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winterwhisperz-blog · 1 year

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Hello!! I don't know if your TS head-canons still open (sorry if not) but can you make TS head-canons about MC almost dying? Like almost killed by souless, the curse is getting worse, almost died because someone stab them? Is your choice btw~ if you can't do it it's fine~ and sorry for my bad grammar, English is not my first language 🙂

(been craving come ANGST this day-)

Hi hi !!! They’re still open yes! I’ll have em open for awhile since I love doing these 😭 tysm for the ask !!

(I’m sorry for taking so long btw, writer’s block has been beating my butt)

I was only able to do three of the Li for now, since I was writing so much my tumblr was beginning to glitch so UHMMMM I’ll have to do a part two !! :,)

ALR LES GET INTO IT

The Lis Reacting To Mc Almost dying (P1)

Warnings: Angst,mentions of death, blood, violence, please proceed carefully if any of these may trigger you !!

Notes: GN MC, creative liberty, not proofread

Ais

Oh dear, NOW THIS WOULD BE SAD

Let’s say you were out at night, just heading back after spending time with Ais. Your head still humming with thoughts of his smile, his voice, and how he always makes you feel.

You get lost in the thoughts for a bit, forgetting your surroundings as you pet Princess goodbye.

The streets are foggy and cold, masking anything in the dark as harmless silhouettes.

You don’t notice until it’s too late—

Hot breath on the back of your neck, the growl of some unearthly shadow

A soulless, large and already dripping with blood—you leap forward just as its jaws slam shut

You’ve been in this situation before, you know what to do— you run

But it’s dark, and the moon, as if she’s just as afraid, flees fully into the horizon. Freezing you in pitch black.

You don’t see the rock in front of you, and fall face first into the bloody swamp of the wasteland.

You reach out, trying to both get up, to escape— to fight.

But it’s pointless, you’re trapped. There is no way out.

There’s pain, a scream, and you drown in the dry, suffocating dark.

The last thing you hear is a blood-curdling roar before ice encases your body, forcing you still.

….

Hesitant red light splashes across the lids of your closed eyes, a dullness like a soaked blanket over your form.

A low hum reaches for your ears, sounding faintly familiar. Comforting in a way that urges your chest to loosen, for your mouth to release sharp breath after breath.

But while the hum sharpens into a voice, so does the dullness into pain

The ice that had been embracing your body bursts into scathing fire, burning through your skin and sending a scream from your lips.

Something soft envelopes your legs and sides, a warmth that slowly soothes the pain. Something smooth comes to rest over your brow, a palm—a thumb gently caressing your skin.

“You’re going to be alright, Sparrow, breathe.”

You know that voice, and something about it makes you rest. Allowing the pain to slowly be smothered.

Opening your eyes, your vision clears to see a pair of red eyes and horns. Ais.

He’s the one caressing your forehead, the other wiping blood and sweat from your neck. There’s another figure working beside him, tall with sparkling eyes. Kuras.

You can see he’s bandaging you up, a bucket of blood-touched water sitting on the faraway counter. You’re laying down on a table—the same table from your first time in Eridia.

When the pain has finally vanished completely, and you’re fully awake, Kuras checks up once more on you before leaving you with Ais.

“What happened?” You mutter, trying to sit up and having Ais’ arms hold your back as you stumble.

“You were attacked by a soulless. Princess tugged you back—and I brought you to Kuras.”

The way he’s speaking is a little odd. It’s stiff, like he’s holding something back. His eyes darker, skin pale with lingering fear. “Ais?”

At your words, he brings you into an embrace. Taking a deep breath as you fall against his chest. You wince a little, and he loosens his grip. Though refusing to let go.

He doesn’t say anything for a long time, and neither do you.

Next time you spend the day with Ais, you’re also spending the night. He’s never letting this happen again.

I like writing angst >:]

I wanted to make it a bit longer but I don’t want to make these too too long

Leander

Hehehehe okay okay >:) so so so

You’re out in the middle of the day, the streets bustling and loud

The Sun, surprisingly, is out and showering the city with light and heat

Your bandages mixed with sweat ??? Not good not good

You weren’t prepared for it being hot today, especially with how cold and dreary Eridia usually is. And seems like, no one else was either. But the vendors are not letting it go to waste

They reach out for passersby’s, shouting and presenting the catches of today, along with an array of different trinkets and materials

You can’t help be a little curious, but once you stop in the road, people crowd by, bumping into you and sending whirls of panic each time.

You don’t notice that one particular shove scrunches up the bandages on your left arm.

Annoyed at the contact, you huff, preparing to just forget it and come back tomorrow—

“Ah, you there!” One of the vendors have spotted you, and without a care, they reach for your hand. Your left hand.

“Care for a… a…” they trail off, eyes losing their energetic glow. You know that look—and you look down to see their hand clasped around your bandages, palm brushing a cut in the protection, skin on your curse.

Your whole body goes numb in panic, and you quickly wretch your hand away, hiding both under your cloak. But it’s too late, it always is.

The vendor ducks their head, bangs obscuring their eyes as they clench the sides of their booth— veins pulsing under the skin. Then they start to laugh.

Your world comes crashing down.

Strangers don’t notice anything amiss, even as the laughing becomes maniacal. Or if they do notice, they only walk along faster.

The Vender lunches for your neck, taking you to the ground in a puff of dust. You slam hard against the road, hands clawing your throat.

If you how to fight, you manage to get them off, if you don’t, you shout for help, slamming your hands against the vendor in an attempt to shove them off.

The heat of the day blares against your eyes as you struggle.

(If you got him off thanks to your ability to fight, you knock into a few others, accidentally brushing against enough that you UHHH get outnumbered by people inflicted by your curse)

Things start to blur, limbs begin to weaken, and no one dares to help.

Of course, until someone does.

“Hey, get off of them!”

Bursts of air flood back into your lungs, hands coming to lift you up and drag you away.

“Die, die, die die die die!”

(This is really creepy if you fought him off at first and got outnumbered- just a bunch of crazy people chanting at you like this what the heck 😭)

You want to cover your ears, to block out the noise, the familiar, gut-wrenching voices that have followed you everywhere and refuses to leave.

Tears stream down before you can stop them as you run, barely noticing it was Leander who saved you.

You don’t take in the comforting coolness of the Wet Wick as Leander leads you inside, closing the door behind you. You barely hear his voice as he guides you back into your room. You only distantly feel the brush of his hands wiping away your tears.

“Mc… Mc? Can you hear me?”

You don’t answer for a long time, and only do along with a weakened sob.

“I’m a monster.”

There’s a silence before Leander gently starts to unwrap your bandages— you pull back instinctively.

“No, no- I can’t. I can’t.”

He pauses momentarily, fingers lifting your chin so you can look at him. “Mc, you aren’t going to hurt me. I told you I would be there for you, and I am.”

Something about how he says it makes you nearly believe it. You stay still, allowing him to continue unwrapping your bandages. He lifts your palm to his cheek, leaning into you.

His free hand coming to softly caress the golden lines on your skin.

“You aren’t a monster, to me.”

Afterward, the crazed person(s) were silently taken care of. Those who witnessed too closely, bribed to turn the other way.

Kuras

OKAY OKAY SO

I think it’d fun going off of that Kuras tour thingy where we spot him coming back from the wastes

We know he goes there, and now you’re determined to find out exactly why

So one day, without his knowledge, you venture out there, following him.

He’s fast, even more so than usual since he thinks there’s no one he needs to keep pace with

The day is quickly fleeing, your energy slumping entirely on the boost of curiosity

Your feet are becoming heavy, eyes collecting the dust of the waste so you occasionally wipe at them. But the second time you do so, you look ahead— seeing nothing but emptiness in front of you. Only the thin line of the fading light falling on the horizon.

Kuras has disappeared.

You’re alone—too far from Eridia to make it home before night

The cold can sense fear, gripping onto your throat and making your heart shiver under the skin. Shadows are watching you, whether they be soulless or…something else

You don’t want to call out, not exactly ready to face Kuras’ disappointed stare.

And still…you came out here to find out where he was going. Why stop now?

Swallowing your nerves, you plow forward.

Kuras couldn’t have gotten too far—you would spot him again soon. And once you figure out what he’s doing, you’ll never venture out here again. You’ll go home and put your curiosity to bed.

But the more you stride, the more the stars look like eyes, the cold becoming bites of teeth on your face, the wind a voice warning you to go back.

You start running without meaning to, the wind becoming a howl on your back.

Before you can stop yourself— you shout.

“Kuras!”

Something morphs in front of you, something dark and wicked

A soulless, you think. A foul, horrible soulless that doesn’t scream like the others. It stares at you, watching. Knowing you can’t go back now.

