#you will not find all of these things in one museum which is why we need to go to a bunch of them | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

astraystayyh · 3 months

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Starry night.

in which you and hyune fall in love through paintings.

idol!hyunjin x museum guide!reader. love at first sight, kinda. both mc and hyune are romantics.. lots of art analysis and conversations. very fluffy and soft. like so soft i hurt myself with this you guys.

all the info about Vincent Van Gogh’s life and works are from the Van Gogh Museum. the interpretations are my own but im not an art critic, obvi, just a yearner 💔 please enjoy, feedback is highly appreciated 💞

thank you to the lovely reader who commissioned me!!!! the money went to our stayblr fundraiser for palestine. please consider donating if you are able too as well <3333

“You’ll be able to do it, right?” Your manager Martin looks at you expectantly, and you blink slowly in response. It, referring to leading a private tour of the Van Gogh exhibition.

You’ve been a museum guide in New York for four months now. When you’re not painting, you’re here, amidst the array of artworks nestled in a quaint street near East River. You’ve led group tours before, always under the watchful eye of Martin, a middle-aged man who never forgets to bring you a vanilla bourbon macaron every morning.

However, you’ve never handled a private tour before. You see the desperation in Martin’s eyes as he awaits your answer—he’s the one who usually handles these tours, but he has urgent family matters to suddenly attend to.

You blink again, your tongue unknotting in a split second. “I’d be happy to,” you beam. The exhibition feels like a second home to you; you’ve visited it countless times long before you started working here.

Martin heaves a sigh of relief, smiling back at you. “I believe in you,” he reassures, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. “Remember why I chose you.”

You grin at his words, nodding vigorously. Your love for art brought you here; your very being seems molded to breathe in paintings and live among them. It’s as sweet a life as it can get.

“You’ll find all the details about our guest in our log. He’s famous, so he’ll be a bit discreet. He’ll expect you to be too,” he explains, hurriedly packing his things. You nod, taking the keys to the art gallery from his hand.

“Don’t worry, the gallery is safe in my hands.”

“I know,” he says with a comforting smile, before finally waving goodbye. You take a deep breath and check the booking for tonight’s exhibition—Hwang Hyunjin.

The name is unfamiliar to you, and so is the face that greets you at 8 p.m. sharp—at least, what you can see of it. He’s wearing a navy cap and a face mask, with a varsity jacket sitting perfectly atop his broad shoulders. He looks young, roughly your age.

“Hi, welcome to our Van Gogh exhibition,” you greet him with a grin. He bows slightly in response.

“No one’s here, so you can remove your mask if you wish. I can take your bag as well,” you offer with a smile. He nods and hands you his black duffel bag, which you quickly pass to the security guard, who places it inside a safe cabinet.

Hyunjin removes his Versace cap, running a hand through his silky black hair. There is an aura of assurance around him, as if he’s poised before a camera in a professional photoshoot. But then, a shy smile appears on his face as he finally removes his face mask, his eyes glinting beneath the golden lighting.

You feel your breath catch in your throat; for a split second, the world around you seems to still, the paintings dimming before the beautiful face in front of you.

“Right,” you clear your throat, “shall we?”

Hyunjin nods, falling easily into step with you. You pause before the first painting, ‘Woman with a Child on her Lap’, 1883.

“This is rumored to be about Sien Hoornik, who became both Vincent’s lover and model. She was a former prostitute, pregnant at the time, and had a five-year-old daughter. Vincent was determined to help her through her hardships, and they dated for a year and a half. But then, he broke it off because he said she was too far gone to be saved.”

Hyunjin nods, his eyes fixated on the painting, his head tilted slightly to the side. “The eyes are telling,” he speaks for the first time, and his voice floods your being like dewdrops reviving flowers at dawn. It is smooth and soft, the end of his words getting lost in the air and caught by your heart.

“The way the mother and daughter look at each other, I mean.” He clarifies, stealing a fleeting glance at you. “There is disdain on the mother’s face, but more toward herself, I think. Maybe because she sees her reflection in her daughter.”

Groups usually scurry past this painting, eager to see Vincent’s more renowned works. You feel your heart soften at how much he seems to be thinking about it, lost in his own world. You’re not even sure he remembers you’re there.

“Vincent was really determined to help her, although his brother Theo disapproved. His parents did too.”

“Isn’t that what love is? To hold someone’s hand even if everyone tells you to let go,” he mutters quietly, his eyes still lost in the painting. A hue of vulnerability colors his words before he clears his throat, as if unwittingly revealing his inner thoughts.

“That’s a beautiful way to view it,” you smile, and he nods, shyly biting his lower lip. For some odd reason, his timidity stirs something unfamiliarly tender within your heart.

You walk over to the next set of paintings. “When Vincent moved to Paris, you can see how his style developed. He let go of the darker tones he used in his infamous ‘The Potato Eaters’ and began using lighter colors, like here,” you explain, pointing to ‘The Hill of Montmartre with Stone Quarry’.

“Do you think it’s because he was happier?” he suddenly asks, and you frown slightly. “Pardon?”

“The shift to lighter colors. ‘The Potato Eaters’ is so sorrowful and shrouded in darkness. ‘The Hill’ is much more colorful, lighter, you know?” His eyes glide to yours, a twinkle of curiosity glimmering in them.

“Vincent did flourish in Paris. For once, he was in the same city as his brother Theo, whom he loved dearly. But he was mainly influenced by modern art, which uses much lighter colors than his previous works. Art critics usually attribute this change in the influence of his contemporaries, such as—”

“But what do you think?” he interrupts softly, leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes are penetrating, and you find yourself lost in the seas of emotion they contain.

You quiet down, licking your lips tentatively. No one has ever asked for your opinion on these tours before.

“Well,” you begin slowly, “I think it’s possible. Being around his brother and other artists who embraced brighter palettes could have uplifted his spirit. But also, maybe the light colors were his way of reaching for happiness, even if he didn’t always feel it. Art often mirrors our hopes as much as our realities.”

Hyunjin listens intently, a thoughtful look on his face. “I agree,” he finally says, smiling sincerely. You don’t know why the sight of his grin renders your brain putty, like melted ice cream under the kind sunrays.

“His use of lighter colors continued when he moved to the south of France. He was delighted with the bright colors in Arles, painting orchards in blossom and workers gathering the harvest,” you explain, pointing to the respective paintings.

“That’s when he told his brother that he wanted to open a studio for fellow painters. He wrote in a letter the following: 'you always lose when you’re isolated.' He sent out many invitations, but only one painter agreed to come.”

“Paul Gauguin,” Hyunjin swiftly replies.

“Exactly. He was the first and last painter to move in with Vincent.”

“It seemed like the more he tried to escape loneliness, the more it found him,” Hyunjin muses, his eyes fixed on ‘Portrait of Gauguin’ by Vincent. The bright colors he asked you about earlier make you wonder if, beneath the spotlight, Hyunjin too feels lonely.

“Sometimes loneliness becomes a friend. You have to make room for it to allow other things to come in,” you say softly.

“It’s sad how nothing good came out of that roommate situation, though” he frowns, and you nod in agreement.

“Paul and Vincent were very different. They had a lot of eclectic views that often led to disagreements. I assume you know their most prominent one.”

“Yes, when Vincent cut off his ear.”

“Correct, he then wrapped it in newspaper and presented it to a prostitute in the nearby red-light district.”

“A prostitute…” Hyunjin muses, his thumb swiping slightly across his lower lip. “It seems like phantoms of his first love found him again. Even in his most disoriented state, he somehow remembered her.”

“You speak of love beautifully,” you suddenly say, before biting your tongue harshly, instantly regretting your words. But Hyunjin’s eyes seem to soften as he gazes at you, the warm light dancing across his pupils.

“It is a beautiful feeling.”

“Only to those who have beautiful souls,” you speak earnestly, and your words seem to morph into brushstrokes, painting the gallery in hues of red. Intimate, soft, too intimate all of the sudden.

“Vincent’s mental health rapidly declined, and he put himself back into the mental asylum,” you quickly clear your throat, though you can still feel Hyunjin’s eyes on you, not the painting. “Still, that’s when he created some of his most famous artworks, like ‘The Starry Night’. He was inspired by the view from the asylum’s window. It’s dominated by vivid yellow and blue, and the colors and paint seem to describe a world outside the artwork itself.”

“It’s breathtaking,” Hyunjin marvels, lost in the painting, leaning in until his nose almost brushes the canvas.

You suppress a giggle, but your laughter fades as you take in the mole right by his jaw, then the one by his neck. The delicateness of his face, the plumpness of his lips, and the curve of his lashes.

He’s beautiful. The painting could seep him in and he’d fit right in with the silver stars. Outshining them too, surely.

“I really liked the tour,” he smiles, nearly two hours of lazy strolls later. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” you grin back, grabbing his outstretched hand. His fingers wrap around yours slowly, deliberately, as if on a mission to ignite your nerve endings. To set your soul ablaze with his palm alone.

His hand holds yours for a few seconds longer than necessary. Your blush mirrors his when he finally lets go.

He quickly bows again, grabbing his bag from his manager, who was waiting by the door. He almost bumps into the handle on his way out, and you let out an endeared chuckle, your eyes lingering on his figure until he disappears into his black van.

You think you'll never see him again, two lines crossing serendipitously at one point, never to cross paths once more. The thought sends a pang of sorrow latching onto your heart, before you quickly brush it away.

But then you do see him again, the very following night, at that.

It is near nine p.m. when Martin exclaims suddenly, “Mr. Hwang!” and you freeze in your place, book guide in hand.

It has been exactly twenty-four hours since you last saw Hyunjin, but when his voice softly echoes through the art gallery, it feels like a lifelong ache finally soothed.

“Please, call me Hyunjin,” he says, shaking Martin’s hand, though his eyes quickly find yours. They stay on you, unmoving yet tender, like a cotton blanket draped over your being.

“How was the tour with Miss Yn?”

“Ah—“ his gaze finally drifts away from yours. “Yes, it was really nice. That's why I came again,” he explains, a touch sheepishly, and your quizzical eyes meet Martin’s.

“Hyunjin booked another private tour. He specifically requested you to be his guide,” Martin explains, and your eyes widen in shock. You don’t have time to reply because your manager quickly scurries away. “I’ll leave you two then. Have fun!”

You wait until Martin disappears into his office before turning to Hyunjin, who avoids your gaze, one hand deep in his pocket, moving side to side. You remain silent for a few moments, simply admiring the side of his face. You’ve always had a deep appreciation for art running through your veins, after all.

“Hi,” he finally says, his eyes quickly meeting yours. You can’t stop the smile that floods your face, coating every nook and cranny of your features.

“You came back,” you say with a breathy giggle.

“Mm,” he instantly grins. “I don’t know when I’ll be back in New York, so I wanted to truly memorize the art here.”

“When are you going home?” you ask as you take his bag again, your eyes taking in his outfit—a green cap this time, a knit vest over a white shirt, and a silver teddy bear necklace nestled perfectly against it. Pretty.

“Tomorrow. We had a tour stop here, and we’ll go back to Seoul now.”

“And you’ll be spending your final night in the city here?” you chuckle slightly, and he shrugs as if it’s the most obvious decision he ever had to make.

“Why not? I think it’s beautiful here.” though his eyes never move to look onto the paintings, gliding across your face instead.

“And I forgot to take pictures yesterday,” he quickly adds, pointing to the camera in his hands.

“I’ll help you then,” you offer, and he smiles so brightly that it renders you speechless, suddenly wondering if the first person who ever drew a portrait had a similar thought—that they saw a smile so beautiful they just needed to immortalize it.

Hyunjin is at ease before the camera. You can tell by the way he almost pretends the device isn’t there, his eyes fixed on the paintings, mere centimeters away from the canvas. He’s whisked away into another world. You see your love for art mirrored in his soul as well.

“Do you paint, by any chance?” you ask between pictures, and he nods.

“Whenever I have free time. And you?”

“I do. I can show you later, if you’d like.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” he says, pointing his finger at you, before looking directly into the camera this time. “I’ve been painting magnolias lately.”

“Really? Why magnolias specifically?”

“I read a poem about them. It said that when magnolias wither, they aren’t considered beautiful anymore. But that doesn’t mean they weren’t at one point. It really moved me.”

“You have to be very optimistic to view it that way,” you say as you finally hand him the camera, satisfied with your pictures. You are both standing in front of ‘Almond Blossom,’ the pastel colors drawing you in.

“Withering flowers mean that at one point they were in full bloom. Grief means that at one point you did love,” you muse. “It takes a lot of gentleness to find beauty in endings, to celebrate them as proof of what once was. Don’t you think so?”

You turn to look at him when the flash of a camera catches you off guard.

Hyunjin looks at your picture, a soft smile on his face. “You fit right in with the flowers,” he compliments, though it does not feel superfluous or bearing a hidden intent. It’s a simple observation he wished to share.

“Thank you,” you say quietly, a blush sprouting from your very veins. You quickly fix your posture, pointing to the painting. “I told you yesterday that Vincent painted this for his brother Theo, to celebrate his newborn, whom he named after Vincent.”

“Yes, I remember,” he nods, slinging the camera over his neck and taking a picture of the painting up close. “It seemed to bring Vincent a lot of solace in his final days.”

“I’ve been thinking about your question, whether Vincent was happy. I think he was hopeful more than anything. He had hoped his works would be recognized, he had hoped he wouldn’t be as lonely anymore. Sometimes hope keeps you going much more than happiness.”

“Because happiness will eventually wear off?”

“Right, it’s only natural. But hope… it’s like a flame that never goes out. It might flicker and dim, but it will still be there on your darkest nights.” You bite your lip slightly, your thumb digging into your palm.

“I hope you’ll always have hope in your life, Hyunjin. You’ve been my favorite person to talk about Vincent with,” you say sincerely, your eyes unwavering from his.

You imprint the way his gaze softens into your mind, the slight blush that powders his cheeks, the way his teeth peek behind his smile. You memorize his velvety voice in your mind, the way he accentuates certain letters and how it pulls at the strings of your heart when he says—“I’m very happy I met you, Yn.”

May is gone, and with it Hyunjin, and you think you are a fool for thinking of him as often as you do after only five hours in his presence. You don’t know why your mind is permeated with his essence. But why wouldn’t it be? is the better question. When he’s beautiful, truly, body and soul.

You feel slightly less foolish when a postcard is delivered to your exhibition on a sunny Saturday, one month later. It depicts the front entrance of the Museum of Modern Art in Seoul.

June 13.

“yn,

i saw Vincent’s works once again in this month’s exhibition. somehow they seem less beautiful without our conversations.

i hope you’re surrounded by art, too.

hyunjin.”

June 23.

“hyunjin,

i visited claude monet’s immersive exhibition, you have to visit it as well, once you’re back in new york.

i am still surrounded by art, as always. i don’t think i could ever part from it.

did you finish your magnolias? i hope you’re seeing beauty in them even after they wither.

yn.”

July 5.

“yn,

claude’s works are so different from vincent’s... don’t you think it's beautiful that they lived at the same time yet depicted their world so differently?

my magnolias are finished. i’ve been drawing scenes from your exhibition lately, the picture i took of you is particularly inspiring. i hope you don’t mind.

hyunjin.”

september 26.

“hyunjin,

leaves are falling all over new york. new beginnings are upon us. i hope this view of my window inspires you too.

i wish you happiness no matter the season.

yn.”

october 7.

“yn,

i just saw the first snow at dawn, it was such a pretty view! i’m happy i’m alive today.

i hope snow reaches you fast enough, too.

stay warm.

with love,

hyunjin.”

october 23.

“hyunjin,

i’ve always preferred spring, but snow brought me such a happy opportunity. i’m invited to an exhibition in seoul, next month!

i’ll enjoy it well and think of our conversations.

with love,

yn.”

october 5.

“yn,

the weather is beautiful in seoul lately. i’m happy you’ll be here to see it.

it is late at night, and the moon is shining brightly. i hope it’ll shine as brightly for you too, in new york.

with love,

yours.”

The click of your black heels against the marble floors echoes through the museum, a comforting sound as you stroll through the immersive Vincent exhibition; now gracing Seoul. The colors wash over you, reflecting off your skin, swirling around you until you feel as though you’re being drawn into the very heart of the paintings.

“Enjoying the art, Yn?” a voice like honey drips across your being. Your heart skips a beat, plummets to your knees and races back to its place once again. You feel an ache inside you unfold. memories of Hyunjin’s voice rewriting themselves, perfecting your recollection of his accent and the tender way in which he spoke your name.

“It’s beautiful,” you murmur, though you refuse to turn around and meet his eyes. Not yet. The scent of his rose perfume is enough to have your heart rattling against your ribcage— a bird wishing to escape its cage and deliver your love letter to its rightful owner.

“Isn’t it an amazing coincidence we met here? In Seoul, no less,” he says, his voice airy as he inches closer.

“I know you’re the one who invited me,” you giggle, finally turning to meet his gaze. His eyes widen slightly before morphing into crescents, as if lifted from Vincent’s Starry Night.

“How did you know? I thought I kept it a secret in our postcards,” he grins sheepishly.

