#one of my favorite pieces of the month thus far

[novelconcepts]

Drawgust day 23-24: why go to therapy when you can make heart eyes at your ex-girlfriend on a cult compound?

[globalrebrand]

An Unexpected Evening

Warnings: Capitano x Reader, not sfw, mutual masturbation, slight coercion

A/N: A piece posted from my Ao3, a gift for @gojoidyll for their stubborn hearts series. Posted here after a request.

It had nearly been a month since your impromptu arranged marriage to Capitano. The first of the Lord Harbingers. He was a notoriously aloof and enigmatic figure, and thus far, married life had been far from standard. Not that it bothered you per se. You both agreed to have minimal expectations of one another. However, you weren’t entirely used to your independence being hampered by the proximity that marriage brought. You two now shared a home, a bed, and the occasional bath, and while you didn’t mind, sharing these important spaces made it difficult for you to have much-needed “me time,” especially in light of the fact you and your husband had yet to be intimate. 

It is late, and Capitano is in his office. You’d spent much of the afternoon helping to archive some older documents at his request, and while you were happy to help, you hadn’t been able to be very far from him since his return home last week. He’d often request your company for all manner of tasks and activities. It was evidence that your marriage was going far better than expected, considering it seemed that Capitano really enjoyed your presence or was putting in effort to acclimate to you, but all of this attention is also what has you feeling rather frustrated as of late. 

“Um, my lord. Is it alright if we sleep in separate quarters tonight?” It had taken you all night to gather the courage to make such a request, but you were pent up and desperate for release. 

“Why? Are you unwell?” Capitano's brows furrowed with concern as his hand came to his favorite perch on your chin, tilting your face this way and that as an impromptu medical examination. Gently, you gripped his wrist and pressed forward with your gambit. 

“No, I would. I just like a bit of alone time, just for this evening.”

Your husband's lips pursed. It was clear this was not an acceptable solution to him, so you offered a compromise.  

“I could even come back later in the night if that would be preferable.” 

Capitano's eyes narrowed, before a slight look of epiphany flashed across his features. “Wife, do you intend to touch yourself? 

“What! No, I-” You stuttered, embarrassed he would state things so plainly. Not that it was all too surprising based on what you knew of his character. 

“Do not lie to me. I am your husband, and you needn’t be coy with such matters.” He said sternly. Your eyes snapped to meet his gaze, knowing well that if you didn’t meet his eye, he would simply make you. 

“Yes.” You admitted, shoulders slumping with embarrassment but doing your best not to break eye contact. “I felt it would be rather inconsiderate to do so next to you while you slept.” That and you usually kept the light on to read whatever smut novel you liked from your collection. It was quite a challenge balancing a book, flipping pages while stimulating yourself, but you’d gotten the science down to an art. Capitano’s expression relaxes, and you feel a bit of hope that he’ll grant you what you desire. 

“Thank you for your consideration, wife.”

“Of course, I’ll be right back after-” You eagerly assure him, a light smile settling on your lips, but your excitement is interrupted, by your husband's thunderous voice. 

“You get ahead of yourself, wife.” He raises an eyebrow. “I will not permit you to sleep in the other chambers tonight.”

“Oh…alright.” You sigh. Perhaps he would at least allow you to bathe alone…balancing a book in the tub was tricky, but you’d managed before.

“But do not fret. You are permitted to masturbate in our shared quarters.” You cringe at his phrasing but continue on in desperate need of a bit of clarification on the logistics of exactly how you’ll get off…privately, of course. 

“…and where will you be, my lord?” You question.

“I shall be watching.” Capitano attempts to hide his grin as you gasp at his declaration, and the color drains from your face. 

“Oh no, that’s quite alright.” Touching your tender parts in front of your husband was out of the question. Besides a few kisses and bathing with each on the rare occasion he was home, you and Capitano were nowhere close to consummating your marriage as far as you were concerned, but even so, this ask to touch yourself, to bring yourself to completion in front of his steely eyes, felt like an even more intimate prospect than sex.

Capitano catches your flustered expression, eyes darting back and forth as his piercing stare silently demands your attention.

“While I am home, you will take your pleasure with me or not at all.” His countenance is stern. You instantly understand this is an important rule to follow if you want to stay in your husband's good graces. And to a certain point, you understand his perspective. He is seldom home, and to pleasure yourself without him would be cruel, but you had not yet broached actual intimacy…how would you manage such a task!?

“I promise it’s not an event that would be worth watching.” You try to insist. Eyes quietly pleading with him to just allow you to have your privacy. 

“I shall see for myself.” Capitano peered over your shoulder. “Are those your materials?’” He gestured to the book you had held behind you back. 

Your face threatened to burst into flames, but any further protest would likely only upset your husband, with your glance askance you quietly muttered “yes.”

“I can read it for you, so you may use both hands.”

“No, it’s ok!” You urge politely.

“Then you will read it aloud so I may hear what arouses you.” He suggests instead. 

Fuck. This was certainly not the anticipated or desired turn of events. 

The short novella you’d selected was an absolutely debauched tale about a menage-á-trois, where a married couple corrupts a young, innocent maiden who stays weekend at their country estate in Fontaine. Capitano would certainly think that you were a horribly lewd young woman if he heard this. 

“I’ll pick another selection-“ Capitano interrupts you by abruptly rising from his seat. 

“No, we’ve already wasted enough time on this matter tonight.” With that, Capitano grabbed your arm, his burly hand gently tugging you out of his office and up to your bedroom. If you didn’t know any better you would think he was rather eager to watch your toy with yourself—something you’d never done for an audience. 

Should you try to make it good for him? Being deliberately sexy was not something you were familiar with, any perceived sexiness in your past intimate encounters was just consequence of your desperate arousal. 

Ugh…you were regretting not just trying to figure out a workaround in the bath. Maybe if you’d perched your book on the end of the tub between the faucet and spout, you flip the pages with your toes? And just drape one foot over the side so your toes wouldn’t wet the pages? 

But then again, you’d ruled out that idea because Capitano’s tub was made for a man of his size and stature, the end of the tub was nearly a mile from the back rest-

“Wife. Make yourself comfortable.” Your husband drops your hand as he finished guiding you to your shared chambers. The opulent room is on the top floor of his manor, and while the wooden finishes are beautifully dark and glossed and the windows suitably grand and imposing, the furnishing in the room remained rather spare. 

Thanks to you there was now a plush rug, set of twin wardrobes and a perfectly situated  chaise, oriented to look across the dark forest to the nearby bay. Before the bedroom consisted of  just a bed, a rather cruel looking bearskin rug and one side table with every drawer neatly packed with a variety of state documents. But even with your additions in the dim candle light the room felt cavernous. It would take quite a bit more furniture to make things feel homey in your opinion. 

You glanced at Capitano as he pulled his night clothes from his armoire, without missing a beat you moved to do the same, but you struggled with the the back of your corset. Normally a lady would help you undress for bed but Capitano had seemingly been so impatient for this evenings decided course of events that you were now stuck fumbling with the laces on your back. 

You let out of slight groan as your nail bent crudely as you picked at ribbons, but before you could even register his advance Capitano was at your back. His hands surprisingly deft and focused as he worked you out of the piece of supportive clothing.  

“Thank you. “ You spoke softly but gasped in shock when your husband immediately went to pull you out of your dress and underdress, pulling both layers in one go, leaving you only in your stockings and garters. 

You were too shocked to utter any rebuttal, and it seemed that Capitano interpreted this as consent to strip you entirely.

You felt his course hands glide down your thigh to begin undoing your garter and pulling the stockings down your legs, but his thumb grazed too close to your bare cunt, and you leapt away from the contact. Entirely unprepared for the feeling of his coarse hand against your silky flesh. 

“It’s ok husband I’ll do this part, thank you for your assistance.” With no more than a grunt of  approval Capitano retreated to the bed as you undid your stockings and put them away. You cast a glance over your shoulder only to see your husband reclined on his side of the bed and quickly scanning a fresh stack of documents as he waited for you. Turning back to your wardrobe, you reach for a nightgown, but you are interrupted by your husband’s booming voice.

“You won’t need that until later now come.” He patted your side of the bed.

You hesitated at his command, a bit petrified at the prospect of laying next to Capitano naked, especially when he had the privilege of being clad in silk pants and a matching buttoned top which laid open against the firm planes of his chest and torso, dimly illuminated by lamp light. 

“Okay.” You muttered softly, resigning your yourself to the surprising turn of tonight's events. 

As you climbed into bed, Capitano handed you your book. He must have grabbed it while you were busy undressing. It was already open to the flap with the plot summary. Ugh, archons save you.  You gingerly took the book from him and placed it on you pillow. The poor novella was so accustomed to being used for this nightly ritual that its spine gave absolutely no resistance and fell prone, pages splayed against downy sheets. 

Your nerves were through the roof, so to calm yourself, you decided it would be best just to pretend your husband wasn’t there and that you were alone in your old dark bedroom in the attic, reading by candlelight. 

Your favorite position was a bit unconventional. Turning over in the bed, you got on all fours before sinking to your forearms and leaning back on your heels. Capitano let out a light groan as he watched you prostrate yourself, his hand slowly stroking against his thigh.

“Begin.” He encourages gruffly. 

Like you’ve done hundreds of times in your dark bedroom, you slide your hand under your body and touch your pussy lightly, letting your fingers slide through your folds to gather slickness. To your absolute surprise. You're completely soaked. Usually, you need to read a bit of the story and thumb yourself over your panties before your fingers are damp enough to glide through your plump lips, but tonight, even the creases of your thighs are slick with the evidence of your arousal. 

With a shaky breath, you begin. You skip to the best bits of the story, hoping you can get yourself to come quickly. 

You finger yourself through the plot, reading aloud all the while. Describing in vivid detail, Monsieur Guillaume Berteau secretly fingers the protagonist, Vivienne, in the bathroom. At the same time, his wife entertains the rest of their party guests, then steals her sopping panties, forcing her to parade around sans culotte for the remainder of the evening. 

But you get really close when, later, the couple seduces Vivienne into the swimming pool, and she shares a kiss with both husband and wife as she relishes being the center of their attention. Then Carmen guides Vivienne to spread her legs and welcome her husband's cock with all the enthusiasm of a baker gleefully spooning a first bite of something sweet into a child’s mouth.

You spare a glance at your husband. Capitano has pushed down his pants, leaving his groin exposed as he strokes himself to your words. Something about his arousal spurs you on, making you feel even hotter, even closer to reaching your peak. The headiness of your husband stimulating himself only inches away while you did the same felt empowering. 

Your cunt aches deliciously as your stroke between your folds even faster. Your awareness of Capitano’s arousal is riling you even more than the contents of the story at this point. You turn to look at your husband, and with just a  few more tight circles on your clit, you feel your whole pussy begin to spasm. You accidentally push the novella onto the floor. It's work done as your hole clenches around nothing as you start to cum, your fingers pressing firmly against your nub, working you through what is likely your strongest orgasm in recent memory. 

Capitano catches your eyes as his hand slides fluidly over his shaft while his thumb occasionally teases the head. His cheeks are flushed with pleasure, but his eyes are so frighteningly intense that your natural instinct is to turn away from his predatory gaze. Faintly, you hear him scoff, but your mind and body are too far gone to register what that could even mean. 

You shudder as you come, hips dropping, twitching, and grinding against the quilt of your bed to elongate your pleasure. With a few heaving breaths, you struggle to collect yourself. Eventually, you turn back to face Capitano, only to find him scowling. 

And still hard. 

“Turn over.” He instructs, not quite waiting for you to move of your own accord and flipping your hips. 

You spook slightly as he positions you on your back and spreads your legs. 

Is he going to fuck you!? The thought doesn’t scare you as much as it should, but this definitely wouldn’t be an ideal scenario for you to finally make love to your husband. 

By way of protest, you offer, “Should I get the bo-”

“No.” He cuts you off immediately. 

Capitano hooks your legs over him as he kneels in front of you, his thick thighs keeping your legs parted. 

You tense as he takes his member in hand and begins to stroke himself again. His eyes first trained on your cunt. He groans at the sight, and his other hand steadies itself on your thigh. 

“May I touch you?” He asks, only slightly breathless. 

Silently, you nod, and Capitano takes the invitation to slide his hand higher. He pushes aside the curtains of your hair that have fallen over your breast and takes a soft mound in hand, grasping it with surprising tenderness and swiping his thumb firmly over your stiff nipple. You whimper at his ministrations, and his eyes snap your face. His hand quickly follows his stare as he brings his rough palm to your cheek, not waiting for permission, and presses his thumb between your plush lips. Capitano licks part his lips to offer a command, but you’re already sucking on his thick digit before he can instruct you. 

Your husband hisses and tosses his head back. You take the cue glance down to his member just in time to see the firm planes of his abdomen contract, and with a few more tugs of shaft thick white seed starts to spurt out. Then it is your turn to cry out at the contact of the hot liquid splashing onto your clit and dribbling down between your swollen folds. 

Capitano’s eyes return to your body, his steely orbs now pinned to where his spend clings to your cunt lips. Your frame is tense, but with a few strokes of his strong palm against your side, you begin to relax. 

“Good girl.” he praises as he begins to lower himself over your body. You reach a hand between the two of you and gather some of the semen coating your pussy on your fingers. 

Without thinking, you bring a hand to your mouth and tentatively suck his seed from your digits, tasting the viscous fluid like an adolescent sipping wine for the first time, which was essentially what you were. You didn't hate it as you thought you would, your eyebrows raise as if to say 'not bad.'

“Who taught you such a whorish trick?” He growls, grabbing your wrist. A slight look of awe mixed with a flare of righteous anger.

“I um, just wanted to taste you. I was curious.” You mumble shyly. Honestly. This was the most intimate contact you've had with a man and every physical sensation became new grounds for exploration.  

Capitano glares at you skeptically for a moment before pulling you up into a kiss, far deeper than any you’d shared up to that point. His tongue seeks yours eagerly, his lips surprisingly plush against yours. When you part, he gingerly lays you down and settles atop you, pressing you into the mattress. He lets out an aching sigh into the crux of your shoulder. 

“Beautiful.” He decides.

And your heart races.

[explorevenus]

doll parts ♡ leon kennedy x f!reader

nsfw (18+) - minors dni or i will call ur mom. and also the cops

word count: 3.6k

description: leon may not take the best care of himself, but he certainly takes care of you. it's his favorite pastime.

tags/warnings: vendetta leon, established relationship, unhealthy relationship dynamics, dollification, daddy kink, oral sex (f receiving), mirror sex

a/n: this piece was commissioned by my lovely bestie @dollfacefantasy, who knows me so well in that she knew i was foaming at the mouth for an excuse to write dollification w leon >:3 AND it's based off of that one scene in euphoria where nate dresses cassie up LIKE GET OUTTA TOWNNNNN I WAS SO JUICED TO WRITE THIS !!!!!!!!!!!!

my masterlist ♡

my ao3 ♡

fic under the cut, thanks so much for reading and i hope u enjoy ;w;

-venus ♡

You were mad. You were so mad, all the time lately, and you were past the point of wondering if you had any right to be. 

It was late, nearly half past midnight, the only sound in the dim house being the unrelenting patter of fat raindrops on the windows. Leon, too, was late, like he so often was. Of course, you weren’t allowed to complain or ask questions about his high paying job, or his whereabouts, or the secrecy, where all those injuries came from or why he didn’t return when he said he would for the hundredth time.

All your life, you thought relationships like this existed only in fiction, the trope of the distant workaholic who dismisses his partner’s concerns with nothing but his wallet and his sexual prowess, piling diamond encrusted bandages upon months worth of neglect, bottled up grievances and novels left unsaid. It was a concept confined to old movies and paperbound romances as far as you were concerned, before you met Leon.

You weren’t unreasonable, and you weren’t dumb. You had gathered that his mysterious government job really was important and strictly confidential, and you trusted that he was telling you as much of the truth as was permitted by the powers that be. You knew he cared about you, you knew he would rather be home with you than running around at the beck and call of the most powerful people in the country. You knew it was never his intention to hurt you.

But your awareness of his love for you didn’t make it any easier to swallow the unending cycle of broken promises, nor the visible deterioration of his mental and physical health while his ‘work trips’ became increasingly frequent until they all started to just blend together. 

You became numb to it after a while. It seemed selfish to demand his time and attention when he couldn’t help his circumstances. Even bringing it up made you feel like a monster, and it was all because you loved him so completely.

And you loved him so completely. You had seen him cry with laughter and sob with grief. You had seen him burn toast, fall asleep with the TV on, forget how to tie a tie, dread a mundane phone call, mumble to himself when he thought no one was listening. You knew his philosophies on life and love and death, you knew him heart and soul, and so too did he know you.

Thus, you just ate it, wore yourself down until you finally accepted that all those bottled up grievances, novels left unsaid and extravagant bribes were worth the privilege of being his lover.

Your eyes felt dry as you stared at the clock, counting in your tired mind exactly how many hours had passed since he was supposed to be home. It had been a long, rough day that would have been draining enough on its own, but the evening proved to disappoint even further. 

Leon heard about the karmic disaster that was your day through a handful of rant texts you’d sent over the course of it, each one more unfortunate than the last. Sympathetic to your senseless string of rotten luck, he promised to cut away from work an hour early to return home to you with your favorite dinner and enough doting on to make your teeth rot. He did not, of course, come home early, and not only that, but he didn’t come home at all, and you couldn’t get ahold of him.

If this wasn’t such a frequent occurrence, you might have been more worried about his safety, or even more angry at him for leaving you hanging on a day like this one, but you had become so familiar with this whole song and dance that your feelings around it were dulled.

You were just about to give up and go to bed when your phone lit up with a notification. Following the several undelivered texts you tried to send asking if he was okay, he’d given a simple response that you knew would redirect the course of your whole entire night.

Headed home in 15. Be in the dollhouse

You had long since garnered that the dollhouse was more for him than it was for you, even if he seemed to believe it was the other way around. It was nice to be pampered and doted on and styled like a Barbie, until it became a way for him to avoid talking to you about anything important. But that was neither here nor there. Dolls don’t talk, and they most certainly don’t complain.