You reach hurriedly for a weapon, you know well enough to bring one always, but something stops you from using it. There’s something about this soulless—it has a mind of its own.

You heard of these types before, the ones that weren’t just mindless monsters. But you weren’t prepared to come across one—alone.

Shivering with panic, you watch as it prowls closer—and opens its mouth to swallow you whole.

The cold wraps itself around you, and just then you snap out of your daze to use your weapon. You didn’t expect the beast to be stronger.

It takes you down, forcing you to stare up at the hollow, but knowing eyes.

It opens it’s mouth, and laughs.

It lowers to rip into your throat— but it never reaches you.

A flash of golden light shakes the night, a blaze of warmth that burns your eyes and forces you to turn away.

Waves of heat pulses like an army of heartbeats, the wind turns into the mighty flapping of wings. Fear, joy, terror, elation— it all floods into your veins as you’re bathed with holy light.

There’s a screech, then a bang

You turn your face to gaze into the glow, seeing only a silhouette of something large and ancient before it all fades into a man you know well.

“Kuras?” You weakly mutter as he kneels beside you, cradling your thrumming head onto his lap.

“Be still, MC.”

You expected those words from him, the polite comfort of a doctor. But what you don’t expect is a kiss on your forehead, the voice of someone so calm to shiver with slight fear, longing.

“I have you now.”

If it was said by anyone else, it would sound like a generic word of support, but said by Kuras, it was an oath. A prayer of a priest who promised themselves to God.

OKAY THAT WAS RLLY LONG- I apologize- I just love Kuras a lot

Anyway !! That’s the first batch :] ! I hope you enjoyed !!!

I hope you have an amazing day, see a butterfly, eat lots of good food and have your favorite song play first in shuffle !! 🫶

#virtual novel #touchstarved x reader #Touchstarved #touchstarved game #touchstarved ais #touchstarved leander #touchstarved kuras #answered asks #thanks for the ask!#leander #kuras #ais

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beyoursbb · 1 year

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€uro Tra$h Series: Dipped in $ugar (Part 3 - final)

Pairing: Billy Butcher x You (Reader) || Rating: Explicit || Word Count: 1.9k || Link to Part 1 and Link to Part 2 (Not necessary to read to understand Part 3, but here if you want more! Timeline for this work is Season 1 btw).

Summary: Just morning sex with Butcher lol.

Author’s Note: Wrote this shorter cuz I meant to get this out a long while ago, whoops! You can let me know how it was! Likes, dislikes, etc. I love and appreciate feedback in the comments. This 3-part scenario is now complete. @a-rogue-tiddy-bot thought you might want to be tagged!

Warnings: swearing, teasing, vaginal fingering, implied p in v sex, sugar daddy / daddy kink (the name daddy is used 1 time, and a lil talk of those dynamics), age gap (implied, not specified), little bit of praise, begging

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You woke up gradually, each of your senses gathering intel on your surroundings to remind you of where you were. Sunlight streamed through the tiny crack in the motel’s curtains, glinting off the weapon on the table. The bed sheets by your nose still had the scent of laundry detergent despite last night’s action. The faint snoring of the man behind you matched the warm body cuddled up to your backside, and the arm under your neck that you were using as a pillow. You could feel the heat radiating off Billy’s chest and the weight of his other arm hanging over your midsection, as well as something not-so-soft pressing against your butt.

You stretched your hand back to stroke his neck. “Billy?” you whispered.

No response.

“Billy,” you said louder, lightly tugging on his hair.

He hummed, keeping his eyes closed.

You took a breath, then gave an experimental shift backwards into his crotch.

“Oi. Morning sunshine,” he mumbled into your hair, his hand already cupping between your legs.

You giggled at how that got his attention. “Morning, Billy.”

“When’d you put these on?” he complained softly, playing with the waistband of your bottoms.

“When I got up in the middle of the night.”

If you thought Butcher’s regular deep voice was sexy, you were wholly unprepared to face this gravelly tone as he woke up. Especially when it was demanding your naked body again.

“Well fucking take ‘em off, will ya?”

Billy hardly gave you a moment to comply before shoving his hand in your underwear. He immediately found your clit, but his touch was gentle, and worked tantalizingly slow, tracing lazy circles. Your legs didn’t need much coaxing to open up as Billy eagerly pushed his own thigh between them and hooked yours around it while planting soft kisses to your neck. His beard tickled your jawline, and you sighed contentedly, melting into the sensation with a slight turn of your head toward him. You closed your eyes.

If this was how snug morning sex with Billy could be, you hoped he would let you linger more frequently. You guessed being half asleep was why his demeanor had taken a sharp left turn and a whole 180 flip to be so…calm. Not that you ever minded his roughness. But this right now was a different experience, and it was nice. You were used to trying to help Butcher relax as much as possible during your visits, but there is only so many times a guy can fuck the stress out of his system before needing to face his stressors head-on, like a well-adjusted adult. You knew an unstable, emotionally unavailable man when you saw one; Butcher didn’t have time for that. His mind was always preoccupied, his actions always in a hustle to return to whatever was demanding his attention before you arrived. Hence, why you were surprised he wasn’t already fucking you into the mattress and sending you on your way.

Instead, Billy’s fingers continued to tease your slick entrance delicately; it was almost unbelievable they were the same fingers that brought you to a searing climax some hours ago.

“Even first thing in the morning, so wet and ready,” Billy whispered in your ear.

You could hear the smirk in his voice, driving you to push your hips against him to address your growing need for more friction. But Billy seemed satisfied taking his time playing with you, his breathing even as his lips ghosted across the smooth skin of your shoulder.

A cross between a groan and a whimper slipped off your tongue. You were getting impatient already. “I need more, Daddy.”

“Need more what, luv?” Billy took hardly a second to push your underwear farther down your legs until it was off, and run his hand back up your bare skin.

“More of you,” you answered, reaching behind to grab his increasingly hard length. Hot and heavy in your palm, you started to touch him too, rubbing slowly from base to tip.

“Oh, you’ll get more, baby.”

You inhaled sharply. Billy rarely called you baby. Shit, you thought. Since when had he picked up on the effect that word had on you when it was uttered by him? You could give less of a shit when your other sugar daddies called you the pet name. But Billy dropping it so casually right now while he toyed with your arousal? You were in for it this morning.

“My baby can be such a greedy girl,” he chuckled.

My baby. My. Baby. My.

This time you visibly shivered, your shoulders rattling against his chest, but you tried to cover it up by twisting your head back at the same time to steal a kiss from his lips. He allowed it, nipping at your lower lip, then removed his arm from under you and propped himself up on it. Butcher was at the perfect level now to hover right above your ear.

“Did ya know that’s why I say you’re my favorite?”

His fingers were back on your clit, the pressure still light, but he quickened his pace.

“Why?” you asked, dumbly, his teasing clearly too distracting for your mind to keep up with the conversation, as well as provide any stimulation for him. Your hand on his length had already slowed to a pathetic, arrhythmic rate. You blushed at the realization when he — rather politely — removed your useless hand from his crotch and placed it under his own to touch yourself with as he continued his ministrations on your wetting pussy.

“Because you’re greedy, luv. And I know it’s not for my money.”

A pitifully needy noise slipped out from deep in your throat as Billy’s mouth connected to the soft spot under your ear, tongue flicking at the lobe, before he bit it — harder than you anticipated.

“You get that everywhere, with however many daddies you have.”

You drew in a deep breath in an attempt to steady your loudly beating heart. Was there a tinge of spite in his voice? You didn’t have time to analyze. Billy flipped you around to face him, swiftly replacing the hands on your core with his length dragging through your folds. You gasped, gripping at his shoulders, trying not to stare down at the delicious sight of his big hand around his even bigger member, its head leaking precum into your slit.

“Nah, I know,” Billy growled. Your eyes snapped up to meet his dark, lust-filled gaze. “You’re just greedy for my cock.”

You shrieked at the sudden intrusion, then swore at him. Finally he had dipped into your dripping cunt. Except this fucker switched back to using his fingers.

“Billy— Billy, please,” you cried out, not even sure what you were begging for. You were greedy for his cock, yes. You were just as desperate for your fucking release. Also, you wanted to wipe that smug smile off his handsome face.

“Let me hear you,” he insisted, two digits pushing in and out of your center. “Tell me, why are you my favorite fuck?”

You willed your mind and mouth to cooperate in forming sentences. “Because I’m greedy.”

The quick response earned you a third digit stretching you out, causing you to bite down on your lip.

“For…?”