“I kept pestering Mr. Martin about why the museum invited me specifically until he finally told me you were behind it.”

“Well,” he licks his lips, his eyes roaming over your face. “I admit, I missed you. I wanted to see you again. And I happen to be a major contributor to the museum.”

“Fancy,” you beam, before your grin morphs to something much softer, as you realize that you are away from your work, and that the Hyunjin of your postcards is finally before you.

“I missed you too. Show me around?”

“Am I your guide now?”

“Mm. I expect you to be an expert.”

“Oh, I am.”

Hyunjin speaks of the paintings as if it’s his first time seeing them, finding new things to admire, new details to point out to you. You find it hard to keep up, only because your eyes seem more interested in observing him. You’ll tell him later that you were right in thinking he’d make every painting more mesmerizing.

But for now, you stroll together, his hand brushing against yours every now and then. Before long, you’re far from the museum, walking into the chilly Seoul night, his jacket draped over your shoulders.

And you talk, you talk about every painting you’ve seen since his departure, the flowers you’ve picked, and the strawberry field you visited at the end of June. He shares stories of his favorite painters and his beloved dog, Kkami, whom he misses dearly. He speaks of the moon and how your postcards lessened his loneliness. You tell him you’ve kept every card by your bedside, the first and last thing you see each day.

Suddenly your pinky is entwined with his, your cheeks ache from how much you’ve spoken and laughed, your heart lighter than it had ever been.

“Thank you for walking me to my hotel,” you smile softly.

He nods, his thumb swiping across your palm tenderly. It’s only after a while that he speaks again. “I know you said that happiness wears off eventually. But right now, the happiness i feel… I think it will last me for the next four months, at least.”

“Just four months?” you tease, and he giggles, tipping his head back. You wish you had your paintbrushes, your camera, a simple pen, anything to commit his laugh into something tangible.

“For a long time,” he finally says, quietly, resigned. Tomorrow’s flight ticket makes your heart ache, all of the sudden.

“I… I’ll get going. Thank you for inviting me,” you smile, dropping his hand. You know it’ll hurt the more you hold it, the easier it’d be for you to remember the softness of his hand.

So you walk back, you’re near the hotel door, a hand suddenly wraps around your wrist, the security guards both discreetly look away.

“Yn,” Hyunjin turns you around, his eyes are as wide as the full moon hanging close to earth, listening in to your conversation.

“You didn’t- you didn’t show me your paintings.” he says a bit too quickly, desperately.

“What?” you ask, confused.

“Back in New York, you promised to show me your paintings. You didn’t.”

“You remember?”

Hyunjin's chest heaves in response, his warm palms cradle your cheeks, his eyes speak of a yearning you haven’t thought existed. When his lips crash upon yours, fervently, passionately, like the collision of all stars in Starry Night, you have your answer.

He remembered. He remembered as much as you.

Epilogue— seven months later.

“Now… next question,” Hyunjin grins as he takes out a folded paper from a glass jar, five sets of camera’s all pointed at him in the shooting set of Elle Korea.

“If you could feel only one emotion for the rest of your life, what would you choose?”

Hyunjin puts the paper down, adjusts the sleeves of his Versace blue silk shirt. He doesn’t need to think too much to answer— he already has his reply.

“Someone told me, a long time ago, that hope keeps you going longer than happiness. Because happiness wears off eventually. But hope doesn’t. hope is like a flickering flame, it surges and it dims, but it doesn’t go out, so I choose hope.” he smiles suddenly, eyes looking into those of the staff behind the camera.

“That got deep all of the sudden, right? Done worry, Stay, I have hope, happiness and love, all at once.”

He chuckles quietly, picking up the last piece of paper.

“Finally… who’s your favorite painter? Ah, easy, it’s Vincent Van Gogh.”

“What's your favorite painting by him?” the shooting director asks behind the camera, his eyes fixate on the lens. He knows his love will be watching.

“A woman with a child on her lap. It’s not very known, but… if you look into it closely, beautiful things might come into your life and change it forever.”

from left to right, Woman with a Child on her Lap, 1883 — Portrait of Gauguin, 1888— The Potato Eaters, 1885—The Hill of Montmartre with Stone Quarry, 1886— Almond Blossom, 1890— The Starry Night, 1889.

#stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fanfiction #skz fluff #stray kids fluff #skz imagines #stray kids imagine #stray kids imagines #skz scenarios #stray kids scenarios #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin fanfic #hyunjin imagines

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kaleldobrev · 8 months

Text

Lavender & Honey

Pairing: Felix Catton x F. Reader

Feat. Character(s): Reader & Felix Catton

Summary: Taking a bath with Felix

Word Count: 760

Warnings: Just pure fluff & Implied nudity (takes place in the bath)

Authors Note: Obsessed with the idea of taking a nice relaxing bath with this man | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

It was late, but you were nowhere close to being remotely tired as the grandfather clock in the hallway chimed at 11:00pm.

Your boyfriend lie next to you, entirely focused on the newest and final Harry Potter book that was being passed around to the group. Tonight, was his night to read at least two chapters before handing it off to Venetia. With his free hand, he gently had it resting on your bare thigh, tracing small circles on your skin with his thumb. It was such a simple gesture, but yet it was one that you craved at all hours of the day and night.

Since it wasn't your turn with the book (as you had just given the book for Felix to read); you opted to doodle in your sketchbook that Elspeth had given you for your birthday this past year. You weren't a particularly good artist, but drawing and painting and going to art museums was something that you had enjoyed doing for as long as you could remember; part of the reason as to why you were studying History of Art at Oxford.

You let out a small yawn and closed your sketchbook, placing it onto the side table on your side of the bed. Out of your peripheral, you could see Felix had a soft smile on his face. "Getting tired?" He asked, turning to look at you.

"Not really but, I think my body is giving up on doing anything remotely productive the rest of the evening," you stated. "Would you want to join me for a bath or are you too focused on the prospect of The Golden Trio having a threesome?" You said teasing.

Felix let out a small chuckle, placing a bookmark between the pages before closing the book completely, placing it on his side table. "As much as I am interested in the prospect of them having a threesome, I much rather take a bath with you because it could lead to other things," he smirked, slightly leaning in close to you.

"It always does," you smirked back.

Walking into the bathroom, Felix automatically made his way to the tub, turning the water on as you went into the cabinets. As you knelt down in front of the cabinets, he looked over at you and couldn't help but admire you. You were wearing one of his rugby shirts, and it looked like a short dress on you given his height; and your hair was in slight disarray — still managing to look like a model in his eyes.

"Find what you're looking for love?" He asked, his eyes solely fixated on you.

You turned around, a slight grin on your face as you stood up with a bag of what appeared to be bath salts. "I did!" You beamed, and walked over to him, pressing the full bag into his hands. "I found this at a shop with V and Farleigh when you were spending the day with Ollie yesterday."

Felix looked down at the bag, and it was a large bag of lavender and honey bath salts — your scent. "You know if we put this in the bath, I won't be able to keep my hands off of you."

You wrapped your arms around his waist; and he did the same. Looking up at him, you grinned. "That's the idea love," you slightly whispered, standing up on your tippy toes as he leaned down and met your lips, giving you a quick peck.

The entire bathroom was filled with the strong smells of lavender and honey; the only light emitting from the room came from the assortment of candles that you and Felix had lit which added a rather cozy ambiance.

Felix got into the bath first, and laid back into the tub, his arms slightly hanging off the sides of it. He spread his legs a bit, just enough for you to fit yourself perfectly between them.

Getting into the tub, you settled yourself perfectly between his legs, and laid your back against his chest as you nestled your face into the crook of his neck slightly. His arms found themselves wrapping instantly around your frame as he placed a kiss on the top of your head before resting his chin in the exact same place.

It was simple moments like these that the both of you truly cherished, and couldn’t imagine doing it with any other.

“I love you,” you said softly, peering up at him.

“I love you too,” he replied, placing a kiss on your temple.

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#felix catton x you #felix catton x reader #saltburn #saltburn imagine #saltburn one shot #saltburn drabble #saltburn drabbles #felix catton #felix x you #felix x reader #female reader #reader insert

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livlaughloveluke · 3 months

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Hello! I love your work by the way it genuinely shows the characters so so well! I was wondering if you could do a smau of luke with a brown skin curly haired daughter of Poseidon? It could be a beach date with the two of them and then Percy loosing his mind cause “the beach is our place!” And Clarisse full on forgetting Chris and thirsting over Y/n while Luke is just enamoured with her? It’s so long I’m sorry x

ᡣ𐭩 𝗿𝗲𝗱 𝘄𝗶𝗻𝗲 𝘀𝘂𝗽𝗲𝗿𝗻𝗼𝘃𝗮

brown!daughter of poseidon!reader x luke castellan smau 🫧

IN WHICH.. two campers at camp half-blood go on a beach date and receive some very strong opinions !

warning! this smau contains- cussing // really short // use of “y/n”// that’s about it..

[a/n]- i combined my og smau with the twitter au ! they are so much fun to make omg

🎧- red wine supernova by chappell roan

liked by iamlukecastellan, grover_u.w, and 789 others

therealy/n- bro knew a spot tagged iamlukecastellan

view comments..

urfavpercyjackson- uhm HELLO?? i thought the beach was our thing.

↳ therealy/n- you took annabeth last week

↳ urfavpercyjackson- irrelevant.

iamlukecastellan- we should do this more often

↳ therealy/n- you’re just saying that because you got to see me in a swimsuit

↳ iamlukecastellan- or maybe it’s because i love my beautiful girlfriend?? (it’s the swimsuit)

annabethchase- do me and percy act this cringy??

↳ therealy/n- yup!

grover_u.w- my favorite camp half-blood couple 💕

liked by creator

clarisselarueisbetterthanu- oh my GODS 🤤😍

↳ iamlukecastellan- touch grass

chrisofficial- THIS is why i had to watch all of the hermes cabin?? so luke could take a trip to the beach??

↳ therealy/n- thanks chrissy ☺️

liked by urfavpercyjackson, therealy/n, and 305 others

iamlukecastellan- museum date with my favorite work of art 🖼️

view comments…

annabethchase- wait wait wait the museum is OUR THING. does our sibling bond not even matter anymore?

↳ urfavpercyjackson- EXACTLY. WE MUST REVOLT !

↳ iamlukecastellan- you guys can double date with us ☺️

chrisofficial- genuine question. how tf do you guys convince mr. d to let you go to these things ??

↳ iamlukecastellan- favorite counselor privileges 🤷

grover_u.w- no one’s talking about how smooth the caption is

↳ iamlukecastellan- fr i worked so hard

↳ chrisofficial- i saw you looking up “best art related pick up lines” 💀

↳ iamlukecastellan- okay and? it took me a while to find one

clarisselarueisbetterthanu- i want her so bad 😁

↳ iamlukecastellan- get out of my comments 😁

urfavpercyjackson- i’m puking this is so gross

↳ therealy/n- there is no room for hate in this comment section perce ❌‼️

↳ iamlukecastellan- i don’t see anything gross about this post all i see is my lovely and pretty girlfriend

therealy/n- you’re a very good candid photo taker

↳ iamlukecastellan- thank you i try 🙌

CLICK TO ENLARGE!

୨୧

MASTERLISTS 𓏲𝄢 REQUEST / TALK TO ME 𓏲𝄢 RULES

#luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellan fluff #pjo series #percy jackson #luke castellan smau #twitter #instagram #smau #charlie bushnell x you #charlie bushnell x reader #liv’s writing !

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zhng96 · 1 year

Text

𝐁𝐅 𝐇𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐒 — zb1

↳ pairing: ot9!zb1 x gn!reader

↳ warning: fluff for those w a sweet tooth <3

— 𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐉𝐈𝐖𝐎𝐎𝐍𝐆

↳ moving you by your waist

- sidewalk rule is something HE LIVES BY

- when you’re blocking his way he’ll gently just grab your waist and beckon you to move UGH

- he is so boyfriend i will die

- he lives for the flustered look on your face EVERY TIME HE DOES IT

- you swear you will never get used to it

- you are walking on the side closer to the street? NOT GNNA HAPPEN UNDER HIS WATCH!

- you’re a little too close to a high ledge? NOT UNDER HIS WATCH

- you’re a little lost?? he’ll guide you by gently pushing you by the waist EHEHEHHE

- got me giggling n all..

(rest of the members under the cut!)

— 𝐙𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐀𝐎

↳ is constantly taking candid pictures of you :(( (he has a whole album he organized once a week on his phone)

- he wishes he could inject your reaction tho finding out every time he takes a picture

- he finds you so endearing istg

- he will purposely turn his ringer on so you can hear the camera snap

- sometimes he already awaits your reaction to the first snap so he takes a picture while your eyes are wide in realization

- he treasures it forever (it’s his lockscreen)

- i can imagine you guys being on face time while you are getting ready for the day and he just does the face time screen shot thing

- hes so boyfriend im afraid 😣😣 (pt2)

— 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐁𝐈𝐍

↳ always takes one flower from the bouquets he buys you to know when to buy you a new one

- we need more hanbins in the world 💔💔

- this man buys you a bouquet without you even asking he is literal perfection

- he sets the one flower on his window sill and always makes sure to check it everyday before leaving for work to know if he has to buy you a new one or not </3

- the first time he did it he texted you “hey since the last bouquet died do u prefer lilies or peonies?”

- you went feral LIKE HOW DID HE KNOW??!!

- and then when you went over to his house one day you saw a flower similar to the ones in your bouquet and you connected the dots

- he goes to the same flower shop every time too

- he goes to a locally managed one!! he thinks the flowers are prettier there than at any supermarket

- the old lady who runs the store is basically his second mother and told him to bring you so you two could meet

- he is so boyfriend it is actually crazy (pt3)

— 𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐊 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐖

↳ buys everything that reminds him of you

- he is so adorable

- he’s out with his friends and he finds a plushie that resembles you?? yeah he’ll buy it

- some times he gifts them to you but sometimes he’ll keep it

- when you ask him about it he’ll be like “oh it made me think of you!”

- one time you noticed a cute plushie in the backseat of his car and you asked him where and why he bought it

- he said “it reminds me of you! that way every time im driving it feels like you’re with me :)”

- you melt EVERYTIME

- HE IS SO BOYFRIEND (pt4)

- you guys build a ikea shelf for your room solely used for displaying matthew’s trinkets he bought thinking of you :(

- he says its the yn museum LOLL

— 𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐓𝐀𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐄

↳ constantly bumps into you as you walk

- it sounds annoying but it’s actually really endearing :(

- times he can’t hug you he’ll touch you by teasing and bumping into you

- he’s also distracted and just so comfortable and immersed in your conversation that he can’t walk straight

- (but he doesn’t tell you that)

- sometimes he almost pushes the both of you off the side walk LOL

- he finds moments where being playful but also being close to you are his favourite memories

- sometime when you get tired of it you just hold his hand which suddenly makes him stop hehe

- he just wants to be close to you is all

- and tease you <33

- boyfriend coded (pt5)

— 𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐐𝐔𝐀𝐍𝐑𝐔𝐈

↳ sets food on your plate whenever you eat out

- AHHH THIS MAKES ME SMILE SO HARD

- i feel like hes not the most openly affectionate person,,, like he shies away from pda n all that

- so instead he shows his love through his actions!!!

- you guys are out eating at a kbbq place and hes just placing some meat or rice on your plate </3

- he’s so attentive w/ it too like when he notices the pile is slowly getting smaller, he takes more off of the grill and sets it on your plate :(((

- when you take notice he smiles, places more and goes “here you go” AHHHH

- once u got to the last piece on your pile its tradition to feed it to him :))

- he happily accepts

- he’s so lovely :((

- and so boyfriend </3 (pt6)

— 𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐆𝐘𝐔𝐕𝐈𝐍

↳ touching you with his cold hands

- LIVES for harmless teasing

- he’ll take his hands and cup your cheeks with them :((

- he loves the squeal and the cute little face you make :((

- HE JUST LOVES YOU!!!

- sometimes you guys are cuddling in bed and he’ll put his hands under your shirt and rest them on your stomach

- you squeal again which = happy happy gyuvin

- he always apologizes w kisses afterward tho :)

- now you are both happy

- GAWD HE IS SO BOYFRIEND (pt7)

— 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐆𝐔𝐍𝐖𝐎𝐎𝐊

↳ whenever you ask for one of his hoodies, he sprays a fresh spritz of his cologne on it

- he likes any opportunity to give you his hoodies :))

- he acts like he doesn’t see you basking in the cologne the hoodie absorbed the first few times he gives you his hoodie

- so now he makes sure to give it an extra spray before giving it to you :))

- he’s considered buying you the cologne as a gift once actually

- but he likes the feeling of keeping the secret that he knows how much you like the scent so he decides against it :)

- he likes seeing your smile every time you put one of his hoodies on not knowing he was admiring hehe

- bf coded (pt8)

— 𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐘𝐔𝐉𝐈𝐍

↳ compares you to cute and funny animal pictures

- im tempted to make a seperate imagine for this its just so cute

- you’ll just be going about your day and he’ll text you

- he’ll just send the picture of an animal and say “you :)”

- you ask him to elaborate (he has picsart downloaded just for this moment) so he sends a collage of a picture of you resembling the actions or face the animal makes

- he is so cuteness i will die

- when you guys are hanging out he’ll take it phone screen and open up a picture of an animal and hold the screen right next to you face

- he inspects it like he’s an artist and just giggles

- you live for it tho

- oh can’t forget about the times he would ask you to do a pose and you comply reluctantly and he takes a picture and adds it to his collection of pictures that resemble an animal :)

- yea he has an entire album on his camera roll

navi. mlist.