With a deep, measured breath you exited the bedroom and turned down the hall, to what used to be a spare room but was now more aptly describable as a boudoir. The door creaked open to reveal the delicate, feminine space, heavy satin drapes blocking out any potential prying eyes. Between two solid oak wardrobes was an ornate standing mirror, the walk-in closet to the right overflowing with opulent clothing that hardly ever saw the light of day, just the familiar warmth of Leon’s cerulean eyes. 

At the other end of the room was an antique, three-mirror vanity, stocked carefully with luxury makeup, designer perfumes and every last tool one might need to style your hair, down to a box of satin ribbons in every color with which to tie it back. Leon was never one to do things half-way, and dolling you up was no exception.

Piece by piece, you stripped yourself of your clothes, hands moving as slowly and purposefully as his own would, as if by instinct. Just like a doll would be, you undressed to nothing but a pair of delicate lace panties, and you took your place at the vanity, your posture straight and your hands folded neatly in your lap.

All there was left to do now was wait for Leon, to stare at yourself blankly in the mirror and ruminate, to let your thoughts scream and echo around in your head until it would all collapse into silence, putting you in the proper headspace of an empty-headed little Barbie for Leon to play with.

You didn’t so much as flinch at the sound of the garage door opening, or move a muscle at all at the muffled thudding of his footsteps ascending the stairs. Your lips parted with a slow, deep breath, your posture straightening up one final time before the knob turned, and you watched the door open behind you through the reflection in the mirror.

He looked tired. To be candid, he looked like shit. It was evident he had left immediately from whatever dangerous, world-saving thing he was doing to rush home to you, not taking the time to change or freshen up.

Leon approached you gently, reaching over your shoulder to let his rough fingers cup your neck and throat, tilting your head up just enough to make you look at yourself, and to adjust your posture.

“Such a precious little doll, sitting so pretty for daddy,” He whispered, stooping down to plant a kiss at the crown of your head. His hands smelled like iron and gunpowder, and his breath smelled faintly of malted liquor poorly masked with mint. If only you could have confronted him about it. You just swallowed, staring straight ahead where he was directing your gaze.

Reaching over your shoulder, Leon’s steady hand plucked a detangling brush from the vanity, running his fingers through your hair carefully with his other hand. He felt through the length of your soft locks, mindful as always not to tug at any of the little knots he discovered here and there. Shortly after, he was running the brush through your hair with gentle veneration, delicate, even strokes that nearly threatened to put you to sleep.

Leon watched your expression in the mirror as your lashes fluttered, your head lolling back as if mindlessly chasing the attention. A low chuckle fell from his parted lips. “Feels good, huh? I’ll bet it does. Your hair is so messy, baby… You weren’t playing by yourself all day while daddy was gone, were you?”

He was teasing you. A subtle grin begged to tug at your lips, and you let it. Still, you were sure to shake your head ‘no’-- after all, you couldn’t have him thinking you had taken advantage of his extended absence to be naughty, even if you had been awfully tempted to. 

Carding his fingers through your freshly brushed hair, he hummed in mock consideration for a moment, like he couldn’t decide whether or not he believed you. Finally, he turned you around in your chair to face him, tilting your chin up so he could give you a kiss. “I know my baby would never. Always the perfect princess for me, even when I’m not always the perfect daddy.”

That last part came out a little quieter, like he was ashamed to even say it out loud, but somehow still, it was the loudest part to you. You softened.

He noticed, and he, too, softened. The tension in the air dissipated a bit– it was still somewhere around here, likely waiting right outside the door, but it was no longer actively present, at least. Leon gave you another sweet kiss, this one to your forehead, before gently correcting your posture again.

Pushing your hair back with a soft, fluffy headband, he opened up one of the drawers in the vanity and began to take a few things out. First, a light moisturizer, which he massaged into your skin with a jade roller that was cool to the touch and just as relaxing as always. Your moisturizer was followed by a gentle under-eye balm, a thin layer of primer and a hydrating lip oil.

The way he moved was so fluid, so methodical, like a conductor before an orchestra, and you were his masterpiece. In Leon’s eyes, you might as well have been carved out of the finest, most expensive marble, and you were to be treated no less delicately.

He stepped out just for a moment to wash his hands, a clean slate for the next step of the process, your makeup.

You honestly don’t know how he did it. Judging by some of the techniques and products he would use, you could only guess he must have been doing his research online or something, though where he found the time to do so was another question entirely. His lines weren’t always clean, his blending wasn’t always perfectly smooth, yet somehow you always still felt he’d managed to upstage you with the finished product– perhaps it was because he could see you in a way you couldn’t see yourself.

“Daddy?” You chanced a whisper, but he was quick to press a finger to the plush of your lips, ever so gently.

“Shh… Just sit nice and still for me, alright, sugar?”

You nodded, and he resumed his work with a careful touch.

Soft brushes and plush sponges worked their way around the surface of your face, applying shadow and powders and liner, with Leon holding his breath now and then to ensure a steady hand. Your cheeks were rouged, your lips were glossed, your lashes were carefully curled and it was all topped off with a cooling mist of setting spray and a gentle kiss to the forehead.

“There you are, hm? My beautiful baby dolly,” He mused, reaching forward to tilt your head up by your chin, then to the left, then to the right, checking over his handiwork from every angle. Adding a dash of blush to the tip of your nose, he deemed your makeup complete. “Just perfect.”

Slowly, Leon turned your chair around again, allowing you to look at yourself, and yeah. Wow.

You looked gorgeous, you were glowing even. All of your best features were adorned with purposeful swipes of blush, shade and highlight, your eyes dreamy and sweet, your skin smooth and radiant. He let you look at yourself for a moment, just admiring the expression of awe on you– you were always exceptionally stunning, of course, but you looked all the sweeter in these sacred moments in which you recognized your own beauty.

Leon rested one hand on your shoulder to recapture your attention, his other hand coming forward to stroke your cheek. Your long lashes fluttered as you met his eyes in the mirror, a silent signal that your focus had returned to him. Now the hand that caressed your cheekbone was coming forward to take your own. He helped you up from your seat at the vanity and across the room, to the plush chaise lounge in front of that standing mirror.

The room filled with the quiet noises of rummaging, Leon sifting through drawers and racks of hangers stuffed with what had to have been thousands of dollars worth of designer, a stark contrast to his own attire of largely plain black shirts and jeans that had seen better days.

But you were his princess. Leon was just Leon, and Leon couldn’t possibly deserve as much as a princess.

Turning over his shoulder, Leon approached you with a simple pair of white stockings in hand, sinking to his knees right before the chaise lounge to put them on you. Your ankle looked so slight and delicate in his strong hand as he lifted your leg, drawing a line of kisses up the inside of your calf to follow while he rolled the stocking up higher and higher, until the hem reached just above your knee.

He repeated the action with your other leg, the movement of his hands fluid and practiced, but his breaths were becoming shorter, his kisses a little wetter and needier on your skin. Your own breaths were quickly falling in sync with his own just by watching him dial in on your sex, his calloused hands propping your legs up onto his shoulders so he could shuffle closer.

Gripping you by the hips to angle you up to his liking, he buried his nose into the seat of your thin lace panties and breathed you in deep, as though he were starving for oxygen. The tip of his nose nuzzled forward to brush your panties aside, and just as soon as your slit was bared to him, his tongue was darting out to taste it.

He spread it flat in a slow, languid stripe from your weeping hole all the way to your throbbing clit, his lips closing around the little bundle of nerves to coax it from beneath its hood. You sucked in a breath, your manicured nails printing into the lush material of the furniture you were perched on, trying as hard as you could to keep quiet and still, to allow him to guide you, to play with you as he so desired. Luckily, he wasn’t in too stern of a mood this evening anyway– you weren’t likely to be reprimanded for small errors like that, especially not while he was otherwise occupied.

“Fuck,” He growled lowly into your cunt, leaving white prints where he gripped your pillowy thighs just to ground himself. You could feel his body growing warm as he lost himself in you, lapping up every drop of your arousal with greed. For just a moment, his dilated, denim eyes flicked up to look at you, his rosy cheeks gently squished between your quaking thighs as he puffed out, “Just look at you, my dolly… Daddy’s favorite little toy…”

Your eyes screwed shut with pleasure as his hot mouth met your center again, and when they fluttered open, you caught sight of it all in the mirror. It nearly knocked the wind out of you.

Your dainty legs spread out over your gruff boyfriend’s broad shoulders, adorned in delicate white stockings that looked pure and bright against his tight black t-shirt; his sandy blonde hair damp and messy as he wedged himself between your thighs and drank from you like a fountain; your hair and makeup fit for a gala as your expression contorted with rapture… it could have been an oil painting.

Every swipe of his tongue up the length of you, every flutter along your swollen bud, every deep, wanton, needy groan had your eyes rolling back in your head, your thighs trembling and tightening around his jaw. Every inch of you felt featherlight with electricity as he worked his magic on you, more than capable of making you cum in three minutes flat, but opting not to for the fun of it.

Not that you were complaining. At times he could get carried away in his teasing, but tonight was not one of those nights. Leon wasn’t going to waste your time dangling you over the edge much longer than was strictly necessary. As soon as he noticed you were having trouble sitting still, quiet whines and sighs of pleasure occasionally slipping out from between your glossy lips, he knew it would be unfair to string you along any further.

Leon was practically making out with your folds, the room quiet aside from the slick sounds and lustful whimpers that accompanied his dining of you. Soon it was joined with the low, husky timbre of his voice as he groaned into you, “Gonna cum for me, baby? Gonna make a pretty mess all over daddy’s face?”

In all honesty, you barely registered his words, but all it ever took to get you nodding like a bobblehead was that upward lilt in his tone that indicated he was asking you something. That was all you needed to know that the correct answer was yes.

Smirking briefly to himself as he witnessed your eager and rapt approval, he doubled the intensity of his efforts, his hands wrenching tight into your thighs to pull you flush against his face, but more importantly, to keep you from wriggling away. He didn’t bother to shush you when a shocked yelp bubbled out of you, your body jerking in response to the added stimulation. After all, it was the response he was expecting, and the response he yearned for.

Your shaking hands darted forward to claw at his hair, half-lidded eyes catching your reflection in the mirror once more. Your skin was warm, your breasts heaving as your spine drew into a fine arch and your lips parted to gasp in all the oxygen you could get to your dizzy brain, heels digging into the prominent muscles in his back. He felt every quiver and twitch of your muscles and it only spurred him on. He ate you up like you were his last meal.

Your vision went white as your climax crashed over you hard– the sounds he made were obscene, a satisfied groan vibrating from deep in his chest at the syrupy sweet taste of your arousal. It was an essence he couldn’t possibly get enough of.

As you laid there panting, your legs shaking after the tension in them released, Leon’s eyes dragged up the length of your body with pride. He carefully pulled your panties back into place with a sweet kiss to the bow in the center of them and an affectionate pat to the thigh. 

“There’s a good girl,” He hummed, crawling up from between your legs to kiss you, his mouth still warm and slightly slick with your own spend. “A perfect little doll. All I have to do is pull the right strings to get you to sing for me, huh, princess?”

Once more, you nodded, eyes fluttering shut just for a moment as he kissed your forehead. Then, he stood to his full height again, one hand taking yours and the other steadying you by the dip of your waist as he raised you up to join him, wobbly knees be damned. After all, he wasn’t finished playing dress-up yet. He took a moment to ensure you had regained your balance enough to be able to stand without assistance before opening up one of the wardrobes in search of the remainder of your outfit.

Moments like these only piqued your curiosity in terms of how his brain worked. Sure, you’d been dating for a long time and it was safe to say you knew him quite well, but his penchant for compartmentalization never ceased to astound you. He possessed the sometimes frightening ability to just switch his brain from one mode to the next.

You were brought back to reality once more by the feeling of his lips on your neck. He murmured into your ear, “Arms up, darlin’,” and he barely even finished saying it before you were complying.

You lifted your arms, and he slipped a new dress over your head. There it was, the compensation for being home late, for dropping off the face of the Earth again. The dress was flattering and soft, a delicate blush pink color with embroidered details along the bust and white lace hemming. He drew up the zipper without resistance, and as it reached its apex, the fabric hugged your form perfectly, as though the garment itself was made with you in mind.

Leon kneeled down to straighten out your stockings, and then the skirt of your dress, his eyes scanning over you meticulously in search of any little imperfections that might need fixing. Finding none, he wandered over to where he’d left his jacket, fishing a baby blue box out of the pocket. You had become quite familiar with that blue lately– Tiffany.

Nestled in the slender box was a dainty diamond necklace that now rested right at your collarbones, the clasp in the back secured with a smooch. He carded his fingers through your hair one last time before turning you around to look at yourself in the mirror, his hands rested on your hips, head stooped low to smother the crook of your throat in kisses.

“What do you think?” He whispered in your ear, nibbling gently at the shell.

“Beautiful,” You replied just as quietly, “Thank you, daddy.”

[abibliophobiaa]

Idea for ya: Reader and Eddie are in a competition to see if Elena's first word will be "mama" or "dada," with no success thus far. Uncle Steve comes over and picks her up, only to be greeted with an ecstatic: "TEEB!"

Elena's first word is Steve.

xoxo @munson-blurbs

a blurb from the daylight world.

dad!eddie munson x mom!reader.

——

It started around the time Elena began trying to form words. Granted, they were never full ones. Just the rounding of vowels, the formation of letters, all of which she seemed entirely enthused with.

And because of it, Eddie had started a sort of competition. Your ever competitive (now) husband thought you’d make a game of what Elena’s first would be. Which led to countless dinners spent with her little feet kicking in her high chair as you both took turns cooing, “Say Mama” and “Say Dada,” in voices that seemed out of place on your thoroughly tattooed rockstar.

But for her — for her he was always unabashed, ever doting, in love beyond words would ever come close to explaining. Those first months of tour, when you’d been unable to join him, he made true to his promise to call nearly every day. Trying his hardest to never go a night without telling you he loved you, nor a day without talking to his baby girl before she laid her head down to rest at night.

Tonight, however, happened to be one of those nights. Chrissy and Steve would be arriving soon, their newest baby girl, Brie, and Melody along with them. And given that your table would be expanded to fit from seating three to seven in mere moments, Eddie worked overtime.

He presently had his fingers curled around a waving fist, his lips smacking loudly into his giggly baby’s cheek as he repeated, “Dada” over and over again into a wrinkly neck. Repetition was his game, but you were relentless too. Distracted her with her dinner, which earned a pouted argument from Eddie, as you then reminded her “Mama” was the one who fed her from quite literally your own body for the first months of her short life, and still continued to do so now even as she’d moved onto more solid foods. And if you’d thrown strawberries onto her plate in a form of bribery she wouldn’t even understand, which you knew were her favorite, then so be it.

“She was close to saying it,” Eddie argued, watching Elena struggle a bit to force a piece of macaroni into her mouth, orange already mushing against her cheek.

“Technically the doctor says she’ll talk when she talks,” you told him, moving over to the kitchen to throw some final ingredients into the salad bowl you'd started. “And then she won’t stop after that. But I know how much it means to you, what with you being away so much.”

“I just don’t want to miss anything,” he exhaled, fingers running through his curly mane, “She'll be walking soon too.”

“I know, baby.” He leaned into your hip as you slid up to his side, fingers rubbing against his shoulder. “I know it weighs on you, but everyone always says how happy of a baby Elena is. A lot of that is thanks to her dad, you know?”

The edges of his smile spread across the palm that came up to stroke along his cheek, his fingers reaching up to tangle with your free hand. “I love you, Mrs. Munson.”

“Still with the Mrs. Munson, huh?” you teased, dropping a kiss to the top of his head, slinking back to the countertop.

“Until I get over the shock of calling you my wife, yeah,” he said, a pair of arms looping around your waist from behind, your body shuddering as lips pressed to the curve of your neck. “Which, by my estimation, will be till death do us part, and all of that romantic hub-bub.”

“You are a flirt, Eddie Munson.”

“I do what I can,” he chuckled, dropping another kiss to your temple, fingers edging along the hem of your jeans to dance along delicate skin, just as the doorbell rang out. “I got it.”

Said husband disappeared down the hall in a flash, voices filtering through the front door as you lifted Elena from her high chair, using her bib to wipe her dinner from her messy cheeks. The baby on your hip immediately bounced in attention as Chrissy called her name into the living room, Brie’s carrier clutched in one hand, with Melody rushing in ahead.

And then, the room fell into silence as Elena shrieked out, “TEEB.”

Oh no.

Your eyes darted to Eddie.

Then to Chrissy.

Lastly, to Steve, who only chuckled awkwardly, a hand curled around the back of his neck.

Eddie’s face reddened. “Oh, you’ve got to be f —”

Steve clapped a hand over Eddie’s mouth.

——

“Can’t believe Steve was her first word,” Eddie grumbled, head resting against your stomach, fingers curled around your hip.

“Technically it was ‘Teeb,’” you teased, laughter making Eddie’s head shake.

“Not helping.”

“How do you think I feel? I grew her in my body and pushed her out of it a few months later. I have the stretch marks to prove it.”

“Maybe we can start charging her rent,” Eddie murmured, squeezing your hip tighter. “Start charging her now, so when she’s older she can’t leave the house until she pays it off.”

“Ed.”

“Fine, fine,” he groaned, rubbing a hand down his face. “I hope Harrington realizes I’m going to make sure Brie’s first word is Eddie. Only fair.”

Your reply was another laugh.

True to his word, that next weekend when you gathered around Steve’s living room, Eddie perched in front of baby Brie, repeating Eddie over and over again (careless to the fact she was quite literally a few weeks old).

“What is he doing?” Steve asked, appearing at your side in the kitchen, peering out at the sight together.

“He’s playing the long game of revenge,” you giggled, nose wrinkling humorously as Steve tipped his head to the side.

“I see,” Steve said in understanding, snorting.