Again, you forced yourself to concentrate, despite the lewd noises echoing below you and the feeling of climax in the pit of your stomach hungry to break free.

“For your cock,” you breathed out. “I’m so greedy for your cock.”

Billy curled his fingers to hit that spot you loved, and you felt your tether to reality loosen.

“So sweet of you to say, darlin’.” The stillness in his tone matched the precision of his palm now rubbing tight circles on your clit. "Is that what you want now? You want my cock in your tight little pussy?"

Your head drooped forward, thudding against his firm chest, your hands still clawing at his arms for some sense of stability while you grinded down on him, desperately chasing your high. He was stringing you out for all you were worth and you were so, so close, you didn’t care how pathetic you sounded. "Yes, yes! Please— I want it so bad,” you panted.

“Next time, baby, look at me when you speak. Maybe then you'll get exactly what you want.”

With one last stroke of his hand, your orgasm hit hard, much more intense than the two last night combined, and twice as pleasurable. You saw stars with your eyes sealed shut while your pussy clenched with a vice grip around Billy, as strong as your nails dug into his skin. He made you the most writhing, sweaty mess you’d been in months, yet you didn’t — couldn’t — even make a sound, sans the quiet gushing of your juices thoroughly coating him.

You had no idea how many minutes passed before you came back down to Earth in Butcher’s arms and opened your eyes to see him peering down at you gingerly. He pecked your forehead, and you did the same to his neck, collarbone, and chest.

“Fuck, I’m glad you stayed last night, luv.”

“Me too,” you squeaked out.

“You alrigh’?” Billy asked, wiping the tears that had formed at the corners of your eyes.

You nodded, then laughed. “Pretty sure I blacked out.”

“Thought so, too,” he replied, a small, satisfied grin appearing.

You rolled your eyes and playfully pushed him away. Then for the first time all morning, you got a good look at him. His thick, dark brown hair could definitely be characterized as a bed head, and you aimlessly combed through it a few times. Your gaze drifted downwards to the red scratches you had just gifted him, and you gently brushed over them with the pad of your thumb. A little farther down you carefully studied the still-fresh bruises and past-lingering scars across his broad torso.

Your turn to inquire. “Are you alright?”

“Never better,” Billy said, a little too quickly.

“I mean from last night.” You traced an imaginary line connecting the marks on his body, to make your point clear. “What happened?”

Butcher shifted his body, but his face remained hardened. “Even MM needs a reminder every once in a while. Captain’s gotta run a tight ship,” he said matter-of-factly. “Job’s stressful, night didn’t go as planned, he took it out on me, but he knows when I’m right.”

You nodded, as if deliberately sidestepping the question about his injuries to explain the one part of his night you were present for was an acceptable enough answer. However, after a restful night’s sleep and an active morning that left you plenty clear-headed, you felt a bit more bold. You didn’t care if it wasn’t a sugar baby’s place to know his job. If he wasn’t ready to discuss the elephant in the room this second, you were at least going to let him know he wouldn’t get away with avoiding it for long.

“Fine, if you want to dance around it. You don’t have to tell me right now why you were gone four hours longer than you expected, or came back with this,” you nudged his taped up hand, “or that,” you gestured toward the semi-automatic on the table, “but at the very least, you should introduce me to your colleagues.”

The flashback of you laying on the bed, thankfully fully clothed, when they stormed in last night flashed through your memory. “You know, the guys who weren’t sure that this is legal,” you added. “Want them to know it’s all good.”

There was a beat of silence, until Billy relented, and you were genuinely surprised at the lack of pushback. “Fine.”

With his hand on your hip, he rolled you over onto your other side, back into a spooning position, with your ass pulled against him.

“You’ll meet the boys with my cum dripping down your thighs.”

#Billy Butcher #billy butcher x reader #billy butcher smut #billy butcher fanfic #billy butcher x you #the boys #the boys fanfic #the boys smut #amazon the boys #the boys tv #Karl urban #beyoursbbfic

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ryuatewater · 3 months

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what happened why is there mass genocide of anons???

glad im not anon

wait-

-📟

Well its from the anonverse uh ill explain it all wait

Okay so you know @/a-narcissists-warren right?

Funny thing they have their asks open and answer non question like stuff (basically just talking)

Well my friend started talking to them in anon while also adding an anon sign off so Afonso could recognize em (they used the 💽🎞 emoji combo)

And Afonso always* drew a little doodle when answering them, they even drew the anons and gave them unique designs based off their emojis

When I saw my friend talking to Afonso (who is literally my idol) I ofcourse wanted to do it too so I sent in a few asks (one or two asks really because i was nervous and shy) ALSO using an anon sign off (though i got the short end of the stick because my anon sign off had stuff to do with trees my lil guy was a tree too)

Then new anons started appearing so Afonso started drawing them designs too

People REALLY loved the designs and everything was going jolly

Then Notepad anon made an account for their anonsona

Everyone LOVED the idea and started making accounts too

The anons were interacting with eachother, drawing eachother fanart, blah blah blah everything was so fun and jolly!!

Heres the most recent pic i have of the anons btw

BTW THIS IS DRAWN BY @a-narcissists-warren SORRY FOR THE TAG

BUT there was a certain anon (I've seen a few names used for them like funny, odd, creepy but most common was silly anon so ill just call em that) silly anon had an account way before they started sending asks to Afonso

I wasnt there to see it myself but from what ive heard Silly Anon is canonically a child, back when the account first started people sent "asks" to silly anon just brutally murdering them woth gory descriptions that i wont be talking about now, this of course affected the child a lot and the kid grew up to be extremely violent (they were canonically 7 years old when they started sending asks to Afonso i believe) they also closed their own ask box because they were scared of getting hurt again

Silly anon would brutally kill people if not given enough candy (they of course loved candy bc theyre a literal child) so there was a full on massacre that happened because silly hadnt eaten enough candy to calm down

I believe it was here when we learned of a power Afonso had, they could draw in the air with their finger and anything they drew became real! But if they drew too much theyd experience a burn out where their hand was literally burnt and they couldnt draw properly

So Afonso started drawing candy for silly anon and when they couldnt draw because of a burn out they went and bought some for them

Afonso also tried to treat silly well and made them feel welcome (acting like a parental figure in my opinion)

So silly started trusting Afonso

Afonso drew all the dead people back to life and everything was alright again

Timeskip to when sillys canonical birthday came, they were turning 8 years old, they made a post about it and tagged every anon, everyone gave silly candy and sweets!! It was going so well until ONE ANONYMOUS ASSHOLE stabbed silly anon, silly healed quickly but was enraged, seeing red even, the ask box closed back up and silly went on another rampage literally killing EVERY ANON THERE IS and they were killing these anons using methods people ued on them, making the anons live trough sillys trauma

Okay so every anon was dead, Afonso was outside while all this was happening so when they came back they were horrified, every anon was dead and silly was so mad they even wanted to kill Afonso but Afonso started crying about how they couldnt make silly feel better, become a better person and theyve done all that they could

Silly dropped their weapon and hugged Afonso falling asleep on their shoulder because they were exhausted from all that killing, they breathed out a white gas from their mouth recovering every anon thats body was still intact and not turned into a pile of gore

Afonso drew all the other people back to life so now every anon is back EXCEPT ONE, 💽🎞 anon (who we like to call dvd anon), dvd anon was underground when they got killed so they cant be recovered right now

But every other anon is back

Thats where the story is at right now

Ryu note: if dvd doesnt come back i will cry /halfjoking

#anonverse explained #i explained very poorly but uh i did the best i coul #I only explained the very important stuff that were needed in order to understand the plot

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burgycreeper405-blog · 1 year

Text

hello there

welcome to the pinned post

here we have the list of everything you wantes to know about the me myself and i

Commissions: open (dm me if interested)

here is my commissions sheet if you're interested in commissioning me

Art Trades: closed

Art Request: open 4 now

tho the rules are:

the art requests are mostly just gonna be in sketches, if you want fully detailed art, you can commission me if you want/nf

if you want a request, please state that you want a art request,, bcuz if not,, look I'm dumb okay? just be more specific please (and if you can, please include a prompt and not just a character/ship)

would like these kind of reqs tho/nf

no ocs (sorry)

aus are fine (tho pls send a reference 👍)

only the franchise im interested in (the list is down the below)

btw, im just into ii and tdos, not all of object shows 👍

any ship in any franchise I'm in is fine as long as i'm not uncomfortable with it and it's not the ones listed there in the dni list

okay, small update. do not send me ship reqs that includes taco (i am fine with taco x blueberry, (or this wild polycule lol) and or tacopadlet, tho im 50/50 about it rn. max has still yet to convince me adsklgj

there might be more to be added in the future but yeah 👍

down the below also has the everythin you need or just want to know so you better check it 👍

but before you do

this is for my and yours' comfort if you somehow have one or two or all of these

DNI If you:

