#so here’s an artists that is an expert at what you’re looking for :)

[sweetest-honeybee]

Don't beat yourself up! Honestly, it's fine if a commission takes a little long, the last thing I'd want is the person I commission to stress themselves over a piece and getting frustrated. In my opinion I rather wait as long as possible for something that had time and effort put into it then receive a product the artist didn't have a good time working on!

I really appreciate it! It’s not for everyone to wait and that’s alright but genuinely, a lot of my best work comes out of patience and enjoyment. I put in a LOT of effort and fun details and take my sweet time cleaning up the piece when I know I’m gonna enjoy taking all that time to do it

Like hell, how I did the entire second version of that piece of the one oc and Frank? I had so much fun doing it and adding details that were harder to notice and taking the time to throw on some more layers to make a creepy one and I hardly minded taking that extra time to do it because I was in the zone and having fun 😌

[too-much-tma-stuff]

Finally Getting Help (prt 7)

Masterpost

Danny was very happy to be dragged around by Damian being introduced to all of his pets, first outside to the barn to meet Bat Cow and his ducks, and the giant weird dragon creature which was so cute!! It was all over Danny too, obviously liked him. Danny had a feeling if he woke up from nightmares or couldn’t sleep he would end up finding his way back to the barn to cuddle up with these animals. At this time of year it would probably be a bit cold and night but the cold never really bothered him and Goliath was warm. 

Then back into the house to meet all of the pets, the dogs, and snakes, and Alfred the cat, and finally a second cat and her kittens. 

“This one is just a foster,” Damian said, sitting on the bed with his legs crossed in a half lotus as Danny sat on the floor next to the box the mama cat was in with her four little ones. Danny felt like he might cry, it was so cute! The mama was a little wary of him but he was easing her way into her trust and good graces.

“Mhm?” Danny sounded, he was listening but he was scared to move since the mama cat was sniffling his fingers.

“I found her while she was heavily pregnant, feral cats usually have kittens in spring, at this time of year they would have been too vulnerable outside. I’ll rehome them when they’re old enough,” Damian explained. “I was glad I got her to trust me enough that I could be present and make sure nothing went wrong while she had the babies.”

Danny held his breath as he tried to pet the cat. The quiet stretching between them until he felt ready to talk without scaring the cat. “Am I your next pregnant stray,” Danny joked.

Damian gave him a guarded look over. “... I have been told humans don’t like being compared to animals,” He said bluntly, and Danny laughed. 

“Ya most don’t. But you take very good care of your animals, when you’re making this comparison, I’m guessing what you’re trying to say is that you’ll do what you can do be here for me and make sure I have what I need for me and the babies to be healthy and safe?” Danny said, giving Damian a fond smile. 

“Yes,” Damian said stiffly. This was why he usually preferred animals, they could read his intentions and didn’t require him to say such embarrassingly vulnerable things. At least Danny was saying them for him so he just had to agree. 

Danny finished petting the cat and moved to sit next to Damian on the bed. “It’s okay Damian, I really appreciate that. I know handling these emotions can be hard, they feel too big for our bodies and they’re hard to express. I’ll let you in on a secret though, they’re more easy to express physically, and I’m not made of glass just because I’m pregnant. We should spar later.”

“Are you formally trained?” Damian asked stiffly. 

“My mother was an expert martial artist and she taught me, but I’m very strong too. I promise you won’t hurt me Damian,” He promised, bumping his shoulder against the kid’s and giving him a smile. 

“Alright, I will go easy on you.” Damian promised, just as stiffly.

“Until I prove you can’t afford to,” Danny joked and Damian scoffed and shoved Danny’s shoulder. “But really, thank you Damian. It means a lot that you and your family are willing to stick your necks out for me like this.” He sighed, if he didn’t know better he might have wished his parents had been the ones to protect and support him like this, but wishes were dangerous things.

“This family is made entirely of strays, tragedy is a prerequisite. You’ll fit right in,” Damian promised before getting up from the bed, apparently that was enough emotion. “Do you want to train now?” he asked looking back at Danny. 

“Sure, I assume this being the home of the bats and birds there’s some sort of training space?” Danny asked getting up from the bed. 

“Yes. This way,” Damian agreed and trotted out of the room with Danny on his heels, making sure to close the door behind him so none of the kittens could wander out. 

--------

Jason took off his helmet and dropped it on the couch with a sigh of relief before wandering back into the kitchen to grab a drink. So what if he was technically still too young for it? He’d done a lot worse just in the last 24 hours then half a glass of scotch. He had been off grid for a couple of days on a mission and had just gotten home. He was exhausted and half of him wanted to have his drink and go to bed, leaving his phone off for another day so he could get a proper rest. 

But he had responsibilities, both to his gang, his turf, and more recently even to his family, so he turned it back on and grimaced when more than a dozen notifications popped up in a row. Damn, something big must have happened while he was gone. Why could there never be just a quiet day around here?!

He opened the most recent message from Bruce that just said; ‘can you call me when you have the chance?’ which made him sigh. But at the same time, it wasn’t urgent, it was ‘when he had a chance’ not immediately or anger about him not answering sooner. So knowing that he scrolled back down to the oldest message so he could get a feel of what was going on.

Cas, 28 hours ago: New brother! 🤗

Oh, well that was a very good start to the context, it seemed that Bruce was in the process of adopting some other poor schmuck. Well, hopefully they’d do better by it then Jason had. And explained why Bruce wanted him to call, he always worried now how Jason would react to new siblings, as if he wasn’t well over that. He’d only been mad about Tim at first but he wasn’t even Really mad at Tim anymore! Ya he felt the urge to attack him regularly, but only the same way Jason did with everyone else in the family now.

Tim 22 hours ago: I’ve got a favour to ask, or maybe a tip for you depending on how much you want to kill someone right now. Vlad Masters brought a pregnant 16 year old to the gala last night. Apparently he’s the baby daddy. 

Oh that had Jason seeing green, his lips pulling back in a silent snarl. That man was good as dead, especially when Jason paused to google him and saw someone who must have been old enough to be the kids Father, if not even grandfather judging by the gray hair! 

Tim 19 hours ago: Don’t rush in! Turns out he’s got superpowers of the magical variety. You’re going to have to prepare for this one, and talk to Danny.

Danny must be the new kid then, the pregnant 16 year old Bruce was no doubt making quick steps to at least foster. Where were the kid’s parents in this? 

Tana 16 hours ago: Please make sure your wards are set up and you have that anti-possession charm we gave you. There is a situation still developing. 

Huh, well, good to know both that she was involved and what sort of powers they might be dealing with. 

Tim 8 hours ago: We have the parents in custody but didn’t have the resources to hold Masters. Danny and his sister are staying at the manor for now. You’ll like her, tough-as-nails red head.

Jason rolled his eyes, he dated one amazon and now everyone thinks the only people he’s into are tough ladies! He likes tough boys too god damn it! Why doesn’t no one get after Dickie about this?! (He knows they do.)

The last text from the family before Bruce’s was one from Damian, which was rare.

Damian: Hello Todd, you should know before you meet him that Danny has also previously died and come back. I believe you and he are quite similar and I do not know if that will mean you get along well or if you will repel one another. You should know that if you hurt him there will be consequences. 

Well wasn’t that just the cutest! Demon brat didn’t usually get attached to new people so soon.

He texted Bruce back: No I will Not call you. But I can be bribed to come for dinner tomorrow if Alfred makes lasagna. 

He checked the messages he had from his lieutenants about business and replied to the ones that needed it. Then the ones from his friends. He was just about to turn his phone off again when he got a text back from Bruce. 

Bruce: Done, we’ll see you tomorrow. I’m sorry Jay.

Well that was ominous. Jason sighed and turned off his phone, setting it down on the coffee table and heading to bed. He needed to fucking sleep. Whatever the hell Bruce was sorry for could wait until tomorrow.

--------

Bruce had asked Jasmine for a copy of her slideshow, and Tim for a copy of his notes and updated the files on Danny, Jasmin, Damian, and Jason. He always felt a bit odd about the files he had on his own children, but they were important! Both because his memory wasn’t infallible and he needed to remember all this, and because if he needed to tell someone about his children quickly it was good to have all that already typed out and ready.

Not he was just sitting at the Bat-Computer, staring at the cover picture of the slide show. All of them were so young, and all dead or irrevocably changed by the actions of adults around them. His goal, all their goals, had always been to make a safer world for children, and everyone but especially children. And every time he was confronted with the abject failure to protect a child it tore at his heart. If he found who had blocked them from contacting the JL he was going to have very strong words with them.

“You can’t save every child Master Bruce,” Alfred said making Bruce jump. He must have been staring at the computer for longer then he realized, to not notice the butler’s approach. “There are billions of people on the planet, you cannot catch every single one, especially the clever ones who hide it well. They’re responsible for the harm they cause, not you for not being able to stop it.”

They’d had this conversation before when Bruce got too hanged up on the people he’d failed. He knew that wallowing didn’t do any good, and depression got in the way of action, but he couldn’t always help it. As hyper-logical as he tried to be to compensate, he was still human, and seeing these things would always hurt.

“It’s not just Danny and Jazz,” Bruce said, rubbing his face. “It’s Jason too, I’m trying to figure out how… how what Jazz said about liminals and ghost changes how I feel about him. She says they can look like their immoral but it’s always amoral, following their obsession. I feel like I failed him that this is how he came back. And I blamed him so much, and put him down so much. She said their obsessions have to be supported, if they don’t indulge in their obsessions they die.

“No wonder he’s reacted so negatively every time I talked to him about this revenge quest, this thing that he’s doing. Now that I know I wonder if we can compromise, if we can’t then what? I don’t know if I can blame him at all for what he’s doing, but I know what he’s doing is wrong. I don’t know what to do Alfred.” Bruce said, rubbing his face hard.

“Well, it sounds to me you’re putting the cart before the horse Master Bruce. You haven’t even spoken to him about it yet, and you haven’t slept in more than 24 hours. Sleep, then talk to him, then you’ll know how worried to actually be,” Alfred advised.

“You’re right, as usual,” Bruce chuckled and got up, shutting down the bat computer. “What would I do without you,” He chuckled, patting Alfred’s shoulder affectionately. 

“I’m sure you’d be just fine,” Alfred said, in a tone that made it clear he was just being polite and a playful twinkle in his eyes that made Bruce laugh. 

“Thank you Alfie. Let’s all get some rest.”

Next

[mrsbuckybarnes1917]

← Smutlet masterlist

18+ Squirting

Bucky had been at it for hours. Taunting you. Teasing you. Tantalizing. Tormenting. His fingers, be it flesh or vibranium, tickled your skin with the tiniest of pressures. Enough to get your blood pumping. The pulps of his calloused digits pushed into your skin, kneading, fondling, massaging every inch of your body. He knew exactly how to read you, how to arouse you. From the feather light brushes against your abdomen to the deep pressure on your thighs.

“Look how beautiful you are.”

He hushed your pleading whines and kissed away your petulant pouts. He reassured you that he simply wanted to take his time. But his eyes told a different story. The determined glint in those beautiful blues told you that he had a plan. 

“Let me take care of you.”

The way he moved was exquisite, smooth, like fluid. Bucky’s ministrations were so distracting that you only realized he was undressing you when your tank top caught the tip of your nose. He apologized, nuzzling you, peppering kisses over the offended organ. He never failed to make you feel loved, even when he was planning on doing the dirtiest things to you.

“I love you like this.”

Exposed. Fully. Stripped bare of every thread that covered your form. That’s how he liked it. Bucky loved having access to each and every part of you. He worked on all your sensitive areas, intimately familiar with how your nipples responded to his touch. Under his attention, they had the ability to grow as tall as mountains and as hard as diamonds. He chuckled darkly as you writhed with pleasure beneath him.

"Just like that, Doll?"

You nodded, your mind lost in the moment. His lips left marks as worked on your skin. He was the artist and you were his canvas, ready to be molded to his pleasing. There were no limits to his abilities to draw out your beauty. 

“I will coax every gasp, every moan, every noise I can get out of you.”

He didn't waste time in making good on his assurances.  Bucky put his talented tongue to use, licking thick stripes over your folds. It left you crying out for more, only for him to oblige. His lips formed a circle around your clit, which he gave a warning lick before applying the perfect amount of pressure to make you scream. Bucky watched out of the top corners of his eyes as you arched your back and clutched at the bedsheets.

“I'm here. I'm right here. Hold onto me.”

Next he introduced you to his fingers, smooth and cold but once they were coated in your slick arousal, they slid in and out of your sheath with ease. Bucky felt you stretch as he pushed in and out, caressing your walls with his dark and golden digits. He was an expert in finding that special place where you were most sensitive and made the most of his talents. Brushing against you with the most erotic pace. His lips pressed against the top of your head.

“Wish I could fuck you right now. I want you to sit on my cock, be so deep inside you until you’re screaming for everyone to hear… ‘til you forget who you are and all you can think about is how good I make you feel. But that’s not the plan. I want to make you squirt all over my pants and ruin them.”

You gasped at his words. He let the pressure build within you at an agonizingly slow pace. Every movement elicited its own special sound from you, he played your body like an instrument to the tune of a symphony of his desires. Everyone of these notes rang with the melody of your pleasure.

“Are you going to give me what I want, Doll? Are you going to come for me?”

Bucky murmured as he continued to bring you closer to your climax. An old familiar feeling coiled inside of you, ready to be released at any moment. He pulled your hips into his lap, looking hungrily at your sex, like he could devour you right there. But he had a plan and he was going to follow through. He licked his flesh fingers and pressed them against your swollen nub. Rubbing perfect circles to drive you over the edge. You squeezed your eyes shut as your walls clenched around him. Waves of ecstasy rolling through your body. Back arched. Toes curled. Heart pounded. Bucky's plan came to fruition as your sweet juices poured out around his fingers.

“That's my girl. You did such a good job for me. Just look at this mess you've made. All for me.”

He smiled down at you, looking proud of his pretty princess. 

[clockys-soul]

Updated designs for these guys!