Elena didn’t learn any new words that week. Nor the next. Nor the one after it. But a month after the now dubbed ‘TEEB Travesty,’ Elena was settled on her bottom in the living room, crashing blocks together where they lay scattered around her on the floor. You sat behind her, her form tucked between the curve of your thighs, leaning in to receive a kiss when Eddie appeared.

“Dada!” Elena wailed, chuckling her block to the floor, arms elevated in front of her on the floor where she immediately began to whimper and whine for his attention.

And Eddie beamed — brighter than you’d ever seen before as he leaned down to grab her, and told his favorite girl he loved her more than anything else in this world.

——

[jarofstyles]

Indigo- Cobalt

Hellooooo.. Here is part 3 to indigo! Hope you enjoy tattoorry. 

Warnings- tattoos, mention of needles, blood, brief mention of vomit, anxiety, you're going to want to eat harry

Check out our Patreon!

WC- 2.9k

-------

Y/N felt dizzy.

It wasn’t the prospect of getting a tattoo that was making her so nervous- it was the fact that Harry’s thigh was pressed right up against hers, his body angled towards her as he sketched on his ipad drawing program. He’d said he prefers pencil and paper but it was easier for this type of session to do it there. Faster. She had no input other than the fact that he smelled really fucking good and his leg was warm against her own.

She had indulged some information to him. First and foremost, she wanted a sunflower. A dainty little sunflower with a bit of shading and a longer stem that would go down a bit and twist near her wrist. Her plans for one day having a floral sleeve with her favorite flowers and the birth month flowers of her family had been shared, but she wanted to start off relatively simple with the first one. See how her body reacted, her healing time, all while leaving room if she liked it and wanted to continue with the sleeve.

Harry had been endeared and slightly impressed. It was rare that he got new clients anymore, as most were fairly covered by the time they got to him. However when he did do new clients back in the start, most didn’t have the extensive research she had done, nor the plan. He was all for going for what felt right, but Y/N had been specific and practical in her planning and it made him feel even more fond. She had taken the time to research not only the safety, but the importance of listening to artists suggestions and double checking the work.

It’d been a while since he had done a floral piece, but he was up for it. Truthfully, Y/N could have told him she wanted a rose skull with an infinity symbol in the eye socket and he would have done it for her, but he was relieved it was something that was relatively easy to perfect.

The man knew that he was a perfectionist when it came to his work. Harry didn’t do sloppy- at least not in his work. He kept clean, crisp lines and smooth shading, he did his best to keep any blowout from happening as much as he could on his own end, and he educated each client on the likelihood of the colors they chose longevity and when they’d probably need it touched up. His tattoos were for the clients, sure, but it was also a representation of his work. He was lucky enough now to have his choice on taking clients- there were plenty he turned away or handed off to other artists he thought could better suit them. His hard work had bled into the success he had wanted, leaving him the ability to be picky.

Normally he wouldn’t want to do a first time client because, well…  he really didn’t like doing them. First timers didn’t know what to expect the majority of the time, they didn’t know how to sit still, they would wince and move and complain far too much for Harry to feel at his best. He wasn’t judging them, but now that he had a choice he chose to keep to people who had at least one.

Y/N was the exception to the rule.

He felt honored that she would like his art on her, a bit of that primal satisfaction that it would be his too. No one else would have touched her with the needle, no one else had a shot at marking up her pretty, soft skin. It was a privilege, especially considering their origin.

“What do we think?” He murmured, showing her the second sketch with some of her notes. She hadn’t liked the thickness of the stem originally, and Harry had agreed it had been a bit too leafy so he had taken some off. “S’a bit thinner in the stem and I did a curve at the bottom so it’ll fit with the movement of your arm.”

“Moment of my arm?” She asked curiously, hitting him with a curious gaze. Harry had been extremely patient with her thus far and it made her nervous to ask for corrections, but he had told her that it was going to be on her forever and he needed it to be exactly what she wanted.

“Mhm. Where you’re putting it… The skin moves when you rotate your arm. S’why we don't usually put straight lines there, at least I don’t unless in specific situations. We want it to run smoothly regardless of which way your arm is positioned. So adding a bit of a curve in the stem would make it look straighter when you move it.” He showed the motion on his own arm so she could have an example.

“Oh. I never would have thought of that.” She blinked, watching as his arm moved. He had quite a few tattoos, some she had never been truly able to make out. Now being up so close, she had a front row seat to the anchor on his wrist and the cross on his hand, some of the little doodles that she had been so curious about. He seemed to have different styles of work and she liked that each one seemed to differ just a bit. “How many tattoos do you think you’ve done in your career?”

The question popped into her head out of nowhere but it still remained there. She was increasingly curious as to how he had gotten started, what he did and didn’t like doing. Pure thirst for the knowledge of what went through his head. He’d been a silent shadow most of the time she’d known him, so it was interesting to purely listen to him talk.

“Erm.. I’d say a couple hundred? There are some days I only work on one, some I do none, some days I can do three to four.” He paused, placing his apple pencil down, turning slightly to look at her. Their thighs pressed further together. “When I first started, I did a lot of flash sheets of shit that wasn’t my own. Think of, like, the pinterest stuff. Little hearts and stars, stuff on my mates, myself. They had me practice a ton when I was apprenticing but it made me good.” He brushed the hair out of his face. He really needed to find his hair clip. “Was frustrated at first, because I knew I could draw and stuff, but they were making me do those tiny things for basically no money- but, y’know, It’s harder than you’d think. Especially on someone who’s moving or someone who’s giggling with a bunch of their friends that they brought.”

“Is that why there was that sign out there?” Her face broke into a little grin, remembering the hand lettered sign before you went back to the rooms. ‘No children, No drinking, No plus threes’. “I find it hard to believe that people want to bring three people into the room with them.” That was inconsiderate. One? She could understand. That made sense if you were nervous. But multiple people just made it more crowded and loud. She’d rather be alone and deal with the experience being potentially awkward rather than make herself an inconvenient client.

His scoff took her by surprise, head tipping back in amusement. “Oh, they do. They did. Now it’s limited to one person in the room and you’ve got t’be over 18. Special allowances are made sometimes, but some of the places I worked at before starting my own place had no one enforcing or making those sorts of rules. It’s just unsafe. You’d be surprised how many drunk people come in demanding ink.” It was one of his least favorite clients. Drunk people tended to squirm and vomit, you know, besides getting a permanent image inked into the skin. That’s one thing he would never do again.

“Hm. Well it seems like you’re running a great place. I saw your stuff on instagram.” Her praise made him flush slightly, feeling a tiny bit shy as she continued. “And then the articles and awards you’ve got up front. It’s massively impressive. I’m surprised you’re tattooing me if I’m honest. She said up front I had virgin skin?” A head tilt at the end of her words reminded him of a puppy.

“Well, like I said. Special occasion.” He knocked his knee against hers in a playful attempt. “Just means no ink. Nothing nasty. I usually don’t do people with no ink because they can be twitchy and I can choose the pieces I do now. Usually I do more long and involved ones but, I’m more than happy to be doing yours.” His smile was a reassurance that he was more than happy to do it.

“Are you sure?” Y/N frowned slightly, suddenly feeling a little guilty. She didn’t want him to do a tattoo he didn’t want to do, or even more so do it on her just because he felt bad about the times before. “If you don’t want to do it, I’m happy to go to another artist in your shop-”

“No, I want to do it.” His voice was fast, interrupting hers without meaning to. It had rushed out without his permission, but the ugly twisting inside his gut had started at the mention of someone else doing this. She had wanted him, had planned on him, and if he was being honest? He was a bit selfish. His art was meant to go on people like Y/N. People who appreciated the art, who appreciated the skill. Add in his big fat crush, and it was not something he was going to pass up.

“O-Okay.” Y/N smiled, looking back down at her lap. His jeans were against her leg, and she couldn't stop thinking about how warm he was. How happy she was that he had chosen to sit with her on here instead of the armchair. A giddiness bubbled in her stomach as she felt his eyes on her, a hand coming down into her field of vision and gripping her knee. Her face felt hot, looking down at the fingers that curled over. It felt like she had been shocked at first, but moved into a warm glow.

Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.

If she was any less strong, she would have squeaked. The large hand rested there, giving her leg a squeeze before he continued to speak.

“You ready to get some ink, then?”

—-------------

“You’ve had somethin’ to eat today, right?” Harry’s voice spoke to her as she sat in the red leather seat. His back was turned to her as he opened up a few drawers, grabbing what looked to be some sort of tape, vaseline, ink caps, different wrapped needles maybe? A blue liner sat over the tray, keeping it sanitary as he placed the supplies down. There was no reason to doubt he would be, but it only furthered her comfort.

“Yeah, I had a croissant and a pastry. Coffee too.” She peeped, hoping that would be good enough in his eyes.

With the way he turned in his chair, it wasn’t. “C’mon, babe. You’ve gotta eat better than that… but I can say m’glad you didn’t have a heavy meal a few minutes ago.” That would be a nightmare if she felt the need to spew. “Nothing with protein.. If you feel like you’re getting lightheaded, like you’re going to faint? Tell me immediately. This shouldn’t be too bad, all things considered, but there's no shame in taking a break.” He really didn’t mind it. That was much preferred over someone passing out on him.

“Okay. I’ll tell you.” Her eyes widened slightly but she avoided his eyes again, instead choosing to look at his hair. He’d found his hair clip when they’d walked in, saying something about having been looking for it for ages before gathering hair at the front of his face and clipping it back out of the way. He looked fucking adorable.

Tattoos, piercings and all, he looked adorable. Y/N had always thought he was handsome, hot, even, but his little smiles and concern for her had made her feel a little floaty and giggly and she needed to contain herself.

“Good girl.” His hand squeezed her leg again before turning around on the stool to finish unwrapping supplies.

If he heard her squeak, he didn’t let her know it.

They sat in a comfortable silence, the music hooked to his phone playing at a comfortable level as he did his thing. Y/N looked at his back, admiring the broad nature, his strong shoulders and how it strained slightly against his shirt. At this point, she was nearly positive she was just being extremely thirsty over the man who had always been a faraway object of desire- even if she had thought he hated her.

“Alright.” Harry returned, voice making Y/N jump slightly. “Sorry, sorry. I’ve got the stencil.” Holding it up, he let her take a look and smiled to himself as her eyes rounded and she smiled widely. It did that weird thing to his chest as she squirmed, sitting straighter as he approached with it. “Good? We can put it on in a moment. Just got t’prep you.”

“It’s so beautiful, Harry.” Her wispy voice nearly made him fall off his chair. He wished he wasn’t so weak, wished he wasn’t such a soft heart for her, that he could be a bit more suave, but when she spoke like that, looked at him like that, said his name like that? All he wanted to do was scream.

“M’glad you think so.” He replied gently, taking his seat. “Is it okay if I touch you? I need to adjust your arm.” Touching bare skin was a limit a surprising amount of people had- himself included. He usually preferred his bed partners keeping their hands to themselves, no matter how much they wanted to trace his ink. His actual partners, he enjoyed, but people didn’t have much of a sense of boundary sometimes.

“Yeah! Yeah, of course. You can do whatever you want to me.”

Dangerous fucking words, Harry thought. He couldn’t allow his thoughts to stray at the moment, so he decided to save that sweet tone and double meaning sentence to obsess over at a later time.

It didn’t take him too long, his fingers brushing over the skin as he shaved it to make sure the canvas was clear and prepped her for the stencil. Y/N was quiet, watching his concentration. He got a cute little thing between his brows as he focused on her, making sure the stencil was straight and where she wanted before laying it and pressing down.

When he peeled it away, she audibly gasped. “This is perfect.” Her voice went up in pitch. “It’s better than I imagined, H. Really. I love it.” Speaking like the ink was already in her skin, he flushed again as he placed the paper into the tray.

“You sure? Placement’s good?”

“Perfect. I like it right here.” She nodded, eyes not leaving the blue stain.

“Okay. We’re going to get started then, okay?” He pulled on a pair of fresh gloves, scooting himself and the station a bit closer to her. “We’re starting with the outlining, then we move to shading. It’s gonna be uncomfortable, mostly when I have to go over the lines again but we aren’t going to be too close to bone so It shouldn't be terrible.” He was doing his job now to mentally prepare her. “You can tell me if you need the bathroom or if you need to move at all. Everyone’s pain thresholds are different. Don’t feel embarrassed. I’m sure as hell not going to judge you.” His smile was reassuring as she looked a little nervous, but more so the excited type. It was easy to tell.

“I will tell you. Do you need me to stay quiet when you're tattooing? To keep focus? I don’t want to distract you.” Y/N questioned, big eyes looking at him with curiosity.

Anyone else? Anyone else in the entire world, he would tell them yes. He preferred a quiet environment to work, to get into the zone and truly concentrate. But there was no way in hell he was going to pass up an opportunity to hear her talk and babble. She had been so quiet around him before- rightfully so, considering she thought he would tell her to shut up- but he ached to just get a little bit closer. That yearning of his soft heart was pulsing, wishing to get to know her more. His brain was telling him to relax and be logical, but they both knew who would win out.

“Absolutely not, Sunflower. Chatter away.”

[amazing-spiderling]

Hey everyone. How are we doing? If you stumbled on this post because you follow me on Tumblr, I'm guessing the answer is NOT GREAT. Me either. Hoof.

But something that makes me feel a little better is taking action, and turning bits of my skill and time to something productive, which is why I've decided to offer ongoing decorated toploader commissions to you, the fine folks of the internet. For the low (well, reasonable) price of a ten dollar or more donation to one of the listed organizations (or the vetted Palestinian fundraiser of your choice, there's too many for me to list, but you can certainly find some reblogged here and elsewhere) I will decorate a toploader holding a trading/photo card of the character/celebrity/pet/etc of your choice.

You may have seen some of my deco jobs here on my blog, but if not, here's an a few pieces of my work. (You can find more by searching my blog for "decorated toploader")

These are just a few I've done in recent months!

I currently have HUNDREDS of vintage Marvel and Sailor Moon trading cards in my possession, but if I don't have your favorite character, I am happy to make a custom card (like how I printed out Hannibal and low-poly Otacon above). I'm tagging the fandoms I know, but I'm more than willing to do whoever your favorite is. (I may just need a little context to get the vibe right.)

I will be mailing your card to you (domestic or international) in a standard envelope, this way I can use a regular stamp instead of fussing with postage/customs/etc. And you don't have to pay shipping (unless you really want to have me send it as a tracked package). I haven't had any issue with cards arriving this way thus far, especially within the US.

If you are interested (and I hope you are) send me a proof of your donation (dated 11/9/24 or after) of $10 or more to one of the following:

The Trevor Project

Trans Lifeline

National Network of Abortion Funds

ACLU

OR the personal fundraiser of any Palestinian in need!

I can usually knock these out fairly quickly (2-3 in an evening if I'm in the zone) but you can always check with me if you need them ASAP. (Say, maybe for a holiday gift for your fandom friends? Eh? EHH?)

I hope you'll consider helping out these organizations as we brace ourselves for a difficult time. Even if you can't donate at this time, a signal boost is ALWAYS welcome.

Thanks again for checking out this long long post- wishing the best for all of us. <3

[luminologism]

Sky Cotl Skytober 2024: A retrospective by ME!

All of my skytober pieces in chronological order! -> here The song I set it too! -> here

This year, I participated in an Inktober adjacent drawing event. I did the Sky Cotl version of Inktober, Skytober. Now that it's November 1st, I have thoughts and feelings about the experience, what I learned, what I did right, and what I can improve on! This post is very much for me to reconcile and reflect on the art I did this month, but please feel read and enjoy my raw thoughts as well. I feel like everybody can learn from or relate to what I'm gonna chatter on about below, so take a read if you're so inclined! I'll be touching on relatability, popularity vs niche, effort vs efficiency, and passion vs honing skill.

WHY I DID SKYTOBER

So, as I said above, I participated in Skytober! It's my first Inktober adjacent event EVER! I've done similar projects in the past related to other arts (NaNoWriMo for example) but ultimately failed! Why? Well, I just didn't see that stuff through. I did not have a strong goal, and thus the past projects inevitably failed.

This year, however, I was DETERMINED to finish this project! This is because I have been meaning to make my inevitable swap from Paint Tool Sai 2 to Clip Studio Paint for AGES. I've had this program since forever (and even had the old version Manga Studio as a kid!), but it was far too robust at the time for me to want to learn it. However, it's been sitting on my computer for ages, and I have a massive commission in the works currently! I felt many of CSP's tools would be useful for that commission, so I took a bit of a detour and decided that Skytober would help me sit down and actually spend time learning this damn program.

Needless to say, I think my attempts at learning at least a bit of the program was successful. I learned a lot of the basic functions and where I liked tools and functions placed, I learned how to fiddle with some interesting brushes, and I also spent a LOT of time learning how to (roughly) paint backgrounds! These are all skills I was desperately trying to learn anyways, so having some solid and strict direction very much helped. I still have a lot to learn program wise, but drawing (nearly) every day has definitely given me a solid foothold in this program. As a diehard SAI2 user, the jump is difficult! But I think I did alright.

MY CREATIVE MINDSET AND DIRECTION

Now, the art itself. There are favorites I have, and there are absolute duds as well. In my eyes, to be specific. Drawing (nearly) every day is bound to run you dry for some mental and creative resources, but I did a few things to help mitigate that and keep the train chugging. For a long time, I had been meaning to make a Sky Cotl animatic using the song Virtual Angel by ARTMS. That's a recent release from that music group, but it's been one of my favorites recently. I think it's a beautiful song, and with lyrics like 'for the sin of swallowing up the sun' and 'fly me to your eden, this is eden' and 'i'll be there for you when your wings break', I thought the song fit Sky Cotl's vibe perfectly. However, I know absolutely nothing about animatics, so I decided to repurpose the idea into assigning a lyric to each Skytober piece instead. This massively helped with direction of ideas. It wasn't perfect, but it still significantly helped. Another thing I did to keep myself inspired was I actually wrote out a significant number of my ideas beforehand. They were not super fleshed out at times, and often they changed if I got inspired in another way. And other times, I just completely gave up on any ideas and decided the goal was just to finish SOMETHING, if just to keep the ball rolling. Either way, at least planning some things ahead of time helped eliminate a majority of the 'idk what to draaaaw!' woes down. It also helped me stay efficient, and having the song as direct inspiration sort of kept stoking the fires of my passion and helped me keep going! Raaah! Even so, I still ended up with duds, and you can absolutely see that reflected in each pieces notes.