- ship tac0m1c

- ship s0apm1c (on thin ice) ((you shippers can interact, but if you push your ship in my face, the ice will shatter))

- ship kn1fan (on thin ice) ((same goes here))

- hc knife and mic as siblings

- hc baseball and suitcase as father-daughter???? / infantalize suitcase

the basic DNI stuffs; Racist, being mean to people and tells them to "kys" or other mean things, etc. etc.

aight, now that you's done reading the dni list, time for the other chet

it's kinda simple and also kinda messy so bare with me here

you can call me Burgy and i is girl, but any pronouns is fine

my other socials are:

Instagram (@/burgycreeper405)

Youtube (@/burgycreeper405)

and no i don't have twitter, i used to, but no, twitter is like my toxic ex, so if you see me "post" on twitter, that's not me, that's probably a person acting as me but failed miserably

i have a dicsord server if you wanna join

the app i use to draw is Medibang Paint / Manga (the site lol) / Ibispaint on the ipad

to animate, i use Flipaclip on my phone

I am not in any fandoms cuz i am very ✨random✨

but draws one topic for a long while, but as time goes on, i go back to drawing random chet that i like and not just one thing

here are the lists of what I'm interested in (aka the things that I'll draw from most to least maybe)

• Team Fortress 2

• FOP A New Wish

• Inanimate Insanity (II)

• The Daily Object Show (TDOS)

• The Lego Movie

• Super Mario

• Trolls

• Undertale

• Cuphead

• Batim

i have more stuffs that i like but those 8 are the main, and I don't even really draw the other ones that much, but i like em, but i ain't telling em,, so yeah :P

i have a fun little ask blog for my AUs and stuff (tho it's just Lego movie aus) so if you're interested, it's this

@ask-burgys-tlm-aus

now that the simple stuff is done,,

it's time for the '🍩'(do not)s and other infos

• do not repost or reupload my stuff like put it in compilations and stuff, even if you credit me, do not repost/reupload my chet

• do not trace my art

• if i seem rude, that means i’m in a bad mood

• you can use my art as pfp or banners, just do not reupload/repost and or trace my stuffs

• if you dm-ed me/private message me, i won't answer it, especially if we're not even that close (unless it's for commissions then i will answer that lol) cuz either I'm awkward at starting conversations, or i just don't want to dm back, it's one of the two but it's mostly the former

• if you have questions, ask it in the ask box, it's there for a reason

• if you want to do fanart, then go ahead, no need to ask, just tag me, id love to see it

• keep in mind, i mostly have headcanons that are not the same as the popular ones cuz, not everyone will have the same hcs, shocker i know

• i don't do with popular chet so keep that in mind

• i hate shipping discourse cuz i find that stupid and a waste of time, especially when the ship they're fighting is not even that problematic as they say they are, so get that away from me cuz i don't want to deal with it

• i don't mind any ships (besides the ones on the red down below), I'm neutral with mostly any ships (again, besides the ones on the red down below), unless it's actually problematic like those age gaps and other chet? then that's a big no no for me, get that thing out of here, i don't want it

let's cut to the chase, yes, I'm fine with:

Rexmet (Rex x Emmet)

Rexmetstyle (Rex x Emmet x Lucy)

and i also ship

Microknife (Mic x Knife)

Knicropick (Knife x Mic x Pickle)

Metallic Salad (Mephone4 x Knife x Mic x Pickle)

if those info shocked you, then that's funny lol

if you suddenly hate me bcuz of that, then that's honestly a funny and stupid reason to hate me lol

tags that i use:

#burgy talks - just talking and or rambling about stuffs

#burg art - for art

#burgy comics - for the comics that i did cuz why not

#burgy games - for me gaming

#burgy sh1tpost - yes, it's a 1, not a misstype,, anyways, thats for jokes stuffs so i wont flood the burgy talks or art tag that much

me personas (i don't have a good ref sheet for them three)

me but object

sun micro4 content

aight, i think thas all, some of these may or may not change in the future

but yeah, thas all, thanks for reading

#burgy talks #burg art #burgy comics #burgy games #burgy sh1tpost

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hadeslegacyhephgirl · 7 months

Text

Don't leave me

'Nico's fading!' Will shot up from his desk and ran outside toward the shout. 'WHAT?!' Kayla raced up to him 'Will, thank the gods! We've been looking all over for you - Nico's fading - it's bad -'

Will didn't hear any more and his body had taken over before he knew what was happening, he'd found Nico, pushing through the crowds surrounding the Ghost King and collapsing at is hide, a healing hymn already at his lips, surveying the damage.

Nico was smoky - a literal shadow. His lips were blue, his skin paler that normal and all the grass around him was dead and withering as waves of pure death and darkness radiated off him.

'Where's Coach Hedge? Reyna?'

'Coach Hedge is away with his family - and we haven't been able to reach Reyna'

Will growled and whipped out his own phone (One of Leo's anti-monster one) and dialled Reyna's emergency number. She picked up after three agonising rings

'Hello?' 'Reyna?' "Yeah?' "Oh, thank the gods. This is Will Solace - Nico's fading - bad-' 'Say no more - I'll be there in one minute. Keep him alive!' 'I'm trying!'

Reyna hung up, and, as promised, arrived in exactly 53 seconds (yes, Will counted) with a flask that Will assumed was the Unicorn Draught

Reyna set to work, and after an agonising 3 minutes and 23 seconds, in which Will had basically destroyed his nails by chewing them, Reyna stood to reveal a still-unconsious but solid Nico.

Will immediately grabbed Nico's shoulder, humming a healing hymn, interrupting himself every so often to whisper a plea

'Stay with me, Nico, come on, please, stay with me'

Eventually, at late evening, Will just couldn't keep going. He was exhausted, tears streaking down his face as he repeated the plea one final time

'Stay with me, Nico, please'

Will closed his eyes, utterly spent, tear tracks drying on his skin.

Then someone grabbed his hand

The persons hand was cold, and small.

Will opened his eyes.

Nico's eyes were open, his lips open to whisper one word

'Always'

It was the most beautiful word Will had ever heard. The shadows were twisting and curling around them. Will quickly turned on his glowing ability.

'No, no shadows for you!'

Then, unable to contain his joy any longer, he pulled the smaller boy into a hug, laying down, Nico on top (they were both exhausted. Let 'em live). Will didn't feel Nico's hands on his face until Nico was kissing him.

(Btw - pre solangelo! First kiss!)

Will was so surprised that he nearly forgot to kiss Nico back, but he did and gods it was the best thing ever.

Nico's lips were soft and chapped, tasting of pomegranite and a slight bit of blood. Will loved it.

Eventually Nico pulled back with a simple

'That was the best welcome back I've ever had' "And hopefully its the last one you need' 'I dunno. If it made you kiss me like that-' 'Then I shall never do so again. You know what this means deathboy-' 'Three days in the infirmary, I know, I know.'

Nico rested his head on Wills chest as the sun set on the horizon.

'I don't want to move'

Will grinned. He loved the soft, sleepy side of Nico.

'Fine. Just this once I can carry you'

Nico hummed, sending vibrations into Wills chest. Will manouvered them so he could stand up, carrying Nico bridal-style to the infirmay, to the bunk unofficially always cleared for Nico. Will laid Nico down and turned to leave. Nico grabbed his hand

'Stay?'

Will grinned

'How could I say no to my favourite patient?' "Mm your cutest patient' "That too'

'I wan't big spoon' "Fiiiiiine' Will flopped onto the bed, allowing Nico to wind his small body around his bigger one. Nico fell asleep quickly, his soft deep breathes sending Will running toward Morpheos himself.

~*~

That night the night-watch, Kayla, peeked into the curtain surrounding Nico's cot and smiled at the soft scene of Nico and Will snuggled close together, smiles on both sleeping faces

#solangelo #solangelo fanfiction #pjo #will solace #nico di angelo #angst #comfort?#first kiss!