Here’s some Ideas/Headcanons I have for the tribes:

For all tribes:

-they don’t use any weapons outside of daggers maybe (bro you’re a quadrupedal creature, using a spear or sword or bow is not gonna work how you want it to, and you have claws and teeth plus fire or venom??? You have weapons built in bro) it just looks dumb to me, like what are you doing.

-Dragons Never stop growing like crocs

SkyWings:

-Most aggressive and bad tempered but not unfairly so, they don’t trust strangers and are much less friendly out of caution.

-prefer poultry and red meat, fish not so much, they also like to smoke their meat for special events.

-Hatchlings are capable of flying and breathing fire within a few months of their lives, quicker than most other tribes.

-their horns are the longest of any tribe and they take great pride in them, most (especially nobles) adorning them with jewelry.

-when on the ground they sometimes use their wings as extra arms, holding onto something for example.

-they are the best blacksmiths out of tribes, their craftsmanship is respected even amongst other tribes.

-they are almost completely fireproof, which is why they rely on their teeth and claws when fighting amongst themselves, their flames range is also the furthest and they can breathe fire the longest without stopping.

-Firescales have to touch another Skywing for a longer time to do damage.

-they have the best endurance when it comes to flying and they are also the fastest. They hold annual races.

-like birds of prey, they have insanely good eyes. They can see the furthest out of all tribes.

-during the before mentioned races they paint their wings with cool patterns just like they do during war, however the patterns are different, the Warpaint pattern is darker and rougher.

-their teeth are similar to that of medium to large theropods, they rely mostly on their fire an less on their bite as it’s a bit lower due to their longer necks.

-their eggs are white and long. Usually only laying one per clutch.

SeaWings:

-relatively sociable, suspicious at first but especially once they get to know you they act like they never had a problem with you in the first place.

-obviously they prefer fish but also crustaceans and other sea creatures, SeaWings living more up north, hunt seals.

-second strongest bite force, also their main weapon.

-very round scales and thick skin.

-Hatchlings need to stay underwater for the first few months of their lives as their lungs finish developing.

-Short but very curvy horns, their "whiskers" vary severely between individuals.

-their glowscales vary in size and sometimes even in quantity, I think they use them mostly region-wise (face, tail for example) and then by how often they flicker (like morse code maybe?).

-Most of their jewelry consists of seashells and pearls, but also of platinum and Gold.

-they are expert tattoo artists (just like sandwings) and they take pride in their underwater murals.

-their sails/frills also vary a lot, there are several variants, some more wavy.

-Seawing families living in colder water up north have developed a bit of blubber over the generations.

-they have pharyngeal jaws (like sharks), their teeth are also a bit more flat like most sharks.

-Medium to large in size. (Everything in the ocean is big so why not)

-their eggs are round, a bit reflective and darker shades. SeaWings may lay up to 5 eggs per clutch but usually ist between 2 and 3.

Sandwings:

-small to medium in size.

-amicable tribe, they often help dragons stranded in the desert.

-they have the second most fire resistant scales, while hotter fire and longer exposure will do eventually do damage getting blasted for a bit does nothing.

-they have keen senses, their sense of hearing and smell being the best.

-they can go without eating or drinking for weeks without issue.

-they have naturally warmer scales (like Skywings do).

-Sandwings love jewelry and accessories in general, they like decorating themselves with all kinds of stuff, like tattoos and piercings.

-Hatchlings hatch with more pronounced markings (like lion cubs), sometimes they stay that prominent even into adulthood.

-sandwing eggs are dark in color, Sandwings lay up to 2 in a clutch.

-sails are unique and every Sandwing looks different, they like to adorn them with piercings and other accessories.

-they also like to take sun naps, not nearly as long or often as Rainwings but they enjoy the sun.

-rely mostly on their barbs but also claws and teeth when fighting, less so fire.

Leafwings:

-Medium to large, (trees can get real big)

-eggs are long and pale. They may lay up to 3 eggs a clutch.

-omnivorous but mainly meat, fruits and vegetables are usually just a side dish or snack.

-their scales change to duller hues in during winter, patterns stay the same though.

-hatchlings are pale and only get more saturated if exposed to sun, like rainwings.

-they have lots of golden accessories along with colorful cloths and gemstones.

-leading tribe in toxicology, they know their plants and how to use em, and they love their spices.

-they have the second longest tail of all tribes and like Rainwings use them to hold onto branches when perched in Trees.

-while they are typically shades of Green or Brown/Orange, they may also have accents of all kinds of colors to varying degrees.

-they have Treehouses but also build stone temples, their Royal Palace is a rather large one with large gardens.

Silkwings:

-all silkwings have "fur" but some have less and some have more, typically it’s a line down their spine to their tail tip.

-they are omnivorous, mainly eating fruits and the like, but every now and then they will eat meat to balance out their diet.

-they have the shortest claws out of all tribes, which makes sewing and the like much easier for them, which it’s why it’s what most Silkwings do as a job.

-their wings patterns and shape is their most unique feature, they are also relatively quiet during flight.

-while Silkwings are typically very colorful they may have black accents (almost every butterfly has black so how tf are the butterfly dragons not gonna have some)

-they have the weakest biteforce, and rather weak claws, they are naturally pacifists.

-Silkwings have long thin tongues, cuz why not.

-it’s common for Silkwings to braid and generally style their hair, adding cuffs and other things like hair clips.

-they also have relatively weak scales, they’re a rather weak tribe, but flamesilks are about as fire resistant as Sandwings.

-eggs are small and round, per clutch it’s usually 3-4.

Rainwings:

-laziness is not normal, before the main story Rainwings were much more active and kept track of their eggs

-eggs are round and small, very similar to snake eggs, 2 max per clutch.

-Rainwings are the second smallest tribe.

-their frills are essentially and extension of their ears.

-they require meat at least 3-4 times a week.

-only tribe, aside from Hivewings, to have fangs.

-their jewelry consists of flowers, gemstones and feathers mainly, but cloth is also often used.

-longest tail out of all tribes, parents sometimes carry hatchlings with them.

-shorter horns, usually curvy.

-scales get duller with age, and elder ones change scale color less.

-very curved claws to help em climb, also useful when hunting.

-Short wings like harpy eagles so flying through trees is easier.

-eyecolor cannot change neither can the horns nor claws or mouth.

-the older the individual the duller the scale color.

Mudwings:

-largest tribe, also strongest tribe.

-due to needing to have a higher body temp to be able to breathe fire, they rely on teeth, claws and overall strength.

-strongest bite force, one bite can amputate a leg with ease.

-they may have different variants of tusks, male typically have larger ones.

-slowest flyers, the prefer the ground.

-Fire is more magma like, more liquidity.

-the usually have 2 sets of horns, 1 large and 1 small.

-eggs are large and typically tan to dark brown with spots, 6 eggs per clutch sometimes even 8.

-younger individuals are typically kinder, and more likely to help.

-they have shorter but incredibly strong tails.

-wings are more round in shape, and are used as extra legs sometimes.

-require a lot of meat, all different kinds, prefer red.

-jewelry usually consists of different kinds of metals and such, imbedded with gemstones and old tusks.

-mudwings love play-fighting and sparring and will do so often with their siblings, very good fighters.

Nightwings:

-strong bite, maybe 3rd strongest.

-more nocturnal, but are perfectly functional during the day.

-their flames have tints of different colors, unique to every individual.

-some have more star scales than others, depending on how starry the night was when they hatched.

-strong sense of smell and very good eyesight.

-veils, and a bunch of jewelry imbedded with gems and crystals, they like their silver and gold.

-eggs are oval and black with hints of different colors.

-their wings have accents of different colors at the edges or in the middle, usually the brightest part of their body.

-Fire is very Smokey, their range isn’t that far either but it’s the second hottest fire.

-typically only 1 egg per clutch, 2 is rare.

-Mindreaders will have one teardrop scale for each moon they were born under, so all 3 would be 6.

-Prophets will have one starscale on their forehead for each moon they were born under, all 3 would be 3.

-padded feet like t-rex makes them quite even on the ground.

Icewings:

-blood varies from violet to more turquoise on the spectrum.

-claws are long and curved for extras grip but instead of be serrated, it’s their feet that are.

-the older the individual the more spines the will have.

-prefer to eat fish, but often eat red meat as well.

-eggs are long and white. Typically 1-2 per clutch.

-furs, silver and platinum are often seen, but royals will wear gold.

-teeth are long and thin, very similar to orcas.

-spines start growing along the horns as well, making them look similar to antlers.

-they are almost completely frostproof, as in, they cannot be hurt by frostbreath, or hypothermia.

-Frostscales are a thing, essentially the same as Firescales but frosty.

-about as trusting as Skywings, they are not particularly respectful either until you earn their respect.

-Medium to large in size, they grow incredibly large.

Hivewings:

-venom is more similar to Sandwing venom, and all of them have fangs and a barb, the strength of the venom varies though.

-most agile flyers, maybe even second in speed.

-teeth are thin and needle-like, the rely on their venom to weaken their opponents.

-piercings and warm colored Jewelry are a must, usually imbedded with ambers and other similar stones.

-loud during flight.

-blood is dark, almost black.

-eggs are oval and black, typically 1-2 eggs per clutch.

-very curved claws, good for holding onto things, for climbing too.

I may add some more as I come up with it!

[hanihaato]

a/n: jealousy themes, yandere sunday x reader, mentions of abduction, incapacitation, drabble

Your artistic silence is broken with a snap of fingers and a question.

“Now, who is that man?”

Before the vision disappears, you have a split second to admire your efforts. Your skills have improved over the last three hours where Sunday had left your dreamscape to attend to some urgent and questionable matters.

This time, you have delved into the concept of imaginary creations that followed your newfound belief that even in this kind of twisted dream, deliberately manipulated by Sunday, you could still treat it like… a dream.

Do wonders. Keep yourself occupied to take care of your sanity.

The man you’ve created doesn’t have a name as you don’t recognize him. Maybe he was your own creation, or maybe he was one of the countless tourists at Reverie Hotel whose face you’ve been fortunate to remember. He would have made for a much more entertaining company than Sunday is, especially as he presses his lips into a thin line and looks disappointed in you.

“A secret boyfriend. We were planning to elope tonight, before you…” The story cuts short, as Sunday closes his eyes and sighs heavily, as if dealing with a troublesome kid. You take the warning and end your joke here, but because you know you have the privilege to as his beloved, you pout at him. “Alright. I was bored. Happy now? I thought you said I can do whatever I want here. Well, you keep calling it my dreamscape, after all.”

Sunday sits you down on a sofa that materializes within a blink of an eye. It’s another reminder you’re not in Penacony; there, nothing like that could happen, as it’s a dream with rules you are bound to obey. But at least there, you could understand its mechanism as it was created to mimic the real world.

‘Your’ dreamscape was solely ruled by Sunday’s whims.

You fall on a stack of heavenly puffy cushions, with his arm draped around your waist.

“Dearest. It’s our dream. This fantasy wouldn’t exist without any of us,” Sunday promptly corrects you and smiles gently at your irate gaze. “Believe me, I wholeheartedly would love to give you a fair share of power over this place, but it would be a bit dangerous to someone not practised in lucid dreaming.”

If you didn’t exceed his tolerance for defiance for today, you would have hit him with one of the pillows. Instead, you sink yourself deeper into them.

“Alright, then… What do I have to do to be classified as experienced? As far as I am aware, spending a whole three months in a dream should have made me an expert.”

“That’s a lovely conclusion. But does spending time in a library make you able to get a degree in every subject that’s written in the books?”

The question silences you. The break is long enough for Sunday to design your surroundings: a coffee table that matches the times, a porcelain tea set with golden details and some infusion with fascinating taste. They go with a tray of cookies and little sandwiches, as well as a bowl of fruits and nuts that would taste better if they were real.

However, you have to do with what you have on your hands.

You bite into a biscuit. “Then, what should I do? To be adept enough, that is.”

“There are many other requirements…” He falls into a reverie, and just as you think he closes the topic—you’ve been willing to give it up at this point, solely for the quiet to continue—Sunday speaks again. “If you can wake up on your own or overwrite any of the aspects of this dream, for example, gravity, I will consider giving you a little more power here.”

So, he’s asking you for the impossible.

“…I won’t be wiping myself out only for you to ‘consider’.”

Sunday takes a sip of tea. The porcelain can’t hide a tenderish smile, but the unexplainable gleam in his eyes is exposed.

“There is always a shortcut.”

“That doesn’t, um, doom me for eternity?”

“Yes. If I have a say in this, it’s a very delightful one.” And after the next sentence, you know why he’s so engaged in this discussion. “Marrying me.”

…

Sighing, you cross your arms and shake off Sunday’s arm from your shoulder. “I thought you hated liars.”

“Which part of what I said do you consider a lie?”

You ignore him and get up from the sofa, heading towards the big door. Sunday might have changed the look of the place, but the layout always remains the same. Behind that door, you will find a short hall that leads to several other rooms that don’t have Sunday in them and so are preferred.

“I don’t want to talk (to you) anymore, sorry,” you mutter out the apology just to defend yourself if Sunday was going to accuse you of being rude. “I am going to daydream—dreamdream?—about, I guess, men, if I can’t have anyone here. Goodbye.”

You reach for the pair of doors and find them uncharacteristically too heavy. You try to open the door, but just then a big silver chain crosses over their handles, a small lock appears, but you don’t have time to notice the details as you find yourself staring into a plain wall.

“Now, no need to rush,” Sunday purrs, and you turn around to see your beloved doors behind his back. “Would you like to play a round or two with me? I think we could have a wonderful conversation about how to pry the imaginary door locks and who are the people you’ve been thinking about so much.” He smiles. “All with names and examples. There shouldn’t be any secrets between us, isn’t that so?”

