#the printer fucked up my drawing though :(

[tablestars]

I made pins?!??!??

[prettealolilol]

i like to think about the duality of the kids about people shipping Bruce with anyone, because the guy has been elected as the most handsome man in the country for years, has this whole playboy Brucie persona and is often seen with someone at his arms (men and women)

on one side, they'll be like "ew god no, i do not want to imagine dad like-" and "oh my god some people actually ship Bantman and Joker wtf ??" and they'll do their best to filter every social media to avoid any thirsty or shipping content about Bruce

when the press ask them about it, they be like:

Tim : "Would you like it if I asked about your thoughts on your dad cheating on your mom with his secretary ? No ? Then mind your own business." when the dad was in fact cheating with his secretary and now everybody knew because Tim was live when he answered

Jason, pulling out a gun : "i swear to god i'll shoot the next person who asks me this and then i'll shoot myself. Ugh, do i look like i fucking care about the old man's sex life ?"

Dick, smiling uncomfortably : "i don't really live at the manor anymore and i barely see him with my job so you know..." when it has been in fact a week he's been sleeping at the manor after patrolling with Batman

Damian, frowning as usual, looking at the guy who asked him as if he did not have a brain : "Father is careful in not mixing his carnal activities with the family life so i do not have any hindsight on his sex life. i do not wish to know regardless." the journalist is taken aback by the explicit answer of this ten year old, while his brothers are trying not to laugh behind him (Jason was not hiding his snickering)

on the other side, you cannot tell me those guys are not the biggest shippers in the world

like Jason would want Batman to date Wonder Woman just so she could be his step mom. i strongly believe the guy has a ao3 and tumblr account and is very much active on both. he definitely reads batman x green lantern fics just to annoy Bruce (even though his dad has no idea, but still gets shivers when Jason is reading one)

Dick and Duke both ship SuperBat although for different reasons. for Dick, that's his uncle there, he was there when they met and saw them as they slowly became best friends. he strongly believes they are made for each other. Duke just think it would be super cool (no pun intended) if the Superman and the Batman were dating.

Stephanie just likes to roll with it, some days she feels like shipping superbat, others she'll be more into batcat, or batlantern. she's pretty volatile and doesn't really have a favourite, but when she gets into one she's all in. she'll be arguing and insulting people online who disagrees, sharing crazy theories...

Cass doesn't really care, she'll listen to any of her siblings ranting about their thoughts (especially Steph) and juts find it adorable (and funny how much they care)

Tim probably ships superbat because they are completely opposed, and he finds the parallels really interesting. he definitely writes fics (Jay reads his fics and they exchange about it without knowing it's each other)

Damian doesn't really see the point. but he has drawn of few fanart (Jason tried to bribe him with money once and Damian had to remind him of his inheritance) when Bruce benched Tim and him and he ended up drawing some batlantern that Tim printed and plastered all over the manor. Bruce had to restrain the access to the printer (Tim hacked into it the next day)

Barbara, although she doesn't really ship, is the one you go to if you search some content, she'll find you the most heart wrenching, 200 thousand words, slow brun, angst/comfort fics you'll ever read (the type of fic that changes you deep into your soul). she still likes debating with the batkid

Regardless, if there's one things they all agree on, it is Bruceman (love those fics were the batkids just go along with it). like it's hilarious but the fans make some pretty good points and they are in fact impressed. it's also the safest ship as it would not happen in any situations so they don't have to worry about their dad being stolen

[parkerluvsu]

day 25: outside the bedroom (in the shower) <3

you're home late, later than you want to be. art had to make dinner for only himself (when usually he thrives at making dinner for the both of you) and you had to grab a quick meal at the taco place on the way home. you're tired when you walk in the door, dropping your keys on the cabinet next to the door, and placing your coat on the rack. you're surprised when art doesn't come and greet you, he always comes to say hi immediately when you walk through the door after being home alone practically all day. you walk through the house, looking in the kitchen and the living room before moving to the bedroom, starting to get worried when you don't see him.

your worries are stopped however, when you hear the running shower in the bathroom, relief washing over your body. you sigh, sitting on the edge of your bed. you feel bad, you've been home late almost every night this week, and although art says it's okay, you know it's hard on him to not see you for long periods of time. you make a decision, pulling off your clothes and folding them on your bed before walking to the bathroom and pulling open the door.

"it's me!" you yell out to art, trying to make sure he doesn't get scared. art peeks his head out of the shower curtain, preparing to ask why you're home late again but pausing when he sees that you're naked. "oh- h-hi.. d'you wanna come in?" art gets the sentence out, blushing like this is the first time he's ever seen you without clothes on. you giggle and nod, stepping into the shower with him. you're glad the two of you invested in a house with a big shower able to fit the both of you when you stand beside art, letting the water rush over you. art looks down at you, his hair dripping water all over your face. "art..." you groan, wiping water out of your eyes. "s-sorry!" art apologizes softly, turning up the temperature of the water so that you're more comfortable, knowing that as a (retired) athlete he usually takes colder showers than you would choose to.

"im sorry im late again art.. our shitty printer broke again and i had to print out these documents for my boss.." you ramble. art smiles, "it's okay really.. you know ive just been missing you recently.. the only time we spend together nowadays is before bed.." art almost pouts at you, the water rushing over his head making him seem even sadder than he is. arts lanky arms wrap around you, his soft skin a welcome texture against yours. you don't fail to notice his dick poking against your thigh, unable to tell if he's drooling precum against you or the water is just running down your legs (it's both).

before you have a chance to draw attention to it, his lips are on yours. kissing you eagerly as if it's been a million years. arts hands grow braver, sliding down the small of your back to grope at your ass, kneading the flesh between his fingers. you gasp into his mouth, art swallowing your quiet moans. his lips trail down the column of your neck, humming against you, "'m sorry.. just missed you s'much" you smile, "it's okay artie, i missed you too" he sighs, happy to know that he isn't smothering you. sliding your hand down his toned stomach, you wrap your hand around his dick, gripping him tightly. art groans, his hips bucking into your hand, fucking your fist with the tip of his dick while rubbing the rest of it on your thigh that's conveniently placed between his legs.

you see art getting more worked up, his breaths becoming shorter and closer to pants with every thrust of his hips. "d'you wanna get out of here?" you gesture to the shower with your hand that isn't currently occupied. to your surprise, art shakes his head, "n-no.. can we stay in here? you're just so.. warm 'n wet 'n soft.. can we try in here?" your mouth drops open even though you try to stop it, usually art isn't this open to trying new things. "h-how would that work?" you're open to the idea, but you don't want either of you to get hurt. "ill lift you.." your eyes widen, "n-no i promise i can do it.. it's just in the shower, it can't be that different from outside of it" art explains, almost begging you. you sigh, looking at his face and immediately caving. "alright.. alright okay.. but if you drop me..." "i won't" you sigh. "if you drop me.. you'll owe me big time" art nods, just eager to fuck you.

you wrap your arms around his neck, holding tight when he lifts you up from the back of your thighs, helping you to wrap your legs around his waist. art has to lean you up against the wall, causing you to shiver when your back hits the marble wall. "sorry... sorry" art mumbles against you as he pushes inside of you, his head falling forward onto your shoulder. you have no retort when he snaps his hips and enters you fully, almost knocking the wind out of you. you moan, half overwhelmed with pleasure and half scared to death that art will drop you, but that sort of makes it hotter for you. art groans, pretty much using you as a fleshlight as he moves you up and down on his dick using your thighs as leverage. from this position, his dick hits a spot inside of you that makes you squeeze tightly around him.

art notices this, starting to jackrabbit his hips into you so all you can hear are his heavy breaths and whines in your ear, and the wet slapping of his balls against you. both of your moans echo around the shower, getting louder as you both get closer. art uses the last of his strength to push deeply into you, almost looking to make his cum take inside of you. the feeling of everything around and inside of you gets too overwhelming as you cum around him, riding out your orgasm until you realize how tired you really are. you tap art on the shoulder to let him know he can let you down, happy that you can stand up and not slip after the whole ordeal. you smile, leaning your head up to kiss art, who has the cutest blush on the apples of his cheeks. you look towards the bottle of shampoo on the edge of the shower, and back at art. "will you do my hair and ill do yours?" <3

[fawnduu]

craving fawnduu naruto self-insert details

LMAO now you guys REALLY want me to bare my soul. It's actually incredibly funny and embarrassing that you will see scraps of what I was doing back in 7th grade in my current stuff. Most of the comics make genuinely no fucking sense.