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ask-thetinyghosts · 2 months

Text

"And if you've got any burning questions, send em to us!"

the ask box is open! (ooc stuff under the readmore)

hey! I'm S (he/she/they). my main blog is @i-am-very-heck and I'm the silly little artist behind this blog! if I happen to post something out of character it'll be tagged "slime talk"

anything that isn't an ask, but is still in character I'll tag "ghost talk"

you can send asks to any of the three ghosts individually btw! just be sure to specify you're talking to just them. for asks that don't, I'll just assume you're talking to the whole group lol

I will Not answer anything that is explicitly sexual, related to a fetish, or anything pretty uncomfortable. this boundary is likely to change and be updated as situations happen.

basic hcs about the titular bozos of the blog:

Ecto - he/it, 6 inches tall

Spooks - he/they, 4.5 inches tall

Boo-Boo - he/him, 5 inches tall

when speaking in text, they will use their respective colors

spooks and ecto's designs are based on their remix 5 appearances. boo-boo's wasn't based on anything, but instead was 13 year old me deciding screw it we're making gender today and it just stuck

while I know rhythm heaven is a very silly and fun series, some of the backstory I have for these characters can be graphic, very specifically their deaths.

when it comes time for me to get into that I'll tag it accordingly. please don't get upset with me about this if you go into it not heading the warnings.

I Do have humanoid designs for them, pictured below, but they may not appear often 👍

#pinned post #rhythm heaven #rhythm heaven ds #the tiny ghosts #big rock finish #ask blog

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pizza-time-never-ended · 28 days

Text

ALL ARE WELCOME TO MY UNIVERSE!!!! COME ON, COME ON!!!!

As our lovely host so excitedly exclaimed, the Ruler of Everything AU is now open to visitors.

Thats right guys. Mod vio at it again from @chaotichyperfixations and @world-class-pizza-pals !!!!

BTW this is a world class au!!

The rules of our humble abode!

The mod doesn't like sexually explicit asks, so dont send em!

1.5 technically, gores alright.

Patience is key, the mod is a minor and in school, so answers will probably take a bit! (Not too mention shes also running another askblog)

Dont harass the mod. Or other people who interact with this.

And now some Notices.

This isn't an offical blog!

This IS an AU of mine, so there will be lots of creative liberty taken!

I do want to draw for most of my answers, though the very simple asks may not have any.

IM A SILLY GAL!!! And im on the neurodivergent spectrum, so err... There may be some complications at times

ANY BIGOTED SHTUFF YADA YADA DNI!!!!!

Tags (& Character colors!)

ROE!Pizzaface - Anything with Pizzaface in it.

ROE!Pizzahead - Ditto, but Pizzahead.

ROE!Feta Cheese - Ditto, but Feta.

ROE!Baron - Ditto, but Baron.

ROE!Fakers - The miscellaneous clones that assist in other duties.

ROE NPCs - other characters that may appear.

The whole cast - Everyone has something to say!

Art included - this ask has art!

Mod vio ranting - the mod ranting.

Collab?! - interaction with other askblogs.

"INTRO" UNDER CUT!!

It had been years since the Pizza Tower had been destroyed. Pizzahead swore revenge, and hell- He got it.

Now everything belonged to him. The world, the stars, the very oxygen they breathed-

Yet still he wasn't satisfied.

People lived in fear and awe of him, his first ever masterpiece had finally give up its reckless disobedience, EVERYTHING was going his way!

And still something was missing.

Feta noticed this. As the head scientist, she had to notice a lot. He wasn't as whimsical as usual. So, she decided- She needed to make him feel better.

"This is not reccomended."

"I'm aware, Digi. But its something to occupy our time that isn't just wacky hijinks and evil shit. "

".. Correct."

"So, come on and help me here."

"Alright."

And as the duo toiled away at their new idea, a new episode airs on Pizza Time Never Ended.

"Hey, I fixed your mailbox."

"Mail? I don't remember having Mail."

"Well shucks, that sucks. Cause you have it now."

"Thats nice?"

"Yeah. Lotsa questions, though."

The NPCs comment left Baron puzzled. He gave them a weird look-

"Questions..?"

And now, communication is open to all. Have fun :)

#mod vio ranting #pizza tower #pizzaface #pizzahead #feta cheese (oc)#ruler of everything au #pizza tower au #pizza tower askblog #important

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stergeon · 3 months

Text

can someone please write this doropetra fashion designer/journalist modern au for me. i spent too long thinking about the devil wears prada today and now i have all the beats mapped out for this story i Do Not have enough time in the world to write.

please help. please. i'll give you everything. all of it. it's all right here. take it. mention me if you swap the names to sell the movie or streaming rights. i just want it to exist.

pitch: dorothea is a hot-nasty fashion mogul and petra is a journalist-turned-reluctant model who captures dorothea's attention (and her heart).

btw this is a Really long post so look out. also i know nothing about the fashion industry and Will Not Learn so don't tell me anything.

setting: various major cities in the USA. NYC, LA, Enbarr (you know, Enbarr, that major city somewhere between florida and texas. we've all been there).

cast

most everybody is in their mid-to-late 20s at the start.

petra: the last journalist with integrity in a world that's actively trying to eliminate journalism as a field. worked her ass off writing listicles and bullshit SEO articles for years until she caught a break and got in with a "Real Publication." she now works her ass off there. unfortunately there's rumors of her team getting laid off due to AI crap so she's stressed af trying to line up her next gig, just in case.

dorothea: hotshot young fashion mogul with a cult of personality around her. was a complete unknown barely out of college when she designed manuela casagranda's absolutely breathtaking met gala dress and her company blew up overnight. now does high-profile lines that are popular with movie star types and bougie social media influencers. notorious for being very, very friendly with her preferred models.

edelgard: petra's finance major/arts minor friend from college and her former roommate. nepo baby with Lots of connections. got petra her first big job writing PR crap for a division of the hresvelg business empire. caused a scandal by getting romantically involved with her TA (byleth) in grad school but they're still together. complains about her PA (hubert) and her lout of a stepbrother (dimitri), both of whom she's constantly texting or otherwise having to corral.

shamir: petra's boss/editor. admires petra's guts and her writing chops, as well as her ambition. somewhat of a mentor to petra, but is absolutely no-nonsense when it comes to work. she's been in this business a long time. there's no fucking around. leonie is another journo on the team. ignatz and linhardt also work with them doing layouts, formatting, and photo/video editing.

manuela: a famous singer from dorothea's hometown who basically adopted dorothea as a protégé after dorothea sent her sketches of designs she'd made. essentially responsible for dorothea's career. they have a bit of a contentious relationship these days as manuela's a bit jealous of dorothea's rising star and because dorothea's been ungrateful in recent years despite how much manuela's stuck her neck out for her. still, she's always there to give dorothea terrible advice when she needs it. her evolving relationship with dorothea is kind of a b-plot.

bernadetta: a reclusive, but well-connected social justice blogger and internet activist. one of petra's good buddies who regularly sends her scoops.

ingrid, ferdinand, sylvain, catherine, felix: models who commonly work with dorothea.

Jeritza: a nobody fashion photographer who thinks he's somebody. he's absolutely awful.

claude and hilda: paparazzi who work for tmz, buzzfeed, whoever will take em. petra thinks they are the scum of the earth. they are.

act 1

we open with petra on yet another bullshit assignment for her crappy job writing articles about things that don't matter. this one is a profile piece about a local fashion photographer, the mononymous Jeritza, who might be somebody someday and seems to think he already is. leonie was supposed to do the article but she flubbed it by offending Jeritza, who now won't give her the time of day, so shamir asks petra to please step in last-minute. petra's mad, but she gets her hustle on and goes anyway. it's not like she can be too picky with gigs in this economy.

by the time she gets to the shoot, she's late, and Jeritza is throwing a tantrum. the model isn't working out. Jeritza cannot work in these conditions. Jeritza fires the model and is about to freak the fuck out when petra walks in the door. oh, Jeritza says. i can work with you. petra did NOT sign up to be a model, has never wanted to be a model, has no interest in this whatsoever. but let's be real: it is a great angle for the piece. this could get clicks. shares, even. so she does it.

the shoot is a massive success, which is to say Jeritza is delighted with the results, but as it's just for a local streetwear company, the impact on culture is negligible. petra writes her article, which gets some attention due to the very funny portrait it paints of the histrionic artiste that is Jeritza. it's not much buzz, but it's just enough buzz to get shared around in fashion circles—enough for it to wind up in dorothea's inbox, courtesy of manuela. "Thought of you!! XD XD This is so funny!!" manuela writes. dorothea replies "lol" and is about to move on with her day when she decides to give the article a courtesy skim and scrolls down far enough to see the pictures.

oh. who is that model?

a few days later, petra's out at a bar getting drinks with edelgard and bitching about life when she gets a call from an unknown number. she figures it's probably spam, but they leave a voicemail. the transcription mentions it's from a dorothea arnault, whoever that is. edelgard almost shits a brick. DOROTHEA ARNAULT? you need to call her back. right now. petra's like okay jeez, i will. what's the big deal. edelgard facepalms. she forgot that petra doesn't follow fashion even a little bit ("isn't the gucci, like, the area between your butthole and your—?" "no petra it is not"). embarrassing for her, but there's no saving some people.