RECEPTION OF MY WORK

I've never had this much attention on my work before. I used to run a pretty popular twitter before restarting it (and then deleting that second one just recently due to twitter being twitter), but I've never surpassed 1000 notes on anything before. Please understand, while I know that's not really all that much, for me that is! It's like imagining 1000 people standing in the same room as me giving me a thumbs up on my silly picture. It was amazing!! I would look at my notes all day at the start of the month with a smile on my face. It was surreal seeing people's thoughts coming in in real time. Seeing everybody's thoughts and feelings and interpretations of my works was amazing and so interesting to see. There would be people simply screaming at my work with glee, giving me genuine and sincere compliments, giving me their interpretations of how my works made them feel, and so much more! The most jarring thing for me was seeing a few people tag their friends in my work. I would sit there like 'huh, this person liked this piece so much that they had to show their friend directly!'. And it made me smile.

I also got to see in real time how my efforts can directly correlate with the interactions I got. And that swung both ways. There are some pieces I posted that barely had eyes on them, and it wasn't because I did poorly. It was because I think people can very much see when something is low effort or if you post something without confidence. Meanwhile, there were some pieces I posted that I sort of just threw together, and people LOVED? My picture for the prompt 'Mural' went absolutely bonkers, and I don't even really think it's all that good! On that piece I was just testing out manga stone wall brushes and fussing with glowing layer modes. It's by far my most popular Skytober piece as of posting this retrospective though, so it's interesting to see!

Another thing I saw that was interesting and I picked up very quickly on was my own OC content sees less eyes! Not because my OCs are bad or anything, but strangers can't relate to it! Even if the art is baller, my OC content had less interest than my more vague pieces. The pieces where I posted random moths (the closer to base game look, the better) were the ones people liked the best! That, or if I posted in game characters.

OVERALL

All in all, it was a very enlightening experience! If I do another event like this again, I will not pigeonhole myself to the square little paint stamp vibe I had going on. That made it hard to branch out or many images look wider. I will also put less effort in. Funny that I word it like that, but I actually think I put TOO MUCH effort in on some pieces! That made my inspiration (and other pieces) suffer. I also think that while I enjoyed posting my works with song lyrics, I won't do that again. Or if I do, I'm choosing a shorter song. I might also combine prompt days next time.

[cyberball]

cair paravel

caspian x reader / no pronouns used / not rq

warnings: a couple swears, physical touch (as in not 18+ but still), mention of the word 'dress' but you can interpret that as any type of dress really

summary: you decide to reminisce on a select few memories of the beach at cair paraval in your room, one morning.

genre: yes it is fluffy but there's some slow burn/yearning thing going on, allusion to a modern!au in narnia, although u can assume it’s the same

notes: cyberball comeback! *crickets* anyway this is my highest word count thus far. ben barnes is actually fatal cuz now I'm obsessed with a character from my CHILDHOOD who I completely forgot even existed. alas, here we are, because caspian is a very very close second to Leo valdez, and I'm head over heels for that man. all this is to say, this will probably not be the last caspian fic and who knows, maybe I'll figure sth out for peter n ed as well!!! anyway enjoy i hope u like it / edit: WHY DID NO ONE TELL ME I MISSPELLED THE FIC TITLE

11:03 | 2896 words

11:45 AM

The spring breeze brushes against your face, and your eyes close in appreciation. From your balcony, the beach of Cair Paraval looks stunning; clear blue waters and a high tide to match. You let your thoughts linger on all the nights you’ve spent on said beach with a certain king of Narnia. You almost get up to try to find him, but you sit back down, realizing he must be busy. Your memories will have to sustain you for now.

4:23 AM – 1 month ago

Caspian’s hand came up to brush his hair out of his face for what seemed like the hundredth time that night – the sea breeze was relentless. You silently laughed at his efforts, as he leaned back into you, having given up on trying to tame his hair. His tall frame had somehow managed to sit snugly in between your legs, Caspian’s head resting on your chest. You were leaning against an enormous oak tree, the leaves swaying in tandem with the wind.

“Get up, you big goof,” you said, rolling your nightshirt’s sleeves up, determined to help him with his hair. He looked back at you for just a second before obeying your command. You loved his hair either way but you could tell it was annoying him right about now.

“What, you don’t like the unruly look my hair has taken on?” He asked, sitting up properly. You shook your head in amusement and looked away under his glance, pretending to look around for the clip you always kept on you, in case a predicament like this arose.

You gathered a little of his hair and tied it in place with the clip, letting a few pieces in the front fall out. The half-up-half-down look was his and your favorite.

He rested his head back onto your shoulder, looking ahead, the two of you still sitting. You had a ritual wherein you took one night each week to watch the sunrise. Now, even as the sun slowly woke up, the Narnian night sky glittered with tens of stars, and you wished you could look into his eyes. The black always reflected the light perfectly.

You two had been dating for about 2 weeks now. Caspian was your best friend and the person you trusted the most. Back when all you could think of on nights like these was your imagination of what it would feel like to have his lips against yours, looking into his eyes was a gesture far too intimate for two friends to share.

But now that it was a reality, you moved him off your shoulder and moved forward, so now you were facing him. On instinct, he picked you up by your thighs and placed you on his lap. Giggling, you took his stubble-covered face in your hands. After staring into your eyes for a length of time most people would find uncomfortable, he looked up at the sky. And there it was; the sky condensed into his eyes. He looked back up at you, and you couldn’t help but kiss him. You wondered how you ever lived without knowing the taste of his lips.

5:09 PM – 3 months ago

The sun filtered through your hair as you managed to push through it. It was setting, and the horizon looked particularly capturing today; pink and orange clouds shielding its light. Speaking of the sun, unbeknownst to you, yours had come up behind the spot you had claimed on the sand. Placing a kiss on your head – and consequently making butterflies fly around in your stomach – Caspian took the place next to you, as he often did.

More often, he’d only made rare appearances in your solitude, as the mantle of being king had taken its toll on his free time. You had found yourself reminiscing on the time when every other free second you both had, you would spend with each other. You would train together as well, and while that hadn’t necessarily stopped, he had significantly less time to do so. So you missed it, and you missed the close contact, where you could pass off the hitched breaths and stuttering glances as something other than what they were.

Caspian was your best friend. Nothing more, although you found yourself coveting the same. You don’t quite remember when it changed; when the way you looked at him turned from friendly appreciation to lingering on his smile. You felt that maybe he felt the same when he’d make you laugh and then drink in your reaction; when you showed him a new dress and his gaze lingered on you for far more time than was needed to look at the dress; when, a few days ago, you were playing with his hair, as you often did, and he unabashedly stared at your lips; and even now, when he kissed your head and instinctually rested his hand on yours. His thumb caressed your palm, and you had to physically restrain yourself from melting onto the beach.

At least then you could be washed away with the sea. You could feel his gaze on you. “What, idiot?” You asked him, not turning to look at him, a playful smile playing on your lips. “That’s no way to address your king,” he replied smoothly with a smirk of his own. You wanted to wipe it right off his stupid, pretty face.

As happy as you were with his presence next to you, you didn’t forget how your getaways to the beach were much frequent just you now instead of you both. “Sorry, Your Majesty,” you muttered sarcastically. You winced as his face fell at your tone, immediately regretting your words, knowing how he literally had no time for anything other than his duties. You couldn’t be mad at him for that. He beat you to the apology, “I am sorry. I know I have seen you less and less these past few weeks, and it’s not an excuse, merely a reason, but my work as king has taken up most if not all my time. Regardless, I could have made time for you. Aslan knows you’re much more important to me than anything else,” he spoke the last words under his breath, but you caught them.

You both had talked about this before – how much you meant to each other – but every time he brought it up, your heart beat just a little bit faster. “Cas, don’t be sorry. I know you’re busy and it’s selfish of me to be mad at you for that. I’m sorry,” you replied, looking away. “You’re not being selfish. You’re the least selfish person I know. You’ve done nothing wrong here,” he said softly, pushing your hair behind your ears. A hue of red dusted your cheeks at the gesture and you smiled up at him, “It’s okay, Cas,” you assured him and noticed his eyes crinkling at the nickname, “Just promise to meet me whenever you can,” you said, playing with his fingers. “Yes, I know, I will use all my free time on you. You don’t have to tell me twice,” he says, a glint in his eyes. You laughed amusedly, “You’re a good king, you know,” and he searched your eyes for any sign of a lie. He didn’t find it, even behind your teasing tone. “Just because I dedicated my free time to you?” he questioned and you pretended to think, “Hmm… yes.” Laughing

, you rested your head on his shoulder. You were happy to have him, even if your affections could only be as intimate as best friends.

2:58 AM – 2 months ago

You had just made a particularly hilarious joke, and Caspian had been laughing about it for what seemed like ages. “My god, calm down,” you managed to say through your own laughter, and he silently brought his forehead down to your shoulder, his own shoulders shaking from laughter.

After finally calming down, he said, “Never do that again,” a smile still brilliant on his face, despite the dim moonlight filtering through the clouds. “What, never make you laugh again?” you grinned, sucking your teeth, “sounds like a challenge to me. I’m too funny,” you joked, running your hand through your hair. Out of the corner of your eyes, you saw Caspian roll his eyes at you, and you wordlessly shoved him for it.

“That cloud looks like your hair in the morning,” you pointed out, gesturing to a cloud by the sea line. Caspian looked at you with an unamused face, “Ha-ha. Very funny,” he replied deadpan, but a grin eventually broke out on his face.

A long, comfortable silence stretched out between the two of you. You carefully rested your head on his shoulder and tried to take this for what it was: two friends enjoying each other’s company, and not letting your thoughts wander to a hope where maybe, someday, you could be more than that. Because it could never be. Caspian did a great job of reminding you of the fact when he piped up, “Today was sort of terrible,” and in response, you looked up at him through your lashes, beckoning him to continue. “The court is back at it with the marriage proposals and potential alliances,” he explained, and your heart dropped.

Oh. “Any of the potential matches interest you?” you questioned, silently hoping the answer was no. Regardless, you braced yourself for the impact, but he replied, very softly, might one add, “No,” and ran a hand through his hair. “Really?” you asked in an unamused tone, “none of them?” you were a tad bit eager to know his true feelings. So he pointed it out, “Desperate, are we? Why do you want to see me married off so quickly?” he asked, a smirk playing on his annoyingly pretty face. There was a sort of desperation in his eyes that you didn’t quite catch, however.

“Of course not, Your Highness,” you teased, “Curse me for wanting to see my king happy,” and rolled your eyes. “And anyway, it’s quite the opposite,” you muttered under your breath, sure that he wouldn’t hear it, but he did.

Fuck. He understood what you meant by it as well; he always did, and now he looked at you with something newfound in his eyes. Shit.

Silence. Why wasn’t he saying anything?

“That is the last thing that would make me happy,” he finally spoke, and you silently sent up a prayer to whichever god let him ignore whatever you had said.

“And what would?” you asked, a teasing tone in your voice, but you both knew you genuinely wanted to know. Were you a possibility?

He didn’t reply. You chuckled softly and slightly shoved him, “What? I asked you something,” you said, still giggling. Your laughter had brought a smile to his face and you wanted to evaporate.

He took one of your hands and started absentmindedly playing with your fingers, as he often did. “I just… it’s a little funny to me how many times I’ve asked you that same question and you’ve not responded,” he confessed, black eyes staring you down, and then moving away when you hesitated in responding. “We tell each other everything,” a pause, “Right?” he asked, and hundreds of unsaid feelings poured into the small gap between you two, which he was slowly but surely closing. All the while his hands were still on yours, and you wondered if this was it. The day you finally get to call him yours, or the day you part ways.

“Caspian…” was all you managed, a little choked. Had his face always been so close to yours? You swore you could feel the beat of his eyelashes on your face, which was no doubt painted deep red right about now. It didn’t matter, because so was his.

You never knew eyes could speak like this – albeit, Caspian’s had always been able to, but never to this degree – begging, desperation, and hope, all in just two pupils. You literally were choked now; words had left you. You always told him, in matters of romance, you would never be able to make the first move. He had always laughed at that, the irony of you being such a bold and fearless person, yet being afraid of showing vulnerability like this. Although he himself could never chide you about that; both of you knew his stubbornness, especially in affairs of the heart.

He was not a daft man. A little oblivious, sure, but he knew the way you looked at him. You hadn’t tried to hide it either; in some masochistic way, even though you had your doubts about his feelings, you still wore yours on your face. You regretted it sometimes, when if he ended up listening to his court one day, then you would feel like a fool for putting your heart out on the line.

But so had he. Later on, you would realize that you were much more oblivious than him. He had half the decency to never completely assume that you were interested in him romantically, but he knew you. And you knew him.

So it made sense now to you. His lingering glances, especially those on your lips; the forehead kisses, which he had started a long time ago before you thought of him this way – however, they had grown much more frequent and much less chaste; and, oh. The words he said to you just a couple of days ago, lounging in his bed, your head in his lap, when you had joked about him being in love with you, “I’m not going to deny it.” You knew when he was joking. This was not such an instance, even though, immediately after, he tried to play it off as such. You knew it. Why hadn’t you said something?

Your name fell from his lips now, once more, a silent plea.

His lips ghosted over yours once more. You closed your eyes briefly, as you did when in a predicament, and exhaled hard.

Caspian sent up a prayer to whichever god would take it and made to connect your lips. You met him halfway.

You remember the first kiss like the back of your hand. You just about whimpered when his taste reached your tongue; the taste of the chocolate you both had snuck just a few minutes earlier was fresh on his lips. His rather large hands steadied you by your waist, and you still felt like crumbling by his touch.

A few seconds later, you pulled away reluctantly, out of breath. His eyes slowly fluttered open and his face was redder than you had ever seen it. You grinned and pecked his lips once more, and he felt your smile on him. It wasn’t a feeling he thought he’d ever experience.

Giddy, he mirrored your smile and kissed you harder than the last time.

“I knew you had a thing for me,” you said, right after he pulled away, breathless and smiling. “I’m not going to deny it,” he gloated, and you rested your forehead on his shoulder, laughing.

You were going to deal with the court some other day. It was just you and him right now.

11:56 AM – Present time

“Enjoying the weather, my love?” Caspian’s voice sounds out as his arms wrap around your torso. You slightly crane your head to look at him, shamelessly staring at his frame; simple white button-up, black pants. A rather handsome look on him.

“Your pick-up lines have always been terrible,” you remark, turning your head back around, a smirk on your face.

“And yet you were just checking me out,” he shoots back, resting his chin on the top of your head. You roll your eyes in response. “Checkmate?” he teases.

“Whatever. You can hardly blame me when you look this good,” you respond smoothly, turning around to face him while raising a hand to play with the ends of his hair.

“Have you seen yourself?” he says comfortably. His hands are resting easy on your hips and his gaze is on you, focused like you hung the stars in the sky. He always looks at you like this.

You shake your head, silently laughing, and crane your head to look out at the waters. It’s true that no one loves the sea quite like Caspian does, but that’s the very reason you appreciate it. His eyes light up when he talks of his adventures and voyages. Interestingly enough, there have only been two instances when the joie de vivre shines in his eyes; once when he thinks of the sea, and twice when he thinks of you. You’ve noticed it. The thought gets you giddy each time.

There’s a comfortable silence between the two of you. He places a kiss on your head and leans down to kiss your lips. Every time he does, it feels like the first time. Your eyes flutter close, and you notice something more in the way his lips move against yours. A message.

And then you realize.

Three words.

He pulls away, exhaling softly. A pause.

“I love you,” he says, your name on his lips like it always belonged there.

You waste no time. “I love you too, Caspian,” and he grins.

You mean it. And Aslan knows he means it too.

tagging: @noorie101 @padfootagain (one of my fav cas writers <3) — if u wanna be tagged please send in an ask!

[timeslugarts]

Third Times a Charm

Part 3 of my Vera X Vox story

Part 1 and Part 2 here!

A/N - This is my favorite part so far. It's all fluffy and fun. No NSFW in the chapter either.

CW for Valentino being an asshole 👍

Vox stared at his phone desperately waiting for a reply. The day had been rough thus far, business deals going sour, Val being, well, Val, and Vox was about one more disappointment away from another citywide blackout. 

His phone pinged. Nothing but an address and wink.

He let out a sigh, at least there was one thing he could count on. 

Vox and Vera had been seeing each other for a couple of months now, and by seeing each other he means meeting up at a random location of her choosing and fucking until neither one of them could move. It was the best part of some of Vox's weeks, all the frustration and energy he'd built up could all be released into her body, or on it. She took it in stride too, always matching him tit for tat. She had even stopped stealing from him… most of the time.

And he really needed it today.

The clock slowly ticked down as Vox moved from one project to the next, attending meetings, product reviews, and the odd interview, but finally 8 rolled around. He grabbed his coat and made his way to the door, but something halted him. A large looming figure that made Vox's heart sink.

"Voxxy, darling, my bed's been awfully cold recently." Valentino purred, pressing his back against the door and closing it. 

Vox turned on the charm, wanting to get out of this situation as fast as he could.

"Val! Sorry my sweet! I've just been so busy! You know, work and the regular grind!" He chuckled. "Speaking of," he tried to worm his way around Val, "I have another urgent meeting to get to." Vox had his hand on the handle.

"You're lying." Val's voice sang out, Vox froze. 

Suddenly the moth had gripped Vox's lapels. "What whore are you fucking behind me back Vox!?" Val's saliva was dripping from his mouth in a fluorescent pink stream and getting on to the coat in Vox's hand. He dropped it grimacing at the garment.