#. . . 🖋️ zhng’s prose #zb1 #zb1 x reader #zb1 fluff #zb1 imagine #zerobaseone #zerobaseone x reader #ki gyuvin x reader #gyuvin x reader #han yujin x reader #zhanghao x reader #sung hanbin x reader #kim jiwoong x reader #shen quanrui x reader #park gunwook x reader #gunwook x reader #kim taerae x reader #taerae x reader #seok matthew x reader

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elliesflwrgirl · 1 year

Text

cw, top!ellie, bottom!reader, jealous!ellie strap on usage (r receiving), dirty talk, public sex, bathroom sex, petnames (sweet girl, baby, etc)

summary: college!ellie and u go to dinner with some friends, one of which ellie is incredibly jealous of, so jealous bathroom sex! who cheered? i know i did.

if u enjoy this like and reblog please!! love u.

.·:*¨¨* ・❥・ ≈☆≈ ・❥・*¨¨*:·.

you and ellie had been going out for about a year now, everyone in your friend group knew from the moment ellie had laid eyes on you that you were completely and utterly hers. and you were more than okay with that. ellie has always been jealous when it came to you, so everybody knew not to get too touchy with you. well, besides the new girl in the group, cassie.

according to ellie, cassie was always gawking at your ass, or staring at you for a second too long. you hadn’t noticed, and neither did any of your other friends. ellie made the conscious decision to never let you hang out with her without ellie being with you. you thought it was cute how protective she was over you, always defending you, always there to back you up.

when you told ellie you guys were invited to a dinner with your friends she politely declined, as she normally does, ellie’s not really into the whole socializing thing. but, when you mentioned cassie would be there, suddenly she was all about this dinner.

the second you guys walked into the restaurant ellie’s arm wrapped around your waist and she kept you close, you knew this was all out of jealousy, but it also was extremely hot to you. to watch her get so possessive.

you made your way to the table, ellie sitting directly beside you and cassie and dina sitting across from you guys. jesse was running late, as always. “we missed you guys,” you beam and ellie nods her head as her hand finds its way to your thigh. she loved when you wore this black dress, it rode up on your thighs when you sat and she thought it was making room for her hand.

“god we missed you, you’ve been like a little hermit crab all cooped up in your apartment.” cassie says and you laugh, but ellie does not. she gives a cocky smile and mutters, “we’ve been busy fucking.” which nobody heard besides you but it still made your cheeks feel hot. ellie grinned seeing you get all flustered, she rubbed her thumb back and forth over your thigh.

“well, how’ve you been?” you ask the table and dina fills you in on the latest about her and jesse’s on and off relationship, and cassie tells you she about her day to day, nerding out about classes and whatnot. and as she talked ellie’s hand slid further and further up your dress. “anyway, how’s life been for you?” as cassie asks you feel ellie’s finger slowly run up your clothed cunt.

“uh,” you struggle to think for a moment as ellie slowly tortures you with a slow up and down motion of her fingertip. “it’s been so good,” you give a short answer and ellie grins beside you. “why don’t you tell them about the art museum we went to last weekend baby?”

you stare at her with a pissed smile as she pulls your underwear to the side, “i’d love to hear about it.” cassie beams and you nod your head. “yeah, um we saw so many… uh,” you lose train of thought as ellie slowly circles her fingers over your clit. “so many what?” ellie teases and you gently push your hips against her fingers, “so many gorgeous paintings,”

dina looks between the two of you and furrows her brows, “you alright?” she asks you and you nod quickly, “i’m okay.” you answer quickly. ellie grins as she teases your entrance with her fingers. “she’s just kinda foggy today, she didn’t get much sleep. we were up late.” she tells them while somehow making it abundantly obvious exactly why you two were up so late.

you bite your lip to stop a soft whimper from coming out, “i’ve gotta go to the bathroom.” you say suddenly and ellie looks at you. almost a silent confirmation that you want her to meet you in there.

you slide out from the booth, quickly walking to the bathroom. you squeeze your thighs together as you lean up against the wall, waiting for ellie.

she comes in a couple moments later, and as soon as you see her you pull her close. you grab the waistband of her pants and pull her to you, smashing her lips against yours. her hands find your waist and grip at your hips, as she pushes you up against the wall. she kisses down your jaw, lightly nipping as she does. “i can’t stand the way she looks at you,” she whispers as she leaves dark hickeys all down your neck.

you whimper softly as you lean your head against the tile of the bathroom. anybody could walk in and see this dirty sight but you couldn’t care less. ellie’s hand pushes your dress up past your hips, thrusting her hips up against yours. making you feel the silicon beneath her jeans. she pulls your dress off your shoulders, laying sloppy kisses on the tops of your boobs and on your shoulders.

you quickly start undoing her jeans and she grins against your neck, “someone’s needy.” she teases and you eagerly tug down her jeans, revealing her strap. ellie pushes your underwear to the side as she gently circles her fingers over your clit. you wrap your legs around her waist and pull her close.

you grab her strap and align it with you as she thrusts into you. a moan leaves your lips and your hands bury themselves in her short hair. “you always take me so well, sweet girl.” she murmurs into your neck and you whine softly. “faster,” you beg and she thrusts into you faster and deeper. you claw at her shoulders and bury your head in her neck.

“fuck els—“ you whine softly and she grins, “i know baby, your doing so good for me, taking it like a good girl.” she praises and you moan into her neck.

she grips your thighs tight, nails digging into them, “wish cassie could see us right now, see how much of a complete and utterly useless slut you are for me, wish she could watch me fuck you dumb.” she mumbles and you toss your head back against the tile, “oh my god—“ you whimper as ellie hits that spongy spot deep inside of you.

“just like that, god, don’t stop.” you moan quietly and ellie watches as your eyes roll back, the way your body completely relaxes as she fucks into you. “nobody else can fuck you like this, nobody else can make you feel this good, isn’t that right?” ellie murmurs in your ear and you nod.

“say it.” she urges and you whine softly, “nobody else fucks me like this— god,” you whine as ellie hits that spot again, “only you can make me feel this good— fuck i’m so close” you moan loudly and a cocky grin spreads over her face, “that’s right, sweet girl.”

ellie watches as your body completely collapses against hers as you cum, profanities leave your lips along with ellie’s name.

ellie kisses your forehead and gently pulls out of you. “did so good for me baby.” she hums as she zips her pants back up. you tug your dress back down as your legs shake slightly. “how am i gonna cover these up, els?” you groan as you see the red marks down your neck. “don’t.” she grins.

.·:*¨¨* ・❥・ ≈☆≈ ・❥・*¨¨*:·.

#ellie williams #tlou #tlou fanfiction #tlou2 #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie williams fanfic

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kakitetan · 1 month

Text

Yandere! Glisten x GN! Reader | His One And Only Desire

Synopsis: Toodles was helping Dandy with some work in the museum and gets lost. You decide to help Rodger find her, which inspires other toons to help find her. Along with all this, one by one, everyone gets infected by ichor. You're the last one, and you find Glisten.

WARNING: Contains mentions of gore, obsession, stalking, murder, torture, and child endangerment. Your discretion is advised.

You were a toon, and so were your friends. There were eight, then seven, then six. Then one, you. You were the last one, you regret it. You should've listened, but with that optimistic mindset, everyone had disbelief. You made a mistake, you didn't even know what death was before this, and that reflection of innocence was shattered. Staring at your reflection in the haunting elevator, was a constant reminder of how this all began...

"What? Toodles is missing?" You repeated, "I'm afraid so... She went to help Dandy with some machines. I have to go look for her." Rodger spoke, and you felt for him. Toodles meant a lot to him, he was practically a father figure. Plus, she must be so scared! The museum is so big!

"I'll come too!" You said, "Why, I might as well tag along." Glisten spoke up, inspiring your other friends to tag along as well.

You never saw it coming...

"Great! I can help supply you guys, why now there's nothing to fear! Toodles will be just fine!" Dandy said.

Why was it that Dandy was never worried in the first place, he just grinned at you and your friends. All he wanted in exchange for his help, were some tapes and supplying the museum with an odd black fluid. Dandy always had a smile on his face, no matter what the situation. He seemed almost amused by the difficult situations you seemed to constantly find yourself and the rest of the toons in. It was unnerving, the way he could remain unruffled when everyone else was in a state of conflict, and his confidence bordered on arrogance. With his relaxed attitude, he was the star of the show. He acted like it too... All he wanted in return for his help was some tapes and the occasional delivery of a strange black fluid to supply his museum's exhibits.

On the first floor, Boxten found Toodle's plush. Toodle's beloved plush toy lay abandoned on the floor, its battered stuffing peeking out of a tear in its side. Boxten paused to pick it up, feeling a pang of sympathy for its owner. The worn edges and faded fabric hinted at many nights of comfort and companionship.

"She would never leave this lying around," Boxten spoke, giving the plush to Rodger. He had no words.

We had never experienced anything like fear, grief, or anything like that. We had lived a life of privilege, shielded from the harsher realities of the world. The closest thing to sadness we ever experienced was Shrimpo's bullying. That was tame compared to the sinking feeling of loss, and fear. It was strong, it took the words right out of everyone's mouths. But nothing could have prepared us for the feeling that washed over us at that moment - a heavy, sinking sensation that left us all breathless and afraid. We stood there, frozen and speechless, as the realization of what was happening slowly sank in.

When we got back to the elevator, Poppy tried to lighten the mood. Poppy, ever the optimist, attempted to alleviate the tension by making a light-hearted remark as we gathered in the elevator.

Boxten's voice cut through the silence as he voiced his concern. "I'm scared maybe we missed something on the last floor," Boxten spoke.

"Boxteeenn! You worry WAAAAYYYYY too much! Everything's gonna be okay!" She cheered.

Boxten's voice cracked as he countered Poppy's question. "We didn't check everywhere, what if there's something important we missed?" His words hung in the air, the fear of the unknown hanging over him heavier than the silence.

"You're doing it again!" Poppy replied, causing some of the toons in the elevator to laugh.

The next floor took us by surprise as we came face to face with copies of ourselves. They were aggressive and unsettling. Twisted Boxten let out a distressing, gurgling sound as if he were submerged in water. It was a chilling noise that lingered in your mind long after the encounter. Your arm was still scarred by the arms that grew out of his box.

Out of everyone to take it harshly, it was Boxten.

"I can't-- can't do this!" He was pacing in the elevator.

"Boxten... It's okay." Poppy spoke, placing her hand on his shoulder

"No! It's not, Poppy!" Boxten snapped, slapping her hand away. She gasped.

Poppy stared at him, her eyes brimming with tears, reflecting the deep well of emotions within her.

"Alright, enough. It's hard for everyone, let's just stay calm. I'm sure Dandy will know what to do." Rodger spoke, it calmed everyone down, but that was only temporary.

We never did get an explanation...

"What? Monsters? What are you guys talking about?" Dandy spoke.

"There's been monsters of us, explain yourself," Glisten leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms in a display of defiance as he spoke.

"Now now, there are no such things as monsters. That's only in nightmares, right, Astro?" Dandy replied to the group, Astro held up his blanket to cover his face. Astro didn't like being put in the spotlight.

"Why don't you all give me the tapes, and I'll give you some candy in exchange?" Dandy spoke.

And before we knew it, it became a cycle. A repeating cycle.

We lost Poppy first.

"Boxten!" She yelled, trying to reach out for him. He saw a twisted version of himself, grabbing Poppy, and then eating her alive.

"BOXTEN! HELP ME! IT HURTS! BOXTEN! HELP ME!" She screamed, blood filling her lungs. Her screams became more gurgled, he watched in horror.

His little legs trembled in fear before he ran off from her mutilated body.

After that encounter, Boxten fell silent. It seemed as though he had relinquished his voice, leaving the air heavy with his unspoken words. The departure of Poppy and Boxten only seemed to thicken the atmosphere.

Before the elevator door opened, Goob took out a box of bandages and bandaged your cuts. He carefully began to unwrap them and apply the adhesive strips to my injured wrists, wrapping them with a gentle and practised touch. His hand slumped back and forth to each one, he always had a bit of difficulty controlling his arms.

"I couldn't help but notice your arm was bleeding." Goob smiled at you, you smiled back.

"Thanks, Goob! You're the best." You spoke with a grin.

We tried to defend ourselves from the twisted versions of our friends, but it became clear that they were stronger, faster, and more dangerous than us. Every blow we landed was met with a counterattack, every dodge was followed by a swift and brutal strike. We fought desperately, trying to keep them at bay, but the twisted copies seemed almost untouchable. Our every move was countered, and our attacks met with swift and brutal responses. Every time one of us gained an advantage, the twisted versions would quickly find a way to turn the tide back in their favour.

"It's okay! I'll distract them." Goob offered, carrying the line of twisteds. His self-sacrifice helped keep many toon's fear at bay, however, that didn't last long.

Goob left next...

Astro found his mutilated body, Astro's normally shy demeanour was replaced by a quiet resolve as he stumbled upon the mangled body of his friend. Astro closed Goob's eyes, a silent tribute to the fallen toon, before forcing himself to move on and continue onward, dragging his blanket along.

The elevator became quieter after those three were gone... The air felt thicker than ever before. The elevator ride to the next floor was sombre and still, the loss of our friends weighing heavily on everyone left. The air felt thick and oppressive like a heavy blanket suffocating any attempts at lighthearted conversation. Every glance at each other felt like a constant reminder of the reality of the situation.

As everyone diligently worked in quiet concentration, you found yourself engrossed in turning a pipe handle. Lost in the repetitive motion, your heart leapt into your throat and you were brought crashing back to reality, you were startled out of my trance by a sudden, piercing shriek. The ear-piercing shriek took us all by surprise, jolting us out of our thoughts and back into reality. No one spoke aloud, but the shared look of alarm and confusion was enough to tell me that we all felt the same way - startled and uncertain as to the source of the noise. Footsteps pitter-pattered into the room.

"GOOB! You're back! I just knew you were okay!" That sounded like Scraps..

You walked out of the room you were in, into the large corridor. Scraps was running over to the twisted version of her brother.

"SCRAPS, NO!" The words ripped out of your throat like a furious roar, and you were filled with urgency as you saw her charging towards danger. Your voice was raw from the force of my yell, and though it burned your throat, you couldn't let her put herself in harm's way.

Goob picked up Scraps, squeezing her mercilessly, tightening.

"No! NO!" You yelled as Goob grabbed Scraps and squeezed her mercilessly.

"GOOB! It's too tight! You're hurting me! IT H--" Scraps yelled, her little body straining under the pressure. Scraps' screams were abruptly silenced by a sickening SPLAT. Her blood, flesh, and cartilage stained the walls. Scraps of flesh splatted onto you, but your hand was still reached out for her. Her body parts fly off from the impact, hitting every surface imaginable.

But Scraps didn't exist anymore.

As you took a step back, Goob appeared unfazed by the fact that he had just taken the life of his sister. With a chilling calmness, he extended his arms towards you, and in a panic, you turned and sprinted back towards the elevator, desperate to escape the terrifying scene. The doors close behind you with a metallic clank, providing a momentary reprieve from the horror that awaits outside. But even as you attempt to distance yourself from the carnage, the echo of Scraps' final moments lingers.

One by one, everyone left this world.

Everyone except for you, you aren't even sure why you're still going. In a trance-like state, you exit out of the elevator. You had been alone for a while, so suddenly hearing a familiar voice speak caught you off guard.

"D-Did I just hear someone?" Glisten spoke.

You never ran so fast, running over to him. Your heart pounds fiercely in your chest as you approach Glisten. Your speed slowed down as you saw his appearance, half of his face was broken, and his hands were tied by his belt. Half of his face is disfigured beyond recognition, and Glisten's torso is mutilated., a mangled mess. He looks up at you with vacant, hollow eyes, the light within them extinguished forever. Blood trickles slowly from the gaping wounds, staining the floor beneath him. Despite the horrific sight before you, you can't help but feel a pang of pity for this once graceful man reduced to have such a horrific fate.

You felt vomit in your throat, tasting a bit of the candy you had earlier. The sight of ichor instantly made you sick to your stomach. Causing your stomach to churn violently. Your body recoils instinctively, refusing to accept the sight before you. Ichor, the thick, dark fluid of life, spills from Glisten's wounds.

His voice, once commanding and confident, now comes out as a weak plea. "Oh, it's you.." he murmurs, barely above a whisper. "Stop! Please don't run!" Glisten begged, stumbling towards you, his movements slow and laboured. One of his eyes is a ghastly shade of pink, the other staring blankly ahead.