edelgard briefs her on the arnault situation. dorothea's studio is huge right now. edelgard's family business has been sponsoring some of her recent fashion shows and everybody who's anybody is trying to get an arnault outfit for their next event. while dorothea's very popular on social media, she's very tight-lipped about her private life. a profile on her could be a huge break for petra.

okay, petra thinks, what the fuck, okay. i'll call her back.

dorothea picks up on the fifth ring. uh-oh: she sounds hot.

hel-looo, miss macneary, she says, it's nice of you to pick up the phone. i saw that little article you wrote recently. you're sooooo funny. [her voice is sweet and smooth like butter. she sounds like she's twirling her hair as she talks. she doesn't say how she got petra's number. petra doesn't think to ask.] and those photos of you... my, my. you're quite the looker, aren't you? and you don't even model professionally? that's a terrible shame. you'd do well, you know. i'm in berlin right now but i'll be in enbarr's fashion district on tuesday afternoon. why don't you come by the studio? we're doing a shoot for some designs i'm releasing soon... a secret summer collection. oops, i shouldn't have told you about that, should i? well, i'm sure i can trust you to keep my secret. and maybe i could even trust you to write something nice about me? i think they'd suit you, you know, these new pieces i've got. if you have any interest in trying your hand at modeling again, i'd love to see you in them. 11 o'clock. ciao!

petra gets a handful of words in edgewise. most of them are yes. she keeps her phone held to her ear for too long after dorothea hangs up. she wishes she'd been sober for this conversation. she's not really sure what she just agreed to. she doesn't want to forget the sound of that voice.

she shoots a text to shamir. edelgard buys her a shot the instant she steps back into the bar.

tuesday comes and petra's nervous. she packed and repacked for this. checked twenty-five times that she brought her tape recorder and her good camera. arnault is gonna think that camera's a joke, but it is what it is. she's trying to play it cool, hyping herself up the whole time she's on the train. it's gonna be fine. just keep the tape rolling. write the profile. she doesn't have to model, she can just do what she does best. listen. pay attention. write honestly. move on.

sure.

if petra thought dorothea sounded hot, she's wholly unprepared for how hot she is in person. she's spellbinding. drop-dead gorgeous. positively unreal. and on top of that, she's so charming. she's graceful. smart. funny. flirty. and she keeps touching her—little touches on her hand, her arm. chaste things. friendly things. things that could be accidents.

she's exactly petra's type.

but petra is a journalist with integrity, dammit. she's going to be professional. and to her credit, she is professional. arnault makes it hard, but she manages. she blends in, listens, stays focused, stays out of the way. the model's cute—ingrid something-or-other. she can't remember but she got it on the tape recorder. told petra her instagram handle like six times, too, so she won't have any trouble finding her. the shoot is almost wrapped when dorothea asks if petra would be interested in modeling for her. she's not at all offended when petra politely declines. she poses when petra asks to take her photo for the profile. thanks her for coming out and talking to her. says goodbye with a polite handshake and that dazzling smile. she thinks about that smile and that touch throughout the whole train ride home.

skip ahead to friday. petra is working on the story and transcribing the audio recording when she gets a text from dorothea. so lovely meeting you on tuesday [heart emoji] [kiss emoji] [heart emoji] i know it's last minute, but the final pieces of the summer collection are coming in tomorrow and i think you'll like them for your profile. i'll fly you up tomorrow morning to meet me at my studio in manhattan, unless you're busy, of course~

petra is not busy tomorrow. shamir is considering opening a new style division of their publication.

the flight is the train ride but worse. keep the tape rolling, macneary. listen. pay attention. write honestly. move on.

she's resolute. committed. her resolve doesn't waver even when she gets off the plane, ready to call an uber, and there's a guy in a suit with a sign that says MACNEARY on it. it doesn't waver when the guy stops her and says no, he's not looking for another macneary, he's here for her, courtesy of ms. arnault. it doesn't waver throughout the ride—the chauffeured ride, in a fancy car, just her and the guy—from jfk through the streets of nyc, seeing the skyline she's only ever known from movies and on tv. it doesn't waver when she's escorted into a skyscraper in the garment district and guided up to the floor where ms. arnault is waiting for her.

it wavers when she sees her. when dorothea says her model couldn't make it that day and she could really, really use petra's help, it falls completely.

you can guess how the rest of that trip goes. petra barely remembers it herself. she gets back home to enbarr, trying to recover from the whirlwind week she's had by doing what she does best—working. she can scarcely believe any of it was real. she has to believe it when she gets back to her shithole apartment, sets to the task of transcribing the audio from her tape recorder, and realizes it was rolling the whole time.

the whole time.

and there's absolutely no denying any of it after dorothea sends her the photos for her review.

you look so good in these, she tells petra when she sends her the first photoset. i think you look better out of them, she says when she sends the second.

petra considers her options. considers freaking out. considers not replying. considers moving to australia. she considers and reconsiders and does none of those things.

what she does do is send dorothea the audio recording. dorothea sends her some photos of her own.

they meet up again in LA on the day the profile drops.

act 2

if that first week was a whirlwind, the summer is a hurricane. petra's being lauded for the quality of her profile on dorothea, as well as for being the only member of the press who can get close to ms. arnault. it's borderline scandalous, how she's also modeling the summer line despite not even being a real model. it's a thinly-guised affair—almost completely un-guised when their flirting gets a little too overt during a show in tokyo. who cares. petra's entranced. dorothea takes her everywhere, her personal reporter, lavishing her with gifts, showing her the world. she's keeping her busy between all this travel and all this passion. they go to show after show, shoot after shoot; petra works her ass off, keeping the tape rolling, listening, paying attention. so what if she doesn't have time to answer shamir's texts right away the way she normally would. the website's getting more traffic than it ever has, carried by petra's inside scoop on the world of dorothea arnault. shamir can cut her a break.

and she's surprised by how much she likes dorothea. how much she likes spending time with her. dorothea's all the things petra thought she was: glamorous, bubbly, charismatic. but she's also so brilliant, so hard-working, busting her ass every single day of her life. and she's sweet, too. she lavishes petra with attention, gives her all kinds of little gifts and things—nothing too expensive as to make petra uncomfortable (the jetsetting is bad enough as-is), but small, practical things she actually likes and could use. she asks petra about herself almost as often as petra asks questions about her. it's not petra's job to talk beyond getting the conversation flowing, to put more of herself into the discussion than there needs to be to get dorothea to open up. she's here to listen. to pay attention. write honestly and move on.

but she's finding she doesn't really want to move on.

one night they're hanging out in dorothea's fancy hotel room eating room service and drinking wine when dorothea makes a crack about how little petra knows about fashion. petra admits that she really didn't intend to get into it, that it just kind of happened. that what she really wants to do is investigative work, writing about events, exposing corruption, that sort of thing. no offense to dorothea! it's been fun doing this, don't get her wrong, but she's got goals, other things she wants to do—once dorothea gets tired of her, she jokes. sort of jokes. dorothea laughs. she smiles at her and asks why she wanted to be a journalist.

and petra's honest again. honest like she hasn't been before. she tells her a little about her childhood, her family life. about growing up in brigid (you know, the country on planet earth) and moving to enbarr as a teenager after her father died. seeing her super-smart, brilliant mother and grandfather go from these auspicious jobs in their home country to shitty ones that just barely pay the bills here, all in the name of long-term security. how they taught her to work hard and always act with integrity, no matter what she's doing. she tells her about the struggles of learning a new language, how it made her become a good listener, how she fell in love with writing because it gives her time to think about her words, to express herself the way she wants to. she wanted to be a journalist to speak for those who can't raise their voices loud enough on their own.

dorothea smiles at her the whole time she's talking. petra's not used to being on this side of the table, to being listened to like this. she almost doesn't know how to handle it; she's apologizing, feeling embarrassed for having said so much, but dorothea says don't be sorry. that's beautiful. she's lucky to have such wonderful people in her life who love her and support her. and she likes hearing petra talk.

things are different after that night.

act 3

the start of the Drama Arc. the summer's coming to an end. petra and dorothea are still spending so much time together, jetsetting around the world. petra's working on a piece that's a backstage look at the arnault company's leadup to milan fashion week. the stress is getting Real and the cracks are starting to show. petra's missing deadlines, blowing off shamir, blowing off edelgard, blowing off her family. she's barely in enbarr these days, jetlagged to hell, lost between time zones. her pal bernadetta reaches out and says hey, there's something Big i'm working on that i could use help digging into, can you give me a hand? petra says sure, i'll take a look. she doesn't. she forgets somewhere between london and são paolo.