"Val I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about." Vox tried another disarming chuckle, he placed his hand on top of Val's trying to slowly pry it off of him.

"Do you think I'm a fuckin joke? I can smell the bitch on you." Valentino's grip tightened as he pulled Vox closer. He had lifted him to the point Vox couldn't touch the ground anymore. 

"Val please-" Vox tried to choke out, feet grasping for purchase, his hands tightening around Valentino's. 

"You. Are. Mine." Val growled out, "and don't you fucking forget it!" Val's third arm came up and hit Vox in the face, the sickening crunch of his monitor rang in his own ears as he was sent careening backwards onto the floor.

"What the FUCK Val?" Vox gasped pieces of his broken screen falling around him like some macabre glitter. 

"I told you, you're MINE, and who's going to fuck you now with a face like that hmm?" Valentino smirked, shrugging nonchalantly as if he didn't just destroy Vox's face. 

"If you're that desperate for a fuck why don't you just call Angel? Oh wait…" Vox sneered, knowing damn well that would get under his skin. 

Valentino gasped, and Vox was sure there was going to be a lot more after that, but he had already zipped into the nearest camera and far away from the Vee Tower, his jacket forgotten on the floor. 

Before entering the bar that Vera had picked, Vox looked at himself reflected in the glass. He looked like shit, his entire left side was shattered, pieces were static while others were simply black. There was no way she was going to sleep with him now. He let out a low breath before entering the bar anyways.

It was never hard to find her, no matter how dark and filthy the place was. She stood out like a beacon in the mist calling him to shore. He had no patience for games tonight though, there was no time for their usual back and forth. 

"Oh, fancy seeing you here." 

He had no response, grabbing her by the wrist and dragging her to the nearest available room.

"Woah, hey, Vox what are you-" She tugged her wrist away, pulling him to face her. The silence was deafening when she finally saw his shattered face.

"Vox what happened?" She whispered, any playfulness in her eyes was gone immediately. This is what he'd been dreading.

"So are we going to fuck or what? Or am I not to your standards?" He threw up the air quotes at standards. 

He continued to glare down, a little amused to finally see shock pass over her features. Always so calm, even when her life's on the line, but this is what finally gets her to crack?

Vera stared hard at Vox hard, she bit her lip, obviously deep in thought. About what, Vox couldn't be sure, but it was making him nervous. He was starting to feel antsy until Vera grabbed him by the arm and started to drag him to the exit.

"Come on, keep up." She said as she kept pulling.

"What? Where are we going?" He stumbled along, the height difference was enough that being dragged by her made it difficult to move properly.

"My place, now come on." She had glanced back to gauge his reaction, but Vox had shut up at that. Following along like it was his job, a prominent look of confusion plastered on his face. 

The whole way to her building was silent, neither one saying a word, but her hand never left his. 

When they arrived Vox drank it all in. He really wasn't sure what he was expecting, but this looked more like an abandoned office building than a house. Windows were boarded up, trash littered the sidewalks, some homeless bum was asleep in the grass next to the place. 

"Welcome to the Palace of Mischief." She used her free hand to gesture towards the derelict building. 

Vox could only stare back, eye squinted in uncertainty. Vera giggled and pulled him up to the door. 

She pushed inside and the change felt dramatic. Dim lights illuminated the area, showing a space that seemed to have been decorated by an interior designer with severe decision paralysis. Statuary pieces littered the cabinets, floor, and desks, as well as a variety of plants. Near the entrance a Roman column stood by itself, taller than Vox, with an empty fish bowl at the top. A worn looking couch sat in the middle of the room with several mismatched quilts thrown atop it. 

Vera dragged him all the way inside and pushed him lightly on the couch, "Now you sit here, I'll be right back." Vox was still too shocked to speak, he couldn't even believe he was in her house to begin with. All he could do was nod dumbly and watch as she walked off to the kitchen area. He noticed all her little flames that usually circled her neck had scattered off in different directions. One flew off to hang around a rather tall grass-like plant, another flew off to nestle into the empty fish bowl, one even went to hang out near a bust of a rather severe looking man. 

"Make yourself comfy, I won't be long." Vera yelled from the kitchen. Vox looked at one of the throws next to him, he pulled it over on top of his thighs while still maintaining its folded integrity. He felt silly doing it, but everything felt silly right now. He continued to look around himself, the TV, he noted, wasn't Voxtech, Hell it wasn't even modern. There wasn't a single piece of Voxtech in the room at all, no wonder he had such a difficult time finding her, it's like she was living in the stone age. 

Her thighs came into view before him, he looked up, she had changed into something more casual and was holding two steaming mugs.

"What is all this?" He blurted out, feeling uncomfortable by the normalcy of everything. 

"This-" She nudged the mug into his hand, "is hot chocolate." She stated simply, he looked at the contents of the cups, small marshmallows danced around the top in the shape of stars.

Cute. He thought idly. 

"And this-" She gestured vaguely around her, "is a relax day. Now arms up." He did as she said, raising his hands and the mug above his head. Vera climbed on top, draping her legs on one side of his thigh with her back against the armrest of the couch. He lowered his arms back down, hands settling comfortably on her stomach. 

"Do you like movies?" He laughed, the incredulity of the situation finally catching up to him.

"Of course I like movies doll, I basically am one." He quirked a brow at her. 

She giggled, and it made him smile. Every time she laughed it made his heart stutter, especially.

"I guess that makes sense," she tapped her chin, "oh I have the perfect movie, one of my favorites." Vera picked up the remote, pressed a couple of buttons and the movie came to life on the screen. It was an older movie, black white, something he felt like he might've seen before, in a different lifetime.

"Does it hurt?" She whispered. Vox looked over, she looked concerned. Her fingers stretched out to delicately trace around his screen, careful not to mess with the shards.

"No, not anymore." He leaned into her touch. 

"What happened?" 

"I'd rather not talk about it." Vox grimaced at the memory. He didn't want to ruin the mood by talking about Valentino.

"I understand… but I am pretty sure I told you to get comfortable." 

"Wha- I am?" How else could he possibly get more comfortable, cozy house, pretty girl on his lap, what else was there?

Vera laughed and plucked the hat from his head. 

"Hey!" He yelped in surprise.

"How does this thing even work?" She asked, flipping the very thin garment back and forth.

"It's magnetic!" He snatched the hat back and threw it on the table. "Listen, I don't have a lot of options on headwear, you don't know how hard it is-" 

"Shhh, watch the movie." She pressed her finger against the right side of his face. He felt himself blush at the soft touch. It was stupid, they've had so much sex, like SO much sex, he should not be blushing at something so silly.

"But you just-" 

"SHHHHH."

Vox huffed and threw himself back against the cushion, a small grin tugging at his face. 

They sat in a comfortable silence as the movie played, sipping on their hot chocolates, laughing at the antics of the characters, especially when the leading man pushed his ex wife by the face. Vox laughed at the unexpected act startling Vera so much she almost spilled her drink. Eventually he felt Vera lean into him, head resting on his shoulder, he let his arm drift to her shoulder, fingers stroking the bare skin of her arm. 

He was at peace, Vox couldn't think of the last time he'd ever felt so comfortable before. There were no expectations, no demands, he could just sit here. Even with his screen broken, he felt okay. 

A subtle shift at his side made him look down, Vera's hair had fallen across her face, as she snoozed away quietly, her hot chocolate still resting in her hands. 

“A magnificence that comes out of your eyes, in your voice, in the way you stand there, in the way you walk, you’re lit from within. You’ve got fires banked down in you, hearth-fires and holocausts." The man in the movie professed his love to the leading lady.

But all Vox could do was stare down at the sleeping woman, admiring the way she breathed, the curve of her lips, her long lashes, his claws moved to brush the hair from off her face. He set his cup on the table and easily lifted her only to set her back down on the sofa. He took one of her many throws and laid it over her. 

He stood there staring for a couple beats longer, before leaving without another word.

His head was fuzzy, the whole event gave him whiplash. First Val's treatment and then Vera's, somehow it felt like they were both lying to him.

The first Voxtech security camera he saw he hopped into. He was heading directly back to his room, absolutely not wanting to deal with anyone.

As he zipped back to his penthouse he thought that even though he never fell asleep, even though she was in his sights the entire time, that she might have managed to steal something from him anyways, but he was too scared to admit to himself what exactly it was that she had stolen. 

[retro-with-a-twist]

So, I joined my first bang with @crack-in-the-chassis ! The road so far had been bumpy when I met @notreallyaroad, and yet, I couldn’t have gotten luckier. You’ve been an incredible partner and are an incredible writer, and I’m so, so incredibly thankful for you!

That being said, here’s the deal: I had pitched the idea of Dean getting the ending he deserved. Charlie had showed up in my asks box to let me know that he was my partner, and that he was apparently a “shit artist.” His words, not mine, for the record: I don’t believe him 😉 Anyway, he said he could do fanfic, and I was like HELL YEAH, because… well, duh. Fanfic is awesome.

Anyways, I had showed him this piece to get us started:

And he essentially turned the letter into a whole ass fic, which once the link is ready I will be adding it here. It’s a fantastic fic, but let me warn you: don’t forget the tissues. Anyways, we were both struggling on if we somehow wanted to resurrect Cas or not. So, naturally, as decisive people do, we decided we would do two endings, one where our angel is alive and the other where… you know. To save you from further rambling, and at the risk of spoiling the fic, here they are:

This is the one where Cas died:

Ans of course, there’s this one, where Cas lives- and which is in one of my favorite styles I’ve devised thus far:

So yeah! I’d like to think we cooked! At least, the fic did- I’ve been having art block and all the things this last month so it’s better I keep my opinions on my own art to myself 🤣

Anyways, please consider giving Charlie’s awesome fic a read- it really is so beautifully written and perfectly reflects every character included, especially Dean.

Thanks again for saddling with me, partner. Hope to work together again someday!

Xx

[afreakingdork]

Crush Too Much - Part 5

RotTMNT Donatello x GN!Reader

Warnings: Light Angst, Fluff, Embarrassment, Overbearing Siblings, Aged-up Turtles

Synopsis:  So you met a customer three times at work and that made a pretty big impression on you? That’s nothing to necessarily get worked up over, but when you’re all prepared to ask for his number the next time you see him and his brother gets involved instead, you might be in for something more than you bargained for.

FIRST 💜 PREVIOUS

Regretting your decision to opt for the less expensive pair weighed on your mind as you blew warm air into your gloved hands. Winter was in full swing, but neither the current nor impending cold of the evening had yet to freeze your warm spirits. To say the stars had aligned over your last three months would be an understatement. Though you had met up with him in a few fleeting times after work, Donnie and you now texted on a daily basis. They weren’t earth shattering conversations, but you felt confident enough to text him even if you were just bored. While he seemed borderline nocturnal, he was never one to ignore a message. He indulged you at your silliest and was there for you as much as he could be if you were stressed out. The fall semester finals had been particularly draining, but finding a care package left for you at work containing your favorite snacks and a library map on helpful books is the only time you'd almost been brought you to tears. He was never overly sweet, but he paid attention and that mattered just as much if not more.

Your hands warmed, you stuffed them into your pockets to retain the heat. Keeping your arms close to your body, you took a few lazy steps in a circle on the corner you were waiting at.

Your others friends had started to pick up on the way you stared at your phone. You were coy about it, but their cheeky smiles spoke volumes. Your ability to maneuver these goading situations had been greatly amplified by the time you had spent with Leo. In a far lower frequency than Donnie, you’d texted with the blue-themed man. He was far less interested in messages and more in the capers you executed. He often only began a digital conversation with the intent of planning the next outing. Since your first gallery crash, he’d successfully ushered you as his cohort into two other events thus far. They mostly revolved around him rubbing elbows, but he’d always sneak in that same question he’d been asking about your feelings.

Ruminating over the time you’d known the Hamatos made you realize you hadn’t spoken to Leo since your last outing. You shrank down into your coat as you remembered Leo last asking his question just as you were about to leave. You’d dropped the defining ‘like’ word to describe your feelings for Donnie before literally taking off. Had he been ignoring you because you could only admit it by essentially running away after?

“There you are.” Donnie’s voice drifted in from your left and all other concerns seemed to evaporate. You tried to keep the twinkle in your eye to a minimum as you rounded on a heel to greet him. He was, of course, dressed in his winter clothes and though you had seen them before, your heart still skipped a beat. It took a lot of will power to not play with the flaps of his trapper hat. You loved how they were just a winterized version of his goggles.

“Was I hard to spot?” It was one of the few times you were thankful for your mouth moving faster than your mind could keep up.

“Not at all.” He tipped his head to one side, his half-cocked smile stretching across his face. “At first glance with everyone bundled up you would think so, but every person carries themselves a little differently.”

“Vigilant as always.” You noted, rolling on the balls of your feet. He nodded languidly and from within your coats pockets you fumbled to locate a folded piece of paper. “I could spot you no matter how big the crowd though.”

“I would make a joke about my devilishly good looks, but I know exactly what you’re going to say.” He slumped at the missed opportunity.

“Purple?” You mused, pulling a hand out victorious.

“Purple.” He snapped back dryly. “Is that the pass? I can’t believe you actually printed it; so very archaic of you.”

“And just liked we discussed before, part of the email said you have to come with printed passes. Sure, there was also a QR code, but I didn't want to get it wrong.” You pouted and unfurled the paper.

“The fact that they have an inconsistency of that nature doesn’t reflect well on our plans for the evening.” He held out his hand and you passed him the form.

“Sure, the whole thing is really loose, but we also get to see a movie for free and before everyone else so…” You drew out the syllable goading him.

He rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth was upturned. “’Win, win.’”

“Exactly! Let’s go get in line!” You spun around and marched toward the theater with Donnie in tow.

“How many of these showings have you gone to?” He wondered.  

“This is my third one since I found out about it maybe… a year ago?”  You tilted your head trying to remember the first movie you’d seen this way.

“So you and a guest,” He gestured to the both of you. “See a movie for free in a showing set up by the studio’s distribution department in an attempt to garner word of mouth?”

“Yeah, pretty much.” You slowed as the theater’s bright lights loomed overhead.

Donnie made a small hum of frustration as he studying the passes he still held. “I keep looking for some sort of fine print or detail on the larger machinations of the principle. The logistics of the ploy just don’t seem like they’d play out in the movie’s favor.”

“Still thinking it over?” You giggled. “You worried about it so much over text, but you’re still here.”

“I want to see this film.” His head snapped to you with a deadly serious expression.

You bit your lip to keep more laughter from bubbling up. His staunch attitude was so cute. “I mean you know the catch…” As if on cue the two of you approached the sectioned off line where about 7 people were already queued.

“Ah yes, the nefarious ‘first come, first serve.’” Donnie narrowed his eyes as the two of you maneuvered your way behind the ropes. “In this weather it is an obvious ploy to weed out the weak. Those left standing will be the harsher critics.” It was as if an ancient duty had been placed on his shoulders.

“If we’re supposed to critique it more, wouldn’t that not help the whole ‘word of mouth’ thing?” You posed the question knowing it would frustrate him.

His lips pursed in annoyance and he glared at the paper as he reclined against the brick exterior of the theater. Behind him, you pressed a shoulder against the cold wall and listened as he listed off reasons the showing took place publicity to pre-screen runs. You wondered how long he had scoured the internet for research. You’d later pat yourself on the back with how good you were at multitasking. It took great still to simultaneously absorb all his information while both using the time as an excuse to appreciate the glory of him. Using a finger to draw in the air he made a poignant note about how seats in the theater is the optimal view were reserved for critics in an official capacity. You used the motion of warming your gloved hands yet again, but this time as a means to hide the adoring smile spread on your face. The texting was fine, but being able to watch him dispense large swaths of information wasn’t even a contest. You had it so bad.

“To sum it up, there’s just a frustrating lack of clarity.” Donnie groaned, pushing off the wall and taking a few steps in place to shake off the problem that had no real solution.

“That’s probably it.” Your speech adding heated moisture to your fingertips. “I bet they keep us in the dark so they can do whichever of those they want.”

“Make the terms vague so the signing party can’t protest them since they aren’t outlined…” Donnie nodded as he digested the information. “I’ll have to keep that in mind.”

“Who’s nefarious now?” You chuckled, now leaning your head against the brick and committing to the tilted angle your body was at.

“I never said that I wasn’t.” Donnie tilted his head and gave a nonchalant grin that caused that all familiar stomach flip you’d never get used to. He was far too lethal for his own ignorant good.

“Bad guys get ticket responsibility then.” You needed to switch gears so you nodded to the paper still in his hand.

He reviewed it lightly before folding it along the lines you had created earlier. “I’ll guard it with my life.”

“I wouldn’t go that far!” You joked, feigning to roll your eyes at the dramatics. A small silence fell and you watched Donnie shove the square into his own jacket pockets along with his hands. The cold wasn’t unbearable, but the next hour and a half standing in it would surely push your limits. You blinked before screwing your eyes shut. You had gotten so caught up in the sudden euphoria of meeting Donnie that you completely forgot your ulterior motive for the evening. You would have beaten yourself up further if it weren’t for the close proximity of your companion. You withheld a sigh and opened your eyes with renewed determination: you were going to use this time trapped in a line to finally figure out what on earth the man did for a living.

Going over the facts again, it wasn’t exactly as if he’d been dodging the question; you hadn’t asked him outright. You’d pieced together a few things. What he did, his brothers seemed to do also. He was an inventor. He’d sent photos of few minors mechanical objects he had been working on in what looked like a full blown lab setting. He’d mentioned fixing a myriad of things so he had technical ability across a tremendous amount of fields. His family seemed to consist of 2 dads, 3 blood brothers, an April O’Neil, and what seemed to be 3 separate Caseys. It all meant he had a seemingly unlimited amount of funds, schooling that outpaced his age by several decades, and the close confidence of a New York star reporter. None of those things seemed to add up to any specific career and it was driving you crazy.