[feyascorner]

11 | The Fangs Between Us

summary. In his honest opinion, the artist who drew your portrait should be fired, even if he’s no expert in the arts. Your softer features are far too sharp, and your sharper features are far too soft, in what he supposes is an effort to ‘enhance’ your appearance, but now it just looks plain uncanny. They also forgot to take into account the scars of battle on your skin, a part of your hair that he remembers sticking out more, the sheepishness of your smile looking straight at the painter, the two puncture wounds on your neck…

Ah. He wonders if you still have those. The last time he saw them, they’d nearly faded. And nowadays, you make it a point to keep your neck tucked under your collar, which leaves everything to his imagination.

warnings. angst, comfort, slow burn, reader is a bard

pairing. Astarion x GN!Reader

parts. TFBU masterlist

a/n. it's been a while! this isn't the longest of chapter but it's to kick my creative juices back into gear :) thank you sm for your patience friends <3

He knows he hasn’t returned your cloak yet. Unfortunately for you, Astarion has taken a special liking to the dull fabric.

Despite its dreary grey shade and the tears from being worn relentlessly, it’s of surprisingly good quality. It’s the only reason it's survived this long, he reasons, and also why the sun can never pierce through its sewing job and burn into his own skin.

When he felt the tadpole leave him, he thought he would never see the sunlit streets of Baldur’s Gate again. But this cloak of yours has brought him a new sense of freedom he hadn’t had before—free of Cazador, free of an unwelcome visitor in his skull, free of the looming fear of death…and most importantly, free of his fear of the sun.

Being “stuck” in your home has given him too much time. Too much aimless staring at a book he’s already read four times over. Moreover, the others have become somewhat accustomed to his presence again…meaning some (Gale, specifically) don’t mind leaving Astarion by himself. And as much as he hates admitting it, Astarion would rather Gale’s incessant lectures rather than the boring silence you leave behind at the break of dawn.

An outing or two couldn’t hurt, surely.

So he embarks. Where to, he doesn’t know. But he leaves the house, making sure to lock the door behind him when he remembers how Shadowheart had scolded you for the mistake of not doing so. It’s not that he’s afraid of the cleric, of course. He’s a damn vampire, for heaven’s sake. He’s only being cautious.

The cloak makes it feel as if he were in an oven, especially with the weather becoming more sunny by the day, but he can’t bring himself to care. Not when he’s finally standing in the middle of a bustling street, staring unblinkingly while others rush past him, all seemingly having a place to be. A newspaper boy here, a maid there, a circus performer somewhere there. He suddenly feels surrounded by too much life, and it’s not much help when he begins noticing fleeting glances in his direction. Wearing a thick winter cloak in the middle of the summer isn’t exactly common, after all.

“Baldur’s Mouth? They just started printing papers again, if you’d like a peek.”

Astarion glances down at the newspaper boy with squinted eyes, and his voice sounds snarkier than intended—not that he cares. “Who in the hells would pay two silvers for a newspaper that sucked up to Gortash just a few months ago? Does anyone really pay for this abomination?”

The boy frowns, crossing his arms. “If you didn’t want one, you could’ve just said so.”

“Really? Your incessant yelling around the market says otherwise,” Astarion snatches one of the papers, much to the boy’s distaste. He eyes the front cover for a split moment before realizing the very front page has a supposed ‘Exclusive Interview from the Hero of Baldur’s Gate! Never seen before!’

He finds himself reading.

“Mister, if you’re going to read, you have to pay!”

Though Astarion gives him a sharp glare that has the boy swallowing the lump in his throat, he relents, tossing one silver coin in his direction. Not without a click of his tongue, however, and the coin lands in the boy’s palms with a plop. “It’s two silvers.”

“I’m fully aware, don’t worry.”

The Baldur’s Mouth is full of cheap stories, surely paid off by its snotty writer as always, but Astarion acknowledges improvement where it’s due. Gortash’s death must’ve struck some sort of moral chord in the newspaper because a few of its columns are filled with mundane updates on the rebuilding of the city, even if they don’t provide as much entertainment as it surely could’ve if they stretched a few truths. He doesn’t read much into them, though, because he’s soon found himself a corner in Elfsong Tavern where he’s practically boring holes into the damn paper. The cover, specifically.

In his honest opinion, the artist who drew your portrait should be fired, even if he’s no expert in the arts. Your softer features are far too sharp, and your sharper features are far too soft, in what he supposes is an effort to ‘enhance’ your appearance, but now it just looks plain uncanny. They also forgot to take into account the scars of battle on your skin, a part of your hair that he remembers sticking out more, the sheepishness of your smile looking straight at the painter, the two puncture wounds on your neck…

Ah. He wonders if you still have those. The last time he saw them, they’d nearly faded. And nowadays, you make it a point to keep your neck tucked under your collar, which leaves everything to his imagination.

He wonders if you’re ashamed of them as he’s ashamed of the ones on his own neck.

Astarion tears his attention away from your portrait and resumes reading the actual paper.

The questions the interviewer asks are laughable, almost. They’re painfully boring or painfully intrusive, with nothing in between, resulting in awkward short answers or whatever filler the writer put in place of your answer. Half your words, at the very least, must’ve been altered, as they don’t sound much like you.

One question catches his eye.

‘So what does the hero of Baldur’s Gate plan to do after the city is rebuilt?’

Astarion lifts the paper closer to his face.

‘’This city is my home…but I don’t think I could stay here any longer than I have to. I’ve made some precious memories here, but I’ve also made ones that I’d rather move on from. People I want to move on from. For that reason, as much as I love this city, I’d have to embark for elsewhere.’’

His eyes widen. You’re leaving? When the hells did you decide that? 

‘Truly a sad day for the citizens to see their beloved bard leaving. Knowing our readers must be curious as to what their next step is, we made sure to discuss more on this matter.’

‘’Where will I go? I mean…I guess I’d just wander. Explore. Faerun is a vast continent. I’m sure I’ll have plenty to do. Plenty of people to meet.’’

Astarion’s gaze reaches the end of the page. The rest of the sentences babble on in flowery language praising you, which he doesn’t even bother reading before shoving the newspaper into one of the pockets of your cloak. He’s not sure if he would’ve preferred simply not reading the damn paper, but he tells himself that this is an improvement. A reason for celebration, even! Without you, he won’t have to tiptoe around the city any longer, nor will you need to worry about having to continue a months-long argument with him.

This is exactly what the two of you need. Space. For a while. Maybe forever. He stares at the beer stains on the table. Forever sounds like a long time, even if it’s only a few years to him and the rest of your life to you.

Forever sounds too long, yet not long enough.

He’s always wanted to be immortal. Even before he’d grown fangs and his eyes turned red. Sure, the path he took to get here…left a lot to be desired, but with Cazador gone, he supposes it’s not so bad, being a vampire—-besides the whole ‘not-being-able-to-see-the-sun’ fiasco. Sure, he has nightmares every other night about his time spent under his master, but without him, he’s essentially invincible as long as he doesn’t find a cleric who specializes in radiant magic. Sure, wine tastes like vinegar. Sure, he has to wear this suffocating cloak everywhere, but is it really so bad?

He sighs. It could be worse. He could be dead, for all he knows. Actually, dead.

Astarion stands to leave. This damn tavern is even more suffocating than his cloak, especially filled with patrons already half passed out from booze before noon. There’s a reason why he’s always preferred wine over whatever’s filling their cups.

He paces toward the door, but just as he’s halfway there, it swings open. And much to his horror stands a familiar cleric who nearly chucked a fork into his eye just this morning.

“Shadowheart,” the bartender smiles, ceasing his hand midway, polishing a cup. “What brings you here this morning?”

She certainly won’t miss her mark this time if she sees him out in public.

Astarion immediately turns on his heel and heads for the stairs. He practically shoves through multiple patrons in the process, but he manages to get there just as Shadowheart joins Alan at the bar, her arms looped around two large fabric bags as she greets him. They’re just within earshot, even as the spawn scrambles to get upstairs. “Just picking up our attire for the celebration and your tavern was on the way back. My friends and I do apologize for our inconsistent appearances…”

He doesn’t wait to hear the rest of their conversation because he’s already trying the doors to each of the rooms to figure another way out of the building. Most doors are locked shut, but there’s one he tries that slides right open.

Much to his distaste, it’s occupied.

He slams the door back shut just as the woman shrieks.

He peeks out the window. He could jump down, technically, but there are far too many people on the street in broad daylight to go unnoticed. And if there were to be a commotion, no doubt the damn cleric would come rushing out, thinking it’s another attack. So, instead of returning downstairs, he opts for the ladder leading to the rooftop, higher up into the building.

The warm air of the summer breeze hits him like an axe to the face.

Still, he climbs out, grateful to even managed to have escaped the same room as Shadowheart. Thank the heavens. And for a moment, he thinks he’s alone, until there’s another shrill voice rushing at him.

“There you are, Tav! I’ve waited days to see you here agai—" the tiefling stops, her smile dropping. "You’re not Tav.”

Way to state the obvious.

Clearly, he wants to spit back. But he’s too occupied trying to figure out why she looks so familiar to do so. He merely squints at her, which some might consider rude, but she doesn't seem to mind at all. Noticing his confusion, she blinks. “Wait, you’re Tav’s friend!”

Friend. He hasn’t been considered your friend in a long while.

“Aren’t you supposed to be on house arrest?” she tilts her head. “Did you maybe make up with Tav?”

Ah. You must’ve told her about his—peculiar arrangement.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Alfira. We met at the grove and Last Light Inn, didn’t we?” she offers him a smile, which he doesn’t return. She doesn’t wait for an answer either. “I wasn’t expecting you here…Did Tav send you?”

Astarion scrunches his nose as she squints at him, hands on either of her hips as she gauges how he seems to sink further into your cloak, hesitating to kiss the sun’s radiant glow. She doesn’t seem to think much of it, though, as she taps her foot impatiently. “Well?”

“I—yes,” is all his damn brain can spit out.

“Oh,” her face softens, and a soft small stretches across her lips. How gullible. It wasn’t even a particularly good lie. “You should’ve just said so. In that case, I must ask you how they’re doing…I haven’t seen them in weeks. Are they well? Have they started reading up on my lyrics? Have they got a message for me? Ah, scratch those, where are they right now?”

Hells. He’s already itching to jump off the roof.

“Does your head ever implode with all those questions racked inside of it?” he grumbles. “And I’m afraid I don’t know half the answers. Sorry to disappoint.”

Alfira’s shoulders relax as she leans back on her heel, eyes falling to her shoes before she looks back up. “...Well, that’s a shame. Then, what brings you here?”

This time, he’s prepared.

“Seeing the state you’re in, my appearance was warranted. They only wished for me to ensure they’re doing well. It’s a busy time of year, you see, and they haven’t had the time to indulge your—-outings up here.”

“That’s good to hear.”

An awkward silence hangs in the air like a deathtrap, and he wishes he could say something—anything else about what you’ve been up to, but it comes up empty. It’s not like the two of you are on terms to sit down and have a chat every week over tea, but he’s not sure if he knows any more about what you’re doing than this bard standing right before him. You don’t play music anymore. You don’t frequent the bars as much as you used to. You don’t do a lot of things anymore. But what do you do?

It irks him: not knowing, that is.

He only realizes moments later that the bard has been talking this entire time.

“---and I’d really appreciate it if you could take it to them. I can’t imagine anyone else using it as well as they did,” she reaches behind her bag perched against the stair rails, and lifts something in his direction. He’d be a fool not to recognize it anywhere. It’s a pretty thing, the lyre. Your lyre. “I don’t know how I managed to find this at the market, but I like to think it’s fate. Tell them it’s a gift for helping with my songs.”

Astarion stares at the instrument. He runs the tips of his fingers against its familiar strings, taking note of indents he’s all too familiar with and the chips from months running in the wild. The last time he’d held it like this, it felt like it brought him closer to you. Now, it only feels like the cold dead wood it is.

“Were you looking for it?”

“No. Like I said, it must be fate.”

How cheesy.

His lips quirk downward even further, if that’s even possible, as he narrows in on a multitude of new dents and cracks in the wood. The lyre is yours, without a doubt, but it’s clearly seen a different level of care than what you would’ve given it even while fighting to the death. He glares at a particular blemish, and Alfira sighs.

“It’s seen better times, I know. But I’m sure they’d appreciate it even if it’s not how they left it.”

Wouldn’t you? No. He doesn’t know if you’d appreciate it. Why would you? You don’t even play the damn thing anymore, much less produce any music. He contemplates just tossing the object, but the second Alfira sees the glint of hesitation in his eyes, she pounces, shaking her head.

“Please,” she pleads. “Give it to them.”

His brows pinch.

And because he doesn’t want to entertain this tiefling any longer than he has to, and because he’d much rather get out of the sun and no other reason, he huffs. “Fine. I will.”

The smile she gives him doesn’t prompt him to do the same.

Months prior, he could see himself in the reflection of the gloss glazing over the wood. At least, that’s what he thinks because he could see your own expressions reflecting off it when you played it in the sun. It doesn’t hold a glow anymore, much less a reflection.

The lyre weighs heavily in his hands.

“I won’t pry,” Alfira says. “They never really told me what happened between the two of you…I respect your privacy, so I won’t ask. But whatever it was…I do hope it won’t happen again.”

It’s a weak one, but it’s a warning. He’s had plenty of those to figure it out.

“It won’t,” he mutters. 

He’ll be long gone before it can.

Sleep is a luxury you can't afford nowadays.

Surely, the bags under your eyes are enough of an indication if it weren’t for the sluggishness of your every step. Still, you manage to offer your guest a lopsided smile out of respect. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“No, I’m alright. Thank you, though,” Yevir says, eyeing you up and down, obviously noting your disheveled state. “Is now not a good time?”

You shake your head, straightening your back against the dining room table with a cough. “It’s alright. I’m only tired. With the preparations for the celebration next week, I’m a bit overwhelmed. I was meaning to speak to you again anyway.”

He doesn’t seem convinced, but you can’t be bothered to deny your exhaustion further.

“You’ve been busy. I’ve seen the dead spawn that they retrieved from the Blushing Mermaid.”

Quite frankly, you feel terrible for the folk who own the place. A hag and then a horde of vampires in their basement in the span of a few months? You think it’d be a sign to close the tavern down.

Your tone remains grim. “Were any of them the woman you were looking for?”

He shakes his head, and a breath of relief escapes your lips. “No, she’s…I still haven’t found her.”