I still have a bunch of those comics I drew on printer paper in a folder at my parents house.

My best friend's favorite character was gaara so he made a lot of appearances in the comics as well because we would draw comics all night at sleepovers. Look I was even making up excuses to draw equines in my comics!!!!

As for my oc??? Well she was basically like if Naruto was a girl but, instead of a fox demon it was a bunny demon. you'll never guess what her name was though.....

....

It was usagi.

As someone who had never watched sailor moon I was EXTREMELY impressed my best friend knew the Japanese word for bunny off the top of her head.

[sanjoongie]

𝑰 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒕𝒐

ღPairing: Jung Wooyoung x Reader (f)

ღAu: office au, single parent au

ღTrope: Rivals to Lovers

ღGenre: fluff, pure and simple

ღRating: PG, MDNI (regardless of the genre I do not allow minors to interact with my work)

ღWarnings: Wooyoung is a little shit, child temper tantrum, slightly spoiled child rearing, you will fall in love with petal and wooyoung with petal

ღWord Count: 1,037

ღSummary: when you inexplicably have to bring your daughter to work, she bonds with the one person you wished she wouldn't

ღBeta's: @mejuii & @downtoamagicalland who will beta even the softest of soft fluff for me

ღDedication: @smallfrye & @starlitmark my bbs who love the dad/single parent aus. this one is for you. and to @daesukiii my favorite wooyoung stan who just about lost it when i told her about this

ღInspired by this. Enjoy this soft fic for the easter long weekend 💞

ღdivider by @cafekitsune

You knew it was a bad idea to bring your daughter to your office while you worked but when your fucker of an ex-husband dumped her on you--on his week--and your babysitter gone south for the week, you were out of options.

You knew it was a bad idea but the feeling didn’t cement until you saw her with Jung Wooyoung.

Wooyoung was everything you hated in a coworker. He was lazy, he was always playing around at work and most importantly, he somehow managed to get everything done. As someone who worked diligently at the software company, Wooyoung was the one person you hated to interact with. 

So seeing your daughter patiently draw flowers on some printer paper, explaining to him which ones were her favorite and which ones were her Mama’s favorite, hit a nerve.

“Petal, what are you up to?” You chirped, sitting opposite of her at the lunch table.

“I’m teaching Wooyoungie about flowers,” Your daughter informed you solemnly. 

Wooyoungie. Uh oh. 

You hummed in acknowledgement. Wooyoung wore a tiny smile of smugness which you couldn't contend while in front of your daughter. “Is he listening?” You asked.

Your daughter nodded. “Yes, Mama,” she responded, completely focused on the task at hand, which was struggling to draw the shape of lilies. 

“Am I a good listener, Petal?” Wooyoung prompted from your daughter.

You glared over the precious head of your daughter. She was normally very shy, how the hell did he coax her to sit on his lap and draw? Not to mention, you did not appreciate your rival using your pet name for your daughter. 

Your daughter stopped drawing and looked up at Wooyoung like he hung the stars in the sky. She smiled brightly and nodded and then went back to her drawing. Fuck.

Wooyoung preened, pleased at the praise. You rolled your eyes. “Well, it’s lunch now, Petal. Remember how Mama said she’d take you to your favorite place?”

“Chicken nuggies, Chicken nuggies!” Your daughter chanted, bouncing in Wooyoung’s lap. “Can Wooyoungie come too?”

“No, Petal, it’s just--” you and me never left your mouth because your daughter threw a fit.

“That’s not fair!” She threw her pencil across the room and raged. “I want Wooyoungie to come!”

You opened your mouth to scold your daughter but Wooyoung somehow got to it first. “Now Petal,” He said patiently. He turned your daughter around so that he could look at her face to face. “That’s no way to act at Mama’s workplace. And we say chicken nuggets not chicken nuggies.”

Oh this bitch. You bristled at Wooyoung correcting your daughter, even though that was exactly what you were going to say. She was your daughter, not his. Who was he--?

Your daughter’s lower lip pushed out, her voice sounding wobbly. “But Wooyoungie!”

Wooyoung shook his head. “Apologize to Mama.”

“Mama,” Your daughter wailed softly, crocodile tears building up at the corner of her eyes.

“You’re forgiven,” You said quickly. “Wooyoungie can come.” You winced at mimicking your daughter.

“Yay!” Tears gone and forgotten, it seemed, as she threw her arms around Wooyoung’s neck and proclaimed him the best.

Lunch went surprisingly well. Wooyoung coaxed your daughter to eat pretty much everything. You had to school your face when he let her feed him. You actually managed to eat your own food since Wooyoung had your daughter preoccupied. Back at the office, you were able to work, even though every so often you looked over your monitor to see Wooyoung and your daughter seemingly having the time of their lives. It grated against your nerves that your daughter was practically in love with your rival at work but you couldn't help but acknowledge how well behaved she was because of his presence. 

Before you knew it, it was the end of the day, and a moment you were lowkey dreading. You had to tell your daughter that it was time to say goodbye to Wooyoung and you knew she was going to throw a fit. 

“Petal, time to say goodbye to Wooyoung, okay? He’s gotta go home now, we’re done work,” You spoke sweetly to your stubborn daughter.

“No,” Your daughter said petulantly, “I don’t want to.” Her chubby arms were wound around Wooyoung’s neck so tightly, you were surprised he wasn’t choking.

Wooyoung bounced your young daughter in his arms like. “Hear that? She doesn’t want to.”

“You’re not helping things, Wooyoung,” You growled.

“Mama~!” Your daughter started up again. “I’m staying with Wooyoung.”

You winced. “Petal, you can’t stay with Wooyoung, he has his own home to go to, and we do too.”

“Don't want to,” Your daughter refused again.

“She doesn’t want to!” Wooyoung reaffirmed.

You began to rub your temples. Other than ripping your crying child from Wooyoung’s arms, you didn’t know what else you could do. 

“Guess you’re coming home with me, huh?” Wooyoung said to your daughter, which caused your heart to leap into your throat. In fact, you were two steps towards him before you could stop yourself.

“Mmmm,” Your daughter agreed, playing with Wooyoung’s necklace. 

You set aside your pride and pleaded with your rival. “Wooyoung, please.”

Wooyoung cuddled your daughter to his chest, placing a hand delicately on her head--and over her ears. “Listen, come back to my place. Let her tire herself out and then you can take her home when she falls asleep.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. Wooyoung? Being reasonable?

He had the decency to look slightly bashful. “I kinda egged her on. Let me buy you dinner?”

The look in his eyes was a little too hopeful but you dismissed it. “Fine. But this is a one-off time, Wooyoung.”

Your daughter struggled in Wooyoung’s arms, wanting to hear what the adults were saying. “Wooyoungie’s home?” She said, with almost a similar, hopeful, look in her eyes.

You sighed heavily. “Yes, Petal, we’ll go to Wooyoungie’s.” 

You visibly winced at mimicking your daughter again. Wooyoung didn’t let it go a second time, however. He winked at you and said, “Hopefully you’ll start calling me Wooyoungie at work.”

“Don’t even Wooyoung,” You said under your breath.

And Wooyoung had a smug smile on his face the entire elevator ride down.

taglist: @hijirikaww @k-pop-ology

[heartfullofleeches]

Oohhh I love the night gallery crew!! <3

Okay so- how would the art gallery harem react to the news that their precious night guard used to pose as a nude art model for one if their previous jobs? Bonus points if they end up digging around and finding old drawings/portfolio pics of them posted online lol

The Painter

Their muse - a model in the past? A nude one at that? They can't say they aren't jealous others have bared witness to their beauty, but they won't be so upset about it if their dearest is willing to come out of retirement and maybe send their older photos up to their study. They promise not to stare too much, but they pray their muse doesn't mind if their eyes linger. It's rare for them to be in the presence of such raw perfection. They are more of a hands on type of painter so their muse wouldn't mind a few touches, no? As they would say, it’s all just apart of the process.

Rosebud

Of course they are interested, but they won't press the matter unless Reader offers to share.... Please ignore the excitement of their roses - though they do reflect Rosebud's inner feelings they assure Reader it's just past their feeding time. Clearly more flustered than they let on. Refuses to look at the images because they would only make them more tempted to leave bites all over Reader to claim them as their own as they are when they see the Guard's exposed neck or wrists or pretty much any uncovered inch of skin.