Refreshed on the details, you prepared to address him. You weren’t sure if you were going to ask outright, but you at least had a solid time frame. In the time you’d been quiet, you were sure he’d already be scrolling his phone. It had never divided his focus before, but there was always a slim chance this could be the time it created some sort of conversational buffer. Sweeping your gaze to him, you jolted as he seemed to be watching you casually with his phone nowhere in sight. You shrank into the rim of your jacket and briefly wondered if he could read minds.

“How did the meeting with your academic advisor go?”

All those movies about having your breath taken away were all simultaneously right and wrong. There were correct in that it was something that could happen, but woefully mistaken when it came to the circumstances. You couldn’t believe he remembered something noted in a casual text almost two weeks ago. “It…” It took so much willpower to not physically wheeze. “It went good. I’m on track for graduation!”  

“Still not sure what you’ll do after?” He shifted his weight from one leg to the other. What had you done to receive such good karma?

“No, I’m still torn between masters or going straight into the work force.” You hiked your shoulders up because being tucked into your jacket was sort of cozy. “I could and should probably worry about it more, but the classes have gotten so advanced my focus just tends to be funneled into a day by day.”

He nodded in a way that seemed knowing and that’s when it occurred to you that your karma was twice what you’d even considered. He was laying out the ideal groundwork for your evening’s question. It was so perfect it felt like even meeting him initially had been leading up until now. “Y-you’d know right? Are you like a lab tech or something?” Served in a silver platter and yet you still stuttered. You imagined a picture of your face plastered under the definition of mortified.

He laughed brightly at the question. “Nothing of the like.”

You were now mentally making a list of eliminated possibilities. “Oh, then the lab is…?”

“It’s mine. I’ve had one since I was young.” He seemed amused. “I remember the first thing I ever repaired was papa’s remote. He was happy until he realized it controlled every electrical appliance in the house. You think he would have enjoyed the ease of being able to activate the stove for tea and turn on the fan with a single device, but one fire starts and suddenly your first creation is smashed into a million pieces!” The emotional charting from fond memories to trauma was a steep graph when it came to Donatello.

You balked. Was he some kind of comic book billionaire’s son genius? “Did you explain it to him?” The question seemed to fall out of your mouth.

Still at an emotional crest, Donnie seemed to freeze and then mull the matter over. “I suppose an argument could be made that I was just an innocent tot…”

“AKA you didn’t tell him.” You hide your mouth with a gloved hand to bite back a snicker.

“Look, you’re new to the subject of my delicate youth so I’ll give you some brevity, but let’s just say that trying to maneuver the confusing emotional landscape of being told that you are both not supposed to over explain a present while simultaneously being asked to create such isn’t a line that’s easy to maneuver.” He flatted his hand out in demonstration of the segment that had been drawn for him as a kid.

Considering you didn’t even know what he did for a living, asking about his childhood trauma didn’t seem like the best topic to pursue. If you ever did get that close though, you absolutely had a few choice words for whichever parent seemed to have starved Donnie emotionally. Until then, you’d skirt the topic. “Yeah, that’s a lot for a kid to process, but so is having their own lab?”

“I didn’t start out with a full-service lab.” He tipped his head as if that should have been an obvious fact. “I slowly built one up gathering materials from around the lair and expanded slowly to scrap yards and the like.”

You were torn between asking about the use of ‘lair’ again vs. the fact that he built what looked like a fortune 500 backed venture with his own two hands. Your mouth chose to land you somewhere in-between. “You must have grown up in a big place?”

He glanced away with a fond look. “You could say we grew into it.”

Now that one sounded purposely vague, but you weren’t about to give up. “Is it alright for you to be off tonight?”

“Sure, my brothers can pick up the slack once in awhile. If anything goes completely awry they can always contact me. It used to be we could barely be apart, but we’ve gotten more capable with age.” He scuffed the sole of his boot against the pavement.

How long had they been doing this? You were started to reach a breaking point, but just outright asking still seemed not quite right. “They say skill comes with experience.”        

He gave a dry huff of amusement. “I can say for a fact that isn’t the only way to garner it.”

Was he trying to lead you now? You feared getting lost in the hazy conversation. “Donnie, I-”

“How long would you say that we’ve known each other?” He asked, turning a curious eye up to the clouds.

You snapped your gaze to him to find him still looking skyward. He had not only taken control of the conversation, but had steered it away from where you had wanted it to go. It was like he was purposefully trying to keep you on your toes tonight. It was confusing. “Me?” You gaped.

“Yes, I have an idea of when I would date it back to, but I was curious where’d you place it.” He nodded to the sky as if it had given him some sort of answering before turning to gaze at your once again.

Your brow scrunched as you considered his point. Leo’s ongoing, albeit confusing, dialog  had Impressed upon you the importance of analyzing your feelings at each stage. A particular point of those earlier conversations had been when you’d finally gotten Donnie’s name so that seemed like the logical start point. “The night we got bao.”

He hummed lightly in agreeance. “That’s what I would say also.”

He got quiet again and your shoulders drooped as you waited for some sort of signal that he would continue. It left the two of you seemingly caught in a sort of staring contest, waiting for the other to make the first move. Your gaze was pulled downward as a twitching started around Donnie’s left shoulder. You tilted your head as you watched it spread down his arm. His right hand flew up to grab the appendage and in doing so his body tipped forward at the hips. You were finally just about to open your mouth when he sliced through the silence instead.

“Ah, this is awkward, right!? It’s awkward! You have to say it’s awkward!!” As if he had been holding himself back his arms and legs flailed away from his body.

“Huh?” Your voice was meek, but you were definitely gawking owl-eyed.  

“Thiiiiiis!” he dragged out the syllable in a long whine while pointing between the two of you so quickly you could only see a flurry of moment.

You wanted to respond, but only a weak wheeze of air came out of your lips.

“Annnnd I wasn’t supposed to say anything…” He growled with frustration and swung his body until he was gazing up once more. He pinched the bridge of his nose tightly.

“You weren’t supposed to?” You wondered, feeling so very lost.

“Exactly, I can’t keep this up so I’m just going to come clean.” He turned back towards you with his whole body hung with apologetic dangling. “While completely against my character, I know, I had some concerns regarding my personality.”

You would have done a double take if you weren’t already staring right at him.

“It’s easy to acknowledge that you’ve taken the charge in most aspects of our association and, for the record, I want to clarify that this wasn’t being tallied in a competition sense. Instead, after the initial examination of the poorly executed idea of the evening, not yours, the distribution company, I realized that it would be a poor sport of me to force you to make the conversation for the course of our tenure in line.” His arms were drooping down so low that they almost touched the ground.

You were frozen in astonishment. While you had been suffering under your own self-imposed burden, he had been doing the same to himself.

“So, I then came up with a list of talking points, but as I thought about the specifics of trying to force those into a conversation the whole thing just seemed stale.” He rose up incrementally giving a face of distaste. “So I…” He swallowed hard as if bile was rising in his throat. You watched as he straightened his back before buckling immediately under the stress of whatever he was trying to get out. “IendedupconsulltingAngeloonthematter.” He choked the sentence out as quickly as possible before a shiver ran its course through his whole body.  

“Mikey?” You peeped, trying to make some sound come out of your body. You were relatively familiar with the various nicknames Donnie had for his brothers, but he had spoken so fast you almost weren’t sure you’d caught the right one.

“Yes.” He retorted instantly in a heavily defeated tone. “He has this moronic doctor alter-ego that goes by many names, but always retains the same faux doctorate.”

The ridiculous nature of the statement broke through your frozen exterior and elicited a single dry chuckle from your body. “You each have your own quirks, huh?”

Donnie gave you an only mildly scandalized side glance before continuing. “In this particular session, I spoke with Dr. Friendship, who instructed me to put my phone away, pay attention, and focus on asking questions that don’t have to do with me.”

You snorted; that was even funnier. “But you do those things anyway.”

“So, I’ve been trying all evening to-" He went rigid in his otherwise continued explanation and shot you a suspicious though inquisitive stare. “What did you say?”

“I mean, minus the phone, you always pay attention and I’ve never felt not included.” It was so matter of fact your body bobbed with the point.

“You’re not just saying that?” His doubts were still prevalent.

“How many times have I lied to you?” You shot back your own question, finally getting a feel for the conversation again. Everything was falling back into line.

Donnie did some mental calculations before returning his attentions. “Based on what I know so far, everything seems on the up and up although there are claims I currently can’t verify…” He trailed off giving it once more turn in his mind before deciding. “At this present time I suppose I can say you have not.”  

“Then…?” You pressed, trying to get him to say it always meant he’d be more open to an idea.

“Then I worried over all of this for nothing?” He heaved a sigh, his eyes shut with lingering irritation.

“I mean it’s not nothing. It’s ok to worry.” You gave him a reassuring smile.

“Thank goodness!” His voice raised in a means to push out the rest of his frustrations. He followed it up by giving his body a small shake as if he was dislodging the residuals. Something occurred to him in the process that piqued his interest. “It was awkward though, right?”

“I don’t know if I would say awkward, more like… unnatural?” As you tried to put it into words you realized you might have misstep. “N-Not that I would expect you to act a certain way, obviously!”  

He seemed oblivious to your plight as he was caught up in his own scurrility. “Dr. Friendship may have capped the whole presentation off by stressing the importance of ‘being yourself.’” He rubbed his chin with his eyes closed. “This is why you don’t leave an important detail to closing arguments! I was already plotting my strategy by that point!”

You resisted the urge to point out that it made more sense to just wait to plan until an entire lecture was done, but it seemed like a moot point. “I’m glad that’s out of the way though. It was like I didn’t know how to talk to that not quite Donnie Donnie!”

“Exactly!” He pointed a finger towards you. “That’s what tipped me of! It was like you were trying to ask me something, but I wasn’t speaking as I normally would which meant you weren’t able to act like yourself either.” A smile finally graced his lips as all the pieces fell into place for him.

A hot flush warded off the time you’d spent in the cold because that wasn’t exactly right. He had been honest with you though, so it felt more than overdue for you to do the same. “Actually…”

You waited for him to come back from his thoughts and address you. “Go ahead.”

“I was trying to ask you something.” Your eyes dropped down, unable to hold the eye contact. Even Donnie had been able to manage that.

“Oh, is that so?” He added casually. It seemed like he was fine waiting for you to get up the courage.

With your head tipped down you thought maybe it was time to have a little outburst proclamation of your own. “I’ve been going crazy these last 3 months…” You brought your head up and fisted your gloved hands at your sides. “…trying to figure out what the heck it is that you and your brothers do?!”

“What we… do?” Donnie seemed taken aback.

“Yeah! You have a lab! All of you look like you have the muscle mass of gymnasts. You never seem to worry about money. You know a lot of powerful people, but at the same time it’s like no record of you even exists!” As the words tumbled you, you realized you had never tried to look him up, but you were too far gone in that respect. “You live with your family in what you keep calling a lair. Your hours are totally incomprehensible. I’ve heard other wild words thrown around like ‘topside’ and ‘patrol’ like that’s not a big deal! Plus, we haven’t addressed it and none of you are really hiding it, but are we like dancing around the fact that…” You leaned in close and raised a gloved hand like that you had a secret to share. Donnie blinked before lending you an ear. “…you’re mutants…?”

Donnie spit out a breath of air as a laugh took him. You jolted and he leaned back, holding a hand to his stomach. The line around you both had built up since you first queued and a few people looked at him. He wiped away a single tear from his eye before giving you a lopsided grin. “We do keep it on the down low, but we’ve found that over the years that confidence sells an image of normality. If we just act like we blend right in, we usually get less questions about the matter.”

“You laughed so hard…” You weren’t exactly slighted, but it had been weighing so heavily on your mind that the fact it was so hilarious to him seemed unfair.

“Sorry.” His grin could not be dampened. “It’s just a nice change of pace from someone that isn’t loudly talking about how gross we are. You, on the other hand, have been acting like it was a secret to guard?!” His light air tapered off as he heard the words coming out of his mouth. “Ah, no wait, I see now what you are saying…”

“I didn’t want to out you!” You knew it was childish, but your foot gave a little stomp. He turned away and you could tell he had done so to swallow another laugh. “Why you-!” You swatted at his closest arm lightly. “Now I’m the one who worried over nothing!”

He faced you again and held up a hand like a focus mitt. You gave it a few withheld punches before sighing. “Better?”

“Yes…” You grumbled.

“Good.” He nodded with accomplishment and then shifted into a prepared stance. “Let’s clear the air then. Ask away.”  

A puff of surprised air came out of your mouth. “What kind… are you? I can see the green, but it doesn’t seem like lizard…?”

He nodded his head in a way that said he was evaluating your inquiry. “Turtle.”

You resisted the urge to groan and instead pointed to his shoulders. “Then that’s...”

He turned his head to look at what your pointing and made an educated guess. “A shell? Why yes it is.”

At that you couldn’t help but tip your head back. It really seemed obvious. Coming back down from the stars you lifted a curious finger. “Do you mind if I…?”

He raised a brow and studied the digit. “Go ahead.” The response was affirmative, but tense so you were slow about reaching out and poking the finger into his chest. Under the softness of the coat, you could feel the harder plastron.

“I feel so dumb right now…” You flushed, pulling your finger back as you hadn’t meant to say that out loud. Peeking up at Donnie, you saw him biting his lip against more laughter.

He shook his head, but you could tell there was the slightest hitch to the movement. “As for what we do…” He began before folding his arms in a way that meant he was calculating the best description for it. “We… are the protectors of this city.”

“The…?” You started and stopped. The jokes about mafia and super heroes suddenly felt much less absurd. You were sure to lose sleep tonight.

“That may have been a bit dramatic.” Donnie gave a lighthearted sigh before a serious air drew around him. “Do you remember the invasion of New York?”

“I remember being on a cruise ship and then suddenly returning to a devastated city, like everyone else-” You were stating it like a natural fact until you realized Donnie wasn’t immediately commiserating like anyone else would. You could feel the color drain from your face. “Wh-what are you saying?”

He had a faraway look to him. “That my family…” He breathed deeply and then leaned in closer to you as you had to him earlier. His voice dropped down just for you to hear. “…saved the city.”

Since he leaned into your ear and gave you no time to react, you stared ahead. Your eyes grew large as many tidbits of conversation fell into place. You only realized you hadn’t blinked when the cold air started stinging your retinas. You screwed your eyes shut and sank down into your coat. What had you heard? There was always talk of colored vigilantes over the years, but never any concrete evidence that anyone took seriously. Donatello and his brothers, from your perspective, lived in the city without a care in the world. Donnie himself had just mentioned moving with confidence. “How many other times than that?” You asked the question to the ground before turning to look at him shell-shocked.

The gentle look on his face told you more times than he could mention. “That’s…”

“It’s what we do.”

“Incredible.”

His head moved back incrementally at the passion in your voice. It fanned his ego and he brought his chin up haughtily. “I appreciate the comment, citizen!”

You laughed, but caught the eye he peeked open down at you to gauge your reaction. He seemed satisfied, but you had one last major question. “So, where do you live?”

His shiny demeanor dulled ever so slightly. “Let me pose you a question first to get you into the right mindset.”

“Okay…?” You tilted your head curiously.

“Have you ever thought I stunk?” He watched you closely.

You would have laughed if it weren’t for the clear patient gaze he was giving you. You went from disbelief to utter confusion. “No…?”

An arm jutted out right in front of your face. “No?”

You looked between the appendage and him taking the cue that he obviously wanted you to smell his coat. You leaned forward and gave it a sniff and smelled nothing but the faint scent of fabric softener. “No.” You responded firmly. “And I’ve never thought about it before now so it’s safe to say that can go all the way back to when I first met you.”

“Sewers.” He said staunchly, returning his arm to his side.

“Sew-“ You began to parrot back before the word sunk in. You weren’t only colored incredulous, but dyed in it. “H-hold on-?” You raised your hands as if to stave off the confusion. You looked to him for a hint of comedy, but he watched you uninhibited look that hid nothing. You replayed his earlier mentions of the lair and shook your head. Donnie stayed silent and continued to stare expectantly. You turned the thought over a few more times and then looked at him with renewed determination. “But-”

The smallest wince passed over his features.

“You saved the world!?” As soon as the first word left your lips you caught how loud it was going to be and muffled the rest under your gloved hands.

Donnie’s brows shot up with surprise. You weren’t sure what he thought you were going to say, but what you did caught him off guard. His expression softened and one corner of his mouth turned up. “We’ve even saved Bro’s Pizza and we didn’t even get a discount.”

“Quality and no hand outs!” You grinned with dawning memory even if it had been shared with his brother.

Donnie shook his head like it was a simple annoying fact of the universe. Any lingering tautness to his muscles seemed to melt away. He turned as if he was going to say something else when a loud voice cut through the cold air.

“Alright, folks! We’re going to bring you back in just a few minutes here and if you have two people coming in on your pass then both parties better be here or they will not be admitted! Again, be ready, we’ll call you back in just a few minutes, all parties ready! We’ll be giving out wrist bands so I’d recommend getting one, your seat, and then you can feel free to move about the cabin! Thank you!!!”

Any other point disappeared as Donnie’s face scrunched up with distaste. “That was a joke, right?”

“Nope, that’s about what they say every time.” You couldn’t help, but smile.

“Scoff! It’s beyond sloppy!” He looked to you for reassurance, but found amusement instead. He rolled his eyes away from you and narrowed at where the person had just been standing. “I’m going to find them and have a choice word with them after the film.”

“You’re going to make it hard for me to decide which I want to watch more.” You giggled.

He swept a deadpan expression back to you. “Oh, you were coming whether you wanted to or not.”

“Well good thing I do!” You felt light again.

You attitude must have been infectious because Donnie seemed to brighten also. “From now on, we agree to just ask if we have questions, worries, or what not.”

It was less of a question and more of a statement, but the terms were perfectly agreeable. You still had a slew of burning questions about his hero title, but another attendant walked out to direct the line. You could spread the questions out; it meant you had text fodder for weeks to come and that alone was enough to speed up your heart rate. Why had you ever even worried about feeling cold in this weather when you had him by your side? “That sounds perfect, Donnie.”  