And maybe it’s the fatigue getting to your head, but your mouth moves before you can stop it. “You would think she’d try to meet someone she was so close to.”

It’s insensitive, and you wouldn’t blame him if he promptly stood to leave, but all he does is hang his head, dragging his hands over his face. He doesn’t seem like he’s gotten much rest recently, either. “Trust me, I’ve been wondering that for weeks now.”

“And have you come up with anything?”

“No. None. Zero. All I get are nightmares that I might get to one of my patrol shifts, and I’ll find her dead body lying on the ground somewhere,” he groans. “Well, deader body.”

“Maybe she’s afraid.”

“Of what? Me? Who in the hells would be afraid of me? Certainly not her, I must assure you. She’s always been stubborn, and she’s far more determined than myself, believe it or not.”

“Not you, but of herself. Vampire thirst surely can’t be so easy to control, and let’s be honest…” you point at your own neck, and the place where two puncture wounds should be on your wrist burns. “You’re practically a blood pot being offered to her.”

He frowns. “Is it so hard to control their thirst? I will admit that I don’t know much about vampire spawn aside from the obvious…”

You half snicker to yourself, almost in disbelief. “Believe me, they’re beasts when they’re ravenous.”

“Beasts?”

“Do you blame them? To them, blood is essentially liquid gold,” you shrug. “It tastes nothing like actual blood on their tongue. Sure, it might be a bit adjacent to drinking iron, but if they get their hands on prey, they really like…it tastes sweet to them. Would you deny a treat if you spent decades cooped up inside a dungeon cell, starving?"

Yevir’s face pales.

“See?”

His brows furrow as you sigh into your chair. “I’ve done my own share of research, but books seem to overexaggerate things most of the time…Can I ask how you know so much about them? Even if I manage to find her, I’d want to find some way to make her new life more tolerable…it’s not much, but it’s the least I could do.”

You blink.

Shit. You’ve said too much.

What are you supposed to say? You dated a vampire? Let him ravage you on the forest floor and spent months in his tent? That you kissed him just weeks prior, and he’s living just beside your own room? That he told you what your blood does to him, and reveal the bite marks on your skin?

You stand, your chair legs scraping against the ground.

“I have a book you might like. Let me grab it for you. And some tea, maybe,” you smile almost too widely. Fortunately for you, Yevir only nods.

“I’d appreciate it.”

You essentially grab whatever vampire-related book you have shoved under your bed and rush back downstairs to the kitchen. There isn’t much to learn from the thing with how much you already know, but you’re sure it must contain something that he might consider helpful. You know how horrible it felt to be kept in the dark about vampirism, even more so when you realized just how terrible the relationship between master and spawn tended to be…so a small push certainly wouldn’t hurt. Especially with Yevir's own problems with his beloved spawn. This is how you reassure yourself as you pour whatever tea Gale’s left on the stove into a cup.

If you were in Astarion’s shoes, you’d think becoming a spawn would have been the worst turning point of your life. And for a while, you thought he’d felt the same. A part of you thinks he does. But in the time you’ve spent with him and the stories he’s told you sparingly of his life before Cazador, your gut tells you differently. Especially when he’s drenched in the blood of your enemies, holding the immortality he’s long wished for with a sickening smile stretching on his lips. Guilt pools in your stomach for even bringing up the thought, but you can’t deny it, either.

You wonder if it hadn’t been for Cazador’s leash tying him down, he would’ve turned out differently. More twisted. That he would’ve indulged in the most corrupt parts of him as a magistrate. That maybe he wouldn’t have learned the value of a life. That he would’ve become more alike to him—the man he would’ve become if he’d ascended.

That small voice in your head is what stopped the ascension, for you feared he would lose everything he’d gained in his time as a spawn, no matter how trivial he believed it to be.

You hear the front door opening and snap out of your self-tangent. No use dwelling on it now. What’s done is done. No matter how strange the situation between you and the spawn is now, you’d rather have this than what could’ve happened if you hadn’t listened to your gut. You remain firm, no matter how much he hates you for it.

You pour Shadowheart an extra cup.

But as you step back into the living space, you realize the occupant doesn’t drink tea at all.

Astarion stands in the middle of the room, eyes wide as he stares at your guest with an undeniably bloody sack clutched in one hand. His large, red eyes seem glued to the ones of your guest, who stares back even more appalled as he takes one look at Astarion’s pale skin, the shade of his eyes, and the very bloody bag containing what you assume to be his dinner.

You drop the two cups onto the ground, tea splashing against your feet.

“You—Is he—” Yevir stumbles over his words, yet his instincts as a guard have him reaching for his weapon. “He’s—”

Astarion sneers, though his expression strains as Yevir’s hand reaches his sword. “Now, let’s not do anything that could ruin the wonderfully tasteful furniture in here...”

The Fist snaps his head in your direction. “He’s a spaw–!”

The back of a sword hilt hits the side of his head with an audible ‘thud,’ and he’s out like a light.

You stare at the unconscious body slouched over your dining table for a brief moment in utter shock before you gawk at the culprit. Of course. Lae’zel huffs, awfully pleased for someone who just caused a concussion to an innocent man. “Your soldiers are such children.”

Astarion barks a laugh, though it sounds more of a mix of disbelief and amusement.

You wish you could go one day in this house without another headache to add to the growing list.

Tags: @ayselluna @littleenglishfangirl @bg3obsessedsideblog @iwillpissyourpants @cyberpr1m3 @snowlotr @road-riot @spacekidnova @madislayyy @lordfishflakes @nicalysm @djarinsway @tinystarfishgalaxy @brainz00 @hopeful-n-sad @ohdeerieme @madisban @chrismarium @chonkercatto @fanfic-share @bitterbeanren @sleepyred1703 @miskouly @ravenswritingroom @iamlowkeycrying @deezus-roy @spiritraves @mariposakitten @dinobae-replyacc @whisperingwillowxox @bdudette @misscrissfemmefatale @atropapurpurea @cosywinterevenings @phoenixgurl030 @generalstephkenobi @shadowsmusical @himesuedi @girlygmer-blog @vulgarfuckinvirgo77 @hyperfixationwhore @teardropcup @marina-and-the-memes @kiwi-mansanas @woosaaghh @cminr @everybodystaycalm @divineknightmare @bangtanbecks @carolinelec @aelieknox @bluelovesleep @catching-fire-in-the-wind @moonlight-stay @thatbeanieboss @atotalmess-lol @lavender-romancer @roguishcat

[thewritetofreespeech]

Could I request Gojo's reaction to his s/o, who has the ability to perceive the future, getting harassed because her client's not happy about their future?

Satoru hummed a happy little tune as he walked down the busy streets of Tokyo to go see his wife.

He had been blessed with an unusual day off after a quick meeting with the ‘old men’; probably because they were so annoyed with him that they just wanted him to go away. Still, it was a rare treat. So he thought he would surprise his wife by taking her to lunch. She could afford to close the shop for a day.

The sorcerer giggled a little as he wondered if she knew he was coming. With her innate ability to see and predict the future, it was hard to pull surprises on her. But he always tried. Taking the challenge on at every turn to keep his wife guessing and marriage spicy.

“That’s not right! You’re a liar!!”

Satoru’s eyebrows jutted up over his sunglasses, hearing the yelling once he had come in the door. He walked in further to the shop towards the back, where [Y/N] would hold private readings, and saw a woman who had clearly just jumped up from the table and was pointing at [Y/N].

“I’m sorry,” she apologized to the angry looking woman, “but that’s what I see.”

“No! That’s not true! He promised he would leave his wife and be with me! That has to be what my future will be next year!”

“I mean….there’s a possibility that the prediction could change. The future isn’t set in stone but-“No buts! I want my money back!”

“I can’t give you your money back just because you don’t like your prediction. This is a business. If you wanted someone to just agree with you, then you should have just called a friend.”

“They told me to come here! I see now that they just wanted me to get cheated too! You’re nothing but a liar and a con artist! I know my future and it’s to be with him, and you’re just making this up because you’re alone & jealous!”

“If you knew your future, then why did you even come here? Clearly there’s some underlying trust issues if you asked your friends, I assume family, and now a premonitions expert. This is just free advice at this point but maybe this relationship isn’t what you want for you’re future.”

The woman went full red at this point and raised her hand to presumably strike [Y/N]. She never got the chance though as Satoru grabbed her forearm to stop it just as soon as it was raised. “Now, now. Let’s have none of that.”

The woman looked startled and jerked out of his grasp and away from him. “Who the hell are you?”

“Just a concerned customer.” He replied with a cheeky grin, which he could see that [Y/N] did not appreciate out of the corner of her eye. “And also, her husband.”

The woman’s face went from shocked, to a mixture of crushed, back to angry. Clearly realizing that the only person alone in the room was her, but not yet willing to accept it. “I want my money back! Or I’ll sue!”

“Go ahead.” Satoru told her. Then pressed his fingers to his temple, “but I see an arrested in your future if you keep pressing this. Attempted battery is almost just as serious as if you actually landed that punch.” The woman let out an angry huff, then grabbed her belongings and dashed out. “Another satisfied customer.”

“Don’t be mean Satoru.” [Y/N] replied once they were alone and stood up to clean the mess the woman had made of her reading table. “It’s not my fault she’s chosen a hard path. I didn’t even have to use my ability to tell her this wasn’t going to end well. What was I supposed to do? Lie?”

“I’m sure she wouldn’t have minded. Delusional people like that only want to hear what they want to hear.” No one needed psychic abilities to see that.

“What are you doing here by the way?”

“Oh! I came to take you to lunch!” In the commotion, he almost forgot why he was there. “The old men gave me the day off, so I thought I would spend it with you.”

“That’s nice.” [Y/N] said with a smile. “But I have to work Satoru.”

“Why?” He asked with a pout. “You know we don’t need the money. I know you like to work but….you can take off for one day. Plus, shouldn’t you get hazard time for almost having a client flip a table on you?”

[Y/N] chuckled a little. Even if it was a sad sort of noise. “Well…I guess you’re right. The shop will be fine if we close early for today.”

“Hooray!”

Satoru helped her clean up the last little bit and they left. He asked her once, when they were dating, to use her powers on him but she said that she couldn’t. His future had too many variables. Too full of potential. But he knew, even when they first met, that his future was going to be with her.

He didn’t need psychic abilities to see that.

[wh0re-in-the0ry]

SOLD TO CHUCKLE SANDWICH??? 😱😱😱

Part two :3

🩸🐑🩸 Begone Cherub 🩸🐑🩸

Shoutout to @kiddiesmores @phedgehogs @gummysharklover and my favorite anon, thank you for moral support in this economy (love y’all) ((no beta, we die like Charles Slimecicle)) (((oh btw Charlie is canonically dead in this fic so don’t expect him any time soon))) ((((sorry doctor freaky :/))))

(the next day)

Beep

Beep

Beep

My alarm goes off… I open my blue orbs… ugh… wh-where am I? Oh right… the Chuckle House…

Oh gosh darn it wasn’t a dream… I hop off my air mattress and go through my “new” ikea dresser (it’s Ted’s old one, it smells like cheap vapes). I couldn’t pack most of my cool clothes because I couldn’t fit them in my bag yesterday so I stick with something simple: a baggy gray sweater and leggings.

I look kinda basic but it’s better than the same graphic tee from yesterday I guess :/

I grab my phone and earbuds and head to the kitchen… wait… what am I allowed to eat here..? Like…I don’t wanna just steal their food…

But I mean… they did kinda steal me so I guess we’ll be even? I shrug it off, head to the freezer and plop in two toaster strudels. If they didn’t want me to eat their strudels then they shouldn’t of bought me.

As I wait for my strudels I plug in my earbuds and start listening to [insert favorite artist], man I just love [music genre]. Just as I was getting to the good part of the song… Schlatt walks into the kitchen. He looks confused for a moment but then has a moment of clarity. “Oh right… I forgot you existed…” he yawns tiredly.

“Wow…don’t I feel special…” I muttered under my breath. The toaster strudels pop out of the toaster and I place them on a paper towel to cool before I add the icing. I play my music again but I can’t focus on it… not with him in the room with me. It feel so… so… odd to be standing next to Schlatt- let alone live with him now… I refuse to look at him but I can feel him staring at me- judging me… The feeling of dread and anxiety is building up in me. After like thirty seconds of hyping myself up, I look up from my cracked phone and towards Schlatt.

He looks absolutely disgusted, borderline offended, but he’s not looking at me… he’s looking at my iPhone 6s.

“…what?”

“What the fuck is that thing?”

“…it’s my phone?”

“It’s a crime to my eyes.” He actually looks offended that I have my phone in his vicinity.

“Well I’m sorry but it’s not like I can just go get a new one- not all of us are made of money.”

Schlatt rolls his eyes and heads to the pantry and pulls out a box of Crunch Berries. He makes his breakfast and sits down. My strudels are just about cooled and I decorate the pastries. One of them has my name on it: Y/n L/n (it’s nice having such a short name). The other one I drew a… drew a…

wiener. hehe.

I sit down with my strudels, sitting in the opposite corner of Schlatt, I’m still not used to him. I take a bite of my breakfast as I scroll through Pinterest, looking through outfit inspos and dynamic pose references for my art that I’ll realistically never use.

I almost forget Schlatt is even there until I hear him dramatically get off of the barstool and groans, “I can’t take this anymore… get your shoes on- we’re going to get you something useable… (and probably a new wardrobe while we’re at it Jesus…)” He mumbles the last part, damn… I know I’m no fashion expert but there’s something extra insulting about him pointing it out.

“Wait like right now?”

“Yes LiKe rIgHT NoW,” Schlatt parrots back.

“Bu- but what about school? I already missed my first day-“

“Y/n, what’s more important: missing one more day of school that you’re going to forget in a month or getting rid of that eyesore?”

“…uhhh school?”

“Wrong answer.” He takes another bite of his cereal, “We’ll leave once we’re done with breakfast.”

I sigh, “So I really don’t get a say in this, huh?”

“No, but I’ll let you choose the color of your new phone.”