The Scavenger

Hope staff gives the printer in the breakroom a nice funeral because if Scavenger gets its hands on those portfolio shots it's the end of the line for that poor machine. Anything relating to their precious treasure is the pinnacle of their collection. They must have more - even if it's the same picture a thousand times it's still not enough. If anyone comes across one of their copies it's best theu leave them their because even if they're trying to return them Scavenger will accuse them of stealing. There's not doubt I my mind they've eaten a copy or two because they're weird like that.

The Faceless Angel

Conflicted. On one hand they are interested in seeing their guard in all forms, but on the other it feels like an invasion of privacy. Unlike some, their intrigue comes from an artistic viewpoint rather than sexual. They'd give anything for the opportunity to touch Reader's warm flesh without clothing in the way. It feels like heaven on their stone skin.

The Lady in Red

It's the less images she's interested in and more the people who have seen them. Swiftly cuts down anyone who views Reader's pictures while in the gallery be they human or fellow exhibit. She can't do anything about the past, but does everything in the present to keep too many eyes off her love. Takes the photos Scavenger loses and while she keeps a few on hand - she burns the rest.

Julian

Slimy fuck is probably the first to come across them being the noisy little stalker he is. As an artist in his free time, he does use them for reference, but it's much more fun to use them for other things. Like teasing Reader about their past or taping copies to the breakroom fidge. He only does it when he knows they're the only two on shift because he'll have to hurt anyone who sees them nakee besides him. Like Lady, he's more likely to attack paintings who have gotten a hold of the scavengers copies.

Anri

Their favorite coworker was once a model? How fun! They aren't the best artist, but they can draw Reader too. A little bashful about seeing them naked so they stick to just about the shoulders. They want to at least waiting until their ten date with Reader before seeing them in such a state. Covers their eyes and runs off whenever someone tries to show them. Julian only allows Anri to see the photos because it's fun to chase them through the halls with them or point out various aspects of their features to make Anri flustered

The Director

Dislikes imagine of Reader because while they can be used to create copies of them, The Director wants the real thing. Still has one of Scavenger's photos tucked in his coat pocket.

[hannahssimblr]

In the evening we bike to the shop to buy firelighters. Jen says she likes the idea of a bonfire while we eat our barbeque food, even though the only time one has even been lit at the beach house is when my dad did it, all the while ranting on about how he learned everything he knew about fire in the boy scouts, and how if I had an iota of discipline or self control I might have benefitted from them before the local pack expelled me for being a shithead.

He was right. I reluctantly accept it as Jen and I approach the materials for making fire. Nobody has ever told me about the difference between briquettes and coal, what firelighters actually look like and exactly where peat plays into all of this. I know nothing about how to do manly things, and only ever figured out how to pitch a tent after subtly watching Shane do it the first time he and I went camping in the woods. 

In contrast, my father has shot an actual gun. He and his brothers hunted deer, game and wild pigs in the hills around their family farmhouse in Redding California. As they loaded up their rifles and zipped up their jackets they would say things to me about how I’d be coming with them someday, as though was some sort of honour, something to strive for, but by the time I was big enough to kill pheasants I was already five thousand miles away drawing comics on printer paper. My soft hands were meant for art.

“You grab the firelighters,” I tell Jen, and take a swerve towards the magazine stand so that I can peruse something in my comfort zone. There’s a small selection of artsy magazines, and I flip one open. 

“Um, do you think we should buy gasoline or something?” She stands chewing on her lip. 

“Probably not, right? That seems dangerous.”

“Should we ask someone?” 

“What? No.” Embarrassing.

I pretend to be engrossed in an article so that I don’t have to help, but while I'm there, an ad catches my eye, “Hey,” I call out to Jen, “would you want to go to an exhibition this weekend?”

“What kind?”

“Art.”

“Yeah, what kind?”

I turn the page to her so that she can see it, “contemporary,” and her eyes narrow at the images of weird sculptures made of bits of scrap metal, canvases with random splatters of paint dripping off the bottom, colour bleeding onto the floor.

“Hm. See, that’s the kind of weird art I don’t get.”

“It’s not about the art specifically, it’s about us doing something fun together.”

“And that’s in Dublin?”

“Yes.”

She smirks in a self satisfied way, “You’re bored,” she stops a passing customer to ask him if he knows what firelighters are, and if so, what does the box look like.

He shows her, and while she’s picking up the last two packets I come to stand with her, not helping, because now I'm more interested in selling this new idea to her. “It’ll be fun! How nice would it be to have a change of scenery? Get back to the city where stuff is actually happening, maybe go to that ice cream place you like.”

I’m certain this will sway her, but she pulls a face, “There’s loads of ice cream here, and the only reason you think nothing is happening on the beach is because you’re deliberately not doing anything.”

“Is it so bad that I want to have a day out with you?”

“No, I suppose not, but...” She wrinkles her nose “Fine. I don't want to be cynical. Do you think I’m cynical?”

“Yeah a bit.” I pay for the firelighters. As we exit the shop into the lingering light of the evening I admit to her, “I’m trying to cheer myself up, I just think I should make the most of the time I have left.”

She laughs, “It sounds like you’re terminally ill. You’re moving. So what? I’ll still talk to you all the time.”

“Yeah but I really want to savour these last few weeks. Will you come to the gallery?” I grip her arm and pretend to die, letting my knees buckle under me to really sell it, “...before it’s too late?”

“God, yes, fucking hell,” she groans, “I’ll come. I’ll do whatever you want for the rest of the summer, right?”

I throw an arm around her, “Thanks Jen.”

“Yeah, manipulator.”

“Takes one to know one,” I say cheerily, and we unlock our bikes and head towards home.

Beginning // Prev // Next

[vivacia-18]

After many years, guess who decided to try their hand at bookbinding again?

That's right, me! And of course I chose I giant of a fic, because I am nothing if not ambitious XD. I think it's 3 inches or more thick, and came to a whopping 1088 pages! The fic is Count Your Blessings by @madmothmadame , a Founders Era Tobirama centric fic and I cannot recommend it enough <3 <3 <3

My cover fabric and end paper are pretty simple, one part because I thought it suited the story, one part because I had them on hand, and one part because I'm a raw beginner and that's about as good as I could manage XD

It took a lot of waffling on my part (graphic design is NOT a great skill of mine) but overall I ended up really happy with how the title page came out - if I had the artistic skill to paint/draw it or the supplies to transfer it, this would have gone on the cover as well. Alas, for now it shall remain inside only.

A little detail that gave me some grief, as I waffled on font style and size a bit, but ultimately I'm really pleased with it - I used a plum blossom branch as the scene break throughout the book. If you've read the fic, you probably know why I picked that particular image for this and the title page ;)

I realized after printing that some of my paper had gotten a bit aged, even though it was stored in the printer. I wasn't about to waste the paper, ink and time for a reprint though, so I left it. Since the book is for me, little things like that are no bother. I was just glad I didn't fuck up in the printing or signature sewing order X'D

I included the authors notes from the end of each chapter as a bonus section at the end, so they'd be preserved with the story but not breaking up the flow of reading the book ^_^

Final view, this time from the spine - think I left the gap a little to wide between the cover boards and spine but eh, again this is just for me and only my third binding ever (and certainly the largest! XD) so I'm still really pleased overall.

A very fun experience, and I'm looking forward to my next re-read of the story, where I'll be doing it with my very own chonky boi version held in my hands :3

[kittythegengarmonarch]

Strawberry DooP, Slick!

Both you shall receive, my friends: https://www.tumblr.com/kittythegengarmonarch/753122509196492800/im-drawing-a-doopliss-picture-based-off-of-a?source=share  This is inspired a problem that our printer has, and that is our printer being screwed over on cyan ink (and no, it's not out). A couple of days ago, I wanted to print a kaleidocycle of this boy baby boy as a test, and of course, the result was fucked up, making Doop's hat and bowtie pastel pink(one of my favorite colors mind you) instead of cerulean/blue. Again, it is one of my favorite colors, so I drew this. Very proud of the result!  (Not of the kaleidocycle though. 'Finished' said kaleidocycle today, and it was a disaster, mainly because I fucked up on some steps. Oh well. It is what it is.)  Hope ya like this! 

[cyberphuck]

I try to leave a little gift in the mailbox for the postal worker every year, because I know that their lives get pretty hard around the holidays, and also because we have kind of a special relationship with Eric, our mailman.

One day, while he was delivering mail, Sebastian happened to be out on the porch and Eric talked to him about how cool our altar was and asked whether he could make an offering. Of course Sebastian said yes, and Eric promised to create some thing for the altar.