You nodded, showing any fear wasn't a good idea. This was scarier for him than it was for you. "What.. What happened?" You asked him. Yet, despite everything, you extend a sliver of compassion, reaching out to offer some semblance of comfort amidst the horror that was around the both of you.

"I was attacked earlier, I found myself here. I'm so glad you're here, Y/N. I don't want to be alone.. Please... Don't leave me, please stay." He begged.

You nodded again, albeit lacking confidence. You didn't want to say it, but you knew what you had to do. "Don't worry, I'm not hurt at all. I'll keep you company. I just have to do these pipes." You said to him, reassuring Glisten.

"Alright.." He responded.

You navigate the dimly lit corridor, your steps deliberate and sure. Reaching out, you grasp the cold metal of the first pipe, twisting the handle firmly. The pipe groans in protest, releasing a torrent of ichor that cascades downwards.

"How have you managed to avoid getting infected?" Glisten asked.

That perked your attention, it was a hard question to answer, due to his own circumstances. You felt your mouth dry up.

".. I'm very careful." You responded, trying to play it safe. You flashed him a smile, that faded as you turned back your attention to the pipe.

"That's smart.. But I believe even the most cautious people would break under these circumstances." Glisten said.

You glanced at him, thinking. You wondered if this was even your Glisten or some kind of clone. In all honesty, you were going mad. This was hell. How could you not tell the difference anymore?

"Why haven't you given up yet?" Glisten asked.

You turned the pipe handle in thought, before turning your head in thought. "I think I have, I'm just bad at showing it." You answered back.

"Nonsense, Y/N. That doesn't sound like something someone who has given up would say." Glisten responded.

You were just trying to be honest, "It’s true, I can’t accomplish my dreams if I have no one to share it with, and.. Everyone is depleting so fast. But.. I still continue to do these pipes. I don’t know why I do it, ever since I’ve been here, I feel like I’ve been out of touch with myself. I’ve been running on adrenaline." You expressed, gripping the pipe harder. This whole time, you were just trying to do it for Toodles, but now you have no one to live for, no one to continue for. You've just been working in a trance-like state.

It made no sense to you.

Glisten listened to your confession, his single red eye reflecting a depth of empathy that belies his twisted exterior.

"You're doing this for yourself and for those who came before," he says gently, stepping closer as if offering comfort despite his monstrous appearance.

It made you uneasy, but you didn't step away. This is one of your friends and the only one you have left...

You fake a smile, "Mhm." You nodded.

Glisten stared at you, admiring you. Feeling a sense of connection with you, Glisten allows himself to relax slightly. For the first time in what felt like ages, he allowed himself to open up.

"There used to be so much life here," he murmurs softly, looking around at the desolate lobby. "People laughing, music playing..."

A melancholic smile tugs at the corner of his mouth as he remembers happier times.

"But now... it's just us." He said rather quietly.

A chill ran down your spine at that sentence alone. You never felt so unsafe with someone you trusted before. You catch a glint of your reflection in his mirror, you make your way to another pipe. He followed you like a lost puppy. You struggle to come up with something to say in response, trying to hide your fear.

"That may be true, but it can always happen again. Even if things seem rather dull right now, it doesn’t have to stay that way forever." You walked over to another pipe, turning the handle, letting the ichor pour into the pipe. Just what was this stuff anyway, and why does Dandy need it so badly?

Watching you guide him towards the pipe, Glisten can't help but admire your determination. Despite all odds, they refuse to give up. "Even amidst this chaos," he whispers, gazing down at the swirling ichor filling the pipe. "You find ways to bring back some semblance of normalcy." His pink eye follows every movement of your hand as it manipulates the pipe handle. "It's... inspiring," he admits quietly, feeling strangely uplifted by their actions.

This didn't sound like Glisten at all, maybe he's just saying this out of fear, or maybe even regret.

"I guess so, I’m not really sure why. Even before all of this, Shrimpo used to bully me for it. He said I was just being stubborn. I think it’s pretty funny at times, kinda like now. I’m not stupid, I see what’s going on around me, but I believe that there’s a light at the end of the tunnel. I try to think that way anyway.. I have nothing else to lose." You confess to him, you were being honest.

Glisten listens intently as you share your thoughts, a flicker of respect igniting within him. The resilience and optimism in their words strike a chord deep within his own psyche.

"You know, I never thought of it that way," he muses, his gaze drifting to the floor as he ponders your perspective. "Maybe holding onto hope, no matter how slim, is what keeps us sane." He said, which was a huge contrast to his appearance.

You look at him again, as he stares at you with fear and admiration.

Slowly, he raises his head to meet your eyes, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "If anyone can find that light, it's you," he says rather sincerely, his voice carrying a note of encouragement. "And I'll be right here beside you, trying to do the same."

That caught you off guard again, as much as you wanted to bring him with you, you couldn't. Maybe he was saying all of this as a means of survival.

As you stood there silently in awe, the pipe slowly filled with a dark, viscous ichor. You then proceeded to explore the expansive corridors, scanning for additional pipes. He followed you silently, fidgeting with the bonds on his wrists.

Observing your silent resolve, Glisten watches you move around the room, searching for more pipes to fill. A strange warmth begins to spread throughout his chest — a sensation he hasn't felt in quite some time.

"Hey," he calls out after a moment, "Do you want some help?"

As you paused in your tracks, his words echoed in your mind, stirring up a sense of unease. Despite feeling unsettled, you made a conscious effort to conceal your internal turmoil. You managed to mask your inner thoughts with a smile as you turned to face him. "Oh come on, Glisten! The last person that should be working is you, you’re hurt. Focus on resting, okay?" You choked out.

Glisten pauses, considering your words carefully. They carry a weight that he hadn't expected, stirring up emotions within him that were long buried.

"I appreciate your concern," he replies, his tone sincere despite the slight edge of frustration seeping through. "But right now, I'd rather focus on helping you."

You didn't look at him, staring at his reflection through the pipe. He didn't blink, he stared at you.

He stepped closer to you. "And besides..." A soft sigh escapes from between his lips as he gestures vaguely around them at the desolation surrounding them. "...What else do we have left to do?"

"Pipes, pipes, and more pipes. But really, I got this. Maybe if you rest, your body can heal too. So don’t worry about it, okay? I got this." You walked over to the next pipe, turning the handle. Your smile faded when he wasn’t looking.

Noticing your subtle change in demeanour, Glisten remains silent for a moment. He watches them work, admiring their dedication while also sensing their underlying unease. Glisten's eye narrows slightly as he notices the shift in your demeanour, a flicker of understanding dawning on his battered face. He observes you working, his gaze lingering on the focused determination etched across your features. At the same time, he senses the unease simmering just below the surface, a tension that threatens to erupt at any moment. The air grows heavy with unspoken questions and fears, the silence between you two becoming almost palpable.

"Are you alright?" he finally asks, breaking the silence. "It seems like something's bothering you."

His gaze lingers on your face, searching for signs of distress that might indicate otherwise.

"You don't have to keep smiling all the time, you know." he continues gently. "We're in this together." He spoke

There it was again, together. He must've been delirious or something, or delusional. Maybe both! You weren't taking him with you.

".. No, I’m just listening for any noise that may cause concern. The darkness.. I’m afraid of the dark, so I’ve been having to rely on my other senses for comfort in these situations." You confess.

Hearing your admission, Glisten feels a pang of sympathy. Despite everything, their vulnerability touches him deeply.

"That must be hard." He acknowledges, his voice softening even further. But you're braver than you realize. Moving closer, he offers a comforting touch on your shoulder. "Just remember," he insists firmly,

"We're not alone here. And I promise, I'll do whatever I can to keep you safe." He murmured darkly.

You faked another smile, "Thanks Glisten." The pipe finished filling up, moving on to the next one, the last one. Turning the handle to fill it up.

As you move onto the final pipe, Glisten finds himself drawn to watch them. There's an almost hypnotic quality to their movements, their dedication serving as a stark contrast against the eerie stillness of their surroundings. As you move toward the last pipe, Glisten's attention becomes fixated on your every movement. Something is captivating about your unwavering commitment, a relentless pursuit of survival that contrasts sharply with the oppressive quietude of your environment. His battered form leans against the wall, watching intently as you twist the final handle, triggering another wave of water that cascades down.

"Almost done," he murmurs appreciatively, "And then we can rest."

If only he knew that statement was far from the truth...

A faint glimmer of satisfaction shines in his red eye as he takes in the sight of all three pipes filled with ichor. The sight of the three pipes brimming with ichor elicits a minuscule flash of satisfaction in Glisten's single functional eye.

"But until then," he adds with a tired smile, "I'm just glad you'll stay with me forever, Y/N."

You stayed silent, filling the pipe with ichor, twisting and turning the handle. You didn't want to break him, not now. You knew it was inevitable, but you had to focus on your survival. The silence stretches between you, thick and suffocating, broken only by the rhythmic sound of the ichor-filled water gurgling through the pipes. You maintain your focus, twisting and turning the handles with mechanical precision, your mind numb to the grisly nature of your task. There's a certain detached efficiency in your actions, a desperate attempt to cling to sanity in the face of unimaginable horror. You know what must come next, but for now, you push those thoughts aside, channelling all your energy into the singular goal of survival.

Observing your focused concentration, Glisten allows himself a moment of quiet contemplation. Their steadfast commitment to making the best out of such dire circumstances is nothing short of remarkable.

"Incredible," He cooed. He steps closer, his presence offering a silent testament to their shared struggle.

As your hands leave the wheel, the reality of your situation crashes over you like a tidal wave. You can't bring yourself to meet Glisten's gaze, the shame and guilt gnawing at your insides like ravenous twisted. Your eyes drift downward, fixating on the grimy floor beneath your feet, as if searching for answers in the cracks and stains. The silence between you two is deafening, a physical manifestation of the chasm that has opened up, threatening to swallow you whole. It was all eating at you.

"Glisten?" You asked him, your voice wavered.

Startled by the unexpected sound of his name, Glisten snaps back to attention. His heart skips a beat as he locks his one eye with you, their gaze heavy with unspoken questions and concerns.

"Yes?" He responds softly, leaning in slightly to better hear them. "What is it?"

Your head perked up, turning your head to face him.

".. I think you’re incredible. You do defy beauty. Now, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, alright? I’ll whack them if they try." You said, trying to add confidence to your tone. What was left of your sanity, and confidence felt like it was thrown out the window when the light turned green. Suddenly, a loud shatter noise filled the room. The ichor was consuming Glisten, your unease turned into fear in an instant. Your initial unease morphs into sheer, primal fear as you watch in horror the ichor begin its relentless assault on Glisten's ravaged form. He recoils instinctively, his body tensing as the corrosive substance envelops him, seeping into his wounds and devouring his flesh with alarming speed. Panic sets in, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he thrashes about, desperately trying to escape the inexorable grip of the ichor. Glisten instinctively recoils. As the ichor engulfs him, panic surges through his system.

"H-HELP ME! DON'T L-LEAVE ME!" He stammers out, struggling to maintain control as the familiar intoxicating rush of the infection takes hold. His words trail off into a guttural growl as he loses himself to the transformation.

With a burst of adrenaline-fueled desperation, you sprint towards the elevator, your heart pounding in your chest like a war drum. Behind you, Glisten's frantic cries echo through the corridors, each plea slicing through your already fractured composure. Every step you take seems to drag behind you, weighed down by the guilt and fear that threaten to consume you whole. The chase is a race against time and your own failing sanity.

His one and only desire.

Feeling your retreat, Glisten lets out a low, menacing snarl. His remaining eye blazes with an unholy glow as he struggles to retain his sanity. you crash into the wall trying to make your way to the elevator, causing him to bump into it, trying to catch you. Your head was dizzy, running, sprinting to the elevator!

You ran into the elevator, chasing the elevator doors, you knew at that point, that wasn’t Glisten speaking, but rather the infection of ichor. He was already gone.

As you back away, Glisten's form begins to contort under the influence of the ichor. His yellow appearance darkens, taking on a sickly hue as his once-toon features morph into something far more monstrous.

You jump into the elevator, as the elevator doors slam shut, sealing you inside, you tumble forward, your body crashing against the cold metal walls. You manage to pull yourself upright, turning your head to catch one final glimpse of Glisten's agonized form. His crimson eye blazes with pain and desperation, reaching out his arm to you. The door shut all the way, crushing his arm. You heard his guttural scream of agony, the elevator began to ascend. It pulled his arm down, and he screamed in agony, choking on his spit and the ichor that consumed him. His skin was being crushed by the weight of the wall and elevator, it became too much. The sound of his flesh and bones cracking filled the air, before completely detaching itself from Glisten. His arm lay on the floor, in a pool of ichor.

AUTHORS NOTES: Soooo I'm completely aware this came out of no where, and literally no one asked for this, buuuuttttt I decided to do it anyways, because MAN I love my Roblox games. I also just couldn't get this idea out of my head, hrrrmmmmm!! I know I know, "TAN WHAT ABOUT YOUR SEBASTIAN SERIES!! IM WAITING?!?!?!???!!" YEA I KNOW. I KNOW. But, I did want to write something new, something FRESH as some squids may sayy. So yea! Enjoy!!

#roblox #x reader #dandy's world #dandys world #roblox dandys world #roblox dandy's world #glisten #glisten x reader #yandere glisten #yandere! glisten #fanfics

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kozachenko · 1 month

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[Click for better quality]

Ok yay I'm back from my vacation yipeeeeeee. I started this drawing of Keiki before I left and I was half considering just giving up on it.... until I did a short study of facial planes and then got motivated to work on this again! I'm glad I didn't give up on it though, as I'm actually really happy with this one!

Artist's Notes;

So as I mentioned in my last post about Touhou 17, I wanted to finish this by the game's five year anniversary but with how progress was going I didn't want to rush this so I decided to take a long break from it. Mainly because of the face. For a while now I was kind of feeling like I was stagnating with my drawings, not really in the clothing but in the bodies. There was something about the way I was rendering them that I just wasn't happy with, and after talking with someone else about this issue, I realized that the reason I felt this way was because the faces were too flat and didn't match the rest of the drawing and that I needed to find a way to make the rendering of the face feel consistent with everything else. So after doing a short study of the plains of the face (I used this 3D head model from art station as a reference for my short study, please go give this person some love as they are a lifesaver) I went back into this drawing and applied what I learned here. It was only after that that I finally became motivated to finish the piece, and while it started off as just a simple character sketch like Saki and Yachie's were, the moment I added in Keiki's little fire dragon I knew I had gotten in too deep and now here we are with a full on background. OK it's not super crazy or anything, but it gets the job done and it's better than there just being an empty void behind her. It's rare moments like this when I use brushes other than the Clip Studio Default Charcoal Brush and use the Clip Studio Default Paint Brushes as well (god bless the oil paint and dry gouache clip studio brushes, they were amazing). I don't know why but painting fire has always been really fun for me, there's something oddly satisfying about it y'know? I do think that another reason for this problem was because I was drawing faces like I would in my more sketchy style that didn't mesh well with my lineless style, so I'm glad I've started remedying that.

After adding in the fire dragon I had an idea to kinda make it feel like splash art in the way the composition works... probably because I have been playing Reverse 1999 again and it has taken over my brain. I do feel like Keiki's tools get a little lost in the composition, and I didn't fully render the metal parts of them mainly because I didn't feel like they needed it, but that's just something for me to improve on later down the line.

If you guys are wondering where I went for my vacation, I went to New York and got to go to the MET and the Museum of Natural History. In both places I found Kofun period stuff and I was so happy to see it you have no idea. I remember one of the Haniwa I saw had some neat face paint under the eyes that I tried to replicate with the makeup under Keiki's eyes in my drawing, though I think I'll gave to figure out how to draw makeup on characters because this reads more like blush to me than anything. While drawing this I also looked up some references of Kofun period jewelry and really liked the stuff I found, which also meant that now she has proper Kofun earrings instead of earrings shaped like Kofun tombs. I put some of the things I referenced with a closeup of Keiki's face as well down below. I made her outfit more reminiscent of the outfit I gave her at the beginning of the year with the buttons and all, though I do want to try and draw her in some more period accurate clothing like the Haniwa I took a picture of at the Museum of Natural History. I wish I could find a way to make her handercheif look better though as I wish I made it a little bit bigger, though I think I'm saying this because I've looked at this drawing for too long lmao. Once again something to work on for when I next draw her. Also want to get better at rendering hair, as some details (like the little strands in front of her ears) kinda got unreadable due to the similarities in colour lol.

Now you may have also noticed the little cracks I added onto Keiki's face, and that's because I have fallen in love with the idea of Keiki's body being made from ceramic and that she crafted her body herself. While they aren't very visible I also tried to add some doll joints to her body, which is an idea I played around with in the past but never went to far with. I also want to get better at rendering cracks in ceramic, porcelain, etc, as I'm not sure how those read in the drawing. I also have a headcanon where the cracks in Keiki's face show up because of heightened emotions, and while Keiki is aware of this and does her best to make sure her face doesn't break off.... she will still end up with at least a few cracks during any given day, and she can often forget to repair her own body quite frequently so Mayumi has to remind her quite a lot. Mayumi even taught herself some basic sculpting techniques to help repair parts of her body that are so badly damaged to the point where Keiki can't repair them herself, i.e. if both her arms broke off, Mayumi would put them back together for her so Keiki can at least have something to repair herself with rather than nothing. I also like to imagine that if Keiki created her own body, if you took a look at Keiki from the beginning of her life she would look completely different compared to now.

