic over Silver growing sickly and ill, “is that they don’t live long.” At the time, she had fed the baby some medicine, mixing herbal remedies with some warm milk before feeding him with a bottle, and when she and Lilia began to converse, she had been rocking the slumbering baby in her arms.

Her eyes had grown distant as she glanced down at Silver, before raising her head. Their eyes met; “The knowledge that you will outlive them won’t ever go away,” she told him, her voice tinged with a miserable acceptance. A sad smile graced her lips, scales across her face shifting with her emotions. “I will someday have to bury my own husband, and perhaps even my own children. And yet, that is the risk I have taken, to love who I love, and to raise those who are mine.”

“I do not know if I will outlive Silver,” Lilia had confessed. He drummed his fingers against the arm of his chair, eyes floating down to the slumbering baby cradled in her arms. “I’m not sure how much Baul told you about me, but I am rather old, as it stands. And it isn’t just an issue of age,” he added. “I… greatly overworked myself during the days of war. Magic is what makes us who we are, after all — and how much longer can a fae live without their magic?”

There had been a pause, a comfortable silence filling the air. And then Silver had hiccupped noisily, eyes squinting open the slightest bit. He babbled, hands raising weakly, and Baul’s daughter had smiled at Lilia, reaching forward to pass him the little bundle of life. “You never know what may happen, Lilia,” she said, as Lilia took Silver into his arms, the baby breaking into a toothless smile. “Lifespan is one thing. Have you ever considered how much more fragile humans are?”

“Of course I have,” Lilia answered as he rocked Silver back and forth, heart bursting with such melting warmth. “Who do you take me for?”

And that was precisely why he decided, there and then, that he would raise Silver to be the strongest human that ever was. To live long, to live forever, to live past Lilia, and thrive through the rest of his life.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes, fingers clenching tight around the quilt. He hangs his head, the tears finally flooding forth, pouring down his face as he gasps for breath. “Silver, I’m sorry—”

But the only thing left for him is the ghost of a home, an empty cottage ladened with dust.

Even as Lilia wraps the patchwork quilt around him with trembling hands, burying his nose into the fabric in hopes of drinking what little snatches of Silver there still are, he knows, deep down, that Silver is gone. A horrible reality he never hoped to pass has come true — he has outlived someone he always knew he would, no matter how hard he tried to cope, lying to himself about a shortened lifespan and dwindling magic.

Fool, he thinks to himself, squeezing his eyes shut. You absolute fool, you—

A home is not a home without the son he so truly loves. As Lilia tips backwards, collapsing into the bed, he stares at the ceiling. The little mobile with the carved animals that he made when Silver was just mere months old still hangs over the bed. Even as Silver outgrew it, he still insisted on hanging it when he upgraded from a cradle to a bed of his own.

Lilia watches as the animals drift the slightest bit — barely moving, for all intents and purposes, static.

He sucks in a deep breath, and closes his eyes.