That was kind of a while ago and though once in a while we’d get a note from Eric saying that he was still working on his offering, I wasn’t really sure if it would ever appear. Regardless, every Easter and Christmas I would leave some fancy chocolates in the mailbox addressed to Eric from “your friendly neighborhood Satanists. “

This Christmas morning, we found a little package on our front step.

We joked that it might be a pipe bomb.

First of all, that drawing is fucking rad.

We very carefully and slowly opened the package as there were a lot of notes taped to it, stressing how fragile it was.

And then…



I was not prepared for how deeply moved I would be by a little hand painted Mandalorian helmet. Eric 3-D printed this, carefully sanded it down, and then probably spent hours hand painting it, as well as carefully applying black electrical tape in the shape of a pentagram on top. He spent a lot of time and labor, not to mention the cost of materials and possibly the cost of renting or borrowing a 3-D printer if he didn’t have his own. The inside of the helmet had been carefully padded with foam so that it would fit snugly on top of the whiskey bottle, and he bought the brand of whiskey that I most often place as an offering on the altar.

He shared his passion, his art, a little piece of his life, and even the name of his dog with us, even though he only talked to Sebastian once and I have never met him in person. I thought I was going to burst into tears.

The helmet is very fragile, as you can see by the missing tip of one of the horns, so I am working on a small sturdy display case to put it into before I put it on the altar, since the neighborhood cats like to come up and knock everything over at night.

I got other, more expensive gifts this year, but I think this one is hands-down my favorite. 

[staceymcgillicuddy]

#12. "Just do it."

Thank you for letting me indulge yet another one of my "fifty different ways they could have met that didn't involve anyone dying" daydreams. Mwah!

“Just do it,” Eddie says to his reflection in the cracked bathroom mirror. “Today. Today’s the fucking day, yeah? Just do it.” 

How can he do it, though, with a zit on his nose? Eddie doesn’t spend an inordinate amount of time thinking about his face or anything, but like… that dude’s a whopper. Red with a white center, and he should probably squeeze it, but if he does that, it might bleed, and he can’t decide if it’s better or worse to ask Chrissy Cunningham out with a zit or the bloody scab of where a zit used to be. 

Probably he should just pop it at home and wait until tomorrow. That’s the solid course of action. Besides, he has Hellfire after school, and if he asks her out today, he’ll be distracted, and the sheepies deserve his full and undivided attention.

Plus—plus!—he and Chrissy have been partnered up for a month on this stupid English project, and it’s due on Friday and today’s Wednesday, so if he asks her out and she says no, that’ll throw off the whole vibe of their presentation. Which, if he says so himself, is a pretty badass show. Funny what happens when you actually make an effort in school, even if it’s just to impress the pretty blonde who initially didn’t seem thrilled to be partnered with you but now laughs every time you make a dumb joke.

It’s a lot easier for Eddie to concentrate on a task when he knows Chrissy’s gonna smile and say something like, “Eddie, that’s so good!” or “I never would have thought of that!” when he’s done. 

“Friday,” he says to his reflection just as the door to the bathroom opens and some bespectacled freshman stumbles in, sees Eddie, and beats a hasty retreat. 

Yeah, that feels about right.

It’s his free period, and he was originally gonna meet Chrissy in the library to work on their poster, but she put a note in his locker this morning saying it was a lovely day and could they please work in the quad instead? 

She’s got the girliest handwriting, and he definitely sniffed the paper to see if it smelled like her perfume. 

(One time, she left her scrunchie on the table, and Eddie stole it while she was in the bathroom. It’s uh… seen some things. He’s a dick. But, whatever. She has eighty of them.) 

When he arrives, Chrissy’s already sitting at one of the four painted-green picnic tables that decorate the quad. Her hair’s in a ponytail, which he pulls to announce his arrival because he’s five and she’s cute, and he wants to shove her down a slide on the playground to tell her he likes her, or whatever.

Jesus Christ, life would be easier if she hadn’t dumped Jason Carver two weeks ago, thus opening herself up as an actual option rather than a fantasy. And, sure, Eddie gets that he’s not even remotely close to her league, but whatever. Even a first date would be more than he deserves.

Chrissy twists at the tug on her hair, and her mouth’s painted with his favorite shade of peachy-pink, lips twisting into a smile. “Hi, Eddie.” 

“Hey, sunshine. I finished those drawings.” 

“Oh, let me see!”

Their presentation is on A Tale of Two Cities, which Eddie actually read (because he really is determined to fucking graduate this time), and also sort of dug because there was a lot of war and intrigue. It’s not Asimov, but he can see the appeal. For the presentation, he and Chrissy are doing a poster depicting the major plot points, and when she found out he wasn’t the world’s worst artist, she asked him to draw and…

Yeah, he’s been making an effort. Not just because he wants to get in her pants, either, but because he likes her as, you know. A person. She’s kind of weird, and he likes how her brain works.

Sitting across from her, he tugs out some loose printer paper from the ream Wayne stole from the plant a year ago. Management would be furious, Eddie’s sure.

Fuck management. Every time he rips the edging off a fresh piece of paper, it makes him smile.

“Oh, wow, Eddie,” Chrissy says when she sees the final piece, which is Carton approaching the platform with the guillotine. “This is amazing.” 

“Ah, thanks,” he says. “It’s no big deal.”

“No, it’s perfect. And I lettered the quote.” That had been Chrissy’s job—picking out the appropriate sentences and hand-lettering them on paper she soaked in tea to make it look old. “Once we have them pasted on, we’re done.” 

“So… cool, yeah. Done.” 

Chrissy carefully places his final drawings in her folder and shrugs. “We don’t have to meet tomorrow, I guess.” 

Shit. Eddie leans forward, fingers digging into the edge of the table. “Uh. Oh. I guess not?” 

“Maybe just Friday, before we present?” 

“Totally.” 

“Cool. We'll kick butt, and then hang out Friday night.”

Eddie's brain stutters to a halt. "We're hanging out Friday night?"  

"Yes. You're taking me out to the movies."

[chowtrolls]

Moving Day

Dia moves into his first apartment!!! :D His favorite rust moirail comes to help! Google Docs

---

Jodiah really, truly, did not have nearly as many belongings as he thought. He pondered on this as he carried another box inside the rather crappy apartment. There was so little to his name. Even the things he kept at his father’s, the things from his old bedroom he was allowed to take with him. Clothing and tools, mostly. 

The box is set on a coffee table- not originally his, but one his well-meaning moirail insisted on giving him. Said well-meaning moirail stumbled his way into the room shortly after Dia, arms shaking as he struggled to carry two boxes on one trip. 

“Dude.” Dia’s mask did little to hide the amusement in his voice, though he made no motion to help Festur as the scrawny rustblood toted the boxes in. He sets them down rather harshly next to Dia’s box, panting with exertion. 

“M-Maybe…You should’ve asked your…other moirail…to move you in.” Fester all but wheezed, doubling over with his hands on his knees. The lime shot him a sympathetic look and patted his back lightly. 

“I’m not ready for Tori to start sugar-lusus-ing me just yet. You good?” 

Festur looked up at his moirail, seemingly unaware of the trickle of ruby ichor dribbling from his nose, mixing with the sweat above his lip. Dia used the sleeve of his hoodie to wipe it away. 

“Why the…fuck…are those…so heavy?” 

“I think you grabbed my box of impact and torque bits.” 

“...Your what?” 

“Tools, Fes. You grabbed a box of tools.” 

The rust’s brow furrowed, a microexpression that spoke volumes to those who knew how to read him, “...There’s a toolbox in there?”

Dia sighed, a sound not autotuned by his mask. He reached into his stolen boots for a hidden knife - a gift from his father, naturally - and cut the box open with ease. To his surprise, there were no tools. 

“Oh, it was paper.” 

Festur stood upright, peering over Dia’s shoulders with curiosity and annoyance, “You have a box of paper?” 

Dia resisted the urge to elbow his already wounded moirail in his already busted ribs, “Important papers, dumbass.” He rifled through some, pulling out examples. Letters, wriggling day cards, holiday cards, drawings from his siblings,  awards, certifications, palmhusk pictures printed on printer paper, pages torn from books. 

Festur joined in, taking a small handful of papers to nose through. He didn’t bother questioning why Dia had these. He always knew the lime was sentimental. Hard to be sentimental in space. It was amusing to look at everything Dia had saved. Older cards had fingerprints from where Dia had held them, rereading the messages over and over. Fold where he had tucked drawings into pockets for safekeeping. Handwritten letters from his father and mother, tucked safely in their original envelopes. Setting one card down, he noticed an oddity. 