things are still hot between her and dorothea, but she's starting to see the cracks in her, too. she's getting to see more of her, more of what lies beneath all that glam and bubbly personableness. you don't go from being a nobody to a mogul in your 20s by being nice, and what petra slowly discovers is that dorothea isn't just not nice, she is ruthless. she's nonstop, working her ass off, and anyone who can't keep up with her gets left behind. she hints at her past sometimes: at her shitty childhood, at growing up in poverty, at being orphaned, at having spent years in foster care. but she never opens up. she's 100% focused on the future, and it's all she wants to talk about. dorothea wants to live her dreams, yes, but more importantly, her goal is self-preservation.

petra finds this out when they're at a shoot one day. petra's off to the side, fucking with her piece of shit camera when who storms up to her but ingrid, and she's pissed as shit. she chews petra out. calls her an asshole. says she stole her job. asks what the fuck is wrong with her, doing that while posting her articles, publicly announcing to the world that she never even wanted to be a model. petra's floored. she doesn't even know what she's talking about. she asks ingrid to start over.

that "second date" of theirs in manhattan, way back when? turns out dorothea was telling the truth when she said her model couldn't make it that day. ingrid was supposed to be modeling. she was dorothea's #1 for ages. she'd just come off back-to-back-to-back shoots when she got sick, really sick. stuck-in-shanghai-and-probably-not-going-to-be-able-to-board-a-flight-to-manhattan-tomorrow sick. she told dorothea so, said she'd try her best. dorothea said not to bother and didn't call her again.

it'll happen to you, too, ingrid tells petra, once you aren't useful to her. you're giving her all this press now, but if you ever do anything else, she'll drop you like she drops everyone else.

ingrid storms off, leaving petra standing there, holding her stupid camera. she looks at dorothea, standing across the room, running the show, correcting this and that, getting everything perfect, exactly the way she wants it. petra looks at her and wonders. wonders what would happen if she wrote something dorothea didn't like. if somebody new caught her eye.

they get dinner that night and it's tense. dorothea's stressed. she's carrying on about this and that, talking about the shoot, texting and responding to emails, slamming back glass after glass of wine. petra's quiet, letting her talk. too quiet, apparently, because dorothea eventually takes her head out of her phone and asks her what's up. nothing, petra says, just thinking about everything going on, about the shoot today. dorothea rolls her eyes. i know, she says; on top of everything else, ingrid was there, and she wanted to have a whole conversation with me, like i wasn't busy and like she didn't fuck me over the last time i saw her. she texted me earlier, too. the audacity of this bitch, she gripes, going back into her phone, still mad. a little later into dinner, manuela calls and dorothea answers it; she's bubbly and sweet, all hi how are you omg it's been so long, i miss you, sorry i've just been so busy~ i've gotta go but we'll catch up soon. she hangs up and shoots petra a look. she's so needy, dorothea says, laughing. petra tries to laugh too and can't quite manage.

they're still going everywhere together in the leadup to milan fashion week, and petra's still working on the piece, but she's feeling a little gross and she's quieter than ever. she lets herself believe that maybe it's fine, maybe it's okay, maybe she's not really that cold and ruthless. but then dorothea shows her one day.

everything's been going wrong: there's equipment stuck in customs, marketing materials haven't been delivered from the printers yet, the studio they rented for pre-shoots is double-booked. then a model's late to the shoot and another one is complaining and dorothea is done, so done. she fires them on the spot, gets on the phone and calls two new ones who will get the job done and done without question. petra's quiet. listening. paying attention. keeping the tape rolling as dorothea justifies herself aloud, without prompting. don't judge me, she says. i do what i have to do, and everyone else should, too. i know no one is going to take care of me. i've got no reason to take care of anyone else.

she's a mess all night. angry. stressed. shutting herself off. petra's seen her get like this a few times, but this is the worst it's ever been. she's in her phone all night. practically snaps at petra when she asks if she can help her with anything. shrugs away from petra's touch.

they go to bed and petra barely sleeps. she just lies awake, thinking. thinking about dorothea. thinking about herself. thinking about how she's been blowing off her friends, her family, her boss. thinking about how swept up she's been in all this crazy stuff she doesn't even really care about, putting off her own career. feeling guilty about ingrid. feeling guilty about blowing off shamir and bernadetta. worrying about who she's become around this woman. wondering what happened to her integrity.

fashion week goes great. flawlessly. petra heads back to enbarr afterward. she's almost ready to publish her piece, but she's gotta make up with shamir first. she apologizes. says she's so sorry. sorry for blowing her off. sorry she missed her deadlines. shamir is pretty fucking done with her and has told her as much already, but petra's earnest, and her piece is ready, and she wants to give the girl one more shot. she tells petra alright, i'll forgive you, but i need this piece tonight or we're done. i can't keep waiting on you and your schedule.

okay, petra says, you'll have it tonight.

she's worried. nervous. there's so much on her mind. the piece is ready but it's not going to make dorothea happy. she wants to call her first. she tries and gets her voicemail. tries again. nothing. texts her instead, a few times. hey, she writes, i need to talk to you. call me when you get the chance. it's about the profile. it's important. i'm on a deadline.

nothing. the hours are ticking by. she calls her. texts her. it's really important, dorothea. i need you to talk to me. please.

nothing.

petra's left wondering. wondering what to do. whether she should hit send on this email or hold off. wondering what she wants out of this.

and what is this, anyway? a summer fling? are they dating? girlfriends? they've never put a name on anything. do they have a future? can petra even think about building a future with someone she doesn’t trust to keep her along if she ever should need help? maybe dorothea’s hot and smart and maybe she’s got incredible drive but if she doesn't share petra's values, if she’s not going to be able to live for more than herself, and be true to herself, can petra accept that? does dorothea even know herself well enough to be able to be authentic?

time runs out and petra sends her piece to shamir. dorothea leaves her on read.

the piece is published. it's a huge hit, and not just in fashion circles, because it's a perfect portrait of dorothea arnault, and who doesn't love a biography of a wunderkind. it's honest. it's real. it talks about everything: her light, her darkness, the ups and the downs of being with her. it's raw. personal. revealing. it's all her brilliance and all her evils, captured in the way only someone who really loves her could do.

when it drops, petra expects dorothea to call and rip her a new one. she doesn't expect her not to call at all. but dorothea's radio silent. a few days later, some dickhead paparazzi petra has the misfortune of knowing (hilda and claude) send her a picture of dorothea in LA, running around with some red-headed douche (ferdinand).

sorry, dorothea texts her eventually. i've been soooo busy. i've missed you, but we'll catch up soon.

sure, petra writes, knowing they won't. i'll see you soon, she writes, knowing it's goodbye.

act 4

petra goes back to her career. back to her friends. crashes on edelgard's couch for a while. spends time with her family. starts addressing the connections she fucked up, fixing things with shamir, trying to gain momentum again. despite the profile on dorothea being such a success, it takes a long time for her to get back on her feet. but it's okay, 'cause if she's busy, she doesn't have to think about her.

months go by. every couple of nights, dorothea drafts a text to petra and deletes it.

it's february now, which means new york fashion week is here, and although petra is branching into investigative stuff nowadays, shamir calls in a favor and asks her to help cover it. petra knows she might see dorothea there. knows it’s a risk. decides she’s gonna be so strong and brave, and she can’t really afford to pass it up anyway because it’s a big career opportunity, a chance to revisit fashion after her profile last year. so she goes.

and they see each other. and nothing happens. they don't even say hello.

but that night, when petra’s in her hotel room, spiraling, dorothea calls her. she's in a hotel up the street. she asks petra to come over. for all her sense, her morals, her logic, petra is no more than a lesbian, so she says yes.

they don't talk. they jump right to making out sloppy style and fucking nasty and holy shit, it’s just like it was when they first met: hot and intense and so good, so perfect. except it’s not, it’s not, because this isn’t going to work out no matter how much they want it to, and they both know it. they get into a big fight after dorothea makes a crack about the profile and petra loses it. she puts dorothea on blast for being such a piece of work, saying she can’t ever be with her no matter how much she wants to because dorothea won't ever put someone else first and she’ll never figure out how to be anything other than alone.

then petra drops another bomb. over the past few months, she's made up with bernadetta, and it turns out that the big scoop bernie uncovered is about exploitative business practices a certain scummy fashion company engages in. a certain scummy company that dorothea's company is partnered with. said company's dealings wouldn't get their business partners in legal trouble, but public perception would certainly change. she's been working on an exposé about it. she's going to release it soon. really really soon. like as soon as she gets back to enbarr.