“…fine.” I guess I can’t really complain… Oh no! I’m going miss my second day of a math class I took last year and get a new iPhone 😰 Oh God the horror!! Yeah… it’s probably in my best interest to go along with this.

It isn’t long before we both finish our breakfast and head to the garage. And oh god it’s massive- like it’s easily twice the size of my old apartment. I am once again asking myself how the hell did these guys afford a place like this. Because there’s no chance that the Zocdoc sponsorships are paying enough to cover this… or maybe they do idk- I know next to nothing about the business side of YouTube :/

There five cars in here: Ted’s Tacoma, a car I’m assuming is Tucker’s, and three really expensive looking cars, one of them being the one I saw yesterday with the U-haul. It’s almost embarrassing how little I know about cars so I’m not even going to bother describing the models or anything. I feel like I shouldn’t be allowed in the same room as these cars- let alone get a in any of them…

We get to driving and I am pleasantly surprised that Schlatt is actually a good driver- unlike anything I’ve heard from the podcast or his old Truck Driving Simulator streams. He’s so careful as he drives down the freeway. Maybe- just maybe he’s being careful because I’m in here..?

…

Nah it’s probably because this car is worth more than all my organs on the black market.

Yeah- it’s probably that.

We pull into the parking lot and conveniently were at the mall I work at. Nice- at least I won’t miss another day of work.

The mall trip was all sorta a blur. One minute I’m picking out a color for my IPhone 15 (blue btw), the next we’re going to 8 different stores to get me new clothes because my clothes, and I quote: “are a f*cking travesty.”

Is it rude of him to say- yes 100%. But I might’ve allegedly outgrown half my wardrobe back in sophomore year and needed some new stuff to wear to begin with… Sooo… he gets a pass this time..

By the time we are done with our next store, my school day is just about halfway done so there’s no point of Schlatt dropping me off at school now. Speaking of Schlatt- he looks absolutely miserable. Like this man’s face just screams ‘I wanna go home’. To be honest I’m surprised he lasted this long.

Despite his social battery being in the negatives, we stop by the food court for a quick lunch. Schlatt is eating a slice of cheese pizza from sbarro while muttering to himself that it was leagues behind New York’s pizza while I picked at my cheese stick and fries.

Today felt kinda odd. I’ve never been so spoiled before, it feels so strange but it’s certainly not unwelcomed. I look up at Schlatt, “Thanks Schlatt… I uhh… I appreciate it a lo-”

“Don’t mention it, Kid,” he says as he takes another bite of his pizza, still not looking at me while talking with his mouth with a little bit of food in it, “it was more a favor for me than you anyways.”

We go back to quiet.

When we are about halfway done with our food Schlatt looks up at me for the first time in like two hours, “So… Ted told me you work here.”

“Hm?”

“Ted said that you work at this mall.”

“Oh yeah- I drive those kiddie trains here.”

He nods, “okay…” there’s a brief moment of silence before he talks again, like as if his brain was checked out for the day, “do you have a shift here today?”

“Yeah.. it should start in about an hour.”

“…” he rubs the bridge of his nose, “I’m going to be real with you- I’d rather kill myself then be in this mall for another minute.”

“Fair enough,” it’s about a thirty minute drive to get here so it doesn’t make sense for me to leave now, “You can leave with the stuff right now and I can-”

“Y/n (≧∇≦)!!!” I can recognize that voice and the smell of Twilight Sparkle branded perfume from anywhere but before I could even turn my head, my best friend, [Best Friend] ran in and practically tackled me into a hug. Schlatt’s eyes widen for a second as I almost fall out of my chair because of her. “[Nickname], where were you yesterday? The mall was sooo boring without you (╥﹏╥)”

“I’m sorry, bestie but I had some… things happened yesterday..” I can see Schlatt’s confusion expression as he studied my friend. I know that [Best Friend] can be a lot with her 27 different beaded bracelets and her ever growing collection of Invader Zim memorabilia, but she’s an absolute sweetheart and the most loyal friend a girl can ask for.

“That’s suspiciously vague but okay then- oh also don’t worry I checked you in yesterday so don’t worry about your boss giving you an earful tonight (^_^)” She says, while still hugging me.

“Oh shoot- I completely forgot about work yesterday… Thanks [Best Friend] you’re a lifesaver!”

“You’re welcome…” She loosens the hug and looks at me, her tone sounding a little more serious, “but I can’t be doing this all the time again, Y/n. We talked about this, you promised that this year would be a fresh start for you and ditching work isn’t going to- ”

“Huh?” There’s a look of bewilderment written all over her face. I look at her confused until I realize she’s looking right at Schlatt and a pit forms in my stomach. Man I really don’t want to explain my situation to her- not now at least.

She asks the dreaded question, “Is that flippin’ Jebediah Schlatt (ಠ_ಠ)”

Both me and Schlatt look at her, then at each other, and back to her again and spoke in unison, “No.”

——

An: hey y’all thanks for reading part two of this mess. No one asked for this but I had a lot of fun with the first part so here we are. Idk if I’ll make more because I don’t have much after this planned but if you have any ideas/suggestions my comment and asks are always open!

I’m not gonna lie I’m too lazy to to add a link to the first part of this but if you click on the tag s writes or a homage to wattpad it should take you there.

Anyways here some doodles I made while writing this mess

Okie that’s all bye :)

-S

[chiyuuchu]

Kazuha meets his match <3 (31st July 2024)

Kadehara Kazuha x Reader

Prompt! Accompanying Aether to Liyue, Kazuha takes an interest in the traveler’s peer.

Aether and Kazuha had just arrived in Liyue, marveling at the bustling cityscape and its rich cultural vibrancy. The sun dipped low, casting golden hues over the rooftops and streets, as they wandered in search of a place to eat.

Aether suggested they visit a quaint diner he’d heard about, known for its traditional Liyue cuisine and warm atmosphere. As they entered, the scent of sizzling dishes and fragrant spices greeted them.

Seated at a cozy corner table, they were served a variety of delectable dishes. Amidst their meal, Aether’s eyes fell on a familiar figure just a few tables away. Y/N, a local dancer renowned for her traditional performances, was enjoying a meal with her friends—Hutao, Yanfei, Yunjin, Xiangling, and Xingqiu.

With a smile, Aether nudged Kazuha. “That’s Y/N. She’s a local dancer and knows all about Liyue’s traditions. She might be able to give us some insights into what i’m trying to figure out.”

Kazuha, intrigued, watched as Aether approached Y/N’s table with a friendly wave. “Y/N! Over here!”

Y/N looked up, her eyes sparkling with recognition as she saw Aether. “Aether! It’s so good to see you! And you must be...?”

Kazuha stepped forward with a charming grin. “Kazuha, at your service. It’s a pleasure to meet you, lady Y/N.”

“It’s very nice to meet you Kazuha. Say, aren’t you that wanted criminal at Inazuma? I’m sure Aether has told me about that before.” Y/n tilts her head with curiosity.

“I must admit, I’ve been told I have a knack for getting into trouble,” he said with a playful glint in his eye. “So, tell me, Y/N, do you think you’re into bad guys?”

Y/N laughed, a warm and melodic sound that seemed to harmonize with the ambient music. “Well, that’s certainly an intriguing introduction. But I do suppose it depends on how you define trouble.”

“Maybe I could show you sometime.” Kazuha said in his soft spoken voice.

Aether thought to himself: ‘He is definitely downbad.’

“Hey Y/n! Do you think we can join your dinner table tonight? I have not been in Liyue for quite some time.” Aether interrupted, clearly trying to get out of the sudden third wheeling position he was in.

“I suppose that I don’t see why not.” Y/n smiles.

As Kazuha and Aether joined Y/N and her friends, the table was filled with lively conversation and laughter. Hutao, ever the playful spirit, greeted Kazuha with a mischievous smile.

“Ah, another traveler! What brings you to our humble gathering?” she asked, her eyes twinkling.

Aether chimed in, “Kazuha here is just tagging along with me. We’re exploring Liyue and thought we’d drop by. Y/N has been gracious enough to let us join in.”

Yanfei, ever the legal expert and mediator, added, “It’s always nice to meet new people. And if Aether says you’re interesting, I’m sure you are.”

Kazuha’s eyes sparkled with interest. “I hope I can live up to the expectations. It seems like I’m in excellent company.”

Yunjin, with her grace and poise, nodded. “Now where were we? Oh! Y/N, tell us about your dance performances. I’ve heard they’re quite spectacular.”

Y/N’s face lit up as she spoke. “Oh, I’m very fortunate to perform traditional dances that celebrate Liyue’s heritage. It’s a blend of storytelling and art that connects us with our history.”

Xiangling, her eyes bright with curiosity, leaned forward. “I’ve heard you’re also gotten even more skilled with your polearm and Pyro vision. That’s a fascinating combination! How does that blend with your performances?” she quickly rambles with her enthusiasm.

Y/N nodded, clearly proud. “Yes, I sometimes do try to apply my abilities to add a dramatic flair to my dances. The fire especially help me to convey the message of the stories I perform.”

Kazuha, intrigued by this revelation, leaned in slightly. “Pyro wielding and a polearm applied into an artistic dance, you say? That sounds like a truly impressive combination. I must admit, I’m quite fascinated by it.”

Hutao raised an eyebrow, teasingly. “Careful, Kazuha. You might end up wanting to join one of Y/N’s performances yourself.”

Kazuha chuckled, his attention fixed on Y/N. “If it means I get to see such a talented performer in action, I just might take you up on that offer.”

As the evening progressed and the wine flowed, Kazuha's flirtatious nature became more evident. With a slightly tipsy grin, he turned to Y/N. “I must say, your talents and beauty are truly mesmerizing. I can’t help but be enchanted.”

Y/N laughed softly, clearly enjoying the company. “And what about you, Kazuha? What makes you such an intriguing person?”

Kazuha’s gaze softened as he took a sip of his drink. “Well, besides my charming self, I suppose it’s the sense of adventure and the appreciation for poetry that drives me. And tonight, I find myself captivated by someone who has stolen my attention so seamlessly.”

With a tipsy grin, Kazuha leaned in closer to Y/N, his words slightly slurred. “You know, Y/N, I have to say, your presence here makes this meal all the more delightful. I can’t help but feel that fate has a funny way of bringing people together.”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed slightly as she smiled, clearly enjoying Kazuha’s attention. “And what do you think fate has in store for us tonight?”

Kazuha’s gaze softened as he looked at her, his flirtation taking on a more genuine tone. “Perhaps it’s simply a chance to enjoy each other’s company. But if you’re open to it, I’d love to hear more about your life in Liyue. I’m sure there’s much I can learn from someone as captivating as you.”

“If you insist Kazuha.” Y/n can’t help but smile.

The evening continued with laughter, stories, and more wine. Kazuha’s charm and Y/N’s warmth created a delightful atmosphere, making the night unforgettable for everyone involved. As they parted ways, Kazuha made sure to express his appreciation.

“This has been a delightful evening. I’m grateful to have met such fascinating individuals. And Y/N, your company has made the most of my night.”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed slightly as she smiled. “I’m glad you enjoyed it, Kazuha. It was a pleasure getting to know you. If you’re ever free, you know where to find me.”

With a final wave, Kazuha bid farewell, leaving Y/N with a memorable impression and a sense of anticipation for what future encounters might bring.

The next week, Aether, having wrapped up his business in Liyue, went out in attempt to find Kazuha so they could sail back to Inazuma. The sun was setting, casting a warm glow over the city. He decided to check in with Beidou at her dock, hoping she might have seen his friend.

“Beidou, have you seen Kazuha around?” Aether asked as he approached the ship captain, who was overseeing the final preparations for departure.

Beidou looked up with a knowing smile. “Ah, Kazuha? He’s been out and about with that dancer girl—Y/N, right? They seemed pretty interested in each other’s company. I got to give it to him, I never took Kazuha as a guy interested romance.”

Aether’s curiosity was piqued. “A dancer girl? Where might I find them?”

Beidou pointed towards a nearby park. “They were headed towards the fountain area. You should find them there.”

Aether thanked her and made his way to the park. As he approached the fountain, he noticed Kazuha and Y/N sitting on the edge, laughing together. The fountain’s soft splashes and the twilight cast a romantic glow over the scene.

Kazuha was holding a small, wrapped bundle and, with a playful grin, presented it to Y/N. “I made this for you. I hope you like it.”

Y/N’s eyes sparkled as she unwrapped the gift, revealing a delicate handmade bracelet. “It’s beautiful, Kazuha. Thank you so much.”

As they continued to exchange laughter and warm words, Aether decided to make his presence known. He cleared his throat, walking up with a friendly smile. “Kazuha, we’re about to set sail. Time to come back to Inazuma.”

Kazuha looked up, slightly startled but still smiling. “Ah, Aether. I guess our time here has come to an end. But I’m glad we had this moment.”

Y/N gave them both a warm smile. “It was lovely meeting you, Aether. I hope you both have a safe journey and do let me know when you both will visit again.”

Kazuha rose. “I’ll make an effort to make that soon, my lady.” Giving Y/N one last, lingering glance before following Aether. As they walked away, Aether couldn’t help but ask, “So, how was your little date?”

Kazuha chuckled, his gaze still drifting back towards Y/N. “It was quite delightful. I believe we made some.. rather interesting memories.”

The two headed back towards the docks.

“I’d definitely come back just to see her dances again and perhaps maybe more.” Kazuha smiled mischievously.