An unopened letter. New- the stamp was expensive, still shiny, and dated recently. The return address was some random Fleet port, with no name to send to. The envelope was neat, a gentle lilac shade, with a strange floral embossing. Festur turned the unopened document around in his hand, investigating it closely. 

“...Are you saving this?” 

Dia’s ears perked up slightly, then dropped again, “Hm? Oh, no. They were sent to the wrong person. I keep forgetting to return them to sender. Here- see?” He gently turned the document over, pointing to the name in the center. 

In a curly cursive handwriting, written in dark indigo ink, was the address of Her Beloved Annihilation. But right above said address was a name that made Festur’s brow furrow once more. 

Little Cristo. 

“Little is an…interesting name.” 

“And Festur isn’t? Who are you to judge, Mr. Septic?” 

Festur’s frown sank deeper, though not from the insult. A seed of worry had seated itself in his chest. He couldn’t quite place it, nor could he shake it. Some deep paranormal concern that the contents of this beautiful lavender letter were not as lovely as it looked. 

“Is this the only one you got?” 

Jodiah shook his head, unaware of his moirail’s growing concern. He rooted through the box of books and pulled out two….three…..four……..five…………six………………..seven. 

Seven more letters. All unopened, all addressed to Little Cristo. All with different dates. And sent from different Fleet ports. 

Wordlessly, Festur opened one, ignoring Dia’s complaints. He unfolded the crisp letter, holding it above his moirail’s head to read. Dia only tried to grasp it a few times before giving up, and waiting for an explanation. 

As usual, Festur’s face remained unchanged. He raised his brow in a faux amusement before folding the letter back up. With a perfect monotony, he said simply, “You got someone’s love letters.” 

“Are they at least juicy?” 

“No. Bland, boring. Old guy language.” 

“Ew.” 

“Mhm. Here- There’s a drop off by the House of Restoration, I’ll take them for you.” 

With a remarkable amount of casualty, Festur collected the other six letters, tucking them into his waistband for later. Dia had no complaints. They would go on to unpack a few more boxes, then Festur would say good day. He made Jodiah promise to lock the doors on his way out. 

“Paranormal paranoia. Watched a lot of trolls die from not locking their doors.” 

Dia rolled his eyes. 

Festur opened the remaining six letters on his walk hive. He scoured over the meticulously handwritten pages, noting how they were, in fact, not love letters. The language was flowery and poetic but deeply sinister. The author waxed on about meeting The Littlest Cristo (as it turned out, Little Cristo was not their name) only a handful of times, but knowing they belonged to each other. The letters would vary from violent in descriptions, to nearly sickening in how loving they were. Descriptions of ownership, of leashing one like a bad dog. Of painting the walls with their illegal hue, of washing them in violet so they knew their place. 

Either these letters belonged to a truly disturbed couple, or the true recipient was in danger. Festur wasn’t sure which he preferred. He knew one thing for certain- even if he knew the letters weren’t for Jodiah, he still couldn’t shake the feeling that something very bad was about to happen.

[driftdrawsofficial]

Being an artist and an author sucks

so I animate and draw but I also write books, I’ve never published one officially or reached out to any publishers but my dad prints them and I sell them myself by going out into the real world (I know, it’s crazy). The thing is though my dad has been expecting more art from me for my books (like there’s a big scene and I’d draw it out for the book) but the problem is I’m also working on a comic book series to story board and a YouTube to keep up so like WHEN do I have time to work on this chapter book?? Also y’ know.. SCHOOL… BUT THEN ON TOP OF THAT I get new story ideas every god damn day so-… FUCK bro I can’t… Also I’ve been more inclined to write smūt cause like AO3 and just for practice but my DAD is my EDITOR AND PRINTER—- GUYS 😭😭

[ghostly-wisp]

MR. LOVERMAN

CHAPTER 7

navigation | series masterlist | chapter 6 | chapter 8

︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

“So, what is the deal?” Sam asks a couple of days after the whole ordeal, gesturing his fork between both you and Pedro – they hadn’t heard a lot about the status of your relationship and assumed that the two of you haven’t updated him on anything, truth is – you just hadn’t talked about it. You tense up because you’re not sure how to answer this sensitive question, but thankfully Pedro does it for you.

“No deal,” he says, closing his salad container. “We’re just testing things out – friends at the moment.” the moment replays in your head a couple of times, you’re not just friends. Sam is satisfied with this answer and leans back in his chair. He grabs the Trumoo milk he got from the cafeteria and places it on the corner of your desk, “I don’t like milk–so you can take it, if you want, Pedro.” This is Sam’s way of offering a friendship coin. Truth is, he loves the Trumoo milk that the cafeteria gives, but this was the only way they could think of as an offering for reconciliation. “I fucking hate milk,” Pedro replies, distastefully.

Later, you’re at his apartment – you're finally able to take in the decorations more intricately than last time you were here – hungover and not quite as close with Pedro as you are now – you can't help but notice just scarce his decorations actually are, though shows you the few decorations he has excitedly – such as a Game of Thrones decorative sword and a couple of Funko pops of Star Wars characters on the bookshelf he has. He has some student art on his fridge from a previous school, which made your heart swell just a little more – because they were still in mint condition. You’re drawn to this one particular drawing, it’s Pedro inside an Erlenmeyer flask, and on the top, it just says “MR. PEDGE: EXPERIMENT GONE WRONG”

He notices you’re looking at it a lot longer than the others, his smile softens at the sight of the familiar handwriting. “I did an experiment with the kids at my other school, for one of my classes it went wrong and I nearly broke a flask. They never let me live it down – this particular piece is by a kid named Bella,” he hums, “They started calling me Mr. Pedge after finding out my first name was Pedro. Not sure where the GE came from.”

You awe – you knew, obviously, that he was popular amongst the students at your school, but you never considered how the other students at school might’ve felt about him, especially after he left. “She was one of the students that made it hard for me to leave that school, but I couldn’t stay in that place any longer,” he tells you, gently placing an arm around you as you continued looking at the art. “It’s too bad I had to leave there, but I couldn’t stay where everyone had their eyes on me.” you frown, because he still has a lot of eyes on him now.

“Would you go back?” you turn to him, and he raises his eyebrows silently asking for clarification. “To your old school.” his face drops a little – and he thinks about his answer.

“No.” he tells you truthfully, moving so he would lean against one of his kitchen counters and you stand to lean next to him – “I love the students there, and my classroom was bigger, I could have a printer. But the people there know too much about my past. You and Sam aren’t there, and the students here are just as sweet, too.” he pauses and glances over to you, “The labs are nicer, too. And I’m not known as Mr. Pedge — the Erlenmeyer flask nightmare.” You leaned more towards him so your shoulders touched, “Sam and I want you here, too.” you say in a whisper – as if it’s a secret. “Lunch with you is so much better than before, don’t tell them I said that.”

He tsks, even being so bold as to turn his head and plant a soft kiss on the top of your head. “Your secret is safe with me,”

After a moment of sentimental, in-the-moment silence, you speak up – “Do you really hate milk?”

“Every fiber of my bein’.”

April came a lot faster than you expected — not only was the school year almost over, but it was Pedro's birthday.

He had told you recently that he didn't want any big celebration for it, simply being with you was enough. Although his words were very sweet, both you and Pedro knew that wouldn't end up being the case, and it wasn't.

You would've loved to do something with his students somehow, or with the whole staff – but his birthday fell on a Sunday this year, so that couldn't work out the way you wanted it to.

Nonetheless, you weren't going to let your maybe-boyfriend-maybe-not "situationship" (as the kids would call it.) have an uncelebrated birthday.

You set up your apartment for an event for a birthday — just a few banners, a homemade cake by Sam and their husband, and some of the science teachers you invited bringing snacks and booze. You hadn’t even texted him yet today, which was making you rather anxious, thinking about if he was feeling upset that his…Whatever you are had forgotten his birthday (Maybe your gift to him could be labeling your relationship!) but still, you had to get this done. You wanted everything to be perfect.

It wasn't until you finally set up the apartment just the way you wanted it that you texted him. He responded quickly, and while normally you would take dry texting as a telltale sign if someone is upset with you – he always had somewhat of a dry way of texting, so you just took the response as it was, you invited him over later, and he agreed to be at your apartment for seven – Contrary to your guests, who were coming here for six-thirty. So for the time being, you were alone in your birthday party-decorated apartment.