dorothea looks like she's been hit by a truck. she begs petra not to release the story about the company. it’s going to fuck her brand. she'll be ruined. she offers petra whatever she wants. gets nasty, even, defensive. then she fucking breaks. she doesn’t fully open up, but it’s the closest she’s ever come to doing it. she says she's sorry, sorry for hurting her, sorry for shutting her out, sorry she cut and ran like she always does when she might catch feels, when she might be vulnerable for once. she says she's sorry and she asks her please, please, not to release the story.

petra doesn’t give her an answer. she just goes back to her hotel.

once she gets back, she doesn't sleep. she stews for ages, pacing, going back and forth, trying to figure out what to do. act with integrity and drop the story as-is. don’t drop the story and protect the person she cares about, in spite of herself. amend the story so maybe dorothea won’t catch heat...? no, that wouldn’t be acting with integrity either. she can’t win either way.

and dorothea’s having a think, too, which is to say she’s a fucking WRECK. realizing how bad she’s fucked up her life. realizing that petra liked her for her. wanted to get to know her for more than her name and her money and her connections. told her things about herself she didn’t even realize were true. and she hurt her at every single turn. for the first time in her life, she had a chance at something real with a good person who really loved her and she fucking blew it. there’s so much dissonance as she tries to defend her own actions to herself and can’t because petra’s wormed her way into her head, the only person who ever Really questioned her, the only person who ever made her question.

she's always figured things out alone. she's always had to figure things out alone. this time, though, dorothea's not sure she can handle it. so she does the only thing she can think to do: she goes to manuela with her tail between her legs. manuela's a little pissy at first as dorothea's been blowing her off for a while now, but she's also worried, because dorothea has never come to her like this. not once. and she's offered for her to, a lot.

when manuela hugs her, dorothea breaks. she ugly-cries into manuela's arms. tells her how bad she's fucked up. how much she hates herself. how sorry she is for being a dickhead when manuela's only ever wanted to be there for her. manuela comforts her. chastises her for being an asshole, yeah, but shores her up, too. tells her if she's really sorry, she'll figure out how to change. tells her that she's there for her, and she'll keep being there for her, so long as she tries. dorothea's blown away. she thought she'd lost her shot at having love in her life, but she was too blind to see there are other types of love she's been shutting herself away from, too.

dorothea leaves manuela's, still feeling like shit, but with plans to get lunch or at least call each week, and with the promise that she's going to do better, be better.

she makes an effort, too. she cuts ties with the skunks. changes her business practices. starts being more charitable, less ruthless, less aggressive. it’s a slog and it sucks and she’s bad at it but fuck she’s going to try. even if petra never takes her back, even if petra just thinks dorothea’s trying to cover her own ass again and protect herself from the impact of the story, it doesn’t matter. she’s going to be better. she’s going to try to do things right, because someone believed in her, someone thought she could be better. and she’d never thought so highly of herself, never thought she could be more until petra came into her life and saw the potential in her.

petra releases the story a week or so later, unrevised. she texts dorothea before she does. says she’s sorry. dorothea says it’s alright. she understands.

the story drops and it’s a clusterfuck. an absolute PR disaster. the scummy company folds overnight. a bunch of related fashion companies, including dorothea’s, are in huge hot water. dorothea’s on the press circuit, doing damage control. petra’s watching an interview with her, listening to her spouting off her PR beats. fully expecting dorothea is going to deny everything, throw everyone she can under the bus to keep her shit afloat. so she just about has a heart attack when dorothea admits she’s fucked up. admits she made the wrong decisions, did stuff she knew was scummy. takes accountability. is honest for once. honest in a way petra didn’t think was even possible for her.

dorothea outlines her plans for how she’s going to be better, the changes her company’s making, how things are going to be different. says she’s making a commitment. if it all folds, so be it. at least she’ll be able to sleep at night.

because capitalism is the way it is, the company doesn’t go under. they’re in the red for a while and the "Controversies" section of her wikipedia page is now significantly longer, but the news cycle goes on and consumers forget and a few months later, pieces from dorothea’s summer line are all the rage with the kids on tiktok. petra’s more than a little bitter about it, but mostly she doesn’t give it any thought. she did her part. wrote honestly. spoke the truth. kept her integrity. she’s become a big name since that scoop, too, with her career really taking off. she's writing books and shit, appearing on tv, what have you, doing the investigative work she's always dreamed of doing.

she’s in london one night on the final leg of a press tour, sitting in her hotel room, when she gets a call.

it’s dorothea. she’s in london too. would petra like to get brunch tomorrow?

yeah she would. bitch loves a mimosa.

they get brunch and it’s tense. they try small talk but don’t really know what to talk about. dorothea makes it more awkward by cracking a joke about petra writing an article about her after this brunch and petra only kind of laughs.

but then dorothea apologizes. earnest. honest. like she’s never been with petra. tells her she’s sorry. tells her how she changed her life and made her think about herself differently, made her think she could be a better person. made her Want to be a better person. convinced her it’d be worthwhile to try. and she has. she’s made so many steps since they last saw each other. doing better. living kinder. living true. says she doesn’t expect anything from petra at all. just wanted to say sorry, and thank you for seeing the best in me.

petra says you’re welcome.

dorothea pays for brunch and they go their separate ways. dorothea holds it together until she gets to her hotel room and then she loses it, bawling her eyes out like she has never ever done, like she’s never let herself do. but it’s okay. she loves petra, that hot journo with the cute accent and more morals than sense, but dorothea knows she doesn’t deserve her, and she’s going to be okay with that. she’s going to live better anyway, for herself, because she’s worth it.

act 5

a year and a half goes by before dorothea and petra run into each other at a formal Thing. they talk, cordial, business-like, just catching up. dorothea makes a crack about the tmz photos of petra with three or four different high-profile supposed gfs over the past year and a half, calling her a heartbreaker. petra laughs, a real laugh. says dorothea's one to talk. asks if she's been keeping up with her? how often does she google her? dorothea says she does it more often than she'd like to admit. petra blushes, laughs again, flattered.

she asks if dorothea's been breaking more hearts lately herself and dorothea says nah. she's been focusing on her business. she's got this non-profit going now too, and it's been taking off. just landed some pretty big investments that will bring arts programs to schools that don't have funding for them. she looks proud of this. she is. she's actually spending more time doing that these days than her fashion stuff, which makes her a little sad, but it's not so bad because it's given her a bit of a mystique: the designer whose work was once Everywhere, now dropping limited release lines every few seasons instead of keeping up with the fast fashion whirlwind. it's different but it's good. she likes it. she's happy.

petra says she's glad to hear that. that she's happy for her. makes a reference to the new line dorothea's rumored to be dropping this fall. dorothea's eyes almost pop out of her head. you know about that? yeah, petra says, i google you. she's known about the non-profit, about everything dorothea's been telling her about. she's a journalist. she likes knowing things. but she likes knowing about her. knowing that she's doing well. and it's really good now, knowing that she's happy. she tells dorothea she's happy for her. that she's proud of her. that she knew she could do it.

dorothea doesn't cry. just says thank you. she gets called away by somebody else, and petra does too, pulled in the opposite direction. dorothea thinks about hugging her first. almost touches her hand. elects not to. says it was good to see her. then they're both whirled elsewhere and they don't see each other again.

but that night when dorothea's in her hotel, she gets a text. it's from petra. would she like to get coffee tomorrow?

FIN

#fe3h #fire emblem #doropetra #dorothea arnault #petra macneary #sterge.rtf #journalist x fashion designer au #long post #thinkin about them girls #wish i could do this idea justice #i just wrote an edeleth fic and Need to get back to hpnd as i miss those fellas #plus there's the matter of old man clod who is the albatross around my neck at this point #but now i've got this doropetra situation on the brain and it's gonna be the death of me.#apologies to arrow and caller as i literally vomited this entire au at them this morning #copy and pasted chunks of this from discord bc i'm lazy and spent Too Fucking Long writing this up anyway #might write the first part as a one-shot for funsies #i like exploring the ruthless side of dorothea. the side of her that is focused wholly on self-preservation #yeah she's funny and flirty and sweet but she's also Very Aware of how the world works and Will get what she wants out of life #also love petra's determination and drive. her self-sacrificing nature #her integrity and her commitment to doing the right thing even if it's devastating for her personally #as y'all will eventually find out in hpnd i'm a sucker for a journalist #but even if i had time i could not be arsed to learn enough about the fashion industry to do this justice #realistically this is far enough departed to be its own book but what do i care. i'm not gonna end up actually writing the thing anyway

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