BTW If you guys are wondering what a very very angry Keiki looks like....ok in order for this to make sense have any of you read volume 11 of Land of The Lustrous? Am I bringing back some memories for those of you that have? Ok good, glad we all got that mental image brewing in our minds, I'll probably draw a version of Keiki that is somewhat inspired by that one day as it's an idea I've had for a little while now. And to those who haven't gotten to that volume yet and are confused.... don't worry about it, just keep reading :)

#touhou project #art #fanart #touhou fanart #touhou 17 #keiki haniyasushin #wily beast and weakest creature #touhou #東方project #own art

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ckret2 · 10 months

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Chapter 28 of human Bill is determined to wiggle out of being the Mystery Shack's prisoner, featuring:

Bill eagerly accepts an invitation to Gravity Falls' LGBTQ club. He is not allowed to go unsupervised. Stan (whose masculinity isn't secure enough for this), Ford (who's still hanging out in the closet), and Soos (who's engaged) aren't quite sure what to do. Luckily, Wendy's been looking for an excuse to go.

####

Melody rushed up to the cash register and said breathlessly, "Hey Wendy—I know it's almost your break, but could you stay on register just a little longer? Two of the baby dragons escaped and Soos and I have to find them before the next tour."

Wendy looked at the customers milling about the gift shop. They'd all just gotten out of a tour and were looking over the available souvenirs, which meant in just a few minutes they'd all be lining up to check out. "Ooh, I dunno. I'm pretty hungry..."

"Please, Wendy? You can take an extended lunch!"

Was that worth handling one extra post-tour rush? "Wiiith p—?"

"With pay, you extortionist." There was no real resentment in Melody's voice. She'd worked register duty. She understood.

"Okay, deal."

"Wendy you're a lifesaver." Melody hurried to the curtains to the Mystery Shack museum.

"Hey," Wendy called, "which ones escaped?"

"Orochi and Ryuu."

"Aww, not Oro. That sweet guy will get eaten alive in the real world."

"Right?" Melody turned on her phone flashlight and returned to the hunt.

A deeply tanned tourist with sun-damaged wrinkles approached the cash register. She wasn't holding any souvenirs. Wendy said, "Hey, how can I help you?"

She looked straight in Wendy's eyes and said, "The sun sets a deep blood red."

Wendy stared at her. Why did this place attract the weirdest customers. "What?"

Very clearly, the tourist repeated, "The sun sets a deep blood red."

"Um. If that's some kind of reference, I don't get it."

The tourist let out that sharp little nose-sigh soccer moms made when Wendy did things like refuse to take a coupon meant for a rival tourist trap, shook her head in disappointment, and left.

Wendy got the feeling she was going to regret staying on register.

Sure enough, within five minutes, the line started forming—and on top of that, Wendy discovered, the cash register drawer had jammed shut, preventing her from making change for the customers paying in cash. She was in the middle of explaining to the fourth increasingly irate child-toting customer that he either had to pay by card or in exact change, when two more customers came in the door and made a beeline for the register.

"Wendy Corduroy?"

"Hey," Wendy said tersely, stuffing a customer's t-shirts in a bag. "There's a line."

"We're not shopping, Miss Corduroy."

Wendy turned to face Sheriff Blubs, with Deputy Durland standing close behind him. The scratch cards. Her fake ID. She was going to jail. Dad was gonna find out about her tattoo. "Oh."

Durland said, "Could we ask you some questions?"

"Uhh..." She looked at the cops, and then at the growing line of customers. "Can I... grab someone to cover?"

####

Bill had been sitting at the kitchen table looking at the doorway, waiting for Wendy to appear for several minutes, when he heard her muttering, "Shoot, shoot, shoot..." from the living room. Here she came.

"Hey, Cool Girl. What's the hurry?"

"Goldie!" Wendy turned toward the kitchen. "Have you seen Dipper or Mabel? The cops wanna talk to me—"

Bill's eyebrows shot up.

"—and the register is insane and I need someone to cover—"

"They're both out today," Bill said. Mabel was over at Pacifica's alpaca ranch to help out for the day—but Bill had the sinking suspicion she'd asked to go help so she could avoid him. No clue where the other one had gone. "Sorry!"

Wendy groaned. Then looked at Bill. "Hey. Have you ever manned a cash register before?"

"Yes," Bill lied.

####

"Thank you so much," Wendy said, holding open the "Employees Only" door for someone Blubs and Durland didn't recognize: a woman with no makeup, no bra, and unshaven legs, wearing an eyepatch, a hideous Hawaiian shirt, shorts, and yellow foam clogs. Durland looked her up and down, elbowed Blubs, and muttered, "Hey Daryl. D'you think...?"

"Mm." He shrugged noncommittally.

The stranger took Wendy's place behind the register with an eager grin and called out, "Okay, let's keep the line moving!"

Wendy approached Blubs and Durland. "Thanks for that," she said. "So... what can I help you with?"

"Just a few questions about your weekend," Blubs said. "Where were you last Sunday?"

Wendy blinked in surprise. "On... Sunday?" She paused a moment, lips pursed as she thought back to the weekend. "I visited Shop Thrifty with some friends."

Blubs nodded, like this confirmed what he already knew. "And what were you doing there?"

"Shopping? I got some gift money I wanted to spend on cheap junk."

"What'd you get?"

Wendy furrowed her brows, but said, "Uh... some terrible horror movies, a doll that looks like a cross between a turtle and a teddy bear, and a clock made out of a hubcap?"

"So you didn't go near the men's clothing section?"

Wendy squinted. "Nooo?"

Blubs scribbled that down in his notepad. "About what time did you leave the store?"

"I dunno, probably like three or four?"

"Did you go back to the store later?"

"No? I went home and was there all night, you can ask my family," Wendy said. "What happened at Shop Thrifty?"

"A-ha!" Durland pointed over Blubs's shoulder. "How did you know something happened at Shop Thrifty?"

"Because you're cops and you're asking questions about it."

"Oh."

Blubs patted Durland's shoulder. "Keep trying, darlin'. You're becoming a better detective by the day." Durland beamed.

To Wendy, Blubs said, "But as it happens, we're investigating a burglary." He flipped through the pages of his notepad. "I don't suppose you saw any suspicious figures while you were shopping, did you? Perhaps hanging around... the men's section?" He pulled out a crime scene photo to show Wendy.

Wendy had to stare at the photo a moment to make sense of the empty clothing rack; and then she cracked up. "Did somebody steal every pair of pants in the store?"

"Every pair of men's jeans."

"Oh, man. No, I didn't see any pants burglars hanging around—"

Durland said, "We're calling the thief the Bootcut Bootlegger."

Wendy snorted. "But uh... I guess I'll call you if I see anyone lurking in a dark alley selling jeans?"

"We'd appreciate it," Blubs said. "And, could you tell us the names of the friends you went with. So we can ask them if they saw anything too."

Wendy, who was no snitch, said, "No."

Durland shook his head sadly. "Kids these days. They don't know anything about their own friends. Not even their names."

"Nope," Wendy said. "Is that all you needed, officers?"

"I got one more question," Durland said. He leaned a bit closer to Wendy and pointed at the stranger manning the cash register. "Who's that new gal? I didn't know the shack hired somebody."

"Oh, Goldie? We didn't exactly hire anyone, he's just staying at the shack a while—"

"Ha! 'He'! I knew it!" Durland smacked Blubs's shoulder. "I told ya! Didn't I tell ya?"

"Heh. You sure did."

Durland cupped his hands around his mouth. "Whooee, you at the register!"

"Sorry, I can't make exact change, so I'll do you a favor: just round it to—" Goldie blinked and turned toward the heckling cop. "Yello?"

"You're queerer'n a three-dollar bill, aren't you?" Durland called. Wendy cringed and quickly pulled out her phone to shield herself from the scene of public humiliation.

Totally unperturbed, Goldie replied, "I'm probably the queerest bill you've ever met! Why?"

Soos wearily trudged through the curtains from the Mystery Shack's museum. "Hey, Wendy. We found Ryuu, but we still can't find..." His gaze fell on Goldie and his voice died. "Wendy? What's he doing—"

Durland walked past the line of customers to lean on the counter in front of Goldie. "Hey, how long are you in town? You oughta come to a Rainbow Club meeting!"

"It's the local LGBTQ support and social group," Blubs explained. "We meet weekly at Town Hall. We're actually meeting this evening at seven!"

"We haven't had any new members in ages," Durland said. "Please say you'll come. We're so bored!"

The more they spoke, the more a grin spread across Goldie's face. "Gentlemen, you had me at 'rainbow.' I'd be thrilled to come! My schedule's free! I've been spending all my evenings cooped up in the shack because I don't know anybody in town." He slowly turned his grin toward Soos, who was watching in slack-jawed horror. "But hey, it's not like I'm locked up in here—right, officers?"

####

When the last customers trickled out and Wendy returned to the cash register, Goldie flashed her a quick smile. "Hey, Cool Girl." He nodded toward the Museum. "I saw Questiony tug you aside, are you in trouble?"

"Nah, not really. I guess he's just bothered I grabbed a non-employee to sub instead of getting him or Melody."

"I won't call the labor board if he doesn't." Goldie handed a wad of bills to Wendy. "Here."

"Thanks." Wendy looked around for somewhere to stow it until they could get the cash register drawer unstuck. "Hey, how'd you handle the customers paying in cash?"

"Told 'em I'd give them a discount for the inconvenience: if they were willing to round up to the nearest dollar from the sticker price, we'd eat the rest of the sales tax so they didn't have to fish for loose change. Everyone was thrilled."

Wendy processed that. "Oregon doesn't have a sales tax."

"Sure, but how many out-of-state tourists in a hurry remember that?"

"Ha! You went to work for the wrong twin, Stan would've loved having you in the shack."

"The Pines just don't appreciate what I bring to the table," Goldie lamented, swooping around the counter. He walked up to the "Employees Only" door, stopped, surveyed it like he wasn't quite sure what to do with it, and then very casually made a right turn into the curtained entryway to the museum.

A minute later, Soos escorted him back, an arm around his shoulder. "Museum's closed, dude," he said sternly. "We're looking for an escaped baby dragon."

"'Baby dragon'?" Goldie echoed. "You mean a lizard with fake wings glued on its back?"

"I mean—we're not telling the tourists that, but yeah."

He pointed toward the cash register. "Like the one stuck in the cash drawer?"

There was a pause. Wendy dropped to her knees to peer at the crack at the top of the drawer. "Oro! Can you hear me, boy? Are you in there?" She heard something rustle. "Holy—Soos!"

Soos shoved Goldie into the living room and hurried over to help.

####

"Less than five minutes," Ford muttered. "He's unsupervised in a public space for less than five minutes, and he makes contact with local law enforcement and sets up a social engagement. This is why he's not allowed out of—" He pushed up his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose, grumbling.

Ford, Stan, and Soos were seated around the living room table, discussing how to handle the situation. With the sheriff and deputy expecting Bill, they couldn't not let him go, lest the cops come by again to ask what had happened—and the odds that they'd be satisfied by an answer from anyone but "Goldie" were slim.

"This is what he's been waiting for," Ford went on. "He's been biding his time for an opportunity exactly like this."

Soos said, "I'm sorry, Dr. Pines. It happened so fast! I wanted to go all, 'No, you can't go,' but then the cops would have gone, 'Why not?' and I didn't know how to not say he's our prisoner—"

"It's not your fault, Soos," Ford sighed. "It's not even Wendy's. She doesn't know how risky it is just to let him talk to the public."

"So, what do we do now?" Stan asked.

Soos said, "Maybe make him an 'I bite tourists' shirt?"

Ford said, "I suppose... we let him go. And one of us will have to supervise him."

Stan asked, "At the gay club?"

"At the gay club."

Stan, Ford, and Soos—two of whom had grown up in a time when "gay" was one of the worst things a person could be accused of being, and one of whom came from a very Catholic family—eyed each other uncomfortably.

From the doorway, Bill called, "Can I choose? I'm trying to decide who'd be funniest."

Without looking at him, Ford snapped, "Go away, Bill."

"Fine. I'll be upstairs." They listened for Bill's footsteps to recede up the stairs.

Stan spoke first. "Not it. No way. Absolutely not. What would the ladies think!"

Wryly, Ford said, "I doubt any ladies you might meet there would have been interested anyway."

"Well, what would the guys think! What if someone flirts with me, would I have to flirt back to maintain my cover? I'm not that good an actor. It's not gonna be me." He crossed his arms in finality, then looked at Ford expectantly.

Ford hesitated, then shook his head. "Not me." Stan cocked a brow, but when Ford didn't say anything else, he just glanced at Soos.

"Uhh." Soos tapped his fingers together. "I guess I might be kinda sorta willing? I mean, I wouldn't really mind? But, the thing is, I'm engaged, to a woman, and like, Melody would understand if I explain it's just to keep an eye on Bill. But what if people think me 'coming out' right before the wedding is because I'm cheating or—or dissatisfied or something?" His eyes lit up. "Hey, maybe Melody could come too! We could pretend to be bi. It could be like a date! Would that be weird? Two straight people at the queer club on a date pretending to be bi? It—it feels weird." His eyes un-lit up. "I think that's probably weird. It seems disrespectful. Yeah, no, maybe I shouldn't do that—?"

"Are you guys talking about Rainbow Club?"

The trio started and glanced toward the door to the gift shop, where Wendy was leaning in.

Soos said, "Yeeeah, haha, it's kinda awkward, but, Goldie wants to go, but he can't go by himself... so somebody's gotta take him... it's this whole thing..."

"Oh? How come? It's not that far a walk if you cut past the old church."

"Uhh..." Soos looked at Stan and Ford for help.

After enjoying exactly three seconds of awkward silence, Bill called from the doorway, "I'm under a curse that makes it impossible to open doors!"

"Wow dude, sucks for you!"

"Haha, I know right!"

Ford stood, slammed a hand on the table, and pointed at the doorway. "OUT!"

Bill raised his hands, rolled his eye, and left.

"So, hey," Wendy said. "Rainbow Club's for 16-year-olds and up, and I've... kinda been trying to work up the nerve to go for a while, actually. Just to, you know, explore... options?" She shrugged, grimacing self-consciously. "Maybe this is my excuse. So, if you need someone to open doors for Goldie, I could go?"

Stan, Ford, and Soos looked at Wendy with the blank surprise of two men raised in the sixties and one man raised Catholic who sometimes forgot that the categories of "queer people" and "people they knew" might overlap. Then Ford said, "You're not walking there with him."

"I can drive you," Soos said. "I'll just wait outside in the pickup. It's cool, I've got a lot of comics to catch up on."

"I don't know if it's safe letting him walk openly from the truck into Town Hall," Stan said. "Wendy, how do you feel about being handcuffed to him?"

Wendy stared at him. "What."

"That's not necessary," Ford said. "We can use the chain bracelets."

Wendy stared at him. "The what."

"Listen. Kid." Stan stood and put a hand on Wendy's shoulder. "I know we gave you the abridged version of Goldie's history, but lemme make this clear: this freak's on house arrest, and if you're going out with him, you're his ankle bracelet. Do not let him out of your sight. Don't even leave him alone in the restroom if there's a window big enough for him to squeeze through."

"I think his curse covers windows," Soos pointed out. Ford nodded.

"I don't wanna risk it."

"It's okay," Wendy said. "Treat him like a dangerous criminal. Got it. I've got crazy lumberjack ninja training, I can handle him."

Stan eyed her appraisingly, then nodded. "You're all right, kid." He clapped her shoulder and let go. "And if you're into girls, that's fine by me."

"Um," Wendy said. "Thanks? I'm actually not sure if... Thanks, Stan."

"All right. We've got a plan." He waved off Soos and Wendy. "Go have fun with the gays."

####

Wendy sat in the back seat of Soos's truck, staring at her phone, trying to figure out what excuse to give her dad for staying out late. She didn't think he'd mind her going to Rainbow Club—but it wasn't a conversation she was ready to have. Finally, she texted him that she was hanging out tonight with the Mystery Shack crew—which wasn't technically totally wrong—and put her phone away.

Goldie stared out the shotgun seat window as they drove past the sombrero-shaped Los Hermanos Brothers restaurant. "Hey. Can we get nachos?"

"You'll be late to your meeting, dude."

"Can we get nachos after the meeting?"

Wendy piped up, "I'd be cool with a taco run." Easier to tell her dad she'd been having dinner at the shack.

Soos considered that. "I don't see why not." He shrugged. "Gotta get them to-go, though."

"Yeah, fine," Goldie said, a tad irritably. He slouched down, kicking his feet up on the dashboard and crossing his ankles. "I'm not plotting anything nefarious in the restaurant, I just want nachos."

"Then sure, that's cool," Soos said. "Hey. Isn't it kinda... weird for you to eat nachos?"

Goldie turned to face Soos. "Weird how?"