It wasn't until you saw what everyone else had gotten them that you became nervous about your gift.

He was excited to see the decorations, even more so to see the people that showed up. While it may not look like a lot, to him, it was plenty. People who cared and whom he liked talking to both in and outside of work. Everyone got him something extremely nice and personal to him — Sam and Aaron got him more Star Wars apparel, James gifted him a binder that had previous lesson plans for biology that he wouldn't use anymore, and Kelsey gave him Starbucks gift cards and a new watch – which was funny to the science teachers apparently because he was always asking what time it was during meetings.

You got him a fuckin' key.

It wasn't just a random key, but a key to your apartment. You knew other things he liked, but you didn't want to run the risk of getting him the same thing someone else did – which would've happened, you were looking at that same shirt Aaron and Sam bought – but now you're concerned that maybe you should've gotten him something he can show off.

He grabs your little white box and your stomach churns, he knows that yours was the last one — part of him picked his gifts out that way; The best for last. He's confused when the box has a small key inside, he picks it up and looks to you for more of an explanation since you weren't over his shoulder while he was opening things.

“It's a key to the apartment,” you explain, suddenly realizing all the eyes are on you and a teacher – you become flustered at the feeling. “I figured it would be easier, you know – instead of me having to get up, you can let yourself in.”

His eyes soften, his smile grows and his heart warms, even if the gift alone was all the confirmation the other science teachers needed—he never explicitly told them the nature of your relationship, so he didn't want to show you any physical intimacy until you were alone. All he could settle on at the moment was simply saying, “Thank you.”

That was the first night he slept over, nothing happened—everyone left closer to eight-thirty and he didn't want to drive home in the dark, or while feeling as sleepy as he does. Normally he would be up until eight, sometimes eleven—but the party drained him a lot more than he cares to admit.

Sam and Aaron are the last two to leave, and while he knows that when they're around he can do pretty much whatever – he still waits until the door is closed before he slips his arms around you, and you melt into the comfort of his arms. The warmth of his body soothes you.

“Thank you so much for today,” he says quietly, moving his face down to kiss your cheek repeatedly, making you giggle. “And for my amazing gift.”

You place your hands over his arm, leaning your head back ever so slightly just to get a better look at him– “Did you really like it?” he nods, making a small sound so you could actually hear his response. pulling away from you reluctantly, but you only turned to face him–now placing your arms around him instead. “Good,” you say, considering just how lucky you are to be in the position you're in.

“Happy birthday, Pedro.”

hi loves !! I'm sorry for the wait for this chapter.

truthfully, I've had my thoughts PLAUGED by my Joel Miller series The One-Night Stand, and while I love both series', that one is newer, and therefore, on my mind more lololol but I know I have some people that really like MRLM, so I'm trying for you guys !!

I'm also sorry it's short :(( (basically a filler) I'm losing a bit of muse for this series, and might have to put it on hiatus soon, just so I can keep it good (at least I'd like to think it's good LOL) rather than half assed. I just wanted to put this lil note here, just so that nobody is suprised (if they even read this hahahah)

TAGLIST:@djarinsstuff @doodlebob-mp3

@wanniiieeee @zeyzeys-stuff @jay1bird23 @corpsebridenightamare @queerponcho

@peqchsoup @surazim @melanie451 @krisviciousx @elliescumsl0t @theanxietyqueen17 @vasiliki-koshka

@figusquibis @lothirielcorleon @maybedisaster @kpicard @becca193 @themusingkitten @caravelofthesun @coldheartedmar @zanzann @avengersfan25 @missgurrl @wren-2-d

[littlelesbinonny]

The Devil's Den

Chapter 26: In Which Soft Turns Sharp

You can read this also on Ao3 at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46831621/chapters/117962293

"I have been in IT for years and I've never once actually seen this happen."

"How does this even happen?"

"It blew up, literally."

"Yo! That's uh... that's a mess."

You were currently standing in the middle of a category 5 disaster. The bottom half of your pants and all of your shoes were completely black; powder-coated by your lovely office printer you were just having words with.

Toner was spewed all over the ugly grey carpet like the remanence of a cartoon explosion. The coworkers and IT tech were standing around amused and befuddled by the whole thing.

Jeff nudged your arm with a giant grin on his face, "did you at least say 'bless you'?"

You wanted to groan.

"No, really though..." Jade, the IT guy asked, "what were you doing again before this happened?"

Another exasperated sigh.

"I've been having communication issues all morning with it and my computer, so after I got sick of trying to repair the connection through my server I came back here to see if perhaps the ethernet was disconnected. It wasn't. Then I was going to get into the settings to see if there was something wrong there, but the screen went all blinky and wobbly, then the fucker shit itself. That's it."

Kind of.

You left out the part where you grabbed the sides of the operating screen in a threat to rip it off it's hinges, then it exploded.

Jade mused on your explanation one more time while the other two morons were drawing finger pictures on the side of the printer with toner.

"Ok - as exciting as this is I'm gunna go and see if I can save my shoes from being stained forever. Bye."

With a huff you kicked off as much toner as you could and immediately headed out the door.

In truth technology had been acting really funky the past few days. First your phone started acting up; the screen would randomly black out while you were using it (the thing was barely a year old so you hoped it wasn't frying already), the location changed on you twice (once it threw you to Paris, the second time to Idaho), and getting your keyboard to work properly was an entire fight all on it's own. You finally turned it off for a couple hours and it seemed to help a little. Then, the clock on your desk started sucking batteries to death. Twice this week you had to change them to keep the damn thing correct. Your work computer had had a couple hiccups and now the printer. Was Mercury in fucking retrograde or some shit???

You didn't bother to tell your boss you were leaving and left the building without saying anything to anyone.

8 days had gone by without Alcina and you were missing her so badly. The bouts of unusual aggression were sporadic and it really wasn't like you, but you just weren't used to such strong feelings about someone and it must be making you a little weird. You guess.

A calmer energy seemed to be following you now but it didn't completely phase out the worry or aggravation. You began to feel better overall since the random muscle attack in your back which helped ease a lot of your tension, but still, you couldn't help but... wonder. You didn't know where she was but somehow she felt closer. You hoped she would be back soon. Sooner than later.

Suddenly your phone began to ring and you reached for it out of your bag.

It was Louis.

"Heyyy man, what's up?"

"I got you another cassette my friend; Miss D and the Pallboys in a rare recording done at a live event - interested?"

"What kind of question is that; hell yes I am - I'll be there in half an hour!"

"See you soon."

Ok, today was not a total bust.

-

The mirror was not as kind today as she was hoping.

Alcina looked at her naked body with a twinge of scrutiny.

She'd gone through all of this with no fruits for her labor. 

After Dmitri and her troops arrived 5 days ago the trail of evidence and any leads went dead. It had gone completely silent. No more attacks, no more sightings, not even a hint of action. While everyone was relieved it didn't sit well with anyone, but what were they to do? They'd scoured every inch of the territory through the sector where everything had taken place, and miles around that. 

Nothing. Anywhere.

The 'cave' itself proved pointless; it was caved in not a thousand feet from the entrance. Still, no one was convinced this was over and Alcina agreed. Dmitri and Sylvia kept several outposts active and would continue to do so for as long as they deemed fit.

The deceased mutated vampire lay in the bin hollowing out with nothing more of interest to study it seemed. No bugs, no worms, nothing exited his body to help Joel in his quest to understand him. His tests came up with very little information outside of a strange anomaly in the dead blood he'd collected, however it was nothing he had seen and without a live sample of possibly another mutated specimen he was hitting a dead end as well. How could he research a dead, dying crumb of evidence? Oddly though, when they put his body out to disintegrate in the sun, he didn't crumble to pure ash as he should have. His bones remained slightly in tact, which Joel collected to see if that could lead him anywhere instead.

Mother Miranda had finally been reached; she had indeed been on travel to Romania which is where Donna was finally able to speak with her. Her reaction was... limited at best. Unconcerned and satisfied they had it under control. Donna was unamused by her stance and Alcina couldn't have scoffed harder at her dismissal. She was nothing if not flippant unless it directly concerned her these days. She could rot in hell or Romania for all Alcina cared.

The suspiciousness of the ordeal had everyone who was aware remaining on high alert. This was far from over and neither clan was backing down from their posts to make sure whatever, if ever, something came next, they'd be more than prepared.

Thankfully no word had seeped into the underground and everything was carrying on as normal it seemed.