NEXT

[marshallpupfan]

Marshall Merchandise Update - Rescue Wheels Edition™

Slowly but surely, the Rescue Wheels merchandise has been popping up in stores here in the USA. Naturally, I've been keeping an eye out for them, so it's time to show off what I've found so far!

First off, I decided to put a background on my monitor again, just to spruce things up. I also attempted some better lighting by using a lamp instead of my camera's flash. Some pics still came out a bit iffy, so I apologize.

In any case, here's the first piece of Rescue Wheels merchandise I got! Nearly a whole month ago, in fact. I seen it listed on Amazon and figured why not go for it, since stores here in the USA were taking a long time to get them.

The vehicle, itself... it's not my favorite, I'll say that. It's just shaped a little too box-like, but the flame graphics are cool, even if they are just stickers. Strangely, the ladder water cannon on the back doesn't move at all. If anything, I do like the figurine. Not the best, but I still like it.

Next, the usual plush doll, which we always seem to get upon each new subseries or movie. They decided to go back to the old style, which is kind of a shame, since I liked what we got for The Mighty Movie and Jungle Pups better. It just looked cuter, imo. Ah well.

Now that's one cool-looking pup. Super cute! 😎

Next, a new "Pup Squad Racer" vehicle! With not-so-good lighting that I didn't notice until I upload these pics. I probably should've put it on something to get more of that background in the shot. Also, ignore the dust under the monitor... I forgot to get rid of that. 😅

As you can see, this is yet another one of those smaller vehicles. I'm fully convinced these are indeed meant to be replacements for those True Metal vehicles... which is perhaps for the best, since the last few we got were kind of cheap. These are a nice alternative.

Unlike the True Metal vehicles, the pup's head is a lot bigger, so it's a bit more detailed and nicer. I dare say it's pretty cute! And...

...Hey, wait a minute. Who's big tires are those? That doesn't look like Marshall's vehicle...

Wait...

Is it...?

BOOMER??

That's right! Boomer, the villain pup of Rescue Wheels, got his own figurine and vehicle! I'll admit, that's quite rare, since PAW Patrol villains rarely ever get merchandise of any kind. It's only happened a few times in the past.

If you remember that character spotlight post I made of Boomer, then you might also recall that I became quite a big fan of this pup after watching Rescue Wheels! Thus, when I heard he was getting his own toy, I knew I had to have it. Admittedly, I think his vehicle turned out a bit nicer than Marshall's. Don't tell anyone I said that.

His figurine's also nice, if you ask me. Even as a toy, this pup looks quite cool... and cute! I'll certainly have to add this somewhere to my Marshall collection. He'll go nicely next to Claw. Two of my favorite villains, hanging out. We just need this in the cartoon now! lol

Oh, by the way, if anyone's interested in one of these, know that they're exclusive to Walmart (at least, here in the USA). They also made one for Roxi, which I believe is exclusive to Target. Just an FYI.

But wait... that's not all! Even more surprising than the vehicle...

Boomer also got a plush doll! Wow, you really lucked out, Boomer! At this point, I'm hoping the kids asks their parents for these and his figurine & vehicle... that way, Spin Master will see him as popular and we'll see him again someday soon. Hey, let me dream. lol

That is also one cool-looking pup! Boomer! Boomer! Boomer!!! 😁

Alright, that's all for now. And a good thing, too... after all these purchases, my poor wallet is probably screaming at me again. Too bad I'll likely make one or two more soon, since Rescue Wheels got its own batch of mini-figurines in mystery boxes, of course. Sadly, Boomer didn't get included in that, else Marshall wouldn't be the only one I'd be tracking down. It's still crazy to see him get what he did though! Man, if only Claw got his own plush doll instead of Sweetie...

So... what's next? I wonder how much longer until we start to see merchandise of Air Rescue? Then again, the USA hasn't even aired Rescue Wheels yet, so no doubt it won't be until next year. Good... that gives my wallet plenty of time to recover. lol

[the-simple-creature]

My last "X eyes" theory, the big one.

I have made many theories (probably definitely too many) as to who/what this guy is and I suspect (know) it's getting annoying so I am just going to put every theory right here, including a couple new ones!

The format for each theory goes as such:

Theory

Small paragraph explaining it.

Each piece

of evedence

For it

-<(Break)

Each piece

of evedence

against it

Theory 1: This is CYN/The AS

Simple, it's CYN, the one that far too many people are saying is true. To clarify, this theory says it's JUST CYN, not the true form of the AS or anything like that, just good ol' mansion CYN.

It kinda looks like her.

CYN isn't in the poster

-

This character is being hidden and HEAVILY foreshadowed, we've already seen CYN

The hair is too small

CYN has never made those eyes

The drawings mostly come from Nori, whom had some form of precognition or just saw CYN's plan, which implies that this has not happened yet

Theory 2: This is an eldritch character.

This is probably my second least favorite one but it does have far more evidence supporting it.

V is "killed", which would supposedly give us Eldritch V

Hasn't happened yet

We don't know what all Eldritch characters look like, they might not all be jawless-holo-spooky-snake-crabs.

V isn't in the poster

-

Sentinels are (allegedly) designed to fight and kill DD's, which would include the eldritch form

Uzi says that if Alice killed V that she would get quote "a freaky worm", which implies that they ARE all jawless-holo-spooky-snake-crabs

Again, the hair

Again, the eyes

Theory 3: It's a new form of CYN/The AS

The second most likely one... with about two real problems.

Hair would fit

Eyes would fit

Technically hasn't happened yet

We have no idea what it could be

-

We have no idea what it could be

We better have a damn good reason as to why it's not possessed Uzi /hj

Lame as hell /j

Theory 4: It's possessed Uzi

The most likely one, probably the correct one. I don't actually mind this one, this one feels like the realistic pick. I found a lot more evidence against this than I thought I would but it wouldn't bother me if this was the correct one.

Hair is an almost exact match (see here)

Uzi is being possessed as we speak

Hasn't happened yet

-

CYN didn't get the X eyes when possessed, why would Uzi?

That's not what her hair normally looks like

She's already in the poster

The repeated use of the X eyes would suggest that they are a constant, Uzi (very briefly) flickered them once

Uzi's hair is A: longer and B: purple

The teeth

Theory 5: It's something completely new

My personal favorite one, mainly because I'm a simp for the SD-S theory.

Hasn't happened yet AND would explain why the picture on the left exists, that drone may have seen this character personally in cabin fever labs, thus explaining why a "normal" drone could draw it

Would provide more lore on Nori

The hair being similar to Uzi's could just be Nori's design/Nori made the hair for this character

Would kinda explain the 6-7 month wait

Could be a "experiment gone horribly wrong" type character, explaining the eyes

Could explain why and how the sentinels exist

Foreshadowing would HIT

-

I'm honestly just coping for the fact that it's probably CYN

The exact same problem as theory 3

"twₒ EPisₒdEs isN'T ENₒuGh TimE!" (It's valid, I'm just salty)

Conclusion

Most if not all of the evidence points to this at least being something we haven't seen yet. While most of the evidence could also just be ignored, the two theories that answer the most questions and have the most/best evidence are probably theories 4 and 5.

In conclusion: this is ether someone new or at least a new form of somebody, heavy foreshadowing to me means that this thing is going to have some sort of importance to the story that isn't just "yellow Uzi".

At the absolute BARE MINIMUM, this thing is going to have a unique personality or, well, perhaps a lack of one.

[inkpot909]

Noriaki Kakyoin Celebrating the Reader’s Birthday on Short Notice Headcanons

↳ Reader is written as gender neutral. Not-so-subtly implied that the reader is insecure. Headcanon events take place during the trip to Egypt (slight canon divergence?).

A/n: As of today, I’m officially 19! For the occasion, I couldn’t resist writing some fluff. Stardust Crusaders is easily my comfort part, and Kakyoin has always been a favorite character of mine. Hope you all have a pleasant read, and a lovely day. <3

Warning(s): None.

The way you had mentioned it so casually… it put a strain on the redhead’s heart.

During the early morning after arriving to Egypt, the group was sitting together for a quick breakfast. More than that, everyone was in surprisingly good spirits. There’s little to no doubt that the trip proved to be arduous, but each member shared some joy over crossing the border all in one piece. Even Jotaro seemed to be in a good mood.

The time away from Avdol felt like an eternity as well, and individually, the crusaders savored the time spent relaxing with the entire crew in their own way.

You were certainly no different, to Kakyoin’s own astute observation. Sitting between him and Polnareff, you eagerly included yourself to what was the current conversation.

Polnareff himself made a rather redundant, yet still laughable remark (Which always seemed to be good enough for him). A smile playing at your lips only grew, covering the sight with your palm. But the grin noticeably reached the creases of your eyes, undeniable to any onlookers.

Hmm… cute, Kakyoin had thought to himself.

Just a month ago, he wouldn’t have foreseen himself ever thinking that way towards anyone so seriously. Not out of any rejection towards romance, but out of a long-held assumption that close relationships, in general, weren’t meant for him.

He thought his eyes had been opened before leaving Japan, but the journey thus far has proven otherwise. For him to say he’s grown fond of you in particular would be an understatement.

That’s why your words floored him.

The conversation itself gravitated towards the nostalgic. Avdol expressed thankfulness to be with everyone again, to which Mr. Joestar and Polnareff voiced their own agreement. Mr. Joestar shared an anecdote from earlier on in the trip, lightheartedly taking a dig at Jotaro.

It warmed Kakyoin’s heart. Regardless of the rough times, there’s been as much good as there’s been bad. Sweet, quieter moments throughout the journey. Such as finally getting Jotaro to hum along to a tune in a car. Kakyoin finding various sets of earrings to purchase with you at his side. As well as the entire group taking turns arguing seemingly over nothing important just for the sake of it.

You lowered your hand from your face, eyes turning soft. In a tone Kakyoin had happily gotten used hearing, you said, “To have everyone here again… it’s the perfect present.”

Present…? Does that mean-

“What? Like it’s your birthday, or something?” Polnareff teased you with a giggle, beating Kakyoin to the punch.

Your cheeks and ears visibly flushed. Fingers playing with the rim of your cup, you momentarily peered down at the liquid resting inside. Everyone waited for a reply, but received none. Sheepishly, you shrugged instead.

Oh.

It’s clear you didn’t want it to be a big deal. “Really, guys, we have other things to worry about,” you insisted with a wave of your hand.

And no one could blame you for thinking that way. In fact, Kakyoin was positive he picked up on a tiny sigh of relief from the stoic teen sitting next to him.

Regardless, it dropped Kakyoin’s shoulders in an instant.

You always think that way- it’s always about the betterment of others and never yourself. In the time he’s spent with you, it’s become obvious you hate being a burden (Or what you perceive as being such). Shifting the conversation away from you whenever possible, and attempting downplay your inclusion in fights even to your own detriment. It’s gotten to the point where he, especially a person as confident as Kakyoin, knew you could benefit from thinking of your own needs more. From your perspective, it can never be about you, but you are what’s grown to be important to him,

And frankly, Kakyoin’s had enough of it.

The others were fast in giving you happy birthday wishes, and voicing that you should’ve spoken up about the date sooner. Kakyoin, on the other hand, stayed silent. His eyes never left you, though, a fact you grew keen to.

His quietness alerted you. Swallowed by your own mind, you lamented that you probably made things awkward. You didn’t want anything, really… except for maybe acknowledgment. But your words still hold true; today wouldn’t have felt the same without everyone beside one another.

Leaving breakfast, you were whisked away by an eager Polnareff. He went on and on about window-shopping with you. Like the older brother he truly is, he promised you could pick out something that catches your eye. Hesitant, but in no position to argue with a man practically dragging you down the street, you ended up disappearing alongside him.

Normally, Kakyoin would have half a mind to become a little jealous the Frenchman was soaking up your time, but that moment was an exception. Instead, he prioritized taking advantage of your absence.

Kakyoin is an over-thinker when it comes to gifts. Buying for his parents always calls for meticulous planning that has, from time to time, lasted weeks. And outside of that… he really has no real experience. That fact alone is enough to cause pressure to settle within him.

Even more second-guessing adds to the pile the more he tries to force ideas out of himself. How’d you even react…? You didn’t want to make it a big deal, but a present from people who care isn’t given out of obligation. It’s far deeper than that, at least to Kakyoin.

Even more than that, simply going out of his way to find or do something just for you… the palms of his hands began sweating the moment his mind was made up. Just thinking of the, albeit limited, possibilities he could instigate in your honor gets his heart racing.

He found himself inside a jewelry store first (Do they even like wearing jewelry?). Then, got embarrassed simply approaching a clothing store (What is their size? What kind of person would I look like asking them about something like that?). Next, he barely gave a floral shop a passing glance (I’m not a hack).

It’s not that Kakyoin had anything against those places or the types of gifts they can offer. It’s just… you deserve better. That much he’s clearly certain of.

If it weren’t for the situation, Kakyoin would’ve thought out his gift for you just as thoroughly as he would anyone else he cares for. In his mind, a gift is a reflection of how much someone knows another. And by now, he can’t imagine himself without you.

Even with limited time and options, he won’t settle. Despite dealing with stand users on the regular, this may as well have been the most stressed he’d grown in weeks. It has to be special. Something he’s positive you’d appreciate. Not exactly perfect, but at least personal.

That’s when it hit him.

Moving intently, pace quickened with a newfound purpose, he does his best rushing towards the hotel the group stayed at the night before. It took some rummaging around, but once he found what he was looking for, a genuine smile spread across his face.

Later in the day, Avdol was the first to arrive at an arranged meeting place. Mr. Joestar and Jotaro were off doing who-knows-what while the rest were tasked finding the crew a new vehicle to get them past another daunting desert.

Kakyoin was next to show, trying to ignore a tiny box sitting inside his pant pocket. He does his best to endure casual conversation, internally growing antsy. A knowing look from Avdol proved he was acting obvious, however, he was too wrapped up inside his head to truly notice. He’s thankful for his long student coat, keeping the box completely hidden for the time being.

A booming voice from behind the two signaled the arrival of you and Polnareff. The frenchman’s eyes were beaming, while you quietly carried a little bag in your hand.

Some light investigating revealed you picked out a new scarf fit for traversing through desert terrain. Polnareff seemed proud, and you sheepishly humored your friend.

Eager to get back on track, Avdol dragged Polnareff along with him towards a car seller. Kakyoin blocked out a passing glance Avdol sent him, yet was still silently thankful for the opportunity he granted him.

Expect a full-on speech. The kind of statements that were definitively thought out beforehand, but didn’t exactly play out as expected. It’s awkward, sweet… and very much so Kakyoin. As he talked, you knew full-well what he was getting at, but still gleefully let him go on:

“I know you didn’t want us to dwell on it… but I couldn’t help myself. I want to show you my appreciation for what we have… I feel it for everyone of course, umm… but I- you deserve it. Today is your day, even if we have other pressing needs to attend to. Regardless of not having much time, I wanted to give you something meaningful. So…”

Reaching inside his pocket, keenly aware of your watchful eye, he finally pulled out the tiny box from within. Almost a little too forcefully, he pushes the present into your grasp. He would’ve fussed over it, if it weren’t for your soft giggle that followed.

Opening it up, there’s a small set of stud earrings Kakyoin bought himself back from Singapore. They’re not too flashy, yet still beautiful in design. The stones themselves are native to the region, and weaved around them is golden wiring to keep it all in place.

You’d been with him when he bought them, cementing a tradition between the two of you to always share your findings throughout the trip. The message he wanted to portray became clear: He wants you to know your relationship is valued and important to him. It’s enough to prompt you to reflect on your perspective of it as well.

Just a moment after you opened the gift, he stuttered on about how you don’t have to love them. He even admitted to not knowing if your ears were pierced or not. But as one of his first friends, he felt he bought them at a pivotal moment for the two of you. It was the first time the both of you hung out just the two of you.

He started to ramble, something that easily widened your grin. Leaning forward, you halted his words by planting a soft kiss to his cheek and by assuring him that you love it.

After a moment, needing to process your action, he returned your pleasant expression. Along with that, he offered a sincere omission that he would buy you something even better next year.

Just minutes later, he helps you put them on. The smile on your face is infectious. To Kakyoin’s glee, he provided you genuine joy on your birthday.

To him, someone who’s grown to care about you so much, it means more than he could begin to express.

[hikaruchen]

Self-rec time! What are your favorite five artworks that you've made and why? After replying to this ask, feel free pass on to five other artists to spread the love. 💗

OMG thank you for thinking of me!!!! I love doing art throwback so much and it’s gonna be fun hehe >:3 The order below is sorted only by timeline and thus not a ranking, I love them all equally!

1. Fireflies | Detroit: Become Human Animatic (2018)

OK THIS IS REALLY ANCIENT. I remember it took me one month or so to finish the whole thing, and now looking back I inevitably find there’s a lot of things that could’ve been done better. Nevertheless I’m still proud of the way it is, though apparently I didn’t even know how to spell asleep back then hahahahaha.

I miss the time doing animatic so much and actually have an idea for alhtred in mind, my dear brain you truly shouldn’t brainstorm me when I’ve got no time urghhhhhhh

2. Bloody Valentine | Interview with the Vampire (2022)

This pic blew up on other platforms though I don’t really understand why. I think I just love the general vibes and am happy with how it came out so I put it here :)

3. Mr. Self Destruct | Trent Reznor from Nine Inch Nails (2022)

Took a massive change in direction of art style after this piece. Not necessarily the most detailed one I’ve done but I learned a lot during drawing it :D

4. Miracle Happens After Dawn | The Sandman Fancomic (2022)

This remains the work I’m proudest of so far and I just feel really happy that I managed to finish it!! It’s still the biggest project I’ve ever done I guess

5. Prayer from the Pagan | The Last Kingdom (2024)

This is the first time I tried to force myself to work on perspectives and to not avoid things I find hard to draw. Personally I don’t feel really content with how the artwork came out but I’m glad that I wrote a fic for it hahaha. I hardly ever wrote anything even in mandarin so to be able to make me complete a fic in my second language is enough a reason to put this one here <3

-

Hopefully to have more pieces that I can proudly say I love in the future :) Again thank you for having me!!!!