"I mean. You know. Considering you're..."

"Considering I'm what?" Goldie grinned. "What about me would make it weird for me to eat triangular corn chips covered in yellow cheese? C'mon, Questiony. I wanna understand."

Soos glanced toward Wendy in the back seat, and then away. "Never mind," he mumbled. Goldie laughed.

Wendy wondered what on earth Goldie could possibly be that would make it weird for him to get nachos. After a moment of deliberation, she concluded the answer was probably "lactose intolerant." She cleared her throat. "Hey, thanks for giving us a ride, Soos." Even if it probably would've been faster to walk.

"Oh yeah, no problem dude," Soos said. "Hey—aren't you sixteen now? Are you gonna get your own car sometime soon? I don't mind giving you a ride. I'm just curious. Making conversation."

Wendy groaned. "No. I haven't got my license yet, and I don't want to. As soon as I can drive, I'll be useful. Dad's gonna ask me to drive the boys around, and I'll be the friend that gives everyone else rides, right? And being a taxi sounds like crap." She paused, remembering where she was sitting. "No offense, Soos."

"None taken."

"But it's starting to stress me out. My dad keeps asking when I wanna start driver's ed. And I've started having stress nightmares about needing a car in an emergency and not having one? And then Gideon's dad swoops into the dream to offer a Reasonably-Priced Discount Used Car?"

Soos laughed. "Oh man, like all those commercials he's been running on the local stations? 'There's no need to barter—'"

Goldie and Wendy both completed the line, "'—you can drive for a quarter.'"

Wendy groaned louder. "All those annoying Gleeful Auto jingles are seeping into my dreams. How does that even make sense! I don't understand the economy, how do you sell a car for a twenty-five cent down payment and make a profit off of it? What if the customer just doesn't pay the rest?"

Thoughtfully, Soos said, "I think it has to do with interest."

"Well, I'm not interested. Especially when I'm asleep."

"I think Mabel's got a pile of books on controlling your dreams right now," Goldie said. "You could ask her about them."

"Do any of those books teach you how to install dream ad block?"

Goldie laughed. "It can't hurt to check!"

####

"Easy, there," Stan said, watching from his armchair with a can of cider as Ford paced in the entryway, back and forth past the living room. "You're gonna wear a hole in the floorboards."

Ford did not stop pacing. "I should have gone with them," he said. "What does it matter that I didn't want to. Somebody who understands what Bill really is should be in that meeting with him."

"Come on. As long as he doesn't get an opportunity to escape, how much trouble can he really get in? What do you think he's gonna do, kill the sheriff with a folding chair?"

"I'm more worried about his opportunities to network. I don't want him making friends on the outside. That's more people he can manipulate."

"Okay, sure. But how could you stop it if you were there? What would you do, scold him every time he acts nice to somebody?"

A sigh. "I suppose you're right. I just... don't like not knowing what he's doing there."

Stan took a sip from his cider; swirled it a moment; and then cleared his throat. "Hey, Ford, uhh. You know what? Crazy thing, but—I was surprised you didn't volunteer to go to the gay thing? I mean..." He unnecessarily cleared his throat again. "Ever since high school, I always kinda thought you... I mean, I assumed... not in a bad way, mind, but I just sort of figured... Well, I must've assumed wrong. So. Sorry, I guess."

Ford had stopped pacing to look at Stan. He waited for him to finish stumbling through ellipses; and then, hands stuffed in his coat pockets, he said to his feet, "You didn't assume wrong."

Stan waited. "Uh-huh?" he said encouragingly.

Ford shuffled into the living room and took the chair next to Stan. "Truthfully... I can't tell you exactly what I am. When I should have been figuring that out, I was busy writing dissertations and hiding in the woods. Exploring scientific oddities instead of—well—exploring myself. And then thirty years away from Earth, and now that I've only been back among humans for a year... well—I've never figured myself out." He shrugged ruefully. "I can tell you more about eye-bats and gnomes than I could about my own... inclinations. But whatever I am, it's not heterosexual, I know that."

"Huh." Stan nodded slowly, trying to wrap his head around the idea that you could just not know. He could maybe imagine a girl not knowing—the inner workings of a woman's body were still pretty mysterious to him—but in his experience most guys had a compass between their legs that was magnetically attracted to point toward what they desired, whether they wanted it to or not. What was going on with Ford?

Looking firmly at the wall, Ford added, "For one thing, I think there's been too many aliens for me to be straight."

Stan snorted. "Aliens."

"Aliens."

"Well okay, Captain Cork—"

"Stanley, please." A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"Leave it to my brother to even find a way to be queer in a weird way." Stan grinned crookedly. "You know—when we were getting close to graduating, whenever we talked about treasure hunting and getting babes, somewhere in the back of my head, I was making peace with the fact that maybe you'd find a sailor instead. I was fine with it! I just wasn't expecting you to go for the kraken."

"Stan!" Ford laughed in surprise.

"What! Not your type? What does it for you, Dracula? The wolf man? Mothgar?

"I am not telling you what does it for me."

"Okay, okay, fine." Stan probably didn't wanna know, anyway. Aliens. Yeesh. But who was he to judge, he'd gone on a date with a spider lady. "Is that why you don't wanna go to that club meeting? You don't want to talk about the aliens?"

"Not exactly," Ford said. "Attending a support group for queer people would mean opening up about a private, unexplored... scary part of my own identity. With Bill in the room. Maybe I should go to some of those meetings—but not when he's there." His smile from a moment earlier was gone; his mouth was set in a grim line. "When I thought he was my friend, I—offered him far too much vulnerability that I shouldn't have. I'm not letting him have any more."

And a couple minutes ago, Ford had been beating himself up for not putting himself in that position just to keep an eye on Bill. Stan said, "And he's not gonna get more vulnerability outta you. You don't have to tell that freak anything." Rummaging through his brain for the most supportive brotherly words he could find, Stan added, "But—I'm glad you told me."

Ford nodded. "So am I."

####

When Wendy and Goldie walked into Town Hall's main assembly room, Blubs and Durland were standing at the front chatting. Durland immediately waved. "Hey! You made it! You too, Wendy?"

She shrugged. "Yeah, thought I'd check it out."

"The more, the merrier," Blubs said. He gestured for them to follow him to a door at the front of the room, to the left of the podium. "A larger group uses the meeting room, so we meet in the mayor's office."

The door to the mayor's office was clearly marked by the folding table with snacks across the hallway and a stand next to the door holding multiple flags—American, Oregonian, rainbow, trans, and "Take Back the Falls" battle flag. Wendy paused to puzzle over the eleven varieties of bread on the snack table; when she glanced at Goldie, he'd gingerly plucked up the battle flag by a corner to inspect it. There was supposed to be a ban on acknowledging Weirdmageddon, but Wendy supposed the mayor could get away with showing a little pride in his citizens' resistance movement. "Were you still in the shack during... all that?"

"Hm?"

"The big fight." Wendy lowered her voice, just in case the sheriff felt like enforcing the ban. "That's the flag we flew when we kicked the crap out of Bill's stupid pyramid butt."

"Oh. No. I was locked out of the shack," he said flatly. "Must have missed that." He let the flag drop. "I only remember the part where he kicked the shack halfway across the valley with its own leg."

Tyler Cutebiker waved from inside the office. "Wendy, hi! And a new person! Come in, come in! You're just in time. How's your dad?"

Wendy had been expecting that. "He's good, he's good. Y'know, busy."

"Uh-huh?"

"He's been swamped with work since he got the contract for the deathball arena. He's broken like eight axes, so, I think he's really happy."

"Oh, great!" Tyler beamed. "When we were deciding who to give the contract to supply lumber for the new facility, I thought, 'I know just the man to get it!' I'm so glad we could support our local lumber industry." He hesitated. "By the way, do you know if he ever... thinks about coming to a meeting? I've invited him a couple of times, maybe if you brought it up..."

"Listen. Tyler," Wendy said. "You're cool, but if my dad ever shows up at Rainbow Club, I'm never coming again."

"Okay, all right, that's fine, just thought I'd ask."

The mayor's desk had been pushed up against the office windows, and several folding chairs were set up in a tight circle that pressed to the walls. A couple extra chairs were quickly put out for Wendy and Goldie, and Goldie immediately claimed the seat on the mayor's right. All in all, there were less than a dozen attendees, and Wendy guessed she was the youngest one there by at least five years. One empty chair was left open hopefully by the door.

Once everyone was seated, Tyler said, "Okay, it looks like we've got a couple of new folks here today, so let's all go around the circle and introduce ourselves. Please share your names, your pronouns, and anything you want us to know about how you fit under our rainbow umbrella. There's no pressure, just whatever you feel comfortable with, this is a safe and supportive place for everybody. I'll go first: hi, I'm Tyler, and I use he/him pronouns!" He turned expectantly to his left.

Blubs said, "Hi, I'm Daryl, uhhh he/him, and I..." he turned to stare in Durland's eyes, "am in love."

Durland quickly said, "Hi, I'm Edwin, I'm a boy, and I'm in love too!" They grabbed each other's hands, giggling.

"Aww," Tyler cooed, "aren't you two sweet." He nodded toward the next chair.

"Hello. My name is Tad Strange, my pronouns are he/him, and I'm a cisgender heterosexual ally."

Seriously, Tyler said, "And we appreciate your support, Tad. And the snacks you bring every week."

Introductions continued around the circle. Wendy sorta knew a couple other faces, but didn't know anyone personally. The only other girls in the room were an intimidatingly beautiful woman whose gaze seemed to pass right over the awkward teen with unstyled hair and baggy flannel, and two little old ladies in a throuple with a little old man.

The introduction spotlight finally landed on her. "Hey guys. I'm Wendy, she/her, and I'm, uh... questioning, I guess? Sorta?" She shrugged casually. "Yeah. Questioning."

Tyler said, "Since this is your first time—we keep things pretty casual, here, but I want to make sure this group supports everyone's needs. Do you think you could tell us a bit about what you're looking for in our little club?"

Wendy could feel every eye in the room boring into her. She fought the urge to shrink into her seat. You're sixteen. You're the cool girl. Act cool, girl. "Oh, nothing specific I guess. I'm just... exploring my options, you know. Exploring myself. Doing the self-discovery journey or whatever. So... I dunno what I'm looking for? I figure I'll know it when I find it."

Tyler nodded. "We've all been there," he said. "And I know I speak for us all when I say we're honored to be part of your journey."

And then, to Wendy's mortification, Tyler started clapping, and the rest of the group joined in. She smiled stiffly, feeling her youth even more intensely. What the heck, Tyler, you were supposed to be the cool adult. Wendy trusted you. Politics changed you.

To Wendy's gratitude, Goldie cut the awkward moment short by piping up before the last of the applause petered out. "Hiya! I'm 'Goldie,'" he put air quotes around his own name, "I've never cared what pronouns you people call me before and I'm not about to start now, and I do not have the patience for all the paperwork to figure out my sexuality so we'll just wonder together!"

Tyler laughed. "Oh, you're funny!" A couple other attendees chuckled.

"I'm just getting started!" Goldie blinked his unpatched eye. "Wink. Anyway, I'm here to meet new people and have some fun!" He turned an intense smile on Tyler. "So tell me, mayor—where do the people in your fine town go to party?"

####

By the end of the meeting, Goldie had collected six phone numbers—"I'd give you mine, but I'm between phones right now, long story"—and four loose commitments to do something somewhere sometime soonish. Wendy was simultaneously relieved to have some of the pressure taken off of her as the new person, slightly miffed that she hadn't gotten to know anybody, and resigned to the fact that as the only high schooler in the room they probably wouldn't have had much to say to her anyway.

As the club members milled around the snack table having bread, Goldie elbowed Wendy and muttered, "I can't believe they clapped for you but not for me. Is looking for a good time not a noble enough quest?"

"Pfft. Dude, are you jealous?"

"Insanely."

Thirty years in the ghost dimension must do weird things to someone's need for attention. "When I introduce you to my friends, I'll tell them all to clap for you."

"I appreciate it."

The club loosely migrated through the assembly hall and toward the front double door. Durland reached it first, opened it, and quickly closed it. Agitated, he said, "Daryl! They're out there again."

"Oh, no! Again?"

The group came to a stop. Tyler took over, cracked open the door, and tutted his tongue. Goldie curiously peered over his shoulder, and Wendy took that as permission to look too.

Standing on the sidewalk in front of Town Hall were a dozen tough-looking men dressed in leather, heavy denim, and sharp metal accessories. They filled the sidewalk, arms crossed or fists on hips, glowering toward the doors. Tyler muttered, "Oh, every time we have a meeting. I wish they'd knock this off."

"Who're they?" Wendy asked. "Homophobes?"

"Oh! No no, nothing like that," Tyler said. "That's the weekly ex-convict rehabilitation support group—they use the bigger meeting room. They're actually a very open-minded bunch."

"That's right," shouted the tallest of the group, a muscular bearded man. He pointed at a leather pride patch pinned to his vest over his heart. "Love is love! We support queer rights, trans rights, uh... women's rights? What else."

"Immigrant rights?" a man with a gray ponytail suggested.

"Immigrant rights, that's a good one. And... any other rights, too! Except pig rights."

Another man shouted, "No cops at pride!"

The Rainbow Club turned to look at Blubs and Durland.

They heaved sighs. Durland said, "We'll go out the back."

The group out front visibly relaxed when the Rainbow Club came out without the sheriff and deputy. The bearded leatherman focused on Tyler as he passed. "Ty."

Tyler started. "Oh! Hiii, Ghost." His cheeks went bright red. "W-we missed you at Rainbow Club this week, again. Any thoughts about coming across the hall from time to time?"

"Those cops still showing up?"

"Well, yes."

The leatherman—who Wendy recognized now as Ghost-Eyes—shook his head. "Pass. But we can catch up next time you're at Skull Fracture."

"Oh—okay, sure. I'll see you there sometime."

"I'll buy you a drink," Ghost-Eyes said. "I like your new boots, by the way."

Tyler went red from his hairline down to his shirt collar. "I—well—you too, Ghost!" He quickly trotted off, giggling to himself. Wendy watched him go, then glanced over Ghost-Eyes—tall, broad-shouldered, auburn-haired, bushy-bearded, and as muscular as a bull on steroids—and noted wryly that Tyler had a type.

A high voice from approximately ankle height said, "Oh, hi Wendy!"

She looked down. "Gideon," she said. "Wow! ... Hi."

"Imagine running into you here! I feel like it's been forever! How're your folks doing?"

"Oh, great, great. Uh, yours?"

"We're all fantastic, thanks for askin'. I haven't seen you 'round here before, this your first time attending?"

Ah, great. Of all the people to find out Wendy was trying to sort out her identity. "Yep. Just checking it out. How's... the ex-con support group?"

"Oh it's just wonderful! Highlight of my week, honestly. It's good to talk to people who have gone through the same struggles as you."

"Aww," Ghost-Eyes said. "You're the highlight of our week too, Li'l Gideon."

Gideon started. "Oh, where are my manners! Blathering on like this. Wendy, you remember my friends, right?" He gestured around him.

"Yeah—the Discount Auto Mart Warriors, right? You guys are still hanging out?"

Ghost-Eyes said, "Of course! We have a brotherhood forged in the fires of battle against a chaos god's tyranny. Also, the court requires us to do group therapy, so it's easy to hang out."

Gideon said, "And I'm sure all of you remember Wendy."

The Warriors nodded in recognition. Ghost-Eyes said, "Weren't you the one driving through the weirdness bubbles last year? To get that kid to his sister?"

Wendy looked up at Ghost-Eyes. "Yep. That was me. No hard feelings for the whole trying-to-break-your-arm thing, right?"

"Of course not! You were fighting the man. At that time, we were the man."

Gideon said, "Really a terrible error in judgment on my part, I can't apologize enough."

"Aw, come on," Ghost-Eyes said, "it wasn't all your fault. We were all out there, too."

"No no, I take full responsibility." Gideon reached up to pat Ghost-Eyes's knuckle. "You all trusted me to steer you true and I let you down."

Wendy felt a slight tug on her wrist—and only then realized that Goldie had been a little too quiet, a little too long. She looked in the direction her magic bracelet was tugging, and spotted him waiting just up the street, leaning against Soos's truck, hands pressed to the small of his back.

"It was cool to run into you guys again," Wendy lied, "but I've got friends waiting for me, so..."

"Oh, of course, of course," Gideon said. "Are you working at the Mystery Shack again this summer? Tell Mabel I said hello!"

Wendy flashed Gideon double finger guns. "I will not do that." She power-walked away from Gideon's fan club.

As she caught up with Goldie, she said, "Hey. Sorry for making you wait." She squinted. "You okay?"

Face tinted a deep angry red and wearing the most sour expression Wendy had ever seen, Goldie said, "Sure. Why wouldn't I be okay?"

"You don't look okay."

"I don't control what my face does." At Wendy's skeptical look, Goldie pointed toward the Discount Auto Mart Warriors. "I was—thinking over something ridiculous they said. About fighting a chaos god's tyranny."

"Oh, they helped fight Bill—"

"I know that," Goldie cut in. "It just seems... weird to call it that!"