Alcina had returned home yesterday and was getting ready for a good nights rest in her own bed where it was quiet, and private.

Well, a little.

Donning her nightgown she clicked off the light to her bathroom and exited.

"Ai dormit pe partea asta aseară, e rândul meu," Daniela stated flatly. (You slept on this side last night, it's my turn)

"Conteaza? Încă dormi lângă mama," Cassandra replied, "sunt două laturi, poate s-o lase pe Bela să doarmă lângă ea în seara asta.." (Does it matter? You're still sleeping next to mother, there's two sides, maybe let Bela sleep next to her tonight.)

Bela sighed as she situated at the end of the very large king size bed, "e în regulă, sunt bine aici jos. Atâta timp cât suntem cu toții împreună, nu-mi pasă." (It's fine, I'm fine down here. As long as we're all together I don't care.)

"Dani este doar un nebun, vino să dormi aici." (Dani is just being a brat, you come sleep up here.)

"Nu sunt un nebun!" (I'm not being a brat!)

"Fetelor..." Alcina intervened as she approached softly, "într-adevăr acum, am destul pat și timp și cu mine să merg. Vă rugăm să încetați să vă certați." (Girls... really now, there's plenty of bed and time and me to go around. Please stop bickering.)

They smiled at her as she began crawling under the covers with them, nestling down with a smile of her own.

When Alcina returned home she hadn't had a moments peace since she walked through the door. Her daughters had warm blood waiting for her, not the wine, and tended to her every unspoken need. Which, they apparently seemed to make for her by the dozens. Donna had of course informed them of her attack and they were more fretful than she at the news. It was only expected they would be exceptionally doting to their beloved mother when she arrived home. They had nearly lost her once, many many years ago and the memories were still fresh and vivid in their hearts. The bond the 4 of them shared was deeply rooted and strong; Alcina may not be their biological mother in the human sense, but she was their rock and anchor, their protector and very much the loving, nurturing, caring and doting mother figure. While the girls were quite old as far as human standards go, somehow deep inside of them was still a childlike need and fondness with Alcina.

Cassandra had run her a bath, Bela washed the clothes Dani had packed and sent with Dmitri for her, Dani continued to bring warm blood on the hour and while the house was never truly a mess, it was spotless. Spot. Less. Alcina couldn't help but grin at their attentiveness. She jested perhaps she should get wounded more often... they didn't find it humorous in the least.

"Acum, fiicele mele... noapte bună, vă iubesc, dormiți bine," she cooed, caressing their beautiful faces one by one. (Now, my daughters... goodnight, I love you, sleep well.)

Exchanging kisses to the cheek they settled in, snuggling close to their mother as the silence of the room seeped in.

Cassandra, now on the right side of Alcina, caressed her arm softly, "esti bine mama?" (You're alright, mother?)

Alcina smiled, "da, draga. Dormi. Sunt acasă, în siguranță cu fetele mele. Totul este în regulă în lume," she whispered and kissed her forehead once more. (Yes, darling. Sleep. I'm home, safe and sound with my girls. All is right in the world.)

She felt complete. 

Almost.

She missed you. She needed you.

Tomorrow she would venture out to see you. She couldn't stand the distance from you any longer.

-

"More goodies for the pests, ey?"

You gave Malka a raised eyebrow as she scanned the bag of mixed nuts and dried berries.

"Those pests were here waaay before us, it's not their fault we moved in on their territory."

Malka broke her stern visage and smiled brightly at you, "yes yes, good good, you have a Yiddishe Kop my girl."

Malka was an old Jewish woman who ran and owned the tiny corner store a couple blocks from your apartment. It was your favorite place to get groceries and oddities. The produce was always fresh and she was constantly stocking the shelves with fun, niche little snacks from all over Europe and her home in the Netherlands. She'd adopted you as the neighborhood stray long ago and you happily claimed her as your long lost Bubbeh - her chosen term. She was small but a pure spitfire. Her hair was long and white with fading pepper streaks that she wore in a braided bun high on her head. Malka was a darling.

"I still think you should ween them off the dried fruit and give them fresh - it's good for the soul, you know," she advised knowingly.

You chuckled, "they like what they like, who am I to argue? Getting them off the pastries was hard enough!"

She placed the last of your things in your tweed bag and handed it over to you, "my pastries were the cause of several village wars, I'll have you know."

"Yes, yes, I know Sophia Petrillo. I doubt I'll ever see another twenty dropped on my doorstep until I treat them again."

"Ahaha," she cackled, "off with you now, enjoy your evening and give my best to the birds. Tell them Bubbeh wants a twenty dollar bill too next time."

By the time you made it to your block you caught their shadows overhead as they swarmed and landed in the trees in the courtyard. You smiled and treaded around back to the grass and benches on the other side. They followed with happy caws and grunts and coos.

You sat on the bench and watched them gracefully land at your feet as you opened the bag and began divvying out the goods.

You still couldn't tell them all apart yet but there was a considerably bigger one and a runt that stuck out the most. The smallest was easily the most vocal and it was skittish. The biggest one was very regal but had a playful side, you'd noticed. He, or she, would play with the baby squirrels in the neighboring tree, almost a game of tag, it was quite amusing to watch.

The gathering usually gave you odd looks from the passerby's but you got used to ignoring it. So you had a tiny army of crows, so what? 

Without giving away the whole bag you watched them trek around the grounds for a while enjoying the falling evening. It was getting a little cooler now, autumn was around the corner. Every season in New York was pretty, except winter. Winter could fuck all the way off in your opinion. 

You sighed. As the darkness shifted the hue in the sky your heart silently wished upon the universe that your Alcina was safe and would be back in your arms before too long. 9 days was a really, really long time at this point.

~

There was no way to accurately describe the sensation that coated you like warm molasses; it was slow in enveloping you and you became light headed, a fuzzy heat trickled through your system and your limbs felt numb and tingly. A smile erupted on your face and you instantly knew this feeling.

In a split second you were off your couch and headed for your room.

There creeping through your doorway was that tall black silhouette you longed and craved to see and touch for 9 too long goddamn days.

"Alcina," you whimpered as you ran to her and collected her in your arms.

She sighed long and heavy as her own strong arms enfolded you with haste. Your scent wafted through her sweeter than a summer breeze offering reprieve from the hot sun and she drove her nose deep in your hair.

"Oh... how I've missed you, draga mea," she whispered near your ear, feeling her own relief and satiation of having you back within her grasp, "I have missed you so much."

"I've missed you so much," your muffled reply came as you slowly inched your face around to claim her lips.

The two of you moaned softly and satisfyingly at the connection. Yes. This felt like home, this felt too good to be lost for so long.

Alcina carefully grasped your face in her cool hands, which you noticed were slightly trembling, and you looked deep into her stumbling slate colored eyes. Pools of ethereal eternity. Somewhere you wanted to be for the rest of your days.

"Hi beautiful," you smiled.

"Hello, dragul meu," she smiled right back.

You snaked your arms back around her torso and clung to her like she might slip away again. Not today Satan, not to-fucking-day.

Although, there was something amiss. Something not quite right. You weren't completely sure what it was but somehow your hands began to pull higher up her back where you found, under her leather jacket, an unnatural heat. And raised ridges of... something.

Alcina hitched as your hands splayed over her wounds and grabbed for your arms and pulled you away. The concern and confusion was not hidden on your face and she sighed, forced a smile and hoped there could have been at least an hour pass before this came to light.

Feeling the hesitation peel off her like layers of a wilted rose you stepped in a little closer to her, taking her hands in yours.

You could throw the thoughts of her absence dealing with something dangerous out the window all you'd like; they would return like a handful of sand to the wind and back in your eyes every time. You knew. You knew.

With a short breath you swallowed your worry, "I know you can't tell me everything, or maybe anything at all for that matter, but... what did I just feel?"

Exasperation was now the most common emotion she was friends with these days. Alcina didn't know how to tell you. It wasn't as if she could hide this forever. But she wanted to. Her healing was so slow - they should be gone by now, but they weren't, and she didn't want to be away from you any longer. Somehow this made her feel too vulnerable to you, a desperation to keep it locked away and never let you into this dark corner of her world.

"Draga..." she started, tossing her eyes away from you.