[anitabighug]

❥ A Perfect Experiment : Wally x Reader (She/Her Pronouns, Named) ✿

Chapter Masterpost: [  ♡   ♡    ♡ ]

Chapter Five; Can’t Help Falling in Love ( A/N: This chapter has a lot of music involved with it! If you’d like to listen along, click the [♫] SONG NAME - ARTIST as you see them! ) ●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・● The four of you arrive in the square, and go your separate ways. Barnaby, who had carried Wally limply under his arm all the way over for some reason, dragged the boy over to the snack table to start the party up straight away. Howdy had his work cut out for him, that was for sure. You and Poppy scooch over to an empty table, and are quickly met by Julie, hiding her intentions with another pot of flowers that she sets up next to your record player. “Did you bring the goods, Buttercup?” She asks in a hushed tone, pupils darting from side to side. “Buttercup?” You raise your eyebrow, and Poppy pulls the cable out of your hand to start plugging things in. “Its your code name!!! I thought of ‘em myself. You’re Buttercup, Poppy is Pigeon, Sally,” She points across the field where Sally is, running an extension cord from Home to plug in the lights, “Is Honey, and I’m the Captain!” She shoves a thumb against her chest proudly. “Why do we need code names?” You settle into one of the folding chairs, and rest your head on your hands, peering up Julie. Your eyebrow remains cocked. “Every successful mission has code names. Scientific fact.” Julie waggled her eyebrows at you oh-so charmingly. Well, you can’t argue with that logic. You lift the record up from its resting spot, and Julie squeals, grabbing it from your hands and spinning. “There he is!!! The King Himself! This is going to be PERFECT!” She hands it back to you, bouncing up and down vigorously. Elvis’ face gives you a suave smile from the record sleeve where he rests, and you nod. Excellent choice. “Now!! Here's the plan.” Julie slaps a crudely drawn crayon map onto the table, pulling the two of you in close… ●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・● Julie’s plan had you DJing the event, to wait for her signal. This was more than fine with you, you loved your record collection and were beyond psyched to show it off. Besides, you could dance just as well from the comfort and privacy of your chair. The sun had just set, and with a nod and a flourish, Frank had lit his project ablaze. It turned out to be an intricate bonfire, and it lit up the clearing beautifully, well worth his hard work. The beats from your speakers bounced around your neighbours, their booties shaking wildly. Phase one; Lull them into a false sense of security. It takes a boatload of willpower to keep the malicious smile off of your face. Something about this secret agent mission thrilled you, though you would never admit it. You’d gone home earlier briefly to change into something more party-appropriate, as had everyone else, it seemed. Your party outfit was based on extensive testing and focus groups, discussed amongst groups of experts, and had 100% chance of making you look ‘Just cute as a button!’ according to the top expert, Julie. By ‘extensive testing’, you of course mean that it won third place in the fashion show that you, Julie and Sally had put on in the comfort of your home. You’d claim nepotism, but the way the girls had looked at each other, it was obvious that they’d already tied long before you’d even moved to Home. The dress itself was pastel pink, some sort of pleather, tighter than you’d like, with a tall white collar and no sleeves. What it lacked in sleeves though, it made up for in a big poofy skirt, pink with a white underskirt as well. You paired it with a white belt, a pair of go-go boots that Julie had gifted you, and a bow sitting off to the side of your short hair, feathered back for the occasion. Just perfect, you concluded, and perfectly matched to your classy, fashionable friends!!! Sally’s outfit was out of this world. She had glitzy striped pants with frills going down the side, and the poofiest blouse you’d ever seen. Next to her, dragging Frank on to the dance floor, was Julie. She was absolutely dolled up, taking every advantage that this party gave her. You didn’t think her hair could get bigger before, but seeing it curled up into a beehive proved you wrong. No amount of science would be able to figure out how she got it to stay in place with all that crazy dancing. Frank had barely changed up his own outfit, merely opting to swap out his dress shirt with one with shorter sleeves for the heat, and leaving his bowtie at home– you weren’t sure what you preferred! You watched as Julie popped his collar, causing the two girls to start to giggle madly. Poppy’s usual shawl had been switched with one made of a beautiful lace, and the pearl necklace she’d included added that touch of grace and maturity you expected from her. Howdy had a short-sleeved dress shirt on, burgundy with little white flowers on it, and you had to admit he looked so charming with his hair slicked back like that. Barnaby might’ve been your favourite of all of them, you took one look at the vest he was wearing and wheezed out a laugh. It was the EXACT same as his usual vest, but with layered frills for days. It was probably to match Wally’s outfit, an expertly starched white dress shirt, and striped pants with the same layered frills on the ends of the legs. They looked adorable apart, but together it was almost too much for you! That left Eddie Dear, who had apparently only left to finish his evening rounds for the mail, returning a little shocked to find that everyone else had dressed up so fancy. Julie had a solution, however, discarding his cap and bag and setting a flower crown on his head. He looked absolutely delighted by it. [♫] Jailhouse Rock - Elvis Presley “Well don’t you just look cute as a button,” You almost couldn’t hear Wally’s suave tones over the music, but the compliment made you light up. “Th-thank you, Mr. Darling!!! I was a little worried I’d never get the chance to wear something like this,” You admitted with a laugh. He settled in next to you, and set a plate of snacks down beside the record player, “Ha ha ha. Who would’ve thought a little spit and polish would make everyone so happy?” He wondered aloud, “I thought you could use some company. You looked awfully lonely over here.” “Who could be lonely when they’ve got the king around?” You ask with a cheery laugh before lifting and taking a bite of one of the sandwiches he’d brought, following it with an appreciative ‘Mmm!’. Wally started looking around, checking behind your chair and frantically checking behind the two of you. It takes a few moments before you realise he’s looking for the King, and you nearly choke on your bite when it comes to you.

You manage to swallow it, and reach over, lifting up the record sleeve and pointing at the picture on the cover. Realisation floods the puppet’s face, followed swiftly by a blush across his cheeks. How cute… You hand him the sleeve to examine further, returning your attention to the sandwich he’d so kindly brought for you. Wally checks the sleeve over thoroughly, making sure that this ‘king’ wasn’t some strange intruder he had to be wary of. When he was satisfied of the lack of sentience, he finally took a good look at Elvis himself. He sure had excellent taste in hair, that was for sure. It was weird, though… Why was there a big lipgloss mark on The King’s cheek? You seemed to be so protective of your record collection… He felt a weird feeling shoot through his heart, and shoved it along with the record sleeve away, turning his focus on the rainbow monster that had scurried to the tableside. “Are you ready for phase two, Buttercup?” She asked, slamming a hand on to the table. The record skipped, and it only took one sour look from you to get her to apologise, giving the record player a gentle pat. “Ready and waiting, Captain!” You give her a lazy salute, and are given a determined nod from her before she hurries back to her station. You hear another monotone laugh from beside you, and peer back towards Wally. “Buttercup?” “... Its my code name,” Your cheeks feel red hot, and you reach up instinctively to cover them. He laughs again, and you swear you hear him mumble ‘Adorable.’... But that just can’t be right. Ugh, you can’t afford to be distracted now, no matter how sweet his compliments were!!! You take in a deep breath, and take note of where everyone is on the dance floor. It was time for phase two. Group one had Honey and the Captain herding the target to the center of the dance floor; distracting him with hijinks and pranks and lightening his usual dour mood. They were right on track, and you make a mental note to compliment them on their excellent espionage. Group two was doing even better! Pigeon had lured the bait into the perfect spot, the two of them bounding to the beat almost next to the bonfire, and Howdy gave you a nod from where he stood, ready to swoop in. “Just.. A second… More…” You mumble to yourself, your trigger happy hand sitting above the needle. You’d know where to move on the record even if you were blind and deaf; the trap was only the most beautiful song that the King had made, and you’d get this to go off without a hitch. You’d promised her, after all. Wally squints at you, and only just manages to start asking you what on earth you’re up to when you see it; the signal. Frank’s back is turned to you, and Julie gives you a spastic wave. Not the most subtle, but y’know, it worked. The record scratches. The music stops. Everyone stops dead in their tracks. The Bait and the Target look around with concerned expressions, and Howdy dives from his hiding spot. [♫] Can’t help falling in love - Elvis Presley The music starts back up. The piano is soft. Dancers pair up as if it was planned– even though it totally wasn’t, you swear. Sally grabs Julie, squeezing her girlfriend close and leaving Frank floundering. Poppy is scooped by Howdy in a very, very subtle move that leaves Eddie flushed. You’re on the edge of your seat, squeezing the tablecloth anxiously in your hands. Eddie seems to realise whats happened first, and with a nervous laugh, he turns to Frank, offering a hand. But… Frank hesitates. Your heart stops, and without thinking, you’re gripping Wally’s shirt and sinking back in your chair. Oh, you didn’t think of this happening. What if he blows it? What if he gets mad? Oh, you can’t watch. But you also can’t look away. You feel Wally’s other hand rest on your head, not petting or rubbing, but just resting. Even that kind gesture couldn’t pull you from this train wreck. “OOPS!” Julie to the rescue! She shoves Frank hard with her hip, the puppet stumbling forwards into Eddie’s arms. Yes!! The whole neighbourhood watches with baited breath. Eddie laughs heartily, and takes that as a yes, starting to move backwards to get Frank back on his feet, and leading him in the dance. You can’t contain your excited wiggle. Yes! Mission accomplished!! Julie and Sally each shoot you a wink, and you give them two big thumbs up. Wally is practically in stitches next to you, and wipes a tear from his eye,

“Is this what her big plan was?” He asked, peering over at you quizzically. You laugh, and nod in response. Wally scooches his chair closer to listen as you explain the plan quietly to him. You lean a little closer to him, your arms brushing against each other as you watch the fruits of your labour. The two of them look to be having a serious conversation under their breaths, both with blush tinged cheeks, and tiny smiles across their faces. Absolutely flawless. You take in a deep, calming breath. Wally smells like apples, naturally, along with distinct undertones of… licorice? Haha, weird. It suits him, strangely enough. You wonder briefly what you smell like. Probably latex gloves? How disappointing. You wish that there was a nice smell that late nights at the observatory could give you, aside from graphite and notebook pages. “Weird,” You mumble under your breath, eliciting a questioning noise from Wally. “Oh. Well, the lights can make it hard to see the stars, but… Ah, it must be a new moon. Silly me.” Wally stiffens next to you, but you don’t have time to question it before you’re scooped up unwillingly into another puppets arms. [♫] A Big Hunk O’ Love - Elvis Presley “C’mere, you!” Barnaby sets you gingerly on one of his arms, lifting you out to the dance floor and the giggles erupt from you, no matter how hard you’re trying to hold them back with the nervous hands over your face. “You didn’t think you’d get to just sit there all night, did’ja??? Time to boogie!” His laugh was deep and you could feel it through his arm, him not even bothering to put you down before he started shaking his booty to the new song. You can’t! It’d be too embarrassing! You can’t see them, but there are definitely eyes on you. No… Noooo! The boogie, alas, was too infectious for your weak heart, and you felt the wiggles overtake you in Barnaby’s arms. Your shoulder dance seems to be the secret key to him putting you down, and he gives you courage in the form of a hand held and a big grin on his face. Can’t say no to that face, or the king’s bouncy tones, for very long at all. Before you realise what's happening, you’re swinging to the music, and the idea of embarrassing yourself has floated somewhere into the upper atmosphere. Maybe you’d find that fear again one night while stargazing, floating through the stars where no one can hear it. ●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・● Wally relaxes through the next few songs, leaning back in his folding chair and taking the occasional unseen bite from the remaining sandwich on the plate. Barnaby was right, of course, he was going to be sore in the morning. Maybe for a few mornings after that, too. Something about the reckless abandon with which you took to the dance floor, though… He couldn’t take his eyes off it for more than a moment. You look so, SO unbelievably silly. Like you’d practiced these spastic wiggles a million times before. He leaned forwards, setting his head dreamily in his hands. Ha ha ha… Was that an air guitar he saw? “Absolutely… Adorable.” He drolls, and his brain takes a quick halt. Adorable. It wasn’t the first time he’d said this about you, not even tonight. And it's not like he didn’t compliment his other friends… A pang shook through his chest, and he clutched the front of his shirt… No, something about this was different… And something about your questioning gaze earlier… This was oh, so dangerous for him. So why hadn’t he stopped you yet? There were countless ways, methods he’d used before, methods he’d use again… Maybe you just needed… More distraction. Right; that was the problem. Well, that much he could do without arousing too much suspicion. He unbuttoned his top button, and smoothed his perfect hair, and stood up. If there was one thing Wally Darling could do, it was dance. With a pop of his collar, he strode on, ready to show these kids a thing or two. ●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・● [♫] Devil in Disguise - Elvis Presley You’d been tossed between a few eager partners at this point, including but not limited to: A dance with Julie in which you’d mostly just shook your hair, a brief exchange with Eddie Dear, who’d thanked you under his breath while staring across at a certain someone, and a wild dance with Poppy who shook her feathers in ways you hadn’t even imagined before. This latest one was graced with Howdy, and you’d made a comment about how you needed to run an experiment to see if your hypothesis was correct; more limbs DEFINITELY made for more fun in a dance partner! You had him almost completely hysterical when something stole his attention away. Apparently it was someone cutting in, and you’re shocked when one of your arms is pulled upwards, giving you a spin and a dip. Wally Darling grins down at you, and you melt in an instant. Whoa. He gives one of his slow, droning laughs and pulls you back up, leading you with both of your arms now, swaying you quickly back and forth with the bouncing melody. It was as if he was shaped perfectly by the gods to swing it to Elvis. He switches from a slower portion of the song, swaying back and forth with you, to effortlessly spinning you out and then back in, your hand landing smack dab in the middle of his chest. You felt like your brain was going to pop. He lands the finishing blow perfectly, and as the song ends, he bonks his forehead against your own, staring in to your eyes briefly before stepping back. He pats you on the shoulder and moves on to his next victim; leaving you standing there as if nothing had ever happened. Your hands fly up to hide your red hot face. Uuuugh! You deserve a good sit down after that. (A/N: I was asked to tag @elegantkidfansoul with the update! If you’d also like to be tagged, feel free to let me know! ^v^ This update was a little long, but it was so fun to write eeee!!!)

[duckietiewritestoo]

To the Moon and Back (Kitten Braden x Reader)

I AM SO FRICKIN' IN LOVE WITH THIS CHARACTER THAT I WOULD DIE FOR HER.  I have associated "Fly Me to the Moon" with Kitten, so that's an element used in this.