Recovering cultist, Wendy reminded herself. "What would you call it?"

Goldie considered the question. "Fighting a chaos god's anarchy."

She'd been half worried that Goldie was about to start defending Bill. Instead, Wendy tried to puzzle out the specific differences between tyranny and anarchy, and why it mattered to him. "Huh."

"No rules, no laws, freedom from time and physics..."

That was starting to make sense. "I don't know what Weirdmageddon felt like in the mindscape, buuut everyone I knew was still experiencing a lot of physics. When we weren't being turned into statues or imprisoned in tapestries," Wendy said. "Maybe Bill and his minions had no rules and no laws; but when only the guys in charge can do whatever they want, and everyone else is either serving them or, like, getting hunted for sport? I'd call that tyranny."

Goldie's sour look deepened, but there was something thoughtful in his averted gaze now. Like he was searching for a retort he couldn't quite find. "Huh."

Soos rolled down the passenger window. "Hey, are you dudes ready for nachos?"

####

The gossip grapevine moved faster than Soos's truck. By the time he'd dropped off Wendy and brought himself and Bill home, Wendy had texted a quick summary of "Goldie's" anarchy comment to Mabel, who passed it on to Dipper, in case this was a red flag they needed to keep an eye on; and Dipper in turn had passed the info on to Ford.

Ford wondered if Bill really didn't believe he was a tyrant, or if he just didn't want to be seen as one.

When Soos and Bill came in, the first thing Bill did was snatch his hoodie off the coat rack and pull it on, like a snake that regretted shedding its skin and was desperate to slither back inside. Cheerfully, Soos said, "Hey, Dr. Pines!"

"Hello, Soos. Everything went well?"

"Yeah, no problem! We got nachos on the way back, hope that's okay. I left Bill in the truck. Without the keys."

"I almost died of heat stroke," Bill said.

Already headed toward bed, Soos said, "Don't lie, dude. I cracked a window for you."

"Okay, okay. I was fine."

Bill drifted into the kitchen to finish his nachos. Ford drifted after him, leaning in the doorway. Bill had pulled his hood up. He typically only did that when he was in a foul mood, but he'd seemed to be in high enough spirits as he bantered with Soos. Maybe he felt exposed after going into town without his "body" on. (Three decades ago, during the weeks when Ford had been wrestling with Bill for control over his sleep-deprived body, Bill had hidden a vicious little note in Ford's third journal where he mentioned taking off his "exoskeleton" to feed. Ford wondered if Bill saw this hoodie as a substitute exoskeleton.)

"Well?" Ford said. "How was it?"

Bill turned. The false eye on the hood stared blankly through Ford. "Excuse me?" Bill laughed. "Are we on friendly conversation terms now? You want to hear about my day? Or are you just hoping I'll slip up and confess something interesting."

If Bill didn't already know the answer, he wouldn't have bothered asking. "You can't blame me for trying." Wendy hadn't shared much. Ford hoped that if Bill didn't know what the humans had been saying behind his back, he might give away more about what he'd done at Rainbow Club. Talk of tyranny and anarchy was worrying.

Ford could feel the corners of his mouth turning down as Bill's half-seen smile widened. Bill said, "I thought you said you weren't playing games with me anymore." He turned to sit on his chair backwards, legs straddling the seat. "Okay, Stanford! I had a great time! The regulars welcomed the Cool Girl and me with open arms! Fresh air, unfiltered sunshine, an hour of conversation with a roomful of people who don't detest me, a snack table with eleven kinds of bread—"

Ford's grim determination veered sideways off the road. "Wait," he said. "Eleven breads?"

"Yes?"

"Why were— What else did they have? Condiments? Sandwich materials?"

"Forks, napkins, and water bottles. That's it."

"Forks?" Ford echoed. "Forks?"

"Forks."

"Why did they have eleven breads and forks?"

Bill threw up his hands in an exaggerated shrug. "So it's not just me! I looked at that table and thought, 'This seems lopsided,' but who am I, I don't know everything about humans! One grain product or another is just about the most stereotypically human food I can think of, so—"

"No, it wasn't just you, that's—I can confirm that's weird. Why did they do that?"

"I don't know!" Bill laughed. "I don't know, no one else questioned it so I didn't say anything! I wasn't about to out myself as the alien in the room! I just grabbed a Hawaiian roll and made small talk!"

Baffled, Ford ventured, "Maybe it's a... a gay culture thing I haven't heard about?"

"It's not one I've heard of," Bill said, with a tone that suggested if it was a gay thing, he ought to have heard of it. "Hey, the club's token straight guy is in charge of bringing snacks. Maybe he thinks it's a gay culture thing."

"Maybe." It was a somewhat reassuring thought, that perhaps the bizarre spread was somebody's misguided idea of support.

"Glad that mystery's solved," Bill said, as though to him a theory was as good as an explanation. "Oh, speaking of mysteries—thought you'd find this interesting—the mayor's desk is still haunted by bears." He said it as casually as though he were picking up a conversation from a week ago, not thirty-three years ago.

That wasn't a mystery Ford had ever thought he'd get any follow-up on. "Really? Still?" Ford instinctively tugged his journal out of his inner coat pocket and searched for a blank page. "How many?"

"Just two that I saw. I don't know that the third one wasn't roaming the halls, though. I'm not quite the spy I used to be!" He gestured down at his regrettably human body.

Ford waved off the not-exactly-an-apology. "Of course. The limitations of human sight and flesh. Which ones did you see?"

"One male, one female. The smaller female."

"I find it hard to believe the mother moved on without her children. She's probably around Town Hall somewhere."

"If I see her next week, I'll let you know."

"I'd appreciate that." He started taking notes. "Why would they still be there? I would have thought after the last election..."

"I know, so did I." Bill stood and crossed the room with his nacho tray to peer over Ford's shoulder as he lightly sketched out a desk and a couple of black bears lying atop and in front of it. (Ford hadn't seen the mayor's office in over thirty years, but he'd rough out the shape now and fill in the details once he got a look at the desk again, that was how he always did it. Bill had invisibly watched him fill countless journal pages like this.) "The desk was wider. Nacho?"

"Thanks." Ford absentmindedly took a nacho between his pinkie and sixth finger without putting his pen down, and corrected his sketch at he chewed.

"I've got two theories," Bill said. "One: the bears weren't haunting the desk because ol' Huckabone was using it, but because of something he put in it. A cursed talisman or something!"

"Mm. Mayor Befufftlefumpter didn't tend to mess with forces like that."

"Maybe he didn't know it was cursed. Most people can't see the bears. No one else at Rainbow Club acknowledged them."

"And if there is a talisman of some sort, why don't you already know about it?"

"Just because I can see everything doesn't mean I pay attention to everything," Bill said. "I'll snoop for one if you want! Anyway, theory two: they were here for Huckabone, but they don't know he's passed on, and they'll hang around either until they're reunited with his spirit or somebody dispels them. But I don't like that theory as much," he said thoughtfully, "it's not as satisfying. I prefer the intrigue of a good cursed talisman. Don't you?"

"I doubt that whether it's satisfying is relevant to whether it's likely..." Ford glanced toward Bill and almost jumped out of his skin when a wide white eye stared back at him. That stupid hood again. When had Bill gotten inches from Ford's shoulder? His skin crawled retroactively. "What are you doing?"

"Helping?" Bill ate another nacho and offered the paper tray to Ford again.

Ford stared at Bill, stared at his page full of bear ghost notes, then snapped his journal shut and shoved it in his coat pocket. He was an idiot. Ford stalked off toward the guest room. Remember who you're talking to. There might not have been any bears at all. There might not even have been bread.

Bill called after him, "Maybe you should come next week. I think you'd fit right in."

Ice ran through Ford's veins. What did he mean by that? It took a force of will to keep walking to the guest room rather than turn around and confront Bill again.

He shut the door, closed his eyes, and reminded himself: how Bill's eye had glowed stoplight red when he'd threatened to torture Ford's gniece and gnephew; how Bill had shrieked with laughter when he'd invaded Ford's brother's mind.

Ford had been distracted by talk of ghosts and talismans and, and—and bread. (Bread? Really?) Mysterious and mystical talk made it easy to leave those dark memories sleeping undisturbed.

And that scared Ford. Because he thought, for a normal person, it shouldn't have been possible to forget those things, much less easy.

You'd fit right in with my freaks.

He opened his journal, scratched out half his notes about the bear ghosts, and spent half a page untangling how Bill had lured him into a conversation...

And finally concluded that Bill hadn't done much luring at all. He'd just... talked.

He finished with a "DON'T TRUST HIM!!" and underlined it twice.

####

Well. If Bill and Ford were playing verbal games now, Bill had easily won that one.

He'd peppered in twice that he planned to attend Rainbow Club again next week, and Ford hadn't protested. Ford had even said he'd appreciate it. All that, and Bill hadn't had to reveal that he was busily making friends with the local mayor, sheriff, and deputy, or that he now knew where to find his own wayward one-time "sheriff."

All the same. As much as he appreciated getting a win, he wouldn't have minded going 2 out of 3. Bill had done most of the talking. (One of his most endearing flaws, he thought.) He kinda wondered what Ford thought about the bears haunting the desk. Ford had a tendency to overthink everything in such interesting ways.

Patience. This was the longest conversation he'd had with Ford in decades that hadn't consisted of pure, grim business. He was making progress. Maybe next week he could bring home a haunted bear talisman, see where that got him.

He wondered what Ford had thought of his birthday gift.

####

(Thanks for reading! This is probably the longest chapter we've had so far, but I didn't want to cut off before they even got to the club. If you enjoyed, I'd appreciate hearing what y'all think!)

#bill cipher #human bill cipher #wendy corduroy #sheriff blubs #deputy durland #gravity falls #gravity falls fanart #gravity falls fic #my writing #my art #fanart #bill goldilocks cipher

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bingwriterxo · 1 year

Text

the shakespeare exhibit - part 1

pairing: tara carpenter x reader

summary: in which tara finds herself in a weird place in the museum

warnings: none

word count: 1700+

author's note: this was a request (find here)! hope u guys enjoy :D the english major in me really popped the fuck out in this one 🤭

next part

Spending a rainy Sunday in the Museum of Modern Art was far from what Tara wanted to do, but she had been outvoted by the rest of her friends, all of whom thought that it would be fun (well, all but Chad, who wanted to stay in and have a movie marathon).

She found herself wandering aimlessly through the halls, glancing this way and that at different exhibits, though nothing really piqued her interest. Sam and Danny had escaped to the Egyptian gallery, Chad and Ethan were exploring the gift shop, Mindy and Anika had rushed off on their own almost as soon as the group walked through the front doors--if Tara had to put money on it, she would guess that they were making out in the bathroom--and Quinn was flirting with the ticket booth guy.

Tara pulled her phone from her back pocket.

Tara (3:46pm): can we go soon im bored

Sam (3:48pm): Danny and I are only halfway done!

Chad (3:49pm): anyone got some extra cash??? really want this weird t-shirt

Ethan (3:49pm): i got u buddy

Mindy (3:51pm): fh2p9hr2$!8tn

Sam (3:51pm): Mindy, what?

Mindy (3:52pm): sorry butt text

Mindy (3:52pm): me and nika r busy

She huffed when no one in the group chat seemed to be on the same wavelength as her and shoved her phone back in her pocket, continuing her shuffling. She wasn't even sure where in the museum she was, and she didn't really care.

Or, at least, she didn't care until she heard that voice.

"And here we have a painting depicting the celebration that occurs in the beginning of one of Shakespeare's earlier plays, Titus Andronicus."

Tara looked to her right, where the voice was coming from, and was met with a large sign that read Pop-Up Shakespeare Exhibit! She frowned. Shakespeare? she thought. Seriously?

"Now, this celebration is quite important to the rest of the play as..."

The voice was luring her in. Okay, maybe I can dig Shakespeare.

She wandered into the room, eyes flitting around as she searched for the person that the voice belonged to. Instead, she was met with numerous paintings of different scenes from Shakespeares' plays, or people that influenced him or were important during his time period.

And why the fuck is this man so iconic? she thought as she quickly scanned over each painting, finding nothing extraordinarily special about them. This shit is boring.

Still, she ventured farther in, determined to find the reason she had entered the exhibit in the first place. She wasn't, however, paying much attention to her feet or the paces in front of her, and the next thing she knew, she had bumped into someone else.

"Oh, sorry," she said.

"It's okay! That's my bad!" you replied, and Tara's eyes widened as she glanced in your direction. You were the voice that she was trying to find, and now that she had found you...well, she wasn't really sure what to do.

Honestly, she hadn't expected you to be so, in layman's terms, hot, and she could feel herself blushing up to her ears as she stared at you, awestruck and nervous and itching to talk to you all at once.

You offered her a wide grin and gestured toward the painting the two of you had ended up in front of. "Big fan of King Lear?" you asked.

Tara glanced at the painting. Two men stood in a vaguely grassy area, one old and the other younger. The older one had his arms thrown out, and despair was clearly controlling his emotions. The younger one was simply standing back and watching. What the fuck is this shit? she thought before realizing that you were awaiting her response.

"Yeah, definitely!" she lied. "It's probably my favorite Shakespeare play."

You furrowed your eyebrows. "Really? You strike me as more of a..." You trailed off as your eyes flitted down her body, taking her in. Tara gulped. "I would say Twelfth Night kind of girl."

Tara shrugged. "Well, I can be surprising." She pointed lamely at the painting. "Besides, I love history plays."

"Oh!" You raised your eyebrows as your eyes widened, and you chuckled. "King Lear isn't a history; it's a tragedy."

"Right! I--That's what I meant," she rushed out, trying to backtrack. "But, I mean, couldn't all of Shakespeare's plays technically be histories? They're all old."

You giggled, and Tara found that she liked that sound even more than she liked your voice. "That's not really how it works." You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth and glanced at the watch on your wrist. "If you want, I could give you a tour through the exhibit and explain some of the plays to you. My next group isn't coming for another hour."

I would rather Ghostface pop out of one of these paintings and attack me than have these boring-ass plays explained to me. She wanted to say that--god, did she want to--but you were looking at her with a soft smile and even softer eyes, your hands buried in your back pockets as you shifted on the balls of your feet, and her reply was tumbling from her lips before she could stop it.

"That would be great!"

* * *

You were only halfway through the exhibit, talking about some lady named Portia who could only marry the man that chose the correct casket--how fucking stupid, Tara thought--when you turned to her, a pitiful smile pulling at your lips.

"You find this boring, don't you?" you asked, though there was no judgment in your voice. If anything, Tara could detect a hint of teasing.

She shook her head. "No, no. Portia and Bassanio and caskets are all very...interesting." When you tilted your head at her, your eyes sparkling with disbelief, she sighed in defeat, allowing her shoulders to slump slightly. "Yeah," she admitted, "it's kind of boring."

You shrugged half-heartedly, a crooked smile on your lips. "That's okay. Shakespeare's definitely not for everyone." You looked back at the painting you stood in front of. "I mean, even I hated half the plays when I first read them."

"Then why are you a tour guide for this exhibit?"

"Money," you confessed. "I'm a broke college student who has tuition to pay for. Plus, I've read all of these plays ten times over, so I know them pretty well."

Tara wrinkled her nose. "Why would you subject yourself to that?" she asked. "I couldn't even imagine reading these plays once, let alone"--she gestured in the air--"as many times as you've read them."

"I'm an English Lit. major, so it's kind of my thing." You sighed in a dreamy sort of way, and Tara couldn't help as her eyes flitted down to your lips, her tongue dragging across her bottom one. She quickly shifted back to your eyes when you looked at her. "But it's not everyone's thing. I get it."

She frowned. "Sorry if I, like, wasted your time."

You waved her off. "Don't worry about it. I like talking about the plays, and if anything I said in the last fifty minutes got through to you, then I did my job."

Tara nodded. "Oh, it definitely did. Yeah, I learned so much about Shakespeare today," she said, sarcasm dripping from her voice.

You chuckled. "Sure you did."

She took a deep breath in and then rushed out, "If I could prove to you that I learned something, would you let me take you on a date?" She watched as your eyes widened in surprise before being narrowed by the smile that took over your face.

"Okay," you agreed. "I'll ask you a question, and if you can answer it, then I'll give you my number. How's that?"

"Yeah," she said, grinning. "That works."

You glanced around the parts of the exhibit that you had taken Tara through, and she watched as you thought for a moment, your eyebrows furrowing in concentration and your hand scratching at the side of your neck.

"Oh!" you said after a minute. "I've got it." You turned to her, a wicked smile on your face. "In Twelfth Night, what's the name of Viola's brother?"

Oh shit, Tara thought. I should've listened harder when she was talking about that play. But it's not my fault she looked so cute when she was talking about the different theories of human gender.

She blinked at you, trying to come up with the name, or, frankly, any name that you had mentioned during your little tour. You waited patiently, watching her as the gears turned in her head.

Orsino? No, no--that's the Duke. Was it Cesario? Toby? Malvolio? None of those. Oh! It was--

"Sebastian!" she practically yelled.