This was not something you would receive well, in fact she feared for how it would affect you period. How was she supposed to just brush this off as a; 'well, you see draga mea, I was attacked by a mutated vampire that nearly killed me and more lycans than I care to count, that may or may not have many other mates running loose that we can't find, and truly that's just where the story ends for the moment,' and expect you to have a normal reaction. And, at the same time, how could she just say; 'I can't tell you what happened and I'm sorry you have to look at these scars that looks like I fought 8 meet hooks, you'll just have to accept that,' and move on.

Alcina's pause made you lean in closer. You understood the barrage of thoughts you couldn't hear her fighting all too well, so, softly and carefully, you began to remove her jacket and moved to her tight black turtleneck.

Her body immediately tensed and an anxiousness wrapped around her, but what was she to do. 

Well, here we go, Alcina thought.

She allowed you to continue and it actually surprised you. You half expected her to grab for your arms again and immobilize your efforts, but she didn't.

As you stood behind her and lifted the soft cloth, the sight that assaulted your eyes sunk your heart to the pits of your stomach like a deflated lead balloon.

Did you gasp? No clue. But you felt ice shoot through your veins at the sight.

"My god..." you whispered, "Alcina... what - who did this to you?"

Your fingers were so gentle as they passed over the raised dark purple scars Alcina almost buckled. The caress didn't hurt but it felt like little sparks of electricity passing through her. Somehow your touch was the most soothing thing she'd felt so far in her healing, or, maybe, she was just starving for your touch more than she had been aware.

As your eyes wandered you could now see in the dim light that there were fully healed scars all over her. All in swipes of 4, like sets of claws. Eventually you just removed the turtleneck all together and rounded her to look back into her eyes. She wasn't completely dodging your glance, but she wasn't seeking it out either.

You tried to choke out more questions as you softly trailed your fingers over her arms, chest, and abdomen. What was there to say, how were you to say it? Suddenly another rushing wave of icy water pelted over you as the memories of that night you had your little 'muscle attack' just about drowned you. 

Did you feel this happen to her? 

Who or what could have done this? Was the war between vampires and lycans returning?

Your visage torqued the twinge in Alcina's heart. You were so concerned, plighted by a tied tongue. But also, something else. Alcina gently reached out to cup your jaw and offer a soft smile. Truth be told she didn't know what to say either. She didn't want to answer your question. 

In your short lived elation to see her you were unable to address the tiredness about her, but now you saw it loud and clear. Her eyes lacked the sparkle of light, her skin looked worn, her lips, thinner, her trembling hands alone should have told you how lacking her energy was.

Taking her beautiful long fingers to your lips you kissed them gently, repeatedly, locking her eyes with yours as you then began to move your hair away from your neck.

Alcina grabbed you up in her arms and held you, "dragul meu, please, I didn't come here to feed off you -"

"I know you didn't but you're depleted, I can tell," you shut down her argument softly, "please, drink," you urged, "I don't like seeing you like this. Please... I want you to."

She didn't budge.

Stubborn ass.

Accepting her refusal you secured your arms even more tightly around her bare torso and held her back. She may have won for now but you would give her your blood before she left, you wouldn't have it any other way. Softly you began pressing your warm lips against her bare collarbone and kissing her cool skin with revered tenderness.

Alcina closed her eyes and leaned into you, feeling you against her seemed to bring down all the pillars of worry and concern around her. But you, your offer, it panged her with guilt and remorse.

Pressing her lips to the shell of your ear she whispered softly, "you are not for my consumption, draga mea, you are more to me than what I think you realize and it pains me to think if I have lead you astray in that... you are not for the taking, for use, for simply delectable taste and pleasure. I love you, I never want you to feel less than my equal, for all sense and purpose of our differences."

You sighed.

"You big dummy," you muttered, pulling back to look into her eyes once more, "I love you too, I love you so much... you're my vampire and I'm your human; I belong to you because I want to. I'm not offering my blood out of - fuck, I don't know - pressure, duty, some form of guilt - no! I love you, I want you to feed because I want to take care of you, because I don't want to see you drained and weak, because your wellbeing is not only my job as your lover but my honor. You're a mighty Matriarch. You fight battles and command armies and rule over a literal underground city of vampires and lycans. I am a chaotic, dysfunctional, boring as fuck but loving human who was just lucky enough to be chosen by you - I can't offer you much, literally, I have like nothing of real value... but you've got my love, my dedication, my heart and blood and whatever else you want or need, ok?"

What have I done to deserve you? Alcina mused in the silence. You were the unintended enigma that was never-ending.

Carefully tracing her fingertips along the outlines of your face, Alcina leaned in gracefully to kiss you. Each caress of your lips together grew a little deeper and a little deeper, everything outside of this room ceasing to exist as she was once again back in the safest place she could ever imagine. Your arms. Your embrace. Your love.

Feeling the inevitable plume of heat deep inside of you, gorging yourself on everything that was this glorious woman, you urged and silently begged for her bite; pressing your body so close into hers, pulling her as near as possible, arching your neck as your lips escaped to graze her jawline. And then you felt the shudder within her; the release of the tiger that was prowling for blood with no need to chase.

Her teeth were sharp and precise and the painful pleasure coursed through you like your blood into her. Bliss, euphoric release; a chaotic intertwining of black and white, up and down, hot and cold.

As the sensation of heat poured down her throat, Alcina groaned out her long-awaited desire to taste you again. Your blood fed fuel to her fire like nothing else in this world, but within the rush this time something else was taking place. Her body began to burn. Her senses thrown into a frenzy. The striking, piercing sensation of an itch so violently unable to scratch tore through her and she ripped her mouth away from your neck with a pained wail.

Alcina's knees buckled and she fell to the floor with a thud.

[lady-wildflower]

So I had a busy weekend and didn't wanna get bogged down writing because that always gives me The Executive Dysfunctions. So I got bogged down arting instead!

My OC Tegyd Lowri Humphries! She originates from Birds of a Feather, my spite-motivated fic wherein I queer the fuck out of the Potter universe and pointedly do better wherever I can than Her Despicable TERFness did when it comes to disability, nonhumans, etc. She's a Welsh half-human, half-caprid centaur, which are centaurs but goat instead of horse. So she's effectively a faun. Lives in a lil cottage in a secret village in the Bannau Brycheiniog called Pen ôl y Ddraig with her father, the caprid centaur. Her Mum comes and visits frequently, though she lives in Cardiff - it's not a broken family situation, it's just the most convenient arrangement for them. Tegyd's adventurous, and loves a good hike up a mountain. At the current point in the story I'm writing, she's in her third year at the wizard school, and a prominent member of the Nonhuman Club, with her dryad friend Blodwen, who is a crab apple tree, whom she grew up with.

Tegyd is one example of how I actually deal with the implications and consequences of my worldbuilding (looking at you, Jowling), she's an exploration of the Statute's fuckery as it affects anyone visibly nonhuman, as well as just in general, what it's like for a nonhuman to grow up in that world, though post-Kaleidoscopic Grangers (my original spite-fic, BOAF is a sequel to it, where I made Potter a blind trans girl adopted by the Grangers and had a whole heap of fun).

She's also getting migrated to an original story idea where she's a Welsh fae who's gone off to live among humans who are in that universe her special interest. Finally she doesn't have to deal with fae bullshit- oh wait, she gets the crown princess of the Seelie dropped unwittingly in her lap along with a package deal quest. But that's the Seelie Princess version, not the BOAF version - the SP version got combined with another BOAF OC, Alpin Faughn, a Welsh-Scottish lil lad with heterochromia and a penchant for sewing and embroidery.

I don't often draw, so this one was a Process™. I started off by finding a reference pose, which I then destroyed by photoshopping the goat legs, ears, and horns onto. Then I gave up for several months lmao. Then I decided to resurrect it with some art tips a friend gave me (shout out to @brewbellwizardry and later @death-munchkin who babied me through shading), starting by tracing a skeleton and general shape onto paper on my screen - 'cos one of the things that pissed me off previously was trying to use a drawing tablet, which I discovered is actually a skill. Then I began iterating, tracing over traces, general shape first which needed a little adjusting since Tegyd's canonically a bit curvier than the model. I used that as a reference for the clothes, did the tops first then the skirt, then I traced all of the components onto a master trace, which I then scanned with my printer into my computer. Did the hair on a separate piece of paper so it wasn't hell.

And then came my second ordeal of computering it. Started off by blocking out the colours, then doing outlines (which are still manky but shush I don't need to fix thoSE-) and then other details. The tartan be wonky as hell, but hey. Thanks to my friends I was able to figure out how the fuck to do shading, and voila!

And there we have her, my shoddy attempt at my funky six foot satyr lass.