Warnings: May be out of character, cheesy, bad jokes near the end

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_

“Fly me to the moon

Let me play among the stars”

The room was silent, but Frank Sinatra quietly played on the radio. “Fly Me to the Moon” was one of his best songs. The tip of the brush tickled my skin, the powder falling on over my cheeks. Kitten was an expert on makeup, her hands moving swiftly and in sync with the flow of the music. I let her do my makeup for practice. As if I wasn’t red enough, I held my breath back so I wouldn’t laugh. I was jittery. Kitten was focused on painting the blush on my cheeks, but having her stare deep into my eyes would cause a natural blush. She leaned forward in her stool, and she was almost tipping over the edge. It was hard not to blush, especially when I was hiding romantic feelings from her.

I never told her anything, I was too scared to admit it. 

Let me see what spring is like on  A-Jupiter and Mars”

The music was faint. I could barely hear Frank’s voice and I was hoping the music would grow louder, but it didn’t. The tension was awkward. I held my hands on my knees, tapping my fingers to the beat of the song.

“So, uh, how long is this going to take?” I asked, finally breaking the silence.

“Hush and let me work my magic.” I went back to being silent. I trusted what she said, she was the artist here, not me. She chuckled lightly, as lightly as she was tickling my cheeks with the brush. “I think I put on too much,” she said. 

“What do you mean?” 

“You’re too red.”

That made it worse. My cheeks started heating up. It moved swiftly up to my ears. Kitten giggled. “Now you’re even redder. You’re not allergic to this, are you?” she asked, smiling ear to ear. 

“N-no,” I stuttered. “A-at least I don’t think I am.” Her grin grew wider.

“Maybe I should’ve used the mannequin instead,” she teased. “I think you are allergic, you’re redder by the second.”

“In other words, hold my hand”

A golden tube was held in front of my face. My eyes narrowed as I looked at it better. I gulped nervously. Kitten had this grand smile on her face, her teeth shining bright like pearls. “I’ve been practicing on you, so I’ll let you do the same,” she said.

“What do you want me to do?” I asked. Kitten took my hand and placed the tube in my grasp. 

“Paint my lips, please.”

“In other words, baby, kiss me”

“Paint your lips?” I repeated. 

“Paint my lips, darling,” she said. “I know you’re good at that.” She winked. What was that supposed to mean?

“Fill my heart with song and let me sing forevermore”

You are all I long for

All I worship and adore”

If it was possible, my jaw could’ve dropped from my mouth. It could detach completely like it was snapped right off. Kitten asked me to do her lipstick and doing her lipstick is what I would do. I uncapped the tube of red lipstick. My hand trembled, moving closer to her lips. Kitten moved her stool to close the gap between us. Her knee brushed up against mine. She was doing it on purpose. Her sly grin told me so.

“In other words, please be true”

“Okay, hold still,” I instructed. The tip of the lipstick pressed against Kitten’s lips. She let out a small groan. Her lips puckered out and she closed her eyes, the corners of her lips curling into a sly smile that wouldn’t leave.

“In other words, I love you”

Her lips were parted as I started the process of applying lipstick. The red of the waxy pigment painted over Kitten’s pink lips. My eyes widened. I never noticed how beautiful she was, the way her eyes would twinkle in the light and how gorgeous her smile was. My cheeks were as red as the lipstick I had in hand. My grip never faltered. Kitten giggled, her cute laugh snapping me out of my thoughts.

“What’s wrong, (Name)?” she asked, grinning. “Am I making you…uncomfortable?” She leaned forward. Her breath tickled my skin and her hands moved to hold my arms. Kitten was completely on the tip of her seat, practically pushing herself onto me and I held her by the waist. I put the lipstick tube on the vanity behind Kitten. I didn’t even cap it. 

“Fill my heart with song

Let me sing forevermore

You are all I long for, all I worship and adore”

I chuckled nervously and asked, “Uncomfortable?” My voice was weak and shaky. This wasn’t my best moment. 

“In other words, please be true”

“Yes, uncomfortable,” Kitten said again. 

“I guess I am, just a little,” I admitted. I couldn’t lie to her, it was wrong of me to do so. I sighed. “Can I tell you something?” I asked.

“In other words”

She nodded, her hair bouncing lightly. I knew Kitten was listening with intent and anticipation. I was waiting for myself to spit out what I wanted to say.

“Yes?” Her voice broke me. I forgot I was supposed to say something. 

“Um,” I started, “I….I….”

“In other words”

Oh, dang it, why couldn’t I say three simple words?! Why was it so hard?! The blush never faded from my cheeks. I couldn’t help but stare at Kitten’s lips. I managed to make them red like roses. My heart fluttered. I felt like kissing her now. “Kitten?” I managed to ask. She leaned forward in her chair.

“Yes? (Name), what is it?”

“I love you”

I opened my mouth at the wrong time, making the both of us blush. I didn’t even get a chance to speak, even with the words ready to come out. It was like Frank sang it for me. My hands moved on instinct. They tried to at least, but Kitten was quicker. 

I guess the feeling was mutual. In a swift move, her lips were on mine, her lipstick smearing all over my own lips. I was taken back by the sudden move. Automatically, like we had done this before, my hands placed themselves on her hips. She completely pushed off the stool to lean against me, wrapping her arms around my shoulders. A few chuckles escaped through my lips as we kissed. There was a brief moment where we could breathe and talk. Her hair was silky in my hand as I brushed it back. It framed her face perfectly.

“I really do love you,” I whispered, leaning in. Kitten giggled, kissing my cheek.

“Permission to say a joke?”

“Go ahead.” She giggled again. Her lips were touching mine ever so slightly.

“I’m litter-ly in love with you. It's kitten all over my face,” she joked. “I think I’ve been purr-ty obvious.” I giggled and shook my head.

“We really need to talk about your cat puns,” I whispered, getting another giggle from Kitten. I leaned in and closed the gap between us once again.

[stiffyck]

Hey Stiff,

@scittiesenjoyer here (why won’t Tumblr let me ask from a side blog)

I kinda went off in the tags of two anonymous asks you got implying you were racist for giving Scar a big nose in your art

I’m here to double down

Because I love your art and seeing you in the community and it makes my blood boil to think that some dickhead accusing you of something you didn’t do will make you feel less welcome here (honestly I wanna be a lot meaner to that anon, but I’m choosing to believe that they were coming from a good place and are just ignorant rather than malicious)

Anon has taken a very real issue and over applied it to the point of almost parody. I would like to make it clear that I am white myself and was raised Christian (agnostic now not that it really matters), so by no means an expert on the issues faced by others. But I do listen to Jewish people and have read into the topic of harmful Jewish stereotypes seemingly more than anon. Prepare for me to give you two whole sources more than that anon

Yes overly large noses (often also hooked) are used in caricatures of Jewish people, but never in complete isolation. Here’s a post on Jew-coding, the practice of applying character traits that make you think of Jewish people. Which can be good or bad, depending on what is making you think of Jewish people

https://www.tumblr.com/roach-works/703234602671751168/on-jew-coding

It doesn’t touch on large noses, though it is often brought up in discussions around art and animation. Especially as villains are often negatively Jew-coded. Think big hooked noses, curly hair, bankers/moneylenders (or otherwise tight with money), and of course stealing or harming blond haired, blue eyed children. Here’s an article that goes more into that for Disney especially

https://www.heyalma.com/why-do-so-many-disney-villains-look-like-me/

I think something important about most of what you will read on this topic is that it’s never a single trait in isolation. It’s the layering of bad Jew-coding that makes something racist. A college student being frugal is not a racist stereotype. But if that college student also had curly hair, was cowardly, antagonised others, and had a thick New York accent then we’d need to be concerned

You giving a character with no illusions to being Jewish a big nose is not racist. You’re not making him the villain, or greedy, or part of some shadow council or otherwise applying any negative (or positive for that matter) Jew-coding to him. You are just drawing a guy and having fun with your art style

I know nothing I can say will take away how you’ve been feeling about that initial anon, it feels horrible to be accused of something like this. Especially when it comes out of nowhere, and in this case is quite unfounded. I know I would have been scrambling trying to figure out where I went wrong. I hope knowing some of the context helps alleviate any distress you’ve been feeling

Please keep playing with proportions and your art style. There is nothing wrong with exaggerating only select features while leaving the rest proportional, the implication that there could be baffles me. I totally understand you wanting to take a break from posting art for a bit. This would be a massive blow to anyone’s confidence. But I think it’s important that you not let this steal away your joy in creating the art you want to

I’m happy to talk more on this or anything else if you wanna reach out, sending love and artistic inspiration

Hi, thanks for the ask!

I think I can see where the anon is coming from when it comes to some of the stuff I drew but I genuinely never thought it would come off as anything bad? Like to me my design just sorta looks like a character you'd see in a cartoon, which is why the ask took me so off guard.

I also feel that since I'm white and I can't really talk about this because I'm not really well educated when it comes to this sorta stuff? Like I don't want to argue with someone or try to defend myself when I don't know enough.

I've been meaning to read up on some stuff but adhd has been making it hard to do literally anything tbh. I need to get medicated so I can read non-fandom related stuff and in general actually do more productive stuff (more art, other stuff i enjoy I haven't been able to do because executive dysfunction) but I'm getting off track here dkvfkdjge

Ive been real anxious lately and that ask really got to me so I don't know about any art for now. I just need some time I guess for the anxiety to ease up idk.

Basically. What I'm trying to say.

I dont know enough about this and in no way would I ever want to do something that's bad or comes off as a racist stereotype or something.

Thanks for the sources and thanks for the nice words

[ruby-serpentis]

horror au! whitney - head canons

pairing: male! whitney x gender neutral! reader

warning(s): death, hauntings, forced marriage, blood

I MEANT FOR THIS TO BE OUT DURING HALLOWEEN LMAO obviously that didn’t happen

please note that i do not condone any of this behavior in real life. this is merely a work on fiction based on another work of fiction.

INTRODUCING...THE 2ND BEST BIO-EXORCIST

how could two ghosts fail to haunt a house and rid themselves of the family? inexperience, simply.

their case worker, bailey, had told them they would have to get rid of the humans themselves. but to never rely on that business card they got with one name scrawled on it: whitney.

river and winter were inexperienced ghosts and their haunting skills were juvenile at best. but it amused you, the child of the people that had moved in.

your father was a man of business and your step-mother was an eccentric artist. you wouldn’t really be at this home if it weren’t for the fact that finding an apartment was extremely difficult near the end of the academic year. so you resigned yourself to spending the summer between your freshman and sophomore year of college with your family and helping them move in.

the house had an old charm to it. and clearly there was a lot of thought put into everything from the wallpaper, to the decorations, to the antiques. it was a shame your step-mother was keen on reimagining the whole house for herself. you would’ve kept it the same, like your father.

when you first moved in, you noticed two women watching you from the attic window. they quickly disappeared, but it piqued your interest and you tried to go into the attic. only to find it locked.

you knew something was up, so you pushed the skeleton key into the lock and watched as it fell out, as if someone had poked it from behind.

after a few days, you were able to get into that attic and see the beautiful, well crafted miniature town. it was a cozy place to be, especially if you were a ghost.

you’d come to run into the couple later on that week. river was frustrated that it seemed the sheets did not work. (why would they?)

but as the weeks went on, the couple gradually grew more and more fond of you. even if they still wanted your family out of their home. winter was more than happy to receive your help in getting supplies for his model town. and river liked that at least you were trying to keep the integrity of the house, much to the disagreement of your step-mother.

things took a terrible turn though when river and winter tried to scare off your parents and their guests with a pretty good haunting incident. it scared the living shit out of you and usually, you would’ve been unphased.

perhaps it was time to call in the expert.

“it’s not a very scary name.” winter says, adjusting her glasses. “how do we know it’s going to work?”

“we’ll just have to try.” river looks at the back of the card, seeing it blank.

whitney. whitney. whitney.

the couple were shrunken down to the size of the model town and in the distance, they could see lights. they followed it, finding a bunch of arrows and shovels.

winter was not keen on doing what he thought they’d have to do. “let’s start digging.” river tosses her wife a shovel.

after what felt like forever, river felt her shovel hit hard against wood. she brushed the debris aside to discover a coffin with the name whitney messily scratched into it.

the coffin starts to shake, giving them the cue to climb out of the grave they had just dug up.

out from the grave popped...a child?

he looked no older than at most 20. he still had a bit of baby fat attached to his face. he looked so...human. like them. and yet the grin on his face was a little unnerving.

“whitney here! at your service! the second best bioexorcist in town!” his voice was a little raspy.

“you...you’re just a kid!” river exclaims.

“a kid?” he laughs. “i can guarantee i am not a kid! i just chose a form that would be suitable to your eyes and your comfort.”

“a kid is going to help us exorcise the people from our home?” winter raises an eyebrow. “what can you do?”

“i can do a lot more than you. like this.”

winter and river would never speak of what they saw when whitney uncovered a sliver of his true form.

whitney spent the next two weeks terrorizing you and your family. and honestly, you were terrified from leaving your room.

it was a little extensive what he was doing. and yet, he was frustrated as to why your step-mother insisted staying. do people just not know that a haunted house is a big neon sign for “get the fuck out?”

and yet, part of him was quite satisfied with the fact that you haven’t left. not yet anyways.

there was something about your particular fear that...really made him feel hot and bothered. especially below the waist.

he loved watching the way your eyes would widen and how you’d run straight for your room, locking the door behind you. he could easily pass through the door and unlock it, open it to give it the illusion of him coming in. but he didn’t. he liked that you thought you were safe from him in your room.

naturally, you were angry with both river and winter. you understood why they wanted you and your family out of your house. but you didn’t think it would ever come at this price.

the culmination of everything in the house comes with a seance. or what your step-mother’s colleague thought was a seance summoning.

what it really was a spell of exorcism, a spell that made the dead beyond dead, forced to float around in an endless void.

you recognized it for what it was. your step-mother was so desperate for validation with her art, within higher society, so desperate for fame that she was willing to kill people, kill souls.

you didn’t know what to do. there was nothing in this handbook for the dead about how to stop an exorcism. and that left you with only one option.

you ran to the attic, desperately searching for the spirit that had been terrorizing your house and family for the past few weeks. you didn’t know its name, only that it had a presence—

“looking for me?”

you look down at the model town, seeing a boy your age lighting a cigarette while sitting on the roof of a home. he takes a long drag and blows it towards you. you quickly swat the smoke away. it smells horrible.