You giggled at her enthusiasm and pulled the pen from your front pocket. As you clicked it open, you said, "I guess you do listen." You took her arm, pushed up her sleeve so that you had enough skin to write, and jotted down your number on her forearm. She looked at it when you were done, blushing at the sight of a poorly-drawn heart at the end. "Text me, yeah?"

"Totally," she breathed out. "Yeah, I'll do that. For sure."

"Okay." You glanced at your watch. "My next tour's starting in, like, a minute, so I've gotta run." You quickly looked around the exhibit and, upon finding no one near, leaned close and pressed a short kiss to her cheek. "Bye!"

Tara was left in the center of the Shakespeare exhibit, watching as you walked back toward the entrance, with a burning cheek and butterflies stirring in her stomach. She looked at the portrait on her right.

"Shakespeare, you're not good for much, but apparently you're good for getting cute girls' numbers," she muttered.

bonus: "so, what exhibits did you go to, tara?" sam asked as the group sat in a little coffee shop down the street from the MoMA.

"uh, the shakespeare one," tara mumbled.

everyone's eyes widened. "what?" came the resounding reply from all of her friends.

"you hate shakespeare," mindy stated.

"yeah. when they tried to teach us about it in senior year, you literally left the classroom," chad said.

"why the hell would you spend all your time in a shakespeare exhibit?" sam asked, furrowing her eyebrows at tara.

anika reached over and pulled at tara's shirt sleeve, revealing the numbers hidden beneath. "i think that might be why."

tara groaned as everyone started talking over one another, asking questions (sam) and squealing (quinn and mindy) and grumbling (chad and ethan).

"god," mindy started when everyone was finally quiet, "you are so gay, t."

#tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter #tara x reader #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #scream 6 #scream 5 #museum tara

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queenothegeeks · 4 months

Text

Creator with coping mechanisms

part 2! Part one can be found here (pls let me know if the link doesn’t work I’m doing this on my phone and I’m d y i n g)

Even the creator gets stressed, so, how do you relax?

A creator who cooks or bakes to deal with stress

After a very stressful day of meeting important dignitaries and public figures, you felt like settling down, reading a recipe or making something from memory to remind you of home. Maybe you have music playing in your head or maybe it’s just empty, feeling comfortable doing something you love

Maybe giving the food you make to other characters in the game, or you hand them out to random people, like kids from the house of the hearth. Or maybe you just sit and eat it all for yourself (which, is valid, bc tbh I don’t want anyone else eating my food)

Hey (insert character)! I made too much of this and I was wondering if you wanted some! I hope you like it!

Hey Timme, I'm really sorry for scaring away all the birds, but I made an extra loaf of bread for you to feed them with, is that okay?

Creator who writes stories or fanfiction as a coping mechanism (me)

Finding it hard to sit down and write, even though you really want to. Maybe it's the environment or the people that you are with, but once you get into the zone, the world just disappears.

Maybe you write the fluffiest fluff that ever fluffed, with found family and just silly moments with your characters (oc or not), or perhaps you write the saddest things known to god that make even the most heartless of characters cry

“Are you…are you crying”

(sniff, sniff) NO! Maybe…”

“Are you okay? Why are you crying”

“I stole-borrowed your notebook because I was worried about you (they wanted more intel or smt idk) and I started reading it. And it's really sad WHY ARE YOU WRITING SUCH SAD STUFF?”

“WHY ARE YOU READING MY NOTEBOOK!?”

A creator who embroiders to relax (don't @ me pls i've never embroidered)

You didn't tell anyone about it, knowing that someone would try to convince you to make business out of it (probs Dori) but after you had to ask for a few bandages after you poked your hand on your needle, the cat was out of the bag.

“But we could sell it for a ton! We could even send a few things to museums! …if you want ig”.

“Thanks, I'm good…”

“Why not!?”

(Don't threaten them with needle Dont threaten them with needle Don’t threaten them with needle-)

Or if you get lucky, maybe they just ask you to make them something instead of making a glorified pyramid scheme.

“Can you make something for me?”

“You should work with Chiori!”

“Can you embroider me!?”

… Yeah maybe this isn't much better.

Chaos demon! (Arson with klee 2.0!)

“Are they okay..?”

“Let them have this”

“Sir, their grace is setting everything on fire”

“Its fine”

Let me know if I missed any habits in the comments! Remember, if you see any spelling mistakes, no you didn’t.

#sagau #sagau brainrot #the brainrot is real #genshin impact sagau #creator au sagau

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trappednyourheart · 4 months

Text

Human-sized doll in the old ages?

(This is another Version of my original post that was inspire by Jason's doll, unlike Damian's. This one's for our Tim!)

My Original post for Damian's

-------------------------------------

The Drakes were in another trip to England as a new business trip concerning a new museum had taken place a Auction to very Old items lost in time, and for the Drake's it was an opportunity to find something new and all...but the only one who stands out the most was the Human-sized doll.

For a hundred years old Doll it was gorgeous, they hesitantly carried it out, after they bought it..it cost them a fortune but it was worth it.

The dress maybe been Billion's of dollars or even pounds due to its quality and design..if people sell it of course- but no stains, no rips of anything, as if it was just newly made..the only thing standing out the most was beautiful emerald gem necklace lace with unique designs of a Dragon flames. flickering a green flame

It was gorgeous, the designs of the eyes. Green emerald that you might think it glowed ( Well we never know)

The height of the doll was that of a child no older than the height of there Son, Timothy when he was 8..

Now that they think of it..there son was interested in photography lately, maybe this doll might be in good use for modeling..

Yeah they should send this as a early birthday present

(Jesus Christ you couple just realized that?)

-----------------------------------------------

According to the auction staff that had taken care of the doll for about fifty years,

It was actually the old man's family had been maintaining the doll passed over for about hundreds years ago,

This Doll was a Original, it wasn't a Replica or sorts to the real thing, This was The Real fortune, This Doll was said to be a request of a powerful and influencal Aristocrat house, said Unknown but Famous Duke held position of this Doll, As his Perfect Daughter

Talk about the creeps Janet Drake Got

-----------

Which why the Doll was said to be haunted by the Soul of the Young child that the Duke was heard obsessive wanted to be his perfect daughter,

Similar Cases said by guards hearing soft taps of heels or ruffled sounds of a gown being moved or even giggles, whispers, or even a full on conversation with a voice of a young child ,Three unlucky Guards onces have check and investigate it out, before being passed out and muttering glowing green eyes and freezing so hard that they may have been in alaska.

Well being the Drake couple they are just completely ignore the Staff caretaker and send it to there only son, Timothy

Its surprised they haven't been killed yet after they had just left that curse mummy int there Goddamn house when visiting ancient Egypt-

---------------------------------------------

Timothy wasn't dumb, he was very minded in what his “parents” gave to him in his Early gifts, it wasn't a trinket, or another Mummified corpse that was stuck in the basement or equipment his mother wanted him to use for activities...

It was a doll, by the looks of it.

It was a girl's doll, in a glass case, it was looking at him, with a smile..you could see a teeth- was it supposed to be teeth? So white...it reminded him of that fairytale book..Snow white

With a beautiful Gown, but the most was the necklace, huh..so this was a gift, after he had found the note containing some birthday pleasantries and blessings and pity writing..from his parents.

This gift was considerately chose by his parents...he thought to his mind that this would be just another batch of a trinket being left in the basement

Boy...was he totally wrong

----------------------------------

Dick wasn't a man to complained, he was decent atleast in his own perspective, yes the whole family is definitely something but he wouldn't trade this for the world, except for that is to question Tim's....Ehem stuff, the whole doll..was definitely creepy, after the ordeal, yes Jason is back, but not in good terms, and the whole fam known that Tim was hiding something from them, and how it turns out, this is why privacy exist, now he can't stop looking at that child doll...and the visible thumps of those heels.

--------------------------------

Damian was questioning his choices, maybe he need to properly and carefully using his words now, after convincing and maybe caught Drake red handed, he known Drake was different but not that different for having a doll with the same height as him and look so realistic, if ever he doesn't want to bother asking or taunting Drake (for now) and may he be excuse, he needs to go to the barn to check with animals there ( he somehow still got that charm)

#dcxdp #dc x dp prompt #dpxdc #danny phantom #tim drake-wayne #justice league #dc x dp #batman #danny fenton #jason todd #batfam

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the-cookie-of-doom · 6 months

Text

Cookie's Fic Recs

I feel like no one really does rec lists anymore! But last night I was feeling and sappy and mushy and decide to put together my own little list of fics I love. These are in no particular order, and they don't follow any real theme/tropes other than I dearly love them all, and you should definitely give them a read!

*I tried to tag everyone I could find a blog for, but if I missed anyone, please let me know I can tag them!

The Instinctual Gravitation Towards Warmth by kimkhimhant (@kimkhimhant)

This is my comfort fic. No joke, this is what I read when I want to die. It’s angsty as all hell, it’s made me cry, but it is so indescribably good. Kim is an addict going through recovery, finding love and family along the way. He hits rock bottom—arguably multiple times—but always claws his way back, always with the support of the people that love him. It’s such a beautifully written and cathartic story, I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve read it. But it’s almost certainly the fic I’ve reread the most.

Error in the Code by BlackwaterVial (@blackwatervial)

Sneaking this VegasPete onto my otherwise KimChay list bc it altered me. I think most people already know what it is, but jic: it’s a sci-fi/cyberpunk/android AU, and it’s one of the best things I’ve ever read. I go feral for androids and this fic delivers in all the best ways. The world building alone makes me weep. But all of the characters interactions, the way we get such an in depth feel for everyone despite the limited PoV, and the most satisfying take I’ve seen on android artificial intelligence ever—I can’t recommend this story enough.

Idiots & Idioms by snickerdoodlles (@snickerdoodlles)

This one is actually a series, and it's genuinely so much fun to read. For the most part it's a SocMed fic with Chay taking over Wik's twitter and making it everyone's problem, and it's fkn hysterical. This one is actually a series, and it's genuinely so much fun to read. For the most part it's a SocMed fic with Chay taking over Wik's twitter and making it everyone's problem, and it's fkn hysterical.

Silver for Truth by snickerdoodlles (@snickerdoodlles)

This fic is the Kim & Khun vs. Tawan team-up we deserve. Kim is a ruthless, demented bitch, that's too cool to beat Tawan to death bc what if he messes up his wrists right before a show?? Big, get 'im. Kim is the feral-est cat ever, leaving behind evidence and bodies for Kinn bc saying "hey bro, I still love you/look out for you" is too much emotion for him. The fic is also from Tawan's PoV which also makes it the funniest thing ever, for reason that I won't spoil <3

The Wiked Lies We Live by shubaka (@shubaka)

Oh my god, this fic. Canon divergence (technically??) where most things happen as normal... except KimChay have been bodyswaped at the start of it. The little twists Shu puts on the events of canon, given it isn't the correct characters experiencing them (such as Big being very confused about why Kim is suddenly nice to him??) are so much fun.

A Portrait of Affection by froginthesun (@froginthesun)

Kim is an artist and Chay is the part time nude model he hires. ‘Nuff said right there, except no it isn’t, this fic is beautiful. Kim’s frustration with his craft is palpable, and so is the way he rediscovers his passion through Chay. The writing is wonderfully detailed, every chapter felt like walking through a museum. And tension slowly building between them—unf.

Sunshine in My Closet by moneskin

This is an A/B/O AU that is so satisfying to read. Typical hilarious boundary violations (Chay stealing Kim’s clothes, a bewildered Kim handing over a freshly worn outfit, having barely any idea who this strange kid is) characteristic of the AU, but then the story also delves deeper into more serious topics. Chay has a history of abuse from a past alpha that he has to learn how to navigate with Kim, who is incredibly patient and works hard to make Chay feel safe and loved. Overall a very sweet and comforting read. Seriously, this fic makes me melt.

Your Body Feels Like Disrespect by Blue_Jay (@bluejayfiction)

This fic is so funny because it begins with Kim blurting out, in the middle of an Important Mafia MeetingTM, that he and Chay aren’t having sex, and then wanting to die about it. Followed by Kim’s family trying very hard to both support and terrorize him. It’s hilarious, sexy, and one of my favorite reads when I need a pick me up. (Bless Kinn’s determination to be a Good and Supportive Brother, and Vegas for being the Worst Person Ever.)

In Silent Screams (In Wildest Dreams) by BelladonnaWyck and StratsWrites

This is definitely a darker fic. There’s DubCon, Kim is generally Sketchy, but it’s very hot. And I love explorations of his character where he isn’t just outwardly psychotic and cruel. This fic shows the kind of dark that I think Kim could have been, if you just tilted his character a little to the left. He still seems very much the way he is in canon, but he’s also… a lot more calculating and cold, sometimes. I love it.

Forget-me-always by bisexualbard (@bisexualbard-writes)

I cannot sing the praises of this fic enough. I think it’s probably tied for IGTW for my most-read fics. I’ve probably read this one more often in reality, but only bc it’s shorter. But oh my god, does it hurt. Kim gets struck with amnesia post-break up, does a little light stalking, and gets Chay to help him learn/remember who he is. In the process realizes that wow his life sucks, and there’s no way he wants to go back to it. Especially if he’s the kind of person that hurt Chay. He would rather start over. (Ofc, he doesn’t get to). This fic makes me cry, it’s so good

Coffeehouse Play by AirgodSLV

This is a canon divergence AU that I adore. The KimChay characterization is on point. I love that despite everything going on around them, they also get to be two boys that hang out and play videogames and try to shove each other off the couch while Porsche makes dinner. Given the age difference it’s so easy to make Kim Older and MatureTM, but he’s still a kid, and this story never once forgets that. It felt so honest and true to his character that Kim does have a lot of plans, and he’s very smart, but he’s also still so young, and sometimes shit just goes wrong.

Want and Need by bisexualbard (@bisexualbard-writes)

God, this fic. T h i s f i c. Post-canon Chay goes to therapy and becomes a camboy (in that order) and it’s delicious. Watching the steady breakdown of his and Porsche’s relationship is so satisfying. Everything one of them does to make things worse feels awful, but is so in character that it’s hard to be mad at them for their decisions. Kim readily giving up control if it means he can be with Chay, and Chay getting a crash course in how to dom. All of it is just. So good. This is such a good fic

Your Look, Through This Lens by WildelyDawn (@wildelydawn)

AU where Chay becomes Kim’s photographer. This fic emotionally hobbled me. Just a fair warning. You will cry. But that said, the ending isn’t nearly as sad as the tags would have you believe! At least in my opinion. I think it’s fairly open/hopeful, and beautiful either way. I love the way this fic shows how Kim balances being Wik while also being part of the mafia. And I love how temperamental he is; always hot and cold, while remaining pretty even as far as how he expresses himself. Always very aloof/detached, just out of reach, with Chay never really sure where he stands/what Kim wants. But at the same time the fic happens just before Kim gets a big break, and the subtle ways he shows his excitement and nerves as things start coming together—it’s wonderful.

Love’s a Two-Way Dream by giraffeter (@giraffeter)

This fic is dark. Kim atticwife’s Chay and it’s not a good time. But!! It’s not just dark for the sake of it; Kim is a genuine sociopath, yes, but it unfolds slowly. You get a sense of creeping dread as he does things that are just a little bit off, until finally the Big Bad Thing happens. At first he seems normal, playing the part of good and respectful boyfriend. But it just goes downhill from there, and I love every word of it. The ending especially is very satisfying.

In the Dark of the Night by bisexualbard (@bisexualbard-writes)

Not to recc everything Bard writes, but… This is a rape recovery fic that I feel handles the subject matter incredibly well. There’s no gratuitous rape scenes, and even with the flashbacks, I don’t remember any of them being incredibly detailed. I think Bard handled the fic with incredible respect and grace. This is another one that’ll make you cry. The way Chay handles his past trauma while trying to have a relationship with Kim is so painfully real. And so is the way Kim wants to help him, but doesn’t really know how. But they figure it out together, and it’s amazing. (Also Kim acquires a stabby child in the form of an OC that I adore.) I just love the path Chay's recovery takes in this fic, it's so visceral and relatable. It's all around just. So good. I love this fic for the same reason I love IGTW and it's because both fics show an excellent depiction of recovery.

Chains and Crowns, A Flower Can Both Make by Sweet_William (@sweet-william-writes)

Incredibly Regency AU. Historical AUs are some of my all time favorites, and this is everything I didn’t know I needed. Sweet_William captures the essence of an Austen-esque style while still making this feel like the KinnPorsche characters. Chay is wonderfully feisty, Kim is delightfully complex, and the various family interactions always had me cackling.

Simple Little Secrets by CorvusCloudburst (@cloudburst-ink)

Chay sees the future when he touches people. Kim thinks he’s either insane, a spy, or a conman. Oh, and Chay’s visions of Kim? Always sex-related. The shenanigans are endless. What more do you need?? They’re both crazy4crazy and it’s my favorite thing ever. Their banter is snappy and fun, the writing is sexy, and it never once gave me second-hand embarrassment despite Chay’s horrible situations.

#cookie speaks #kimchay #kinnporche the series #fic rec #anyway i love all of you #I hope this makes people's days a lil brighter #<3<3<3

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