[chirpsythismorning]

You can't expect people to take you seriously if you're not providing any proof? If Will and El are twins and Joyce and Hopper are their bio parents, why don't any of them know about it and why haven't there been any hints about it? I'm not even trying to be rude here I just haven't seen any evidence. Let alone strong evidence

I've gotten a few confused asks about this theory and how it just doesn't make any sense..?

I'm not saying that I completely understand the ins and outs of how it works, in fact I'm still completely immersed in theorizing and not being certain of anything! Quite frankly, I don't understand it (how time works/the rules of the game), though I think that's necessary because otherwise everyone and their mother would have guessed this surprise by now if it was any more obvious than it already is.

I also just feel kind of bad about spoiling what could possibly be going down, especially bc this would clearly be a series long surprise.

I've been theorizing for months now with @shippingfangirl013 about this. It started with us sharing thoughts about Twelvegate and just sort of piecing together s4 lab scenes and then eventually going back to the beginning to see what we might have missed from this new lens, that being the possibility that Will is Twelve. And that's when we realized A LOT of stuff has been overlooked from the very beginning, which provides not only answers to certain questions we had, but also brings forth even more questions that we wouldn't have come up with, had we not looked back further into the details in the first place.

She has a bunch of posts that are severely underrated in regards to this whole theory, so I urge you all to check those out:

Twelvegate Theory: Drowning in the Quarry and Will & El (Part 1)

Twelve Actor Resemblance to Young Will Byers

Stranger Things S5 Conglomerate Twelvegate Theory (Part 1)

Conglomerate ST S5 Theory Parallels

Also be sure to keep an eye out because she has some really big brain analysis in the works that you dont want to miss. I can honestly say she plays a big role in why I feel fairly confident about this theory, because I myself didn't really believe it at first. But now, after everything I've seen, it's kind of hard not to.

Even if you don't like this the idea of this theory or just simply don't believe the evidence presented that you've seen thus far, at the very least looking at this could expand your ability to look further at other details on the show and even pick up on evidence of your own. I find that more often than not, knowing about the existence of certain overlooked details allows you to find even more overlooked details that others missed.

For the sake of your doubtful ask, and for anyone else who isn't even considering this theory because it seems too far fetched, I'm going to share some of my favorite unhinged evidence for whatever the hell gate we're calling this...

But first, here is some basic context for the chaos that follows.

Something important to note, is that we don't meet Hopper, El or the Byers the night that Will went missing. We only met Will and the party. Instead they saved the rest of the main character's introductions (his family, mind you) for the following day, after Will had gone missing. This also means they saved their introductions for AFTER the big power outage that happened that night right before he disappeared.

I find this interesting because this choice allowed them to make those introductions feel arguably 'starting point'/reset-like (like in a video game).

You'll also note there is a 'Pizza One' box in that first scene when the party is in Mike's basement playing their campaign, moments before that power outage. This could have been a hint that the very start of the pilot episode at the Wheelers may very well be the OG timeline, that we've been straying from ever since. And so let's say hypothetically, if we had met Hopper, El and the Byers BEFORE that power outage, whose to say their lives wouldn't have looked slightly different...?

The first time we are introduced to Hopper is in the scene directly after the opening credits, which was right after the scene of Will disappearing in the shed. Hopper is sleeping on the couch in his trailer, wearing both his daughter's blue bracelet and his watch. We also get 3 references to keys in this scene (a 2 ft long key decal in the literal opening shot). And if that's not enough, what follows is Hopper getting ready for work, putting a yellow pen in his pocket near a painting of an owl, before grabbing his keys and walking out the door.

The first time we are introduced to Joyce (the Byers), follows directly after the scene with Hopper, where Joyce just so happens to be looking everywhere for her keys, Where the hell are they?, followed by finding them on the couch, despite already looking there previously with no luck (interesting Hopper was sleeping on the couch with Willel symbols on his wrists only moments before this hmm). We then get a shot of Joyce showing concern over Will not eating breakfast, followed by scolding Jonathan for forgetting to wake Will up, adding I've told you this a thousand times, before she walks past an owl on the wall in the hallway and opens the door to another owl on the wall in Will's (unoccupied) room...

Let me just say, for the sake of this fictional family, I hope to god they haven't been through this thousands of times. Though I fear they might have. At least more than once...

There are a lot, A LOT of scenes that go down like this. As the show progresses, we get a lot of references to time passing and confusion and impatience and it almost feels like they themselves know deep down this isn't their first rodeo, and yet they're still playing along bc how exactly can one question their reality?.

The problem right now for me, is that I don't understand the rules of the game. How does time work? What even is the goal of the game (to win, I presume?)? Maybe Vecna's having to keep reseting the time loop, to get the results he wants, and over time he's getting closer and closer to the results he wants, but it will ultimately (predictably) lead to him failing once and for all in the final season, when all is inevitably revealed?

Hypothetically, if this is all some game/pocket universe Vecna has thrown our core characters into, essentially surrounding them with 'fakers', then how do we know what is/isn't real? Or I guess whether or not we're in a timeline/loop either closest to, or furthest away from the original timeline? That's why it's hard for me to go further in terms of definitively piecing everything together time wise. Not only that, but we also don't even know for sure what Vecna wants from Will and El, truly.

But I do think that a lot of the answers to the truth are hidden in plain sight.

If you're genuinely curious, I encourage you to rewatch the show for yourself to see if you can pick up on things! Be sure to keep an eye out for keys and owls in particular. Also, El's flashbacks of Mama/the rainbow room might prove to be important... like, literally slowing down and pausing and screenshooting every single frame level important...

Who knows, you might even stumble upon a completely different undiscovered theory in the process!

On that note, here is just a slice of my favorite evidence in regards to this theory, that will hopefully open your mind to the possibility:

When Hopper asks about Lonnie's whereabouts, Joyce insists TRUST ME HE HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH THIS. They made sure to keep the keys on the wall OUT of the frame in those shots referencing Lonnie by name specifically. However, when the conversation circles back to Will, and then follows after with Joyce telling Hopper to find her son, the keys are once again visible in both of their shots.

This scene right here is pretty epic. We all interpret Hopper's investigative skills throughout the series as him just being good at his job. But I would argue this scene in particular gives off very intense deja vu. It's as if Hopper knows where to look, because he's done this before. It's as if he's getting a gut feeling in certain areas that actually could be close to the truth, because this is his thousandth time doing this (Jesus, for their sake, I hope that's not the case).

Still, Hopper showcases a lot of unbelievable detective work throughout the show, and I think it could very well be hinting at him drifting in and out of awareness over the fact that he has done this before, which allows him to make such incredible guesses that lead him to the answer sooner than he would have in any normal situation (and yet, never too close...)

Has this always been here? That's what Hopper asks about a dent in the wall. We interpret it as maybe Hopper trying to figure out if this could be connected to Will's disappearance. But what if it's more than that? What if it hasn't always been there? What if this is a glitch in the matrix of sorts, and he noticed that glitch, bc this isn't his first time doing this? (Also peep the owl that shows up at the very last second in the shot directly below, with Joyce and Hopper in the frame, just as he gets the urge to check the backyard...)

This scene... This fucking scene ya'll. It just doesn't make any sense. This is one of several scenes throughout the show that have so many unanswered questions. I think it's because something else is going on that weren't not supposed to understand yet. That shot with Hopper encased in a rainbow is cool and probably means something... Hopper intensely walking into the frame as he steps towards the shed, with the upside down horseshoe above the door also probably means something...

Hopper literally walks up straight to where Will was in the shed the night previous, bc he's just that good of a detective. Yeah, okay... Suddenly the light overhead is blinking dramatically, only to switch off completely, which leads Hopper's eyes to catch this makeshift fort in the corner of the shed. Before he even gets a good look at what he's seeing, he's interrupted by Callahan, pulling him out of his deja vu state, followed by the light switching back on instantly, as if the occurrence was all in his head.

This also happens a lot, where our main characters are being interrupted by other characters, only seconds before they were close to solving something. And I just find that interesting...

This one is kind of peak comedy because, all it's doing on the surface is implying that Joyce and Hopper have a romantic history, but it also sneakily involves Will in the joke, as evidence that they have been intimate... The Chief and her, they've screwed before huh? ...WILL! That a 'yeah' or did they...

To be honest, I was really doubtful about Joyce and Hopper being El and Will's biological parents at first, even despite believing twelvegate and the possibility of them being twins. And this doubt mostly came from the scenes we get with Terry aka El's 'Mama'.

Initially, I had convinced myself it would be too sad, considering how much backstory we got about Terry. But @shippingfangirl013 made me realize that there is something very off about these scenes with Terry, that I think kind of went over all of our heads.

First of all, Mama is essentially the equivalent to the name Papa, and so we should start by unpacking that. Why didn't the writers have El distance herself from that exact association she links to Brenner, by just having her call Terry 'mom' like most kids call their mother? It doesn't seem that serious on the surface, but again this is a choice the writers made... Maybe it's because they wanted the audience to subconsciously associate those two with each other (Papa/Mama)? Also peep Jim giving Will Byers vibes, all lit up by the sun like Jesus (or I guess... God?) below!

The main thing I want to talk about though, is that despite Terry's vegetative state, she's still managing to give us hints about how she feels and what she thinks, with very subtle micro-expressions.

When she meets Hopper and Joyce in s1, Terry looks completely unsurprised. You could say she looks the same all of the time, because of her vegetative state, and while I mostly agree, there are some outliers in the mix.

When Joyce mentions El being her daughter, what we get is a reaction shot of Terry dramatically closing her eyes for an extended period of time, almost like she's experiencing frustration over them woefully misunderstanding the truth behind what's going on.

And I think that's kind of the whole point of the vegetative state here, that perhaps if Terry could say what she wanted to say, it would give away the truth that has been hidden all along, AKA Joyce and Hopper are El and Will's true parents. When Joyce then mentions her missing son, showing Terry a picture of him, this woman LITERALLY turns her head to the right, looking straight up annoyed... Why? Why would she do that unless this is her ?/? time meeting them, hearing this same old silly charade?..

But then here... THIS moment when Hopper asks about Brenner and Terry's relationship with him, that's when it gets interesting. Terry doesn't look exhausted over their ignorance anymore like she seemed to be in the moments previous. Now, she's back to her stare of nothing, and yet seeing this in contrast to her micro-expressions, almost adds a new layer to what this could possibly mean... Perhaps this could be hinting that Hopper is a lot closer to the truth than he realizes, warranting a knowing look from Terry, with her almost impressed, thinking Damn Jim, maybe you'll figure it out this time and I can finally be released from this hell...

This might seem like a reach to assume Brenner and Terry had any sort of relation beyond her being a lab volunteer, but something I think you might be interested in knowing, is that Terry has a little collection of Bonsai tree books beside her chair... Bonsai... does that remind you of anyone...? (If you check out those posts by @shippingfangirl013, you might know what i'm referring to...)

The fact that Hopper even mentions Brenner and Terry's presumed connection to him is just one other example of Hopper subconsciously picking up on things he discovered in previous loops that are close to the TRUE truth, allowing him to narrow things down quicker this time around, without needing to take all the steps to get to that point.

An owl behind both Joyce and Hopper here, while they talk about what allegedly happened to Terry and her daughter Jane.

And there you have it folks, the acknowledgment that the truth could have been covered up, the moment Hopper stands in front of the owl artwork (literally covering it up). Owls, which have been tied more than anyone else to Hopper, Joyce, Will and El (tying them together?).? Also the crib between them... Nothing to see here.

This one is pretty self explanatory. We even get a parallel to this in s4 with El AND Will, though next time they'll confirm Hopper's role in the equation. So, be ready for that...

These scenes are so important to this theory because despite them all being separated (who knows how many times now), they have this epic finale of coming together. We get these really heartfelt scenes with El and Joyce and Hopper, Will and El, and then Will and Joyce and Hopper, and it's all very emotional and just so much deeper knowing that the truth could be that they're all tied to each other more than we (or even them) realize.

11 & 12 between the two hands on the clock, in a moment that parallels X-Men and also the lab massacre (which presumably had both 11 and 12 in attendance...). Mike calling out to El emotionally the moment that Joyce and Hopper are reunited with Will. My heart can't take it!!!

Someone actually noticed this shot of Hopper recently, I can't remember who! But it made me want to go back to see what shot is right before it. And low and behold, it follows directly after a shot of the Byers family reuniting. Kind of interesting they made the choice to have this shot right afterwards, of Hopper sitting next to Ted (aka a dad), while looking lost in thought as he stressfully bites his nails, with his arm sporting his daughter's blue bracelet...

Not suspicious at all. That creepy shadow behind Owens as he makes an almost knowing comment about Joyce and Hopper being 'Mom and Pop', followed by Hopper looking like he's missing something...

And for this scene to follow shortly after? Hopper literally acknowledging Owens whose waving at him politely, and yet choosing to not wave back at him?... He KNOWS something is off, but he just can't quite put his finger on it...

As you probably know, most of the scenes with the birthday mug in Mike's basement involve either El (in s1) or Will (in s2-3), which is interesting considering the other few notable birthday references we get in the show, including this really cryptic sequence above, involve Joyce and Hopper...

Now, if you still didn't believe me about Terry's behavior being off, I think this piece of evidence might help support our claims a little bit more for you to consider. Because, why, WHY when El approaches Terry in the void and says I'm home, is Terry's response No..? Why would that even make any sense? Why would El's biological mom say No to her missing daughter implying that she is her family? Unless, she's not of course...?

Something interesting about the flashbacks that Terry shows El, is that they're very sporadic and hard to understand. Not only that, but we STILL get callbacks to these memories heavily even in s4, which tells me there is still something there that has yet to be picked up on, by both the audience and El herself, which is why they keep resurfacing in different forms. My favorite moment out of the s2 flashbacks though is probably this moment where it looks like a baby is born, only for Brenner to look back, like there's more to come (another baby?? TWINS?). But this type of twin imagery, only gets stronger in s3-4...

After 2 seasons of building up this meeting of these two characters who have been mirroring each other since the very beginning, here we are... Also, why even hold back for so long in introducing them? Maybe because them finally interacting properly is going to cause some things to resurface... And you definitely don't want to overlook these shots of Hopper and Joyce in Melvald's with two baby's in between them, followed by a shot of keys... Hmmmm.

Remember when I said to pay attention to the Terry/Lab flashbacks El experiences over the seasons?

Well this particular flashback below comes from 3x06: E Plurbius Unum aka the episode that was originally titled The Birthday, might prove to be important...

Jonathan and Will in a scene prior to El's flashback, has them situated interestingly between this Lucky Charms box and this Spill & Spell game, which is then followed by this scene with El experiencing flashbacks... And...

Rainbow? Lucky (Upside down horse shoe...) Enter flashback

I'm not going to be able to show each frame of this flashback, because in total there are over 30 different quick images shown and repeated...

And so, If you want to find out why this is the strongest piece of evidence for Willel twins in my opinion (brought to you by @shippingfangirl013's big brain), go back and rewatch to see how many times they show the image of baby El and young El in the rainbow room... Also take note of how shots of Kali (008) are interspersed consistently within this flashback, aka a character that is known for having powers to make people invisible, and to also make people see things that aren't actually happening...

Here's that parallel I mentioned earlier making a return, but instead tying El (and arguably Will) to Hopper being their biological father. Also peep El's bracelet and Will's watch being prominent in a lot of their shots together throughout s4, now that they share the screen a lot more.

The Wright Bros...

No, but seriously, Willel's bracelet and watch mirroring each other often in their scenes together, and by association also paralleling Hopper wearing one of each, dramatically showcased in his introduction to the series, can be something so personal to me...

THEY'RE TWINS YOUR HONOR!

This one really goes off. A car passes by a couple times during this flashback El has (IN S4), causing a shadow to cast behind Will, almost creating this duplicate-like effect... This is literally happening while El is having a flashback to her 'birth mother', while staring at a family (with their faces warn out/blurred) on a billboard, with an arrow pointing towards where Will, aka her twin, is standing to the right of her...

This one below has gotta be my favorite though. And it's because I literally remember watching this scene the first time and being confused?

Tbh, that's when you know something is more complex than it appears. Whenever something feels off within the context provided in the moment, it's probably because there's something deeper going on and there are multiple meanings at play. This means they're using this small moment as an opportunity to provide dual meaning in plain sight, that we wont understand the dual meaning of until later on down the line.

Are you ready..

Hmmm. I wonder what this could possibly be alluding to? Could it perhaps be the writers hinting at Hopper unintentionally projecting his own situation onto Dmitri? Is it possible who Hopper believes to be his child (daughter... son(s?)?) and his (ex)wife, are not actually who he and everyone thinks they are...?

Well. There you have it! These are just some of the many, many hints hiding in the details that point to the possibility of the Byers actually all being, Hoppers...?

For now, this is just a theory! So even though it's cool and there is a serious amount of evidence pointing to it, it will most definitely continue to transform and look different over time, the more we look deeper and discover more. Nothing is set in stone, for now it's all just theories and speculation.

Again, if you're curious about what else there is out there in regards to this theory and other possibilities surrounding it, please follow and check out @shippingfangirl013 posts! She was way more on board with this theory than me in the beginning and arguably still is, because I do still experience occasional doubt about it, for sure.! And so without her I would not have come to half of these conclusions! I look forward to you guys seeing other stuff she's discovered bc seriously... Her poor storage ya'll.

And also, if you're interested in the time-loop aspect specifically in regards to this, I encourage you to check out two recent posts I did about this. Part I actually starts with those first scenes introducing Hopper and the Byers and how other scenes later in the show parallel it. VERY VERY cool stuff, and tbh if you've made it this far, I think you'll be intrigued...

Time Loop Fuckery in Stranger Things Part I

Time Loop Fuckery in Stranger Things Part II