“who are you?”

“who am i? well i can’t say. someone cursed me with the inability to say my name. so you’re gonna have to guess.” he blows his some hair out of the way of his eye. you swore you could see the eye hidden by his fringe being all black.

“i need your help!”

“help?” he smirks. “what help?”

“what do you—!” you took a deep breath. your hands were still shaking however. “i need you to save river and winter!”

“so those are their names?” he takes another drag. “why should i save them?”

“because it’s right?” you were in disbelief.

“yeah, but what’s in it for me slut?”

you felt your cheeks grow hot. what was even the point of calling you that? you couldn’t get distracted though! you could not!

“i…i don’t even know what i could give you!”

“you could give me your body.” he smirks. you feel repulsed by the way he’s looking at you, observing you.

“no!”

“not in that way.” he flicks his cigarette away. “i am kind of tired of being dead, y’know. kind of wanna be alive again? taste things, live things. you just need to marry me! and after my come into the world as a human, that’s it!”

“that’s…that’s it?”

“exactly.”

“there has to be more than that!” you exclaim. “i know that’s not all!”

“sure, i can go on about what else there is to the bargain. but,” he taps on his watch. “time is running out real quickly for your precious ghosts.”

your stomach drops. in the midst of trying to get help, you had forgotten that there was a clock ticking on river and winter.

“can you really bargain with me right now slut?”

you purse your lips and huff. “fine! i’ll…loan you my body i guess.”

“great! you just have to summon me! by saying my name.” he puts three fingers up. you’re able to guess what he means.

“what…what is your name?”

“it’s your…what’s their name? whatever one of your friend’s favorite drinks.”

“lager?”

“definitely not.”

“vodka?”

“gross!”

“okay…pink whitney?”

his face lights up. “second word slut.”

“whitney?” it sounds so strange rolling off your tongue. to you. to him it sounds so right. a little too right. “whitney? whitney?”

that was all he needed.

whitney disappeared, causing you to rush down stairs back to the exorcism.

with a snap of his fingers, he was able to stop the exorcism, saving winter and river from a fate worse than death (literally).

whitney proceeded to terrorize the living, especially your step-mother and her colleague. he was like a conductor leading an orchestra. the chaos moved like a symphony and you yourself yelped when your own shadow began moving on its own.

you were paralyzed with fear, watching everything unfold. you thought you saw everything until now.

before river and winter could question why whitney was free, he disappeared. and you with him.

“(y/n)?” river exclaims. “(y/n)!”

you were suddenly in a different place. it looked…quite cozy actually.

the lighting came from a singular fireplace, which crackled calmly. you approached it, mesmerized by the flames.

“alone at last.”

you turn around, whitney directly behind you. now that you were standing in front of him, you realized that he was…huge! he towered over you!

“take me back!”

“can’t do that slut. you’re mine now.”

“yours? i don’t belong to anyone!”

whitney raises an eyebrow and laughs. “oh you belong to me now. i mean, you agreed to give your body to me. and i fulfilled my end of the deal by saving those sissies called ghosts.” he grips onto your waist, pulling you close.

you squirm when you feel his tongue on your face. he gives a long lick and pulls away. “you taste so good when you’re afraid.”

“take me back!”

“don’t you listen slut?” he scoffs. “you’re mine. which means you will be forced to stay here. did you really think i would let you go after planning everything? leaving the handbook for the deceased out in the open for your step-mother to find?”

“you…you did this?”

“of course! what? don’t think i’m smart enough to?” whitney laughs and leans forward, catching your lips in a hard kiss.

+++ Stress

- - - Control

++ Arousal

you squirm, trying to free yourself. his grip becomes unbearably hard, forcing you to stop. and he bites down on your lip, hard. so hard that he draws blood. using your gasp of pain, whitney shoves his tongue into your mouth, tasting you. you wanna gag when you taste notes of copper.

he pulls away after what feels like an eternity of kissing. you looked so cute with your cheeks flushed, adrenaline running through your body, and blood dripping from your lower lip.

he wanted more.

your nose scrunches up out of disgust, smelling the heavy scent of cigarettes on him.

whitney just laughs.

“you’ll get used to it slut. in fact, you’ll learn to crave it~”

[circuscountdowns]

Hi! Wanted to start off by saying that I LOVE your cotl art its such a huge inspiration to me :D! I recently picked up drawing again and I've unfortunately been upset? envious?! of others' skills and just wanted to ask if you ever experienced this as a fellow artist and if so how do you not do that lol. Sorry for the weird question. I just thought some insight and advice from a fellow artist could helo. BUT I hope you still have a nice day and look forward to any more cotl art or anything you draw really :D!!! (also is okay if you don't answer it is a loaded question I just be in a silly goofy mood lately okay bye!)

oh wow being on the receiving end of a question like this is surreal, I’m honored my work inspires you! Thank u, you’re sweet, it’s not a loaded question at all! Here’s my long reply sorry

so unfortunately that comparing yourself to others thing doesn’t go away ever asdfgjkl. I suffer it every day, it sucks, feels bad. I’ve had industry people tell me they feel this way and they’ll have some of the most gorgeous visdev/boards/animation I’ve ever seen. Disheartening to hear, But! I’m a big believer that comparing your artworks with others is best used as a tool and not a punishment to yourself!

When looking at art you like, try to turn thoughts of, “Man I wish my stuff looked like that, my shit sucks,” to, “What is it that I like about this piece? The line art? The perspective?” Sometimes I’ll see work with thin line art and I’ll get an itch, and I’ll draw something with thin line art. It’s a conscious effort of keepin emotion out of that itch, keeping it as, “I saw art with thin lines, I want to do that. Yay I did that!” Compartmentalize it, the itch was simply to do thin line work, not to remake the piece you were inspired by. And you got a piece of art out of it, and a single piece is progress no matter how small!

If you want to compare, do it methodically! Why does my work look different (never use the words better or worse)! Oh, I see my piece doesn’t follow the rule of thirds, so the framing is different, I’ll be aware of that next time if it bothers me. Or, Oh I see they shade by hatching along with the form, I’ve just been going horizontally, I’ll try that other way!

it’s a learning curve of training yourself, like all corrective behavior.

like, I kinda have the warning feeling of dread when I’m about to compare my work with something, so before the self-deprecating thought can even start I have to think What do I Like about this?

I’m no expert at it, though. Actually getting myself to think this way is a struggle, but I find when I make Thoughtful Observations I level up. Not by a lot most times, but yknow.

and this part is just my personal experience:

Fanart and the internet can be the biggest Art skill killer sometimes. Get offline and cater to the audience that Really matters to your passion: You! I improved the most by spending 2-3 years doing doodles/comics/models for my dnd campaign ocs because I was that obsessed and I simply wanted to have it for me!

and after all that, then there’s the hardest skill of just accepting your work as is.

like, to me, my work is just scribbles. I see other artists’ stuff and go “Man they’re so good at comics and colors, man, why can’t I color?” But do I need to??? I don’t like coloring, do I need to be good at it? This isn’t a career, this is supposed to be fun! I scribble because I like it! I’m glad this persons good at coloring, I don’t need to be! Yay!

if I Want to be good at it, I’ll take the steps to get there! But if not, my scribbles are just fine :) I love black and white and values

I’ve been having that one on repeat for a while. It helps

(acceptance and denial go hand in hand btw lol they sound the same)

I wish there was a little off button for envy, but ah well! I hope that you take comfort in knowing we are all feeling it, and find joy in even the smallest little doodle you make! Have fun stay goofy!

[jiveyuncle]

Hi omg!!!!! I just saw the book you posted for TNAHP and I am dying! It looks GLORIOUS!!!!! Turned out so beautiful binded like that! And the art is absolutely stunning, may I ask what company printed it? Like what shop did you use? I’ve wanted to print certain stories just for myself so badly over the years but there are so many places and I can’t decide and this is exactly what I’ve been looking for!!!!! 😍😍😍 thank you so much for sharing!

Hi, anon! Thank you! 💕 I was so happy getting to hold it and put it up on my shelf! Look!!! 😭💕

I want to preface everything I’m about to say with this: if you use a third party service to print any material (fics, art, art in fics, etc.) please, please, please reach out to the author/artist and get permission to use the service before printing! It doesn’t matter if someone else already has permission, make sure *you* have permission. Also consider if the art in the fic belongs to someone other than the writer (like if the work was a collaborative piece or if it features fanart of the fic) and get permission from them, too! You may have to wait for a response, or you may never get one (in which case, don’t print without permission), but it really is worth it to make sure the authors/artists feel comfortable and confident that they keep control over their own work.

This is the first service I’ve used, and I have no experience binding, so I’m just sharing what I did and what I noticed with my untrained eye.

First, the service I used is Barnes and Noble Press. Here’s a link:

You can make books publicly for sale or books strictly private for personal use. If printing fanfic, be certain that you are creating a “personal” print. It will appear like this in your projects section (note the “PERSONAL” banner above the cover art):

As you can see - the price is pretty decent as far as books go! After tax, shipping, and handling costs, this book turned out to be $21.82.

You can choose how you want to customize the materials your book is made up of. Different materials cost different amounts (i.e. printing color pages inside is going to increase your price a lot). If you don’t know where to start, here’s the preference settings I selected for my copy:

Now, understand that they are not editing your book for you - you’re still going to have to do all the formatting and arranging in a document yourself and designing your own cover (so be prepared to still spend a lot of time on this project). They simply print and physically put all the pieces together for you.

Lastly, I want to address quality. While this is far better quality than I could manage on my own, it’s still not 100% up to quality of most books I can purchase in a store. For comparison, I’ll show a couple side-by-side images of the fic print next to my favorite published book, The Raven Boys by Maggie Stiefvater.

Dust jacket: Feels great! Literally no complaints.

The hard cover: A bit cheaper feeling. Definitely noticeable difference with a printed visual texture instead of real texture. The printed texture creased and wore away to reveal the white beneath. It’s visible here after just a few openings of the book. Also, unfortunately, you cannot customize the hardcover under the dust jacket, so no spine labels and you’re stuck with this color blue:

Finally, my biggest concern, the binding of the pages: looks a lot more like a paperback that had its cover glued onto a hardcover than an actual standard hardcover. Again, I’m no expert and idk if that’s normal, what anything is called, or how this affects the lifespan of the book, but you can even see where the spine kinda hovers away from the hardcover casing and how that compares to the The Raven Boys.

Anyway, the service isn’t perfect, no, but it works for what I wanted, looks nice, is user friendly, and allows me to hold a fic I otherwise never would have had the opportunity to. I appreciate it for that.

Hope this was helpful! Print responsibly 😊

[glorf1ndel]

Fëanorians as Taylor Swift Albums

Speak Now: Taylor’s Version is out, so I apologize for the person I’ve become. That being said, here are the Fëanorians as Taylor Swift albums!

Fëanor: Reputation. “Look What You Made Me Do” is practically the Oath of Fëanor, guys. This album combines electrifying love with giving the middle finger to society trying to intrude on that love, which feels very Fëanor to me. (Plus, he would absolutely fight other versions of himself in order to prove himself as the supreme Fëanor.)

Nerdanel: Red. I have to give Nerdanel the album about heartbreak – and the catharsis that comes with writing a ten-minute song about it. The highs and lows of Nerdanel’s life? She remembers them all too well. Red also contains some of Taylor’s most well-regarded music, and I think Nerdanel would appreciate that, as an artist herself.

Maedhros: Midnights. Let’s face it, Maedhros has had more than 13 sleepless nights. And this album has “Anti-Hero” and “You’re On Your Own, Kid,” which are hardcore Maedhros songs. But I’d like to think Mae finds joy in life, and that’s what Midnights is about – being almost surprised that in the end, you’ve stumbled upon happiness.

Maglor: Folklore. This one has to go to Maglor for the intricate songwriting, ocean vibes, and the line I can go anywhere I want/ Anywhere I want, just not home. Plus, this was a triumphant Grammy win for Taylor – and Maglor deserves a Grammy, too. :’)

Celegorm: 1989! Celegorm needs an album to rival his energy, so why not one filled with some of Taylor’s biggest hits? “Bad Blood” and “Out of the Woods” were made for Celegorm: the son of Fëanor, the hunter, the lover of life, and everything in between. Tyelko’s got a blank space, baby, and he’ll write your name.

Caranthir: Speak Now. Here are some of Taylor’s fiercest songs, perfect for the Fëanorian who can get a little angry sometimes. Let Caranthir listen to pop rock! Also, the fairy tale themes of this album suit him; I’d like to think that he dreams of a happy ending with Haleth. Maybe he even gets it. Long live the walls we crashed through, y’all.

Curufin: Evermore goes to Curufin, who’s thoughtful and intense all at once. He’s a clever craftsman, and here is a cohesive album where every song is a little melancholy, feral, and maybe even joyful. I can see Curufin listening to “Evermore,” hoping for the moment when his own pain will end.

Amrod: Fearless! Whether or not you agree with the crispy Amrod theory, there’s no denying that Amrod (and his twin) have a good amount of fearlessness. There are a lot of songs in this album about youth, such as “Fifteen,” which suit a young Fëanorian trying to navigate Middle Earth. It’s even more stressful than high school.

Amras: Taylor Swift. What else could I give the youngest brother? Sometimes Amras might feel overshadowed by his siblings, but there’s no denying it: he’s a powerhouse, too. So here’s the album that contains Taylor Swift’s first hits, like “Tim McGraw” and “Teardrops on My Guitar.” Also, I think Amras would appreciate a good country ballad.

Celebrimbor: Lover. Celebrimbor is a cheerful person who truly loves his life in Ost-in-Edhil. He’s also an expert smith, so Taylor’s first self-owned album, the product of a lot of hard work, is one that I think Celebrimbor would appreciate. And we’ve got to give him the happy ending of “Daylight.” I just think that you